Diabetes 360

School Nurse Blues

2010-08-23T16:28:00.000-05:00

I often used to read with pity the woeful wails from parents whose children went to a school with a clueless nurse or even no nurse at all. Truthfully, I didn't give it a lot of thought because that was the one thing we seemed to have well under control. Amy had trained Emma's first nurse and teacher well, and they had a pretty good handle on things. There were a few bumps and hiccups along the way: Emma wandering alone outside during a fire drill, her pump wailing away all the while, screwed up sensor numbers from poorly-excecuted calibrations, etc. But at minimum, they could look after the diabetes basics. We were pretty distressed to learn the nurse was moving, but we remained optimistic that a week of training ought to do it.

And then today came. The first day of school. The first day of school with a new nurse. The first day of school with a new nurse and Amy's business on the cusp of booming success.

There is another T1 1st grader in Emma' school. He came to the nurse's office with Emma before lunch so he could be tested and given his injection. The nurse read the results and triumphantly proclaimed "You don't need insulin, your blood sugar is fine!"

Hallelujah! The school nurse has cured type 1 diabetes! At least until the test that comes 2 hours after this little boy ate his lunch. Fortunately, he is smarter than the nurse, and informed her he needed insulin before every meal. (To tell the truth, I'm not sure Emma would have said that).

Poof! There goes our misplaced optimism and excitement about the first day of school with the new nurse, and I'm completely torn as to how to address it. I know my wife won't want me to say anything, but this is just as much (if not more) about her as it is about Emma. I mean, she didn't want to give him insulin!! Where do you even START when someone is THAT incompetent? Clearly, someone failed to ask a pretty important question during the job interview, so do I hassle the principal? Hunker down and work extra hard to train the new nurse AND the new teacher?

I wish it were as easy as telling the school "You've got one week to figure this out." But this isn't McDonald's, it's Emma. If they can't do it, we will have to. Perhaps a better title would have been "Starting Over."

The Stuff I Miss the Most

2010-08-19T21:24:00.000-05:00

When I was first diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, at the tender age of 26, I had to make a very rapid lifestyle change that included giving up eating trainloads of stuff that I like to eat. Because I was 26, the ER doc assumed I was type 2, and after a couple of hours on IV insulin I was sent home with a prescription for glyburide (and a Winnie the Pooh sticker 'cause I only cried a little when they started the IV). After another doc tried to kill me with oral meds, I finally got on insulin and started to get the hang of this D nonsense. I quickly learned that being new to type 1 meant no more:

Oh how I miss you dear friends! Boxes upon boxes of donuts, with your various frostings, fillings, and delightful variety of sprinkles! And my dear Count Chocula, you and your cousins Frankenberry and Booberry haunted my every Saturday morning until the final cartoon went off the air at 11:30. Old friend, triple-meat, triple-cheesburger; I still call upon your delicious existance on the Ides of March, and yet your high fat content stays with my blood sugar for a fortnight.

These days, a donut here or there can be managed with an aggressive bolus timed just so. Cereal is a blood-sugar bomb. If there's a way to bolus for it, I certainly haven't figured it out yet. I cannot deny my indulgences in cheeseburgers, although my days of the triple-meat are fairly well passed. To be clear, I was not overweight when I was diagnosed, and NO, these things did not cause me to have type 1 diabetes. They just happen to be some old friends that don't understand diabetes and so I just prefer not to play with them anymore. They're that weird kid on the street that wore swimming goggles year-round.

I miss a lot of other stuff too. Like being able to roll over at night without a pump jabbing me in the ribs, or being able to sit through long meetings without whipping out a juice box. (Seriously, how many grown men still have to carry around juice boxes with "Big Bird" on them?) Mostly, I just miss being....normal?

This Made Me Laugh

2010-08-18T23:33:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I'm kind of weird like that.

Oh Yeah, Him!

2010-08-17T22:54:00.005-05:00

Emma obviously captures a lot of time and attention. Actually, she demands a lot of time and attention! The really great thing about Emma (among many others) is that she's simply the happiest kid I have ever known, even though she has more to gripe about than any adult I know. I think Amy and I have done a pretty good job with her, but it takes team effort when there's a little one in the house with type 1. It's easy to take it for granted when a D sibling is as good a kid as her big brother, Brenden.

The true bottom line, in my completely un-biased opinion, is that Brenden has really taken to heart two very important things: always look after those who cannot always look after themselves, and that family comes first. Brenden is transforming, right before my very eyes, from a kid into a young gentleman.

Over the past year, on nights he and I do the grocery shopping, I noticed a couple of things that may not seem like a lot, but that I thought were pretty darn cool. To start, he saw an elderly couple obviously struggling to get out of the store with their groceries. Brenden asked if he should go carry their bags to their car for them. Tonight, as the checker was scanning our items and putting them into the plastic-bag merry-go-round, Brenden stood at the end putting the groceries into our basket. After every bag went into the basket, Brenden peeled the plastic apart just a few inches. He was doing it so the checker would not have to peel each and every plastic bag. Sounds silly, but that is how a gentleman would act, and its how a gentleman treats any employee of any business. I could not have been prouder.

My little gentleman is starting middle school this year, which by default adds another layer of gray hair. But if I never lived to see another day, I would know that my little gentleman would take care of his mom and his sister for as long as he needed to.

I'm proud of you dude.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass

2010-08-17T11:39:00.004-05:00

Whoa. I am a TERRIBLE blogger.

I am good at impersonating Disney characters, accurately predicting arrival times to any destination when embarking on a road trip, and making computers do all kinds of things they were never intented to do. But I am a lousy blogger. A true poster-child of the Lazy Bloggers Club. Sorry about that, I'll try to make it up to all 4 of you.

Typically it would be expected that I would provide an update on what's happened since I last composed a blog, so here goes:

Alaska became a state.
Pluto was kicked out of our solar system.
Global warming went away, then came back, then went away again.
The Berlin Wall fell.
Courtney Cox either starred in or had cancelled at least 5 TV shows; but she's still married to David Arquette. (His sister still awakens everyone in the house each night on "Medium," which has changed networks..twice.)
Atari game systems were discontinued.
Luke learned that Darth Vader was his father. (I'm still in shock)
Someone apparently developed a device known as an "insulin pump."
At least 3 cast members from "Saved By the Bell" have successfully shed their "squeeky-clean" images. I also hear the cast from "Diff'rent Strokes" has also endured some form of turmoil.
The Lubbock Avalanche-Journal, my hometown newspaper, stopped advertising jobs in the help-wanted section as "Jobs for Men," "Jobs for Women," and "Jobs for Either." (Yes, they really used to do that).

Many other exciting things have happened, but because I am OCD and would love to travel to Europe, I like to keep my lists to multiples of ten. It's been one heck of a whirlwind the last several months to be sure. I know you are all screaming at your monitors begging for more, so I promise to provide a little more of an update very soon.

In the meantime, if you haven't seen it yet, here's a link to a guest blog I wrote for Kerri.

Layla Grace

2010-02-15T08:18:00.003-06:00

I don't know why, but I cannot stop thinking about this precious little girl from the Houston area. She is 2 years old and has a terribly aggressive form of cancer. She is, sadly, in the last days of her precious little life as we speak. I cannot imagine what her family is going through. I have posted the link to her family's blog below, but be warned that it is not easy to read.

May God ease her pain now, comfort her family tomorrow, and rejoice with them when she is whole again soon.

http://laylagrace.org/

Why the Self-Checkout Doesn't Save Companies Money

2010-01-31T21:23:00.002-06:00

This doesn't have anything to do with diabetes, at least it doesn't yet. By the time I get through it I may manage to tie it in, so we'll just have to see how it goes.

Before I went to work for The Scooter Store, I ran carwashes during the day and taught college courses at night. One of my favorite topics was the concept of the self-checkout aisle at The Home Depot. Tonight on the Children with Diabetes forums someone was complaining about the lack of service available on the floor at The HD. My theory is that the drop in business from the profitable contractor's business is causing cuts on the less-profitable sales floors. But then I thought for a moment about it. I've never been a fan of self-checkout at home improvement stores. By definition, these stores are for schlubs like me that are trying to do stuff ourselves; the last thing I need is the stress of trying to scan a 10mm hex nut with no barcode.

But I digress.

You see, the problem is that people need accountability. People are imperfect creatures, and we simply must be held accountable to someone or something. If you think about it for a moment, who exactly holds the kid in lumber accountable if he brushes off a customer? Is it the computer that helpfully reminds you to put that 6 foot picket on the scale so it can be weighed? In business, virtually every business has one chance to get a customer's feedback and either build on a positive experience or salvage a poor one.

That no longer exists at places with self-checkout lanes. If you were the 19 year old making $8 per hour, and you knew no one was going to ask that lady you just blew off if her experience was a good one, would you go the extra mile? Conversely, if you knew you wouldn't be recognized for extraordinary customer service, would you bother? For sure, some would. But most won't.

