Gripes About Glucose Meters.

I would like to register to a complaint.

Twice in the last few days I have had questionable results on my glucose meter. While this isn’t the first time that this has happened, and I know quite a few people in the community have lodged their concerns about the accuracy of glucose monitoring, I would like to add these two anecdotes to the books.

This past Sunday I woke up very, very late (as in, past noon) and eating in the morning isn’t something I typically do on the weekend. Usually I wake up around 11:30 and I’ll just wait a couple of hours until lunchtime and eat then. Sometimes I’ll even go longer and just eat an early dinner if I have a lot of errands to run and my blood sugar is steady. However, on this particular morning, I awoke with an 89 mg/dl (or something like that). It was a little too low to just forgo eating altogether, but I wasn’t that hungry and wasn’t sure what I wanted. I had a bag of chips left over from Panera, so I snacked on that for awhile before heading out to run my errands. I didn’t bolus for this bag of chips, but it was small, coming in at only 19 grams of carbs. I thought perhaps I might go a little higher than ideal, but I also didn’t want to take insulin and then go low while I was driving. I thought I was being smart.

Well, 3:30 p.m. rolls around and I’m starving. As in, I can’t go one more minute without shoving something in my face. I was about to go grocery shopping, and you know what they say about grocery shopping on an empty stomach (anyone seen those Mastercard commercials? Not pretty). So, being the bad diabetic (and WW participant), I went to Burger King. It was was close, it was convenient and it was cheap, especially important when the oil companies are sucking my wallet dry.

I sat down with my food and brought out the trusty Lifescan Ultra (the Keynote was out of strips so I grabbed the other meter before leaving). Whipped out the lancet, pricked my finger and five seconds later…

484 mg/dl

Excuse me??

Okay, now, I know I didn’t bolus for my chips. I realize that may not have been a smart move. But I know carbohydrates pretty well after almost fifteen years of tracking my blood sugar and there is no way in H-E-double-hockey-sticks that 19 grams of carbs would take me from 89 mg/dl to 484 mg/dl. No way.

In complete disbelief, I tested again.

218 mg/dl.

Sigh. Now that’s more like it.

Seriously, now, what the hell was that 484? I clearly was not 484, as I would have been gulping down the Diet Coke like I was in the Mojave Dessert. How does something like this happen? I understand there being some degree of variance in blood sugar meters (I understand it, I don’t like it one bit, but I understand it), but this was a difference of two hundred and sixty-six points!

I’ve even noticed meters that register me higher than I feel when I know I’m low. When I can clearly feel it. Trust me, I am not the least bit hypounaware ( ::knock on wood, toss salt over the shoulder, spin around three times, spit:: ).

You know, these fancy gizmos like continuous glucose monitors and wireless insulin pumps and laser finger pokers are great, but I could really go for a glucose meter that did its job right.

Thank you.

IRL.

IRL, for those of you unaware, stands for “in real life” and was created as a differentiator between people you knew just from the online community - be it blogging, social networks, message boards, etc. - and people who you actually knew in, well, real life.

The real world.

Well, I know a lot of you haven’t met many people with diabetes, so I always like to share opportunities where you can meet people with diabetes and/or myself IRL.

First up, for all you New Yorkers, the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation is throwing their annual Spring for a Cure event for young professionals on Thursday, May 8th at the Puck Building in Manhattan. Cost is $100, but the good news is that $75 of that is tax deductible! There will be food and beverage tasting from some of the hottest NYC restaurants, a silent auction, music and dancing.

Second, if you live within driving distance of Delaware, don’t forget we’ll be be having a Delaware D-meet on the shore on Saturday, May 24. Starts around lunchtime. Email me at amblass [@] gmail.com for the deets.

Lastly, Children with Diabetes will be hosting their 8,291 conference, Friends for Life, in Orlando, Florida this July. From July 22 until July 27, you’ll have non-stop education and support at one of the coolest places on earth. Some of the most respected minds in the diabetes field attend this conference - including some OC faves like John Walsh, Gary Scheiner, and Kelly Close - and you’ll get to spend a whole day at Universal Studios with some of your new best friends. This is definitely a conference not to miss. And if you’re thinking, “But I’m not a kid anymore!” So what? The conference topics for parents are often applicable to adults with type 1 and meeting new people, especially some of the people we read about everyday like Phil Southerland and Doug Burns, is definitely worth it.

I’ll be attending all three of these events, so if you have any questions or want to meet me, please email me.

