Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Ho ho ho, etc.

I made these for coworkers last night, to pass out with Christmas cards:

Maybe I should have brought some in to work for me today. Now I want one.

I managed to only eat TWO of them while they were still warm. I'm thinking I deserve a small medal - or a blue ribbon? - for such epic self-restraint.

All's been mostly quiet on the blogging front, I'm afraid. Not a lot going on for me to report to the wider world. (Except cookie baking, of course. Happy to report that.)  Our office closes down for the holiday, so today's my last day of work until 2011. I'll be at #dsma tonight, but probably won't "talk" to most of you until I'm back at the office - B and I are doing a staycation Christmas in Brooklyn! There will be lots of pajamas (my new ones arrived Monday!), lots of cooking (anyone got a good vegetarian recipe for main-course Christmas?!), and hopefully some Grinch-watching.

Hope you and yours have a very merry, and a most wonderful start to the New Year!

Wednesday, December 8, 2010


I ALWAYS use my pump clip (unless I'm in a dress and rockin' my awesome thigh holster). This morning, in my usual ohmygodhurryhurryRUSH! spaz to get out the door on time, I completely forgot to put on the clip. And lemme tell ya, my pump hates to be all warm and snuggly close to my skin. Every time I use my holster or tuck that puppy into a pocket, my BGs float up and stubbornly refuse to budge out of the 140s range.

My office solution to keep the pump secure and cool as a cucumber? Ta-dah:

Why yes, that IS a pump rubber-banded to the arm of my chair.

Necessity is most certainly the mother of invention....

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Yay Diaversary presents!!

Happy Diaversary to Me!

Today marks the 17th anniversary of my diagnosis - 17 whole years, kids! Years of all the stabbing, poking, and bloodletting involved in the maintenance of my Type 1 jalopy. Years of battling the food 5-0, keeping up  with advances in medical technology, and becoming more engaged in the D community. Years in which I somehow shifted from a 15-year-old kid whammied by the fickle finger of fate to a self-sufficient adult who might be a little more cyborg than she'd like.

Oh, how I loved Laugh-In.

How in the hell has so much time passed?! It feels like just yesterday I was sobbing in Hannaford's jelly aisle, totally overwhelmed at all the sugar in the foods I loved to eat, completely unable to wrap my head around my brand-new disease, and feeling oh-so-alone and incapable of handling things. And now here I am, writing a dblog post while plugged in to my pump and Dexcom, smugly pleased that the cheese I just noshed should have zero effect on my current smooth-sailing CGM graph.

I love cheese WAY more than Laugh-In. Mmm. Cheese.

Every December 2nd is like my diabetes New Year. I take some time to sit back and reflect on where I am and where I'd like to be, to count my lucky stars for the insurance I have, to toss out a big fat thanks to the cosmos for having people who love me and want me to be healthy and happy. (B, I'm looking at you, dude.) This year, I'm going to embrace the New Year and resolve to:

1. Not beat myself up so much. It's counterproductive, and I'd like to avoid bursting into tears at my next endo appointment when I get good news. (Bad news? No promises. But good news?! That's just ridiculous.)

2. Test more often, and more randomly. My meter is a solid 10-20 points higher than Dex because I test more often when I'm trying to bludgeon my BG down into a normal range.

3. Prioritize staying in touch with you crazy, wonderful, cupcake- and bacon-obsessed DOC folks. It's important. It keeps me focused...but not stalker- or serial killer-level focused. More like a relaxed, calm person who's in control but not insane about it focused.

4. Move more. My BGs will thank me for it.

5. Buy new gear: an updated medical ID tag, and a less fugly meter case.
    Now don't get all worried about the woo-woo level here. You'll be relieved to know it's not all about hand-holding, singing kumbaya, and getting in touch with my feelings. Every December I also like to throw myself a little "It's my party and I'll be high if I want to" gathering - sometimes it's a trip to an ice-cream place, sometimes it's a date with appalling quantities of pizza, and sometimes it's a multicourse dessert potluck at home. But whatever it is, the point of the diaversary celebration is the same. It's my chance to flip the bird at my D, at that fickle finger of fate, and say SCREW YOU, DISEASE! I'm still okay. Sometimes it's uphill, sometimes I get lucky, but I'm doing perfectly okay. So bite me. And pass a spoon.