So let's pretend that Lowe's will save $20 million this year by eliminating 6 full-time cashier positions in each of its stores across the country. Somewhere some operations executive is very proud of that number; and I would also bet that a sales executive in that same company is scratching his or her head as to why their consumer business is suddenly flat or dropping. The reason is that what made the home improvement business such a raging success will now be the reason they fail.

I happen to think this is a perfect example of why the free market shouldn't be tampered with. There are lots of people opposed to "big box" retailers and their impact on "mom and pop" businesses. Sooner or later, the market will correct itself, and my suspicion is that the mom and pop hardware store will make a raging comeback as a result of the self-check lanes. I'll be interested to see if anyone notices it happening.

Random Musings from the Sunday Paper and Other Tales from San Antonio News

2010-01-17T21:10:00.002-06:00

When we first moved to the area, we tried our best to assimilate. Included in that was to watch the local news and read the local papers. First, we have to exclude the New Braunfels newspaper; any paper where the adventures of Nancy and Sluggo appear alongside the letters to the editor. And the Austin-American Statesman is out because it's a rag. The Statesman would make Beijing proud.

Primarily we get the San Antonio news here, and the television news always includes one of each of the following topics: a fire, a stabbing, and a robbery. Generally, whomever can get all three in the lead story will win "sweeps."

"A fire breaks out at a local bar after a man stabs his friend who had just robbed their mutual ex-wife." This is usually followed by an ill-prepared reporter with hundreds upon hundreds of emergency vehicles behind them. I think that robbers actually start fires in San Antonio because they know EVERY cop in town will be at the fire. Maybe the want to be on TV. You can practically hear the director whispering in the reporter's earpiece "OK, you're doing great. Now see if you can squeeze the phrase 'sex offender' somewhere in the story."

The young reporter, hoping to move to the big leagues, thus offers the viewing public:

"That's right Dan, behind me you can see that the entire city is awash in flames. Police suspect that a sex offender robbed a veteran just home from Afghanistan and started a fire hoping it would distract the police. Police have been unable to locate a suspect, presumably because they are all here looking at the fire."

Director: "Don't say that part."

Reporter: "Oh....uh...LOOK! They got him, right over there by the burning strip club."

Director: "Score!"

The newspaper is actually a little better. I'm more interested in the subtleties of newspapers. And since I'm just naturally inquisitive, I'm prompted to offer these observations and/or questions.

Whoever decided to attach the eyeglasses ads to the funnies should be shot.
Are trucks ever NOT on sale?
I hadn't read "Parade" magazine in a long time, and boy have I missed newsy nuggets like "studies suggest a link between going to Wal-Mart on Sunday nights and complete stupidity." I used to think Marilyn vos Savont was a genius, now I think she's Milton with Wikipedia.
I get that there isn't really a sole pro football team here, but one page out of 40 devoted to the NFL playoffs compared to 27 for the Spurs' loss last night seems a bit....confused.
Does Academy actually sell any sporting goods, or just $100 shoes and $40 t-shirts?
I love the Target ad. I always read them, and become disproportionately excited by them. "Look honey, Target has loofahs on sale! 3 for $7.99!" If I saw that ad for Dollar General, this would be a completely different blog.
I also always look at the office supply ads and the Radio Shack ads. I guess I like to look at out-dated, over-priced technology and then label and file it.
When you think about it, $1.50 for the paper is a pretty good deal. It takes an hour to read "People," and it costs $4.95. Or so I hear.
Newspapers would be much, much more popular if they were the same size as a magazine. Airplanes should be a newspaper publisher's best friend, instead they go together like cookies and Calista Flockhart.
I don't really have a #10, but I'm a fan of the metric system.

The True Cost of Diabetes

2010-01-12T18:57:00.003-06:00

Type 1 diabetes is expensive. Two people in one house with type 1 diabetes is really expensive! We are lucky and have really good insurance, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it costs any less. Plus, there are lots of other costs that can't be expressed in numbers. But since I'm a numbers kind of guy, let's start there.

Per Month:

Medical Insurance: $800 per month. Why is this so significant, you ask? Everyone needs insurance don't they? Not necessarily. Let's pretend for a moment that I am a healthy adult with an otherwise healthy family. $800 per month works out to $9600 per year. If I were healthy, I might have chosen a bargain plan at work at a cost of $4000 per year, or I might have chosen a major medical plan for as little as $40 per month ($480 per year). Then I would pay out of pocket for office visits (assuming I even went if I were healthy) and prescriptions. I've learned that you can negotiate a pretty decent cash price, and I figure a family of four paying out of pocket would spend $600 per year in office visits. Prescriptions would be pretty typical, antibiotics and such, and would run another $1000 or so to estimate on the high end. So, very roughly, diabetes costs us $7200 per year.
Life Insurance: $58 per month. I was lucky (and smart) enough to grab a life insurance plan while I could. If I weren't diabetic, I would just use the group life provided at work and buy the increments there. That's $700 per year.
Right now, I put $5000 per year into our HSA account. If I were healthy, I would probably do it anyway to balance the risk of having a major-medical plan, so that's a wash.
We spend $1440 per year on mine and Emma's pumps. That's just the pumps.
Pump supplies are nil (thank you A Plus), but batteries, Tegaderm, etc. are not. I put their cost at $300 per year.
Most of our diabetes prescriptions are covered at 100%, but insulin is not. $240 per year.
Office visits...yikes. Specialist visits are $50 a pop, and between Emma and me, that's $1000 per year.
Hospitals, labs, etc. $2000 per year.

So that's a pretty rough estimate, but it costs my family $12,880 more per year than it could potentially cost.

If you talk about the word "profit" with an accountant and a finance analyst, you'll get two very different answers as to what defines "profit." To an accountant, if your revenues exceed your costs, then you're profitable. To a financial analyst, profit only exists if the revenue you receive is the highest revenue possible AND it exceeds your costs. In other words, if I earned $500 making calculators, and it cost me $300, then an accountant calls that profit. If I could have made remote controls for $300, and sold them for $600, then the financial analyst says I have LOST $100. Makes perfect sense, right? They call this obtuse concept "opportunity cost."

There are lots of "opportunity costs" associated with diabetes:

I will never be an entrepreneur in all reality. I will be a slave to group health insurance. What is the cost associated with that? What if I could open a dog-grooming business and profit $100,000 per year? Not going to happen. I can't assume the risks of a start-up like most can. What if I was able to develop my big idea (a Lysol-type sanitizer in fogger form), and it ended up saving millions of dollars per year in costs associated with kids that get sick at day-care centers, in ball-pits, etc.? How much money is lost to parents staying home with those sick kids? You get my point.
What if my wife wasn't forced to give up her career to take care of a diabetic baby? Let's assume she earned $40,000 per year, and Emma's been diabetic for almost 5 years now. That's $200,000 in lost income, and a reversal of $60,000 in costs for a net $260,000 swing. That's big money folks.

What are the emotional costs?
What are the costs in terms of the morale of the caregivers? And in some cases, what are the costs associated with the loss of a marriage?
What are the costs of parents that can't always attend their "healthy" kid's games?
What if that third child that we might have had otherwise was the one that found the cure?

So in strictly financial terms, it's cost our family roughly $300,000 in cost and lost income. In emotional terms, it's been far greater.

The Best Big Brother Ever

2009-10-08T07:58:00.002-05:00

Today my big brother Billy would have been 40 years old. Much is said about a man turning 40; they say men leave their wives for younger women in short skirts, buy expensive cars, start to dye their hair, or all of the above. Billy's physical limitations would not have allowed any of those things of course, although he did usually favor one lady over another at the State School, and he did have a certain twinkle in his eye when he got his new wheelchair.

I knew Billy as well as anyone. He and I were very close in a way that only a few people can really understand. Those with mental and physical handicaps very definitely develop bonds, and the bonds with their siblings are very strong. I see it often in Brenden and Emma. How many 10 year old boys will happily play with their little sisters, or quickly stand strong to defend them? I also see it in my wife's cousins, Holly and Haley. Their brother, Britton, is profoundly locked away by Autism, but he knows and loves them and vice versa.

That was how Billy and I were. And I know him well enough to know that if he were "normal," he never would have been any of those things that some 40 year olds become. His spirit, strength, and courage were too strong to be overtaken by higher indulgences. He preferred Hee Haw on a little TV to "Baywatch" on a wide screen. The Price is Right won out over "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous."

Those who know how to cherish and appreciate the simple things are the truly powerful ones, and that will be the gift he left all who knew him.

Dear Wal-Mart

2009-09-20T21:24:00.002-05:00

I love you Wal-Mart.