And in case you missed it…

I’m not entirely sure why I bother posting things on Fridays since it’s one of the lowest traffic days I have (Sundays are typically the lowest of the whole week). But I want to plug something I wrote on Friday one more time in case you didn’t see it. Last Thursday, I attended the world premiere of Life for a Child, a documentary about families struggling to live with type 1 in Nepal, one of the poorest countries in the world. Please check out my reactions to the movie and thoughts on the campaign and let me know what you think we can do to help thousands of children who die from a disease that is completely survivable.

All Together Now.

The image of the girl on the left is what children looked like before insulin was invented in 1921.

The girl on the right is what children looked like after it was invented.

But for thousands of children around the world, this is still their reality.

Although we live in a developed country where gaining medical care can by tricky, it is nothing compared to the complete isolation that children with diabetes in developing countries must deal with on a daily basis.

At the premiere of the short documentary, Life for a Child, I watched as three families struggle to deal with caring for diabetes in Nepal, one of the poorest countries in the world. The International Diabetes Federation estimates there are 440,000 children with type 1 under the age of 15 in the world, around 250,000 live in developing nations. While getting insulin can be as quick as driving to the local pharmacy - which some of us complain about at times - in Nepal, getting insulin can take anywhere from two to six hours of walking and public transportation in order to travel from a small village to the hospital in Kathmandu.

Children diagnosed with type 1 must go to the hospital once a month to receive their allotment of insulin and to take their one and only blood sugar reading. One. There are times I bemoan having to test as often as I do but when faced with the prospect of testing only once a month - one glimmer at what is going on inside my body - I reel at the injustice, the sheer impossibility of ever being able to take care of myself. I know how poorly my body reacts when I test under four times a day. I can’t even imagine what the impact is when you are given such a blurry insight into your health. Children who come to the hospital often have low blood sugar from all the walking and lack of food, so who knows what is happening to them the rest of the time?

This is, of course, if the child is even diagnosed.

Many children in rural and developing countries die from diabetes in part because no one knows what diabetes is and what symptoms to look for, and thus they never even have a chance. Medicine men and palm readers take advantage of families and lie to them, leaving families broke and children on the brink of death.

Life for a child with diabetes in a developing country is wrought with a lack of support and education. Parents who are uneducated and illiterate don’t understand what is happening to their children and the importance of coming to the hospital and taking their insulin. Many families simply cannot pay for health care, and those who can still struggle with keeping their insulin cool and their test strips in stock. While most of us complain about not having a mocha frappaccino or a Snickers bar whenever we want, children in developing countries struggle to keep their blood sugar from crashing simply because they don’t have any food.

IDF’s Life for a Child program is working on solving this crisis. They are working with clinics and governments in developing countries to provide better education and access for children. So far, they have nearly 1,000 children enrolled in the program in 17 different countries, including the children featured in the Life for a Child movie. Although the families don’t have to pay for their child’s medication, many of them still lack the capability to test their blood sugar frequently and they must navigate the hundreds of miles from their village to the city.

I want to write about this because I have several close friends who are actively involved in the Life for a Child program. Although I don’t want to preach and pressure anyone, I do think we have a unique opportunity to help the children in these countries, whether it’s through a monetary donation or through a post on your blog to educate others.

Last week, our community came together to raise our voice about life with diabetes. To raise our voice about the truth of what type 1 diabetes really is.

The truth also includes the fact that there are thousands of children - children just like us - who are dying from it. One day, there will be a cure and we should all work hard to make sure that happens. But until that day comes, these children need our help.

No child should to die from diabetes.

So I ask you, whether you have type 1 diabetes or not - whether you are a mother, a friend, or a co-worker - to listen to the children, the children who are trying very hard to share their strong, courageous voices.

They are out there and they deserve to be heard.

Then raise your voice in unison.

Delaware is a Go.

I posted a few weeks ago about how I wanted to go to Delaware because it’s the only state within driving distance that I haven’t been to yet.

Well, I’ve decided to take the plunge and I’m doing it! And, of course, I’m inviting you to come along too.

I’m planning on going to Delaware over Memorial Day weekend, on Saturday, May 24. It looks like the consensus is that Rohoboth Beach is the place worth checking out while I’m down there, so I’m bringing my bathing suit out of hiding, buying a beach towel because I don’t own one and stocking up on sunscreen.

My trip down to Delaware is happening whether I go alone or not, but I would appreciate some company. So, if you’re in Philly, NJ, DC or Maryland, hit me up and let’s ring in the summer season together! C’mon, what’s better than meeting me? I’m awesome if I do say so myself… and I do.

