Bad Word Wednesday: Redacted Edition

Infusion set failures. Let me tell you about them.

For those who pump insulin, you know what that can mean. For those who don't know, it can lead to high BG readings that don't want to budge, not because you had that second brownie and didn't bolus the requisite amount of insulin, but because some [redacted] piece of [redacted] plastic failed to properly insert another piece under my skin properly. But instead of, say, trying to deliver for 5 minutes, and then telling me, "Hey, over here! I'm not working so well!", it lets me carry on with my bedtime routine. Until…

4:30-something [redacted] a.m.

Beep beep beep. 

I roll over to check the phone on my bedside table. Not time to get up yet. I roll over to go back to sleep, knowing my trusty first alarm is scheduled for 5:55 am. 

Beep beep beep.

I reach over to poke my phone, trying not to wake up too much.

Beep beep beep. 

Then I realize that it's my [redacted] pump. I squint in the darkness, and see the dreaded No Delivery alert. 

No this is a perfectly acceptable notification if it is, indeed, out of insulin because I hadn't loaded it up with insulin. However, I inserted the set right before bed. Something had gone wrong with the installation of said set, and I had to do something about it. Now. 

[redacted]

So out of bed. Which means there's a required trip to the bathroom (yeah, because I am of a certain age), and downstairs to the Diabetes Supply Bin, unwrap a new infusion set, find a good spot on my body with my eyes squinting in the [redacted] too bright light of the dining room. 

Next comes a BG test to find out where I'm at.

16.9 mmol (300 mg)

[redacted]

... and a lot more profane words than that were going through my head. And [redacted] that, I'm annoyed and starting to wake up too. This is just a piece of crap. 

Nonetheless, I bolus the suggested amount and crawl back into bed. I think I noticed that it was just after 5 now. Less than an hour before the first alarm. 

Fast forward to breakfast time. 6:20 am. Time to test, and THIS is what I get?! 

[redacted]

BTW 15.9 mmol = 286 mg = not much [redacted] difference from 1-1/2 hours ago.

Ok, moving on....

Little Whispers

I am not a jealous person, or even an envious one.

Ok, maybe I'm lying a little bit.

I admit I feel a twinge of envy as my friends dig right into the lukewarm leftover pizza after a meeting, without a care in the world. They don't wonder how many carbs is in a Meat Lover's slice from Pizza Heaven, or how much insulin will cover that for the time being, or how much to extend a bolus over the course of several hours when the Post Pizza High comes back to haunt them.

I know it's childish of me, but I'm envious, just a little.

I wish I could sketch too//envy alert//: Source Unknown

On reflection of my "career" with diabetes, I can't remember ever having a good an in-range HbA1c. Ever. That's almost 25 years of numbers over 8% and sometimes much higher, representing blood sugars 10.2+ mmol (183+ mg). Ideally, we are told, someone with diabetes should an A1c of 7%*, representing blood sugars in range of 8.6 mmol (154 mg).

*Sidenote: This recommended amount is general, and varies depending on your physical condition, age, and a host of other factors. 

I am well versed in the concept that I should have a lower A1c. Really I am. Now it certainly is my endo's job to remind me of this, (although senility has not yet set in - I do recall this fact all by myself). But for some reason, just about every other medical professional seems to have a vested interest in what My Number is, often adding their respective specialty's list of what could go wrong if I don't get That Number down.

Life should be so easy, eh?

Just another side note for anyone about to jump on the lower-number-is-better bandwagon: Just because I have a higher A1c than "recommended", it does NOT mean I haven't been trying. The value of how much I try does not correlate to my A1c level.

So, when I see my fellow diabetes friends share Their Number achievements, I am truly happy, even excited for them. I know how much work goes into even lowering it by just a little.

One could actually argue that I don't know, because I've never got there myself, but I will leave that discussion for those eager to make that point.

But, as I celebrate those successes with my friends, there's a little devil, sitting on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, "Don't you wish that was you?"

However, I am a lucky person. I also have an angel sitting on my other shoulder, reminding me that I can do this, and perhaps one day I will be able count myself among those who celebrate our successes.

Envy is the art of counting the other fellow's blessings instead of your own.

 ~Harold Coffin*~

*See what I did there? Seriously, the author's name is really Coffin!

Fatherly Reflections

My Dad is my biggest fan here at InkStain'D. He was my very first subscriber, and I know he will get a notification that this post has gone live. So, on this Father's Day, I think it is only right to give a little back to him.

My Dad is the coolest 82 year old that I know.