I love your low prices. I love that I can get just about anything I need in one trip. I love that you have twelve different kinds of peanut butter and every variety of soft-drink that any person could ever need. I love that you are always open, and I love the little old man that hands me a shopping cart as I walk in the store.

I love you Wal-Mart. Why don't you love me?

Why are your parking spaces always occupied by an abandoned shopping cart?

Why do you have 50 check-out lanes crammed tightly together when there are never more than 10 of them open at a time?

Why don't you understand that sometimes all I want is a hand-held basket?

Why do you always have shirts in every size BUT XL? Or size 34 pants?

Why do you have perfectly-manicured grass outside, but disgusting bathrooms inside?

Why are the rudest people, and the longest lines, always found in "customer service?"

I really do love you Wal-Mart. But sometimes you just aren't worth it.

D-Commerce

2009-09-20T21:00:00.002-05:00

Type 1 diabetes has taken a lot from my family. A lot. It's given some things too. There aren't many families where dad and daughter can form their own band with musical pump alarms as the only instruments.

One of the things that it has taken away from us (and lots and lots of others) is the 2-income household. We've done OK on just what I've been able to earn over the years from working 1 full-time job plus any number of part-time ones from being a college instructor to a security guard at professional wrestling events.

But that's not really the point. The point is that one person in my house is working her ass off and doesn't earn any "income." As some of you know, Amy is an absolutely brilliant designer of little girls' clothes, and has been known to make a stunning cake or three. The clothes she makes are incredible, as are the cakes.

So that brings us to today, where Amy is slowly rolling her line of insulin pump pouches out in the market. To be sure, there is no shortage of pump pouches available for sale, but I think that there is an under-served market for pump pouches that are hand-sewn, high-quality pouches made of high-quality fabrics. Typically, her pouches are beautiful, practical, and very well-made.

Swing on by her site and check them out. She's busily adding more to her site, so it re-directs to a listing on Etsy, but check back often as I expect her site to be up and running soon. And if you're so inclined, you might give one of her pouches a try. You won't be disappointed.

www.toosweetboutique.net

The Diabetes Olympics

2009-09-13T09:02:00.002-05:00

Participating in an athletic event when you have type 1 diabetes can be a serious pain the butt. A single game of soccer, softball, or flag football means hours of chaos:

Afternoon basal adjustments
Carefully timed meal boluses that won't peak just as you are up to bat
Hoping you have long enough in the dugout for your CGMS to re-acquire the signal
Carrying a juice box like a kid heading to camp at the Y

So it occurred to me that type 1 diabetics should have our own Olympics, and I have helpfully come up with some events. Don't ask me to plan the thing, I'm more of a "big idea" guy.

100m Set Change: Participants must sprint 50 meters, pick up a vial of insulin, and sprint back. The winner is the first person to change their infusion site and clear all the bubbles from running with the insulin.
200m Pump-Dangle Sprint: Participants must run 200 meters with their pump dangling between their legs, just like when your pump detaches itself from your pocket and makes a run for it.
400m Insurance Hurdles: Participants must sprint 400 meters while clearing a hurdle every 50 meters. Hurdles shall be made up of insurance agents, appeals paperwork, and DME exemptions.
100m Hypo-Treatment: Participants must bolus themselves down to 60 mg/dl, and then run 100 meters to a juice box. First person over 80 mg/dl wins!
Syringe Darts: Participants must, using only a mirror, throw an insulin syringe into a small marked target 10 feet behind them. The target represents an area of skin not scarred by infusion sites.

Parents of kids with type 1 would also have their own special events. I think they are fairly self-explanatory, but would generally resemble a rodeo more than the Olympics:

"Test a 3 year old."
"School-Nurse Roping."
"Testing in Pitch Dark."
"Make a Kid Drink a Juice."
"Hide the Chocolate."

I especially like the "School-Nurse Roping," but of course you can use whichever barrier to basic education that makes you giggle.

That is all for now. Stay tuned for my letter to Wal Mart.

The First Day of School

2009-08-23T21:22:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow kids all over our small, central-Texas town will be hustling about, gathering their backpacks and lunches, pencils and paper, glue sticks and folders, and other over-priced goods in preparation for the first day of school. They'll rise early in the morning (some earlier and easier than others), dress in their new school clothes, and have a good breakfast to prepare for the day. Soon enough, the newness of it all will wear away, as the joy of the first day of school slowly drifts into routine.

For most kids, school is routine; but for kids with diabetes, it is anything but. For Emma, school will never be routine.

School for the child with diabetes is first and foremost a triumph. Diabetes is a horrrible, horrible disease that, just 80 years ago, was a death sentence for kids. We did not have insulin to inject, and once we did, we didn't have glucometers to test with. As macrabe as it sounds, that a child like Emma, diagnosed at 9 months old, survived to see kindergarten is a triumph of modern man.

School for the child with diabetes usually depends on the school, state, principal, superintendent, nurse, and parent. That's a lot. There are schools that still consider diabetes something that can be controlled by "not eating any sugar." They think diabetic "episodes" can be managed by a single teacher in a room full of children.

Diabetes is not a mini-series.

It cannot be managed in "episodes." That would be rather like handing a knife to a child with hemophelia and teaching the educator how to call 911. Once you have an "episode" the damage can sometimes not be undone.

Believe it or not, there are parents out there that have to fight, and I mean FIGHT, just to get the school to allow their child to test their blood sugar in class. Our school's principal actually suggested that until Emma could walk to the nurse's office alone, they would send another child (another FIVE YEAR OLD) down with her.

Words fail me.

School for the child with diabetes means having to explain, every year, what that thing on your arm is, and not to touch that tube please, and why you can have a juice when no one else can, but you also can't eat the second piece of birthday cake. It means studying for a test isn't enough, you also have to worry what will happen if your blood sugar gets low and you can't think. Or if it gets too high and you have to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW.

School for the child with diabetes means glucagon, spare pump supplies, insulin stored in the office, syringes, glucose tablets, and Tegaderm.

Will the kids ever get to know me? I mean, I'm gone all the time to see an endocrinologist, a nephrologist, a rheumatologist, and an opthamologist.

School for the child with diabetes means that the first pool party you are invited to will be your worst nightmare. It's hard enough to put on a swimsuit as a teenage girl, harder still when you have a pump and glucose sensor. Will they know why you had to bring some juice with you? Will you have to explain it AGAIN? When you are asked to dance for the first time, will you risk him touching the infusion site on your back that you've spent so many years trying to hide, or will you just say no?

It means wondering if that cute boy will notice you, or the patches of rough skin on your arms scarred by years of infusion sites and glucose sensors. Will he be perfect enough that he will put up with your moodiness AND your pump? What will that other girl, the one without the tubes and the scar tissue, say to him to convince him you're not good enough?

Why can't my big brother be in the same school with me every year? He makes me feel safe.

No doubt there will be many parents with tears in their eyes tomorrow morning. Most of them will be proud and a little nostalgic that their little one has grown to be a kindergartener right before their very eyes. I'll be right there with them, but the feelings will be more complex. Kindergarten will be a trial run, a way to prepare Emma (and her teachers) for all that is to come in the future.

I hope my brave little girl loves it.

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

2009-07-11T20:21:00.003-05:00

We're 7 months into the new administration, and I would like to take a few minutes to make sure everyone out there knows the facts. I know there are many of you that supported Mr. Obama for president, and I would expect that most did because "he wasn't George W. Bush." I get that, I really do. That's probably why Bush beat Al Gore to begin with, people were just tired of Bill Clinton. I know what you're thinking, "This is a diabetes blog!" All I ask is that you stay with me a bit and you'll see the connection when I get to "Obamacare."

There are many, many disturbing things this president and his allies in Congress have done, but what's scary is how much more he wants to do but isn't telling you. And no one else is telling you either. Conservatives often rail about the "liberal media," which members of the media then brush off as preposterous. I would challenge you to research this independently and find that, regarless of the source, you'll find that about 80% of national "mainstream" media journalists say they voted for Obama, and that 60% of them describe themselves as "very liberal." There is an agenda, don't pretend there isn't. Terry McCauliffe, head of the Democratic National Committee, readily admits that the liberal media helped Obama get elected. (It's on Youtube, check it out.)

The two most important pieces of legislation in recent memory are either already in the Senate or being written as we speak: Cap and Trade, and Health Care Reform. Here's what you need to know about both.

Cap and Trade is supposed to be about cleaner energy and a focus on renewable resources. Here are the facts:

1. The bill was debated for exactly 5 minutes in the House, which seems rather short for a bill that is 1400 pages long, not to mention that House Democrats added 317 pages at 3am.

2. The bill will double the cost of the average American's electric bill. DOUBLE. And that's just an Obama administration estimate. The reason for this is that the people who wrote it, ultra-liberal Democrats from the Northeast don't USE coal energy! Their homes are heated with oil! This is an energy tax folks, plain and simple.