I’m pretty set on this date, but if for some reason Saturday just doesn’t work, check with me and we might be able to change it - depending on how many people want to meet for this Delaware meet-up.

Please, no psychos or perverts.

Options! I Need Options!

I’m at the gym tonight, plugging along on the elliptical machine, and I wonder, “I wonder how many people have different basal rate profiles?” (Hey, I never said my thoughts had any kind of logical order to them).

Anyway.

I know one of the most common arguments for certain pumps is the fact that there are multiple basal profiles - a profile for work, a profile for the weekend, a profile for That Time of the Month, a profile for different physical activity days (basketball in the morning, versus the gym at night).

And I thought to myself, I only have one!

Does this make me lame?

Do you have different basal rate profiles? What do you use them for? How did you figure out you even needed a different basal rate profile? Most of the time I just use a temp basal rate and then I go back to normal once I’m done. My blood sugars are all over the place that I haven’t been able to figure out if there are different trends for different days of the weeks.

Out of Bounds.

I noticed something a few days after I started using the Wavesense Keynote glucose monitor.

It changes beeps when your blood sugar is high.

I’m not sure if it does this when I’m low, and I don’t know if any other meter does this either. I’ve never noticed it. But there is a distinctly different beep when my blood sugar is high.

The normal beep sounds like most meters… beep-beep-beep. But the high alarm has a lower pitch.

Almost as if it’s going dun-dun-duuuun. Or when a referee blows his whistle really loud when the ball goes out of bounds. The meter is screaming, “You’re out!”

It’s kinda quirky, and slightly annoying, which means I can’t figure out if I like it or not. I think because it has something to do with my blood sugar not being in range that I shouldn’t like it.

I finally downloaded the Zero-Click software too and uploaded my blood sugars to the program. I reprogrammed my mealtimes so that my lunch numbers and dinner numbers actually fall during the hours when I eat lunch and dinner, though the empty gaps seem to suggest I don’t test my blood sugar nearly as often as I do. Mostly I think it’s because I don’t test my blood sugar enough. I also discovered that while my 14-day blood sugar average is 157 mg/dl, my blood sugar is only in range about 47% of the time. Less than half. Which means that I’m out of bounds more than half the time. I’m a lousy player, I guess.

I have some pretty consistent times during the day when my blood sugar is great - mostly afternoons (though a couple of thwarted gym attempts make me think my basal might be too high) and always post-workout (now that I’ve learned to keep my pump on, I don’t get any of those nasty adrenaline spikes which plagued me for years and helped make my gym attendance non-existent). My mornings for awhile were great but now shwooop! up to the stratosphere they go. Can’t figure that one out.

Must be the basals. Always the basals. Or the bolus ratios. Or the moon.

In Bloom.

After six months of cold temperatures and drizzly skies, this was the first weekend I spent in Manhattan where I wasn’t dashing from building to building, using the heat from a boutique to defrost my fingers.

Waking up at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning (well, ungodly for a weekend), I took the train into Manhattan for my workshop. I met another girl from Jersey there, so after the workshop, we decide to wander around the city.

Being that it was the first really warm day we have had in a good long while, we thought a stroll through Central Park would be perfect.

Now, I have a confession to make. Despite living here for almost a year, and despite having gone to Manhattan three other times before I moved here, I have never really been to Central Park. Now, I’ve seen it, of course, from a distance, either at the Museum of Natural History last March, or when I’m at Columbus Circle, or the time my mother and I went in when we were at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and immediately left after taking the requisite photo op.

Sadly, Saturday was truly the first time I had really seen Central Park in all it’s glory. The trees sprouting new leaves, the flowers blossoming, runners huffing and puffing down the path, families and Columbia college students in bikinis spread out on blankets, tourists in shorts and T-shirts, and Upper East Side mothers pushing their babies along in Graco strollers.

It’s true what they say about Central Park feeling like another world - almost, dare I say, suburban, or even farther than that. Like a state park. Except for the apartment buildings peaking up from behind the trees, you’d almost think you were in upstate New York and not in the middle of a metropolis.

We walked for miles - literally. Our workshop was at 40th and Broadway, we stopped for lunch at 46th and Ninth Avenue, strolled up past Lincoln Center and entered the park at 66th, meandered our way along the various paths - past the Great Lawn, the Jackie Kennedy Onassis reservoir, and beautiful cherry blossom trees that sprinkled the path like it was snowing - and finally came out at 101st Street. We went one block to Madison Avenue, stopped for Starbucks, and eventually caught the subway at 68th and Lexington. We knew it would take us at least another hour to get to Penn Station at 34th, and neither of us thought our feet would be very happy if we did that!

