a sweet ride

May 10, 2012

So we bought a new car a couple weeks ago. Our weekly commute mileage, the price of gas, work schedules of me and A, and Ms. Diva’s ever-intensfying school, activity, and summer camp schedule made it imperative that we do something, instead of continuing to talk about doing something. We ended up choosing the new PriusC, and we totally love it.

Of course, having type 1 diabetes and being a primary driver for our family means I’m looking for certain criteria in any potential new car. Of utmost importance: storage for the sugar products I like to have close at hand in case of lows. The PriusC provides plenty of room for this.

Four 4.2 oz. Juicy Juice boxes fit in the front console!

Four juice boxes in the glove box, too.

Both front doors also have spots especially for bottles of glucose tabs! (okay, for water bottles, but whatever. They’re perfect.)

A little bit of non-sugar sweetness: Ms. Diva & the new car

I am thinking that I may need to put some of the juice boxes into a small cooler pak instead of the console to keep them from boiling during the summer months, but that’s no big.

It’s really nice to have a car that we can trust when I’m driving so much. And it’s equally good to know there’s plenty of room for my sugar stash. ūüôā

***Toyota, Nestle, and Target have not paid me or provided any product(s) (!) for me to write this. I’m just thrilled with our recent car purchase, and these are the products I use to bring my blood sugar back into range.

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croup trumps pinboard #hawmc day 16

April 16, 2012

I was going to use one of the 2 “free passes” for Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge today. I wasn’t really feeling the Pinterest pinboard, so I left it to do today instead of getting it finished prior to the prompt day. Then some unexpected events caused me and my partner, A, to be up for several hours in the middle of the night. We spent from 12-2:30am at the ER with our daughter, Ms. Diva, and then spent today at an appt. with Ms. Diva’s pediatrician, at the pharmacy (twice) for her new meds, and at home with her resting. I’m exhausted, and so is A. Per usual for parents, we seem much more worn and strung out after last night’s escapades than Ms. Diva herself. She’s sick, but is already much much better and looks much better as well.

She had a little stuffy nose for about a week, and seemed a little tired a few days, but nothing remarkably horrible. Last night, she seemed a little more congested in the nose and sinus parts of her head, and we gave her a dose of children’s cold medicine before she went to bed. She seemed to go to sleep easy enough. A. and I went to bed around 11pm. At midnight, Ms. Diva woke us up with muted shrieking, silent sobbing, and wild gesturing at her throat. She squeaked out that she couldn’t breathe. Her entire little 6-year-old body was shaking. We got ourselves to the ER immediately.

After some albuterol treatment,¬†prednisone, and benedryl, the iconic croup seal-bark cough emerged. Oh, there it was. Croup! Seriously?! I felt like a complete and total idiot. She’d had croup before, when she was really little, and A and I both had it as kids too, so we know what croup sounds like. But she hadn’t coughed ONCE until about 1/2 way through the first of the two albuterol treatments! The mist loosened the gunk up so that she could cough, and there was no mistaking it.¬†Grrrrr.

In the rush to get out of the house, I left Dex (my continuous glucose monitor) under my pillow, so I had no way of tracking where my BG was throughout this frightening roller-coaster of an episode. Once we got into the ER, the staff assessed and started treating her, and A and I sat down next to her, I thought about testing my BG. 47 mg/dl. Abso-freaking-lutely AMAZING. I started pounding the gross glucose tabs I keep in my purse for when no other sugar sources are available. Yick.

I have no idea why the BG decided to do that last night. At 11pm I went to bed at 114mg/dl, and had reduced my overnight basal rate the night before. By 12:30am, it was 47. And serious stress, from other types of situations, generally sends my BG skyrocketing through the roof–like 100+ points. WTF???

It sucks so much to have to even bother with testing my blood and addressing whatever issues it’s having, when our daughter can’t breathe and is sick and needs help. I hate it. I hate that it happened, and I hate that I have to even think about it. But I sucked it up, ate the stupid glucose tabs,¬†comforted and loved my girl, and tried to be good support for A, too. It turned out okay.

Ms. Diva’s sleeping and breathing well tonight, and I hope her mamas will be able to sleep too (!!!). See you tomorrow for #hawmc day 17.

 


d-convo (#HAWMC day 8)

April 8, 2012

smartDpants (professional, 39 year old woman with type 1 diabetes) sits in a grant-funded project meeting with about 100 other people she has not met before today. Second by second, the large institutional clock at the front of the room ticks away while the project leader speaks to the group.

It is almost noon. smartDpants wonders what her blood sugar is and when she will get to eat lunch.

A woman who looks like she’s in her early 60’s enters the room and looks for a seat. There is an empty seat next to smartDpants. The older woman walks over and settles down in the empty seat.

smartDpants reaches down to her work bag on the floor and pulls her purse into her lap. She removes a OneTouch Ping blood glucose meter, her poker, and a bottle of test strips. She puts a test strip in the meter, pokes her finger, and puts a drop of blood in the strip.

As she has done the last 41,820 times she’s tested her blood sugar, she licks the remaining blood off her poked finger.

The meter reads “86.”

The older woman leans over to smartDpants. As the project leader keeps speaking, the older woman looks kindly at smartDpants and speaks quietly to her.)

Older woman: How are you doing this morning?

smartDpants: I’m doing well, thank you.

(smartDpants thinks to herself: What is she talking about? Just how am I doing in general? Or did she see my meter? Is she talking about my diabetes? Or is she just exchanging pleasantries? How much should I get into this with her? I should really be listening to the speaker. Plus, when are we breaking for lunch? How much insulin do I have on board?)

Older woman: My son has diabetes. ¬†(Glances at the meter.)¬†He doesn’t do so well with it, though. He’s not comfortable with testing in public, and he doesn’t test much at all.

smartDpants: It’s hard to take care of it all the time. I’ve had diabetes for 31 years. I haven’t always done so well with it, and I spent many years barely testing at all.

Older woman: Good for you for testing and taking care of yourself. Keep up the good work. (Smiles.)

(About 10 seconds later, a man in his 60’s, sitting on the other side of smartDpants, points to the MedicAlert bracelet on her left wrist.)

Older man: What’s your bracelet for?

smartDpants: I have type 1 diabetes.

Older man: Diabetes? I have diabetes too–type 2. I’ve had it for about fifteen years.

smartDpants: Oh, really? I’ve had type 1 for 31 years now.

Older man: It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

smartDpants: I know. Me too.

(Older man smiles at smartDpants. A few minutes later, the group breaks for lunch. smartDpants is happy to not have to break out any juicy juice boxes or glucose tabs during the meeting.)

True confession: this d-convo happened last month, but it was such a cool experience that I wanted to be sure to capture it–and where better than this blog, for this post? It was fun to have those 2 moments of connection about diabetes with strangers/allies in the struggle.

This post is for wego Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge. The best conversation I had this week: Try writing script-style (or with dialogue) today to recap an awesome conversation you had this week.

Want more Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge posts: Check out¬†wego Health on Facebook!



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