3. An EPA official can walk into your house and inspect it for "energy efficiency." If it doesn't pass, you get a fine and have to spend thousands to upgrade your home.

4. You will not be able to sell your home until the EPA gives you approval to do so. In other words, it has to meet the EPA's standard for being "energy efficient" or you can't sell it. So now your home you wanted to sell for $150,000 will now cost $160,000 or so, depending on how much you have to spend. Inflation, anyone?

5. China and India don't have Cap and Trade, which means that what remains of American manufacturing will shut down virtually overnight and move (along with American jobs) overseas. And the cost of American products? You got it, through the roof.

6. Remember what happened to the price of food when oil went through the roof? Same exact thing. Obama wants everyone to buy an expensive energy-efficient car (despite the fact that Americans obviously don't want them). If you're banking on ethanol, forget it. It costs $1.25 to produce $1 worth of the stuff.

7. And finally, not to worry too much, because in order to get this monstrosity through the House, the Obama administration bought off moderate Democrats with billions in "exemptions" and pet projects. So some people will get something out of the deal.

Healthcare Reform: This one's actually much simpler to oppose than Cap and Trade.

1. Imagine the politician you hate the most. For some of you, it's George W. Bush, or Reagan, or Carter, etc. Now imagine that person in charge of YOUR healthcare.

2. Name one well-run government agency that always stays under budget. Just one.

3. Private insurance WILL fail if there is a government plan. If you owned a business and were spending huge sums of money on healthcare premiums, wouldn't you unload it as long as you knew there was a government "safety net" healthcare plan? You bet your bacon they will, and as employers bail, private insurers will go kaput. When that happens, the 50 million people projected to be on the plan will balloon, along with the $1.7 trillion price tag.

4. When the cost skyrockets, as it no doubt will, the call will come to contain costs. How many of us have struggled to explain why a pump or CGMS makes sense over NPH. Now imagine explaining that to a government bureaucrat that thinks you just take a pill to control diabetes. It's simple economics to a bureaucrat; the cost of a person on a pump in a year with fast-acting insulin and supplies will easily top $10k. NPH and syringes may only cost hundreds. If you didn't know anything about diabetes and your job was to contain costs, which would you pick?

Finally, I just want to reiterate how dangerous of a financial crisis this country is in. Ever heard of George Soros? He's the ultra-liberal billionaire founder of Moveon.org, and he's saying we're doomed to runaway inflation within 20 years. Warren Buffet? Heard of him? Richest man in the world and Obama voter. Let's just say he's having second thoughts. According to the polls, most Obama voters are.

By 2019, our debt to GDP ratio will have grown from 59% to 82%. That's bad. And people won't loan you more money when your debt ratio is that high. That's bad too. In other words, our debt won't be sustainable, and that's just with the stimulus money. Some 80% of the stimulus has not been spent. It's not too late folks to stop it. It's not too late to stop Cap and Trade, and it's not too late to stop government healthcare. You don't even have to admit you might have missed on this one, just don't miss in 2010.

I know we all look at California and the mess that it's in. California is what Obama wants for all of us. Many of California's major employers have fled the state because of its high taxes and liberal agenda. Where have they gone? Texas.

Liberal-run California was issuing IOU's because it's broke. And in conservative Texas, we're wondering "What recession?"

Bring on the Lows

2009-04-01T21:48:00.002-05:00

So I have been very, very good on my diet for several days now. I've had light breakfasts of egg beaters, turkey bacon, and a slice of whole wheat toast. Lunch has consisted of lean protein and vegetables or salad and a banana or apple. And dinner has been grilled chicken or pork with steamed vegetables. I like to throw in a few "sugar-free" cookies afterward for dessert. Of course we all know what that means. No sugar = lots of carbs. I've done yoga, kickboxing, running, and walking to get more exercise.

I haven't seen a lot of difference on the scale just yet, but I know it will come. The biggest difference has been my insulin intake and the improvement over all in my blood glucose readings. Before my diet, I was using 80-100 units of insulin per day, 48 of those in basal. Now I am using 40-60 units per day total. And I'm also having lows. Lots of them, too. In particular I've had a low BG every night for the last three nights, and today I had a pretty nasty one at work. I literally had to sit in my cubicle and wait for the Coke to kick in, because I lacked the energy to stand.

My old endo, whom I miss terribly, always said that lows were an unavoidable by-product of good BG control. And he's right, they're going to happen, but tonight my wife took my pump and made some basal adjustments, so hopefully that will help reduce the quantity and severity of the lows I've been having. That's the advantage of having an endo that lives with you.

So here's to better BG control, and hopefully some pounds are melting away!

The 3-foot diet buster

2009-03-30T20:23:00.002-05:00

So I've done pretty well so far on my 3 day-ish diet. I've managed to cut down on my calories, get in a good run or two the last couple of days, and today I even did yoga! Me, yoga! Tonight I prepared a meal of pork and steamed vegetables. The olive oil added more calories than we needed, but it was good. And then the doorbell rings.

Remember those chocolate chunk cookies you bought from that little girl selling them for her school? Well darned if she didn't show up at the worst possible time, right after a meal of lean protein and steamed vegetables. And then, right before me, were rows upon rows of perfectly portioned balls of chocolate chunk heaven. I opened the box and looked upon them like Rottweiler on a pet rabbit.

I closed up the box as best as I could and put them into the freezer for another time. I've got too far to go at this point to enjoy even one chocolate chunk cookie. Not CHIP, but CHUNK.

I have been enjoying the fantastic blood sugars that have come along with eating better and working out more. I don't think I've even gone over 200 mg/dl since Saturday, which for me is pretty good, especially lately. I'll never forget my new endo telling me that he wanted me to go to a diabetes education class. Me? Diabetes education?? I could only offer the feeble defense that I knew WHAT to do, I just wasn't doing it. I am looking forward to that day when I return and show him my sub-7 A1c.

As long as no more kids show up at my door with more cookies.

Apathy in New Braunfels

2009-03-29T19:52:00.003-05:00

One of the things I really liked about Brenden's soccer team in Lubbock, the Comets, was how supportive (and VOCAL) the parents were. In a close game, you could really count on hearing their voices rise and cheer and coax their boys on toward victory. When we were behind (which didn't happen often) and not playing well, you could count on each of those parents letting their boys know how they felt about it.

I was tough on those boys, tougher than I probably should have been for their age, but I wasn't mean by any stretch. I wanted each one of those boys to play beyond what they ever thought possible, and play that way every single minute they were at practice and at games. In short, I taught them to WANT it more than the other team. We had some good players for sure, but the Comets won because they were disciplined, in superb physical condition, and they wanted to win more than their opponent did. They knew how and when to dig down and play that much harder. I didn't allow any goofing off or screwing around in practice. Getting out of line, or horsing around led quickly to a round of "drop-downs," which is a form of kid-torture disguised as a conditioning drill where the boys had to run about 200 yards or so and drop to their chest with the blow of every whistle. I was a bit of a dril seargeant, but I just wanted them to be the best, and the parents had my back.

The reasoning was simple, the best players would always be the best, and I wanted the less talented ones to be better than the other kids simply by being tough, aggressive, and in shape. I'll never forget little Tyler. He was by far the littlest kid on the team every year, but he very quickly earned the nickname "Scrapper." He was little, but he was tenacious and tough, and he was every bit as good as some of the best players on other teams because the Comets wouldn't let him be anything less.

Now fast-forward to soccer in New Braunfels. You'd think you were at a tennis match! The parents sit on the sidelines and quietly applaud at appropriate times, with an occassional outburst of outrage if someone dared to touch another player. Unbelievable. I've never seen a more uninspired bunch of players and parents in all of my life, and it's a serious drag on Brenden. Brenden likes discipline and order, and there is neither in practice or in games. I was sitting in for the coach this weekend and, I swear, I had a kid tell me "no" when I asked him to do something. There was not a single Comet that would have DARED to tell me or any of my assistant coaches "no." We haven't won a single game this year, and the prospects aren't looking good. The Comets would have beaten any of the teams we've played 10-0, and that's no exaggeration. I'm seriously considering forming my own team next season, and fill it in with parents and players that feel the same way I do. I'd be thrilled to take a team full of misfits, castoffs, and blue-collar players that WANT to be better, and WANT to win.

And I bet we would.

Thanks for tolerating this little bit of ranting. Having a great week, and oh by the way, I've ran a total of 2.5 miles this weekend, so we're getting there.

Re-booting, part 2

2009-03-26T20:42:00.002-05:00

I need a pedicure, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. And I need highlights in my hair. And I need to color the gray out of my goatee. And I need a tan.

I need lots of that stuff, but chances are I will only do....none of them. Pedicures aren't really recommended for us diabetic types, but I hear they're pretty awesome. As long as there's no coloring or painted flowers involved, it shouldn't be more of a challenge to my manhood than I could handle. But really it's all a part of my life re-boot. I mentioned yesterday that I needed to change a lot of things; the most important of those things being eating right, exercising more, and being in better general health.

The second part to starting again is having a better self-image. Right now I think I am a fat, sloppy pile of doo that loses his breath walking up the stairs and can hardly tie his shoes. That's really bad, and the problem is that it's reality. I've decided that rather than beginning with walking, I am going to go straight to running. Tomorrow after work, I'll get in the truck and measure a mile, and then two. A guy I work with used to be pretty heavy, and he started out by just running and going for it. And it worked! So tomorrow morning the weights begin, and tomorrow night the running begins.

My life reboot involves some other things, but let's see if I can't tackle these things first. Besides, I need you people coming back for more.

Control-alt-delete

2009-03-25T18:49:00.002-05:00

I need to reboot, and I need to reboot lots of stuff.

I have gotten miserably, unbearably, ridiculously, and unnecessarily....plump. I've watched as my pants size has grown from a comfortable 34 to a decidedly snug 38, and to reach 40 would be nothing short of tragic. And surprise, surprise, my BG control has suffered as well. It's not really that I am eating poorly, in fact I would argue that I am eating much better than I was when I worked at the car washes. Gone are the days of the Double Whopper with Cheese for lunch and the day-long snacking. I eat a decent breakfast, a healthy lunch (that The Scooter Store happily subsidizes), and just whatever for dinner. The difference is my activity level has dropped to nearly nothing. I've gone from being semi-active and working out regularly to sitting in a box all day. People's asses are like goldfish, they grow to fit to their environment. My ass is now the shape of a large leather chair.

So here's the plan, and it is just a plan so far.

Part 1:
I've bought a nice gas grill, and I've set an ambitious goal of planning meals for the week on Sunday, and buying all the ingredients to cook throughout the week. I'll continue to eat the healthy option at work for lunch, and breakfast will go down to a single breakfast burrito. Soft drinks are out. Only water or sugar-free lemonade.

Part 2:
Each morning will begin with a trip to the gym, without fail. Not only do I feel better after working out, but I'll look better too. I've always had great success losing fat when I lift weights, and muscle burns blood sugar much more efficiently.

Part 3:
Every evening after dinner will be walking time. Within a couple of weeks, my goal is to make the transition from walking to running. Ideally, I will be running 2 miles after dinner in about a month.

Counting pounds isn't really my goal. In fact, if I do it right, I may only lose about 10 pounds at most, and I may even maintain or gain a couple of pounds, but if it's muscle, then that's all good. Amy always says that it's not about how much you weigh, it's about how you look.

To recap, here are the goals:

1. Eat a small breakfast every day. Healthy lunch option. Pre-planned healthy dinners.
2. No more diet soda. Only water or sugar-free lemonade.
3. Lifting weights five days per week.
4. Daily walks that turn into daily 2 mile runs.
5. Size 32 pants. That's the big one.

Wish me luck!

My Son, George Costanza

2009-03-23T19:34:00.002-05:00

Fans of the television show "Seinfeld" will remember good old George Costanza. He was plump, balding, and unabashadly neurotic. He did have one particular gift though, he could in a moment's notice identify the nearest and best bathroom from any point in New York City. He was the Dewey Decimal system of urinals in Gotham. That's where my son, Brenden, comes in.

Brenden, you see, is a little quirky himself. He won't anything slimy or at all "smooshy." In fact, his Papa once remarked that he was the only kid he'd known that could stick a cracker with a fork. He insists on cleaning any kind of grime off himself immediately, and yet he'll throw his clothes into a pile wherever he has finished with them.

The other thing that Brenden does, no, that he is quite compelled to do, is to investigate every restroom of any facility that he visits. Race tracks, grocery stores, restaurants, gas stations, Starbucks, other peoples' houses, you name it. If it's got a potty, he's going to investigate it. Quite what he hopes to learn is beyond me. Like many parents of kids with diabetes, we feared he was going a lot, and that he might be afflicted with the disease. Fortunately, he just seems to be taken with the intracacies of all things procelain.

Is he secretly checking out each place to test its suitability as a tornado shelter?

Is he planning to write a bathroom book about bathrooms?

Does he like to compare flushing sounds? Each time comparing detailed notes about volume, quantity, and speed in case someone ever asks?

Is he starting a toilet trading card line?

Who knows? And I don't dare ask him. He'll kill me when his mom or Papa tells him about this.

He's a good kid. Straight A's, soccer stud, awesome big brother, and the handsomest little man I have ever seen in my life. In pictures, he's usually compared to Ben Affleck (the JLo version, not the newer, shaggy one) and to Elvis.

But for now, he's my little George Costanza, and I love him.

Just Like That

2009-03-20T21:22:00.003-05:00

Today I was sitting in my non-descript cubicle at The Scooter Store, minding my own business, when I got an email from a former co-worker telling me a former employee of mine had died that morning from a heart attack. It seems she was pulling into her parking lot at her apartment complex when she had a massive heart attack. Her car crashed into another car with enough violence to prompt by-standers to see if she was OK. She was not OK, she was slumped over the steering wheel and was.....dead. The paramedics were called, and she was revived at the hospital just in time for her to have another massive heart attack, one from which she would not recover.

I don't remember exactly when Linda came to work for us at Crystal Falls, but it seems like forever ago. She didn't have a great phone voice, wasn't great with customers, and was apt to make errors on the job that were a little mind-boggling. But she was there every day she was scheduled, and she was sort of a mom to a lot of people at the car wash that didn't really have a "mom." I know that there were a lot of people that grew very close to her. She will really be missed by many. Even at 52 years old, she still tended to her grown daughter and grandchildren, freely sharing with them her meager resources. I often teased her about that, telling her she needed to let her daughter grow up. Every time I did that, I always ended by saying, "You know, that's easy for me to say. I'd probably do the same thing for my kids," and she'd just nod in a way that only someone that's seen it all can nod.

I lost four employees over the years at the car wash, including Linda, and I can still recall even the most minute details about each of them.

I remember how Lloyd White, well into his seventies, was the first employee at work every day. He continued to work when he didn't really need to because he wanted to put his grandchildren through college. Lloyd died of pancreatic cancer. He was dead within 2 months of his diagnosis.

I remember Barbara. Barbara and I HATED each other when I first came to work at Crystal Falls, but over the years she and I became very close. Once you got past that gruff exterior (that is, once she knew you could be trusted), you couldn't meet a kinder and wiser lady than Barbara. I remember when Barbara got her new car. A green Ford Taurus; it was the first new car she'd had that I knew of, and it wasn't really new, but it was vastly superior to her old car. I was so happy for her, and I insisted that it be regularly washed and waxed. Occassionally I would give Barbara a gift card so she could buy gas for that car. When Barbara, a devout Christian, learned she had stage 3 liver cancer, she was just fine with going home to her God as soon as she could.

I remember Ruben. Ruben was just a great guy. He was handy with his hands, had a sharp mind, worked his ass off, and had a bright future. While I never attended one, the parties out on his land were legendary. None of us will ever really know what happened that night between him and his wife. No one but her. Jeff, Jon, Pace, his wife, and I were in the room when his heart stopped beating.

And finally Linda. The thing I remember about her is that laugh of hers. It was a laugh no different than any other person that's chain-smoked their entire life. But what was different was that she laughed often, robustly, and even at stupid jokes. And she always set out the ads for everyone so they knew where the bargains were on food that week.

Each of them touched me and others in a different way, and they'll all be missed. What I hope to learn from it is this: how will people remember me?

How will they remember you?

Pharmacies and Pharmacists - Key Players in Diabetes Health

2009-03-18T20:26:00.002-05:00

Good evening all! I know it's been a while, so here I am back at it again. I promise to be a little more faithful about blogging. I've been very busy with the move, new job, soccer, etc.

As you may remember, our family recently relocated to New Braunfels, Texas, a small city of about 40,000 people nestled between Austin and San Antonio in the Texas Hill Country. Part of the reason we moved here was because we thought being in a metropolian area would mean we would be closer to better health care for Emma. In a sense that is true, but it's still quite a trip into San Antonio, and Emma's doctors are still in Dallas; although I suspect we'll end up moving her care either to SA or Houston. Houston is closer than Dallas, and we have family there that Amy and Emma can stay with when she has appointments.

Today's topic however, has more to do with a critical, but often underappreciated part of a diabetics healthcare team: his or her pharmacist. Diabetics spend a lot of time in doctors' offices, and the last thing we want is a chaotic pharmacy. We were VERY lucky and VERY spoiled when we lived in Lubbock. When we moved to our new house in Lubbock, I decided to pop into the CVS down the street because I just didn't like the feel of the Walgreens close to our house. Amy was hesitant because it didn't have a drive through; I thought that would be an advantage. What I noticed was that the pharmacists knew, and addressed, their customers by name. Soon we were hooked, and Tyson Cromeens, Mason West, and their crew (too many to remember) became like an extended family to us. They always...ALWAYS took care of us, and every other customer they had. As Emma was snaking her way through from one diagnosis to another, it was Tyson and Mason we turned to for advice. When Emma needed a new compounded medication, Tyson and Mason (well, Tyson anyway) readily agreed to compound the medication for her (even though, as I learned later, that isn't really what chain pharmacies "do.")

When I moved to New Braunfels, one of the first things I did was to scout out the pharmacies in town to see which pharmacy would be right for us. I didn't care about location, appearance, if it had a drive-through, etc. I cared about the people that worked there. Would they take a personal interest in us? Allow me a moment to recap what I have experienced in New Braunfels so far. In order.

1. First stop was, of course, CVS. I called in a refill at 8 am, and told them I would come by at about 6pm to pick it up. I dutifully arrived at 6pm, and the clerk looked at me with a look that said "Oh shit. I didn't think you'd actually WANT this!" She said it would be just a few more minutes because they were "busy, and a little behind." So being busy just happened to delay my prescription that I called in 10 hours earlier by 15 or 20 minutes? They must be slow-minded here and therefore think that because I live here that I must be as well. So I went across the street. A very busy street, had some dinner and browsed the movie selection at Hollywood video, and returned at about 7:30 for my insulin. It's ready, she says, and hands me insulin. One. Vial. Of. Insulin. When the script clearly calls for 8. I was not happy, which evidently showed because the pharmacist literally ran and hid. Clearly a pharmacy that cannot count vials of insulin cannot be trusted to fill our prescriptions. I told them to transfer the script to the Walgreens by my office. NOW.

2. Walgreens was then the next stop, and they were nice enough, but they were delayed by the fact that CVS hadn't cancelled the order and therefore my insurance denied the prescription. Yeah, I'm pretty much boiling by now. Sometime thereafter, we asked them to compound Emma's medication just like Tyson and Mason had routinely done (to call it compunding would be like calling pushing a Hot Wheel driving. It's really just mixing. I think I could do it with Emma's toy mixer.) They emphatically stated that they would not do it.

3. Next was Target. We actually like Target. It's not very busy, but it's across town, and I wonder if they would agree to do the compounding operation.

4. Back to CVS. Amy talked them into compounding, but with a lot of arm-twisting. Still the same indifferent service.

5. Today I dared to try HEB. Oh my sweet Lord. Typical grocery store pharmacy, I think. The pharmacists were safely hidden behind plexiglass safe from the huddled masses yearning to breathe free (or get an antibiotic for that sudden, unexplained rash many of them seemed to be suffering from). I waited in line for about 20 minutes to get Brenden's antibiotic (strep throat), and wondered why exactly I was there and promising myself I would NEVER, EVER return.

So I pondered writing a letter to each of the pharmacies' managers practically BEGGING one of them to stand out and actually want our business. I'm actually really hoping that Target will agree to do the compounding, but if they don't, that's probably where we'll end up anyway.

Long story short, we miss Tyson, Mason, and everyone at the CVS at 82nd and Indiana in Lubbock. If you have a good pharmacy, be grateful, and be sure that their company knows how much you appreciate them. Pharmacies aggressively market to diabetic customers, but few actually back it up.

Nice...

2009-01-29T14:32:00.002-06:00

The Dallas Cowboys Suck

2008-12-07T18:38:00.004-06:00

Today, December 7 2008, I hereby permanently and summarily withdraw my allegiance to the Dallas Cowboys effective retroactively to 3.5 hours ago.

Any of you that believe your team is worthy of my support are welcome to make the case here, and I will grant it full consideration.

That is all. As you were.

The "Moment of Confusion."

2008-12-07T11:24:00.002-06:00

Doctors are taught in medical school that when they hear hooves to look for horses not zebras.

Folks, allow me to introduce you to my zebra, Emma.

We made our trip to Dallas to visit with the nephrologist about Emma's biopsy results. Keep in mind that this is one of the top pedi neprologists in the country. He sat up on the table in the exam room, and said "Well, it's very confusing."

Without getting into a lot of the details, Emma does have an auto-immune process of some kind that is attacking her kidneys. Right now we're just going to put her on ACE inhibitors in order to stop the protein from spilling out in her urine, and it will be up to the rheumatologist to decide when to start chronic steroid therapy.

The one thing I want to point out is that Amy detected all of this a year ago, and I suspect that the doctors are confused about the biopsy results because these diseases are not usually detected until they are in an advanced stage.

So what does this mean for Emma's future? I don't even want to think about it.

More later.

The Moment of Truth

2008-11-10T18:14:00.003-06:00

Coming up on Wednesday, Emma will visit the doctors at Shriner's in order to figure out a treatment plan for her arthritis. We keep hearing how incredible they are, and we are certainly hoping that is the case. If that were the only reason for her and Amy's jaunt to Dallas, then that would be all well and good. Unfortunately it's not.

Well over a year ago, Emma was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis and put on a treatment plan that included methotrexate (an anti-cancer drug) and Celebrex. Almost immediately, Emma stopped limping down the hall in the morning and it appeared that the treatment was working. And then Amy decided we might ought to test her urine. You would think one of her 5 specialists would have thought of that, but as always, Amy was Emma's advocate. And the results of her tests were not good. She had large amounts of blood and protein in her urine. And so it's gone on for a year.

We tried stopping the Celebrex and the methotrexate, and the only benefit is that Emma seems to be much happier and even feel better. But she's not better. And that's not good. So on Thursday morning a doctor will take a biopsy of her kidney, and hopefully it will give us an answer. The problem is that there really is no good choice. As I understand it, here are our options: the blood and protein are caused by the Celebrex or methotrexate, or it's caused by Lupus.

Lupus. It's hard to even say, isn't it? It's pretty sad when our best option is that a drug used to treat her arthritis is causing her kidneys to fail. Or maybe it's not arthritis at all. Lupus is often missed but presents with swelling that mimics arthritis and...you guessed it...kidney problems.

I'll let you all know something as soon as I do.

I miss my "babies."

2008-11-09T15:42:00.003-06:00

I read a post the other night on CWD where a mom got to go away on a business trip, and how nice it was to sort of get away from it all for a bit. Well, let me tell you that it's all fun and games for about 1 day, and then the dull, throbbing ache that comes with missing your wife and kids moves from the background and straight into the forefront.

It's not just them physically not being here that hurts; it's also the comfort of knowing that when you get home from work, you have someone there to share in your triumphs and comfort your failures. And your kids don't care what kind of day you had, they only care that you are there. I miss that. I miss bath time and soccer games, site changes and storytime, cooking chicken nuggets and setting out Brenden's clothes in the morning. I miss being a husband and father.

I knew it would be hard to be away from them all. I have been away from them for a few weeks at a time before on business, but that was a finite period of time with a pre-determined ending. This time it's just all so permanent. Don't get me wrong, I am thrilled with my new job and city, but what's the fun in having a great new job if you come home to an empty "house" every night? I am so lucky that every day as a part of my job, I am contributing to restoring freedom and independence to the lives of our senior citizens (and sometimes younger folks with different mobility issues); but it's just not the same if I can't come home to Amy and say, "You've GOT to hear about this lady we helped today..."

Soon, babies. Soon.

My Last Political Blog Post.....Probably

2008-11-05T20:51:00.003-06:00

I have never censored or removed any comments on my blog, no matter how much I may disagree, and I don't intend to start now. Oscama on the other hand chose to freeze out one television station and five major newspapers when they dared to pose difficult questions to him. But that's another story.

I want to dedicate this final political blog to the concept that I hear the most as a conservative, and it also happens to be the one that pisses me off the most. "Closed-minded."

Let me get this straight...if I have conservative values and beliefs that I refuse to waver from, then I am "closed-minded." If a liberal has a strong belief system they refuse to waver from, then they are "progressive." Kind of hypocritical, don't you think? The fact that my values and beliefs cannot be altered by whatever Tom Brokaw or Oprah Winfrey had to say that day does NOT mean I am closed-minded. I UNDERSTAND where liberals are coming from, but I strongly oppose them in every way possible. What many of you call "closed-minded" I call a standing up for what I believe in, and doing it in a consistent way.

Let's have a lesson in economics, shall we? Please read with caution. The truth hurts. The housing and credit crises are having a very real impact on our economy. No question about it. And it's George Bush's fault, right? Wrong. Greedy corporations? Partly. But the blame for this mess falls squarely at the feet of Barack Oscama, his buddies at ACORN, and liberal Democrats in Congress.

Here's the gist of it. Lots and lots of people didn't have houses of their own, because they couldn't get loans to buy them. Why? Because they couldn't AFFORD them. So the Democrats decided that wasn't "fair," and demanded that lenders offer loans who have a disparate number of loan rejections. In other words, the government mandated that home loans be available to people that didn't have the money or credit to buy one. So the banks, being banks, did so. But the only way to offer loans to people with no money was to offer bank loans that had...you guessed it...VARIABLE INTEREST RATES. So guess what happened when some of those people who couldn't afford their homes to begin with began to default on their loans? The banks started raising those interest rates in order to recoup the losses. Interest rates went up, more people that couldn't afford homes to begin with defaulted. Banks raised interest rates. Etcetera etcetera.

Everybody wants "free" healthcare! Let me explain something: GOVERNMENT-FUNDED DOES NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT EQUAL FREE. SOMEONE HAS TO PAY IT. People like most of us that have jobs and pay taxes. Of course we all want people to get healthcare! Yes! We do! But government sponsored healthcare is NOT the answer. Well, I guess it's the answer if you want 60% or more of your paycheck going to taxes so you can wait two years for surgery. Oh, I forgot, Oscama fans don't believe in people having different paychecks. That's not fair.

George Bush, the Republicans, etc. had nothing to do with oil prices when they were high, and very little to do with them dropping. Does anyone even try to understand how the free market works anymore? At all? On that note, I would like for you all to briefly look for the actual definition of a recession, and then tell me if we are actually in one. The media says we are, so it must be true, right?

If you really want to have some fun, and you are an anti-war zealot that thinks George Bush was the only one that wanted to fight the war in Iraq, go ahead and do some research about what Bill Clinton, John Kerry, Al Gore, Jay Rockefeller, Madelyn Albright, Ted Kennedy, and so on had to say about WMD's in Iraq LONG before George Bush became president or the war began. On that note, liberals' favorite global institution, the UN, voted to authorize the war. And didn't George Bush offer to not invade if Saddam and his sons would just leave? Ohhhh, that's right! He did!! I wonder why that's never reported...

And to our very dear friends in Europe. We are so happy that you approve of America again. And we just can't wait to have economies that are as big and vibrant as yours....oh....wait a minute. Maybe not.

Saving Social Security is very important, is it not? George Bush thought it a good idea to let YOU decide how most of YOUR social security was invested. Liberals don't think that's a good idea. They don't trust you with your money. Really, they don't trust you. Why? Because you, if given the choice, would not choose to give more of your money to someone else. But that's what they believe in. And as long as we are talking about money, please understand this concept very clearly:

CORPORATIONS DON'T PAY TAXES!!!!! CORPORATIONS WILL TAKE ANY TAXES LEVIED ON THEM AND PASS THEM ON TO YOU AND ME!!!

So when the corporate tax rates are raised and loopholes are closed, don't complain about prices rising. You've been warned. Or if you prefer to keep prices stable, that big corporation that you work for can just lay you off to recoup the costs. Or maybe you work for a shop that depends on a big corporate contract. Well, that big, evil corporation is going to come to YOU and ask for price concessions, and if you don't they'll just find another supplier.

And finally, may God forgive us all for allowing this man to legalize abortion in all its forms, no matter how viable the CHILD is. That's his plan, anyway.

I strongly suspect that if I were to ban anonymous comments I would get about 5 comments. Since I won't I expect 20 or so. I'm sure you won't disappoint. Diabetes 360 will be back very soon with its usual upbeat format about diabetes, kids, and life in general. I hope you will stay.

Unbelieveable

2008-11-04T22:37:00.002-06:00

I'd like to offer my sincerest congratulations to members of the national media for the steadfast campaign they fought on behalf of Obama for the last year. To those young Americans that came out in force for Obama, I'd like to congratulate you for electing someone that promises to take money away from those of us that are already well into our careers and earning money and then redistributing it to you. I'd like to congratulate all those high school economics teachers that have failed so miserably to teach young people what really drives the American economy. I'd like to congratulate those who think America should be less like America and more like Europe. I'd like to congratulate that woman that said, "If Obama is elected I won't have to worry about putting gas in my car or paying my mortgage!" To those that think freedom of speech only applies to liberal speech, I also offer you my congratulations.

And finally, I'd like to congratulate all the Republicans that decided a few years ago to stop being Republicans. It's worth noting that in national exit polls voters identified themselves as 22% liberal, 44% moderate, and 32% conservative (the rest presumably gave no answer.) And those Republicans that thought pandering to Democrats would save them in election time, there's a group of carwashes in Lubbock that may need a new area manager.

Finally, to those Republicans that are left: this is not going to be the time to reach across the aisle, because they certainly aren't going to do it for you...never have. Now is the time to fight. Fight hard. Fight vehamently. Fight with rage. Fight with passion. Fight for your country. If you don't there won't be much of it left to fight over.

"I Drank the Kool-Aid!"

2008-10-25T12:10:00.002-05:00

For some of my...um..."older" readers, let me explain what "I Drank the Kool-Aid" means. Simply put, it means buying in to what someone has to say or believes passionately about; typically it means internalizing what an organization believes in or does.

On Thursday, I proudly proclaimed to my team at The SCOOTER Store that "I Drank the Kool-Aid!" And everyone smiled and laughed and really knew what I meant. Really the only downside is that I am surrounded by University of Texas fans. I was fortunate enough to meet the President of the Comal County Red Raider Club, and believe it or not, he works at TSS too! Small world.

From the beginning, TSS preaches to "Always Do the Right Thing." And as I spend more and more time in various departments, I know that they mean it.

Highlights from the week:

The owner of the company, Doug, is a big believer in fitness. He has lost a lot of weight and really wants his people to be healthy too. Today is his birthday, and yesterday we had a quick celebration that featured a birthday cake big enough to feed the Army of the Potomac. Rather than eating the cake though...and you'll love this....we blew it up! His cake exploded! It was greatness.
I have decided that I will never, ever go to the H.E.B. here (grocery store). It is a complete and total disorganized, rude mess. If I want disorganized and rude, I'll go to Wal-Mart and at least spend less.
I'm still not quite used to seeing beer in convenience and gorcery stores.
I'm still chomping at the bit to get into the meat and potatoes of the job. I can't help myself!

I've been spending quite a bit of time in the company gym, and the results have been pretty good. I'm bulking back up again and feeling stronger and better. The downside is that my BG has not been good at all. I have been eating pretty well, so that's not the problem. I think it's mostly the stress of being away from home and the newness of a new job. It'll settle down soon, I hope. During my first week, my infusion site ripped out during the night, and I had to go to work with a 500 BG. Yikes! I explained to my boss what was going on (his aunt has T1) so he'd know why I was drinking 30 gallons of water and excusing myself to the restroom every 20 minutes. He was, as always, very kind and understanding. After a four-hour temp basal and some pretty aggressive bolusing, I was all good by noon. Fortunately, I have not had a serious low BG at my new job yet. I say "yet" because we all know that for any T1, it WILL happen. It's just a matter of time. For that I keep some juice in my desk, and I carry a Caprisun in my bag with me everywhere I go.

On that note, since I do carry around a kit, juice, and various office-related materials, I do carry a very nice SCOOTER Store bag that my boss gave me, and my co-worker Jessica has labeled it my "Man-Purse."

I love it at The SCOOTER Store.

Day Four at The SCOOTER Store!

2008-10-16T20:56:00.002-05:00

Wow. I don't even really know what to say, and I know that is incredibly unusual. Maybe it would be best to summarize in bullet points again. Yeah. I like bullet points.

I started off the day by saying something in front of the boss I probably shouldn't have. It wasn't anything inappropriate or anything like that. It was more of a wrong place, wrong time type thing. I'm still learning these things, and I expect to make that mistake again. Being very open and honest has served me well, and I plan to continue to be that way, I just need a filter.
I cannot emphasize enough how fun it is to learn all of the things I am learning. And I am learning a lot for sure! Today I actually drew a picture. A picture! Just so I could wrap my head around all the various systems we use day in and day out.
Having a day full of meetings, planning sessions, and brainstorming sessions has really given me a chance to stretch my brain in ways it just hasn't been stretched in a long time. And the really cool part is that the people around me are incredibly bright. I told my boss the other day that I haven't met a single person that has what I call the "Khloe Kardashian" look; that is, everyone there has something going on upstairs.
I met an incredibly passionate guy named A.B. yesterday. And from what I understand, his intellect and passion have really helped to pull the company together in lots of great ways.

I could go on and on, and I will on another night. For now, I am just trying to soak it all in!

My 1st "First Day" in over Eight Years

2008-10-13T19:44:00.002-05:00

Today was my honest-to-goodness very first "first day on the job" since I joined the car washes back in 2000. Well, I had a first day when I started teaching last year, but it wasn't so much a first day as it was a good hard shove.