It was also nice seeing a part of Manhattan that I don’t have much reason to visit - the Upper East Side. The rumors are true and it’s completely packed with apartments and townhouses. We saw twelve-year-old meadering about, more children’s clothing stores than I thought was necessary, and there were the mothers again, pushing their babies in their little Graco strollers (well, I have no idea if they were really Graco strollers, I didn’t feel the need to go up and ask which stroller brands they used).

Hope you all enjoyed your weekend too!

The skyline of midtown Manhattan, reminding us it’s still there.

“You think we’re the only ones who thought about coming to the park today?” I joked. “You’d think the entire city thought the sun was going to go away for another six months!”

The Jackie Kennedy Onassis Reservoir

The world is finally in bloom again.

For more photos from Central Park, visit my Flickr gallery.

A Weekend? Don’t Mind If I Do…

It’s Friday.

It’s sunny.

And it’s seventy-frickin’-degress!

I am sitting in my little cubicle at work decked out in a white skirt, purple flower-patterned blouse and my adorable ribbon-adorned silver flats. I’m totally rocking the summer look right now and it feels so good. Summer is taking it’s sweet time showing up here on the East Coast, so I’m very appreciative of some summer lovin’.

It’s also supposed to be nice and toasty (not burnt toasty, nice toasty), which is perfect because I’m heading into Manhattan early tomorrow morning for a workshop for young professionals and that whole “quarter-life” crisis crap. Hopefully I’ll learn something useful, or at least meet some people who also have no idea what they’re doing (yay!) and then of course I have the entire afternoon to enjoy myself in Manhattan. Might try to knock a couple more things off my 101 Things list, because I’m been slacking on that a little bit lately. Should sign myself up for a museum or visit an art gallery or something. Granted, I have more than two years left to go before this thing is over with and that seems like a long time, but before you know it, I’ll be twenty-five and still have eighty-six things left to do.

And well, crap.

On Sunday, I’m driving all of twenty miles to see my dad’s cousins in Edison. My great-aunt is in town for Passover, and while I’m not Jewish so I’m not going to Passover, it’ll be nice to see her and my cousins. We’re going for Indian food, which is the perfect thing to do in Edison because I think ninety percent of the restaurants in Edison are Indian restaurants. Don’t ask me why, but it’s true. If you want good Indian food, go to Edison, NJ.

Hopefully the weather is nice where you are too so we can all enjoy our weekend!

What I Love to Love.

I love driving, because despite how horrible it is for the environment and my wallet, there’s nothing more satisfying than a long drive with good tunes turned up so loud that I can sing along and I don’t even notice how bad I am. I love going to a new place, getting lost and finding out much fun you can have when you have no idea what to expect. I love flying in airplanes. I love the way pillow clouds look like castles and imagining an entire world exists in the sky.

I love the when the clouds are lit on fire by the setting sun. I love the way the Manhattan skyline looks early in the morning, just before the sun rises over the skyscrapers - the dark gray contrasting with the bright yellow. I love people-watching at restaurants, parks and on the subway. I love when people ask me for directions because it makes me feel like I belong.

I love purple. I love the scent of Oregon after it rains and the crackling of campfires. I love Portland. I love diabetes camp. I love waking up to birds chirping outside my window, because that means it’s going to be a nice day. I love Rita’s water ice, especially in mango. I love sitting in Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia. I love movies that make you think and songs that remind you of someone.

I love blogging and bloggers and RSS Feeds. I love writing. I love doodling. I love giggling. I love meeting new people. I love people who know things that I don’t know. I love asking questions, which I suppose means I love being curious and consequently, I love being a little annoying. I love bookstores. I love Sudoku and word searches. I love sitting on the back porch of Espresso Roma of Eugene, Oregon on a warm May afternoon with a cup of coffee and a good book.

I love when my phone rings. I love Facebook and Twitter and when the little blue envelope icon lights up when I have new email. I love the ping when I have an instant message. I love sussys and hand-written letters and when my grandmother sends me a card with a $5 bill. I love comments on my blog.

I love history. I love antique stores, the smell of old books and when an eighty-year-old couple holds hands.

I love CO Bigelow’s flavored lipgloss. I love going to new restaurants. I love naan and tandoori chicken and curry. I love Trader Joe’s. I love coming home from work and watching reruns of sitcoms. I love sneaking in fast food into a movie theater. I love going to the movies by myself. I love a big bowl of popcorn. I love movie trailers. I love art galleries and amazing photographs and taking photographs that I’m proud of.