In addition to putting up with my own nonsense for a lot of years, he frequently would take his grandchildren to the park, accidentally getting one stuck pushing them endlessly on the swings, melted softened their ice-cream in the microwave, supporting lego building marathons, and has spent countless hours job searching for more than one of his children. He would play cribbage with my mother and my grandma, even though he hated cards, with hardly a no complaint. He is a patient listener, offering his advice when we seek it out and sometimes when we don't.

He is smart and knows about just all kinds of things. Technology doesn't phase him. He has used a computer for many years, and he does way more than check email. He's set up devices like Apple TV, and yes, he even tweets. He stalks follows me on Twitter to make sure I'm doing ok, and if I am MIA for a while, he faithfully checks in. And he loves to read, everything from blogs to historical books.

Where was this guy during those Lego marathons?

The one thing he loved, that drove me crazy (yes, I was an ungrateful child!) I under appreciated as I grew up, was his love of the pipes. No, not the kind that Toronto Mayor Rob Ford allegedly has used according to some missing video out there someplace, but yes the bonafide bagpipes. He has a kilt, and suffered through endless questions of what pipers wear under their kilts (think about it, what would you wear under it all if you were wearing a kilt?)

So as a nod to my biggest fan, this Father's Day, I'd love to share a story with him that blends two of his passions - the pipes and history. So just for my Dad on this Father's Day I'd like to share this story about the pipes and D-Day. He might already know it, because he knows just about everything. But I'll share it anyway ;)


And before I start, for clarification, I don't mean D-Day as in Diabetes Day, as is the norm for this blog. Certainly there is no shortage of "D" things mentioned here. I mean D-Day as in the D-Day.


Now, due to stupid copyright laws and such, I'm going to share the story by link, because I'm just very sure the Economist wouldn't give me license to reprint here. I'll start with a question.

What was the last tune they had piped on D-Day in Normandy? 

Read all about it here.

As I reflect on my years since he brought me onto this planet, I see little bits of my Dad in me. But one day, I hope that I can be as smart and cool as him.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Courage, Brains and Heart

Accomplishments Big and Small: Another topic in DBlogWeek's Series:

We don’t always realize it, but each one of us had come a long way since diabetes first came into our life. It doesn’t matter if it’s been 5 weeks, 5 years or 50 years, you’ve done something outstanding diabetes-wise. So today let’s share the greatest accomplishment you've made in terms of dealing with your (or your loved one’s) diabetes. No accomplishment is too big or too small - think about self-acceptance, something you’ve mastered (pump / exercise / diet / etc.), making a tough care decision (finding a new endo or support group / choosing to use or not use a technology / etc.)

As I've been writing about my diabetes achievements, it struck me that they are much like those that the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion faced in the Wizard of Oz.

The Cowardly Lion

Remember how scared he was? He was afraid of everything. I too was that Cowardly Lion as I faced that stupid orange as a newly-diagnosed 28 year old, during my short stay in the hospital. I can recall each dimple in that orange, and remember the fear that I was, at some point, going to just have to do that to myself. I could not fathom how that was going to "be just like" giving myself a needle. But I did it. That was my first step to finding courage. As it turned out, it was my first courageous step in my diabetes journey. Since then I've found myself in the Cowardly Lion role many times, but I've also found as many opportunities to find courage along the way.

The Tin Man

Diabetes is a sneaky sort. Just when you think you have figured it out, you are humbled and realize that you haven't figured out a thing. Low blood sugars will sneak up on you, and highs can slap you down. A quote comes to mind from a song that has absolutely nothing to do with diabetes, but the words resonate for me:

I get knocked down, but I get up again

Tubthumping

Diabetes is just like that. Just when you think you've figured it out, it will knock you down. I have been humbled many more times than I can count. But through no shortage of strategizing, analyzing and sorting things out, I seem to still come out on top. I am not yet master of this disease, nor do I think that I ever will be. But I'm better at dealing with it than I used to be. As I evolve with this disease - along with diabetes technology, I'm getting better at it. As with the Tin Man, I have discovered that I have the smarts to figure this out, and one day hope to draw back the curtain on that diabetes wizard.

The Scarecrow

By far, I think that discovering the DOC (Diabetes Online Community) is like discovering my own heart and, even better, discovering that I am part of a bigger whole. It wasn't so long ago that I didn't talk much about diabetes. We've come together from different places, cultures, we are employed, unemployed, insured, uninsured, we are cool and we are nerdy. We have brought our talents, our skills, our perspectives and our challenges to the diabetes table. I am part of that community. Somehow we manage to be a big, messy and still, somehow cohesive group, supporting each other through it all. We are a community with heart and what can be better than being part of that?


To read great posts from fellow "Scarecrows", click here.

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