As I always teach my students, the first day for any employee is always the most awkward. You don't know anyone, don't know where to go, don't know what all the unwritten rules are, don't know if people are happy, mad, or indifferent to the fact that you are there. I've always tried, whenever possible, to make sure I spent time with new people, even at the car washes.

Here are the highlights of my first day:

1. I pulled on EVERY one of the eight or so front doors before giving up, only to discover that the one door I didn't try was the correct door.

2. When I got to my cubicle, I discovered that the people in the department had decorated my cube with red and black ribbon, and it was adorned with "Welcome Nick!" signs. That meant more to me than you might think. I can't wait to decorate it with my kids' drawings and my "Office Space" kit.

3. When I was setting my things up in my cubicle I raised up and hit my head...HARD...on a shelf. It was one of those "make you dizzy and nauseated for an hour" head hits. No one seemed to think that was entirely unusual.

4. I did not meet one person, not one, that did not seem genuinely happy that I was there, despite the fact that there are some 850 people that work in the building(s).

5. I thought I was over-dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, only to discover later in the day that everyone had earned a "Casual Monday" reward.

6. I got a great laptop computer, a Blackberry (it will be in tomorrow), and the coolest desktop phone you've ever seen. Unfortunately, I do not have a trash can. If that's not a call to unionize I don't know what is.

7. I ate lunch with a guy that shares the same title as I have. It was relaxed, upbeat, and very open. I enjoyed it tremendously.

8. There is a gym right next door to me...a brand new one, with a smoothie bar and TWO personal trainers.

9. There is a full-time physician and nurse on staff available to the employees.

10. Finally, lots of organizations claim to want to "Do the Right Thing," but I think I have finally found one that really does. And I think they've done a good job, based on the people I met today, of finding people that believe in that too.

And the best part? When the IT department connected my computer, I had 62 emails. 62!

I've spent the last 8 years being the best at what I do, and I hope to get there again very soon. Frankly, I am not accustomed to not being very good at ANYTHING I do, and I intend to bust my rear until I am there again.

Sounds

2008-10-10T20:38:00.003-05:00

Every house has a sound to it. Some houses sound like a quiet summer afternoon...all the time, maybe because its occupants have grown older and spend more time apart than together. Or maybe they have said all there is to say. Or maybe they can simply communicate with a glance and a hand brushing against a cheek. Some houses sound like rage, with people yelling at each other all the time. Maybe they do that because that's what they saw their parents do, and so they yell at their kids, and the kids, as they grow older, yell back. Those are sad sounds.

My house sounds like children. Happy children. Children that love their parents, and that know their parents love them. It sounds like televisions changing channels, and Playstations, and Barbi Guitars, and laughter. Mostly laughter. We laugh a lot in our house.

It sounds like sewing machines humming, and computer keyboards clicking, and refrigerator doors opening and closing. Kids turning on lights and their father following behind and turning them off again. The kids asking a question like "Can we have some cookies?" And mom saying "No" and dad saying "Yes" all at the same time. And then us laughing about it.

Sometimes our house is quiet. Quiet is uncommon in our house, but it's never an awkward quiet. It's a quiet that says "We all love each other and we know it."

It's a great house. But it's just a house. Sometime soon we'll all be together again all of the time. And no matter where we are, it will sound the same.

My Students

2008-10-08T22:05:00.002-05:00

It has been my great joy over the last couple of years to be an instructor for Wayland Baptist University. Some of you know, some of you don't, that I earned an MBA several years ago, and decided that I would like to teach part-time. It was partially about the money, partially about the thrill of teaching, and mostly about being able to share what I have learned over the years and relate them to the topics in a way that makes sense. At least I hope that's what I have been able to do. Over the next couple of weeks, after I have moved from Lubbock, I will finish up the last few weeks teaching my two classes via the Internet. I don't like it, because it's not my style, but I have to do it to finish the classes.

Tonight my students all told me the same thing; that they were absolutely horrified of me the first night of class. And I had to confess that I was equally horrified of them. As the instructor, you are the one that is supposed to have all of the answers even if you don't. But I'll say this, I have truly enjoyed teaching for Wayland. My students all have full-time jobs, most have families, kids, husbands, wives, etc., that they have to leave for 3-5 hours every night that they have class. These are people that WANT to be in class. They aren't there because their parents insisted they go to college. They're there because they were born to be that way. They were born to be doers.

And I hope they learned as much from me as I did from them.

Well. I'm moving.

2008-10-04T20:52:00.002-05:00

Good evening to all nine of you. I sit here tonight with a mix of excitement and complete dread. I have put in my notice with the car washes, and my last day at work will be this Friday. Not that long ago, I thought for sure that two of the three of the car washes I operate would be closing and bulldozed, so I told my boss that I would probably start looking for another job, and he said he understood. Little did I know that one of the two jobs I interviewed for would turn into an actual job in such a short period of time. My new title will be "Director of Distribution" with The Scooter Store at their corporate office in beautiful New Braunfels, TX. The money's good, the corporate culture is awesome, the hours are great, etc. In other words it's all the things my current job isn't.

I start my new job on Monday the 13th, and I will be moving down there next weekend....without my family. They will have to stay home until our house sells, and God only knows how long that will be. So I'll be staying in a place called the Gruene Sunday Haus for at least the next two months...all alone. And to be honest, I've never lived alone as a type 1 diabetic, and that part bothers me a little bit. Mainly I am flipping out because I will be away from my family for an extended period of time. New Braunfels isn't THAT far from Lubbock, but it's far enough that weekend trips home won't be that easy (anyone got any airline miles they want to donate)?

And finally, the best part. The COBRA payment. A "normal" family with four relatively healthy people might be able to scrape by without insurance for the 90 day waiting period. Well, as you know, we're far from normal or healthy. But for a mere $886 a month I'll be able to keep our health coverage. Gee, is that all?

More details to come, but there you go.

Blood Sugar in a Mosquito

2008-09-21T10:22:00.003-05:00

We have gotten a lot of rain here lately. A LOT. One day last week we got TEN inches of rain. Keep in mind that it normally rains about 28 inches here in an entire YEAR. So now the rains are gone, and the sun is shining and pools of stagnant water are everywhere. And what does that mean, dear reader? Mosquitos. Lots of them. Raven-sized, blood-sucking little monsters flying about like Japanese fighter planes over Pearl Harbor.

Amy, Emma, and I were outside working in the garage, and I saw a mosquito that was so big it couldn't even fly anymore. It was just sitting there on the ground. Because I despise mosquitos, I stepped on it, which left a puddle of blood that no doubt left some poor soul a tad on the thirsty side.

Then I had an idea. I was going to test the blood sugar of that little puddle sitting in my driveway. I wondered if I could identify whom the mosquito feasted on by its blood sugar results. I went inside and got my meter and optimistically tested the blood. 104. Interesting. It wasn't Emma's, her BG was 185 and climbing fast. I didn't check Amy's but her BG is rarely over 90. I tested mine, and it was 85. I think that little bastard was fat off my blood! Ha!

Serves him right.

My Favorite Foods

2008-09-18T09:26:00.002-05:00

Frankly I have nothing much better to write about today. I had thought I would post something about the pending global economic collapse, but I am fairly certain readership would be low. Lower than it already is, that is. Since the purpose of a blog is to be as self-serving as possible, I decided I would provide you with a list of my favorite foods. Many of them are not what you would call "Atkins-Approved." Frankly, many of them would not be "Colonel Sanders-Approved."

Those who know me are very much aware of my, um, fickle eating habits. For example, I refuse to even be in the same room with a bean, pea, or any similar member of the legume family. I don't like tomatoes or grapes (I think that would be like eating an eyeball), but I will occassionally eat corn, but ONLY if it's on the cob. I refuse to eat kernel corn. I LOVE peanut butter, but I don't like peanuts...unless they are in a Snicker's Bar. If left unattended, I would eat an entire jar of peanut butter. Seriously. See the thing is, there are a lot of foods I find completely repulsive, so I make up for that by eating LOTS of the foods I do like. Well, here's my list:

10. Tacos from a local fast-food restaurant called Taco Villa. Their shredded cheese and fresh beef are nothing short of delightful.

9. The Double Whopper with Cheese, no tomatoes, no pickles served with a syringe of crushed Lipitor. I can really do with or without fries. If the lettuce is slimy then you lose me.

8. The good old-fashioned PB&J. With Doritos, of course.

7. Big Mac. Again, no pickles.

6. Chicken Chiladas, double rice no beans, from Taco Bueno. And how often do they get this right? Almost never.

5. The Ultimate Bacon Cheeseburger from Jack in the Box. JIB knows how to make a cholesterol-laden feast of inhumanity, don't they?

4. Count Chocula, with a nod to Frankenberry. God how I miss cereal.

3. Chicken Tenders from Cheddar's. It's all about