I love when the pieces of life fall perfectly into place. I love hugs. I love reunions. I love volunteering and the satisfaction of making the world a better place. I love hearing that I’ve helped someone.

I love life, and you too.

I love that there are so many things in this world worth loving.

Edit!: I spent so much time on this that I completely forgot the challenge part. I challenge you to make your own list or leave a love of yours in the comments. The only catch? You can’t include a single person you know on your list. No “I love the way my husband laughs” or “I love hearing my little girl call for me.” It’ll be tough, I know. But this particular little exercise is about stripping away everyone who defines you and figuring out what you (not his partner; not their mother/daughter/sister/friend) love. (This meme is stolen from Michelle and the City).

How My Father Met My Mother

Every couple has Their Story. The story they tell when they meet each other’s families and friends for the first time, the story they tell their children and their grandchildren, they story they whisper to each other during romantic moments

“Do you remember when…”

Every couple has Their Story of how they got together. Some stories are simple, some stories are complicated. Some stories are funny, some stories are serious. All stories are wonderful and have a happy ending.

~*~

It was October 1981. My father had moved to California after losing his job and had decided to live at his parents house while they were living in Europe. It was a few weeks before my grandparents actually left and it was the weekend of his tenth high school reunion. My grandmother brought in some of his old high school yearbooks and they were reminiscing about people he went to school with. My grandmother pointed out people she was curious about and my dad promised to let her know what they were all doing. He also recognized someone in the yearbook as someone he had been working with at his new job, but didn’t remember from high school.

The next day, my dad went to the reunion. When my dad was in high school, he was, well, kind of dorky. He was short and bit overweight, and now that he was in his late twenties, he was much taller (having had his growth spurt during his senior year in high school) and had lost weight. Having visions of having the entire high school class be amazed at his transformation, his illusions were quickly broken when most people didn’t remember how he looked at all.

After a couple hours of meandering around the reunion and meeting people, my dad was bored. A woman named Betsy happened to recognized my dad and called him over.

Betsy asked, “Hey, do you know Caren?” (This would be my mom.)

“No, should I?” my dad asked.

“Probably not,” my mom replied.

My mom was working and living as a ESL teacher in the North Monterrey area of California, in a town called Castroville (the artichoke capitol of the world, or so my dad tells me). My mom says that because it was during the school year and she was working, she almost didn’t go to the reunion. Obviously she changed her mind or there would be no story (or a me to tell it!).

My dad and my mom spent all night talking to each other. But towards the end of the night, they briefly separated (my mom thinks one of them went to get something to drink, but she couldn’t remember specifically what happened). Meanwhile, some guy came up to my mom and asked her to dance. Since my dad wasn’t around, she said yes.

And off she went.

When my dad finally came back, my mom was gone. He waited around for her, but after awhile, my dad figured he wasn’t going to see her again. Disappointed and little pissed, he decided to leave without saying good-bye.

After my mom finished dancing with the other guy, she looked around for my dad. She looked and looked, but finally someone told her that he had already left. A little annoyed, my mom left the reunion.

~*~

The next morning, my maternal grandmother asked my mom how the reunion went. My mom said that it was good and that she had met a guy, but that he had left.

“Oh well,” she said. “His loss.”

~*~

On Monday, when my dad was at work, he saw Cathy, the woman that he recognized from the yearbook.

“Hey, where were you on Saturday night?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Cathy asked.

My dad explained that he recognized her from the yearbook and hadn’t seen her at the reunion. “So, who did you hang out with in high school?”

“Oh, my very best friend was Caren G—-” Cathy replied. (That would be my mom.)

My dad, surprised, said, “Huh. Guess who I hung out with for most of Saturday night?”

Cathy asked my dad if he was planning on seeing her again.

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Oh go on!” she insisted. My dad was hesitant but after a little more pushing from Cathy, he finally relented.

My dad, knowing that my mom was a teacher, looked her up at the school district and gave her a call.

That Saturday, they had their first official date.

While they were on their date, my dad told her about seeing Cathy at work and how she encouraged him to call.

My mom replied, “I haven’t seen Cathy since we graduated from high school.”

~*~

They got married on April 16, 1983.

And the rest, as they say, is history…

~*~

Happy 25th Anniversary Mom and Dad!

Love,

Allison and Eric

My parents. Christmas 2007.

~*~

Weddings are certainly in the air with the impending nuptials of Gina and Kerri, but even if you aren’t married or engaged, I would love to hear how you and your significant other got together, or about your parents or friends if you’re not with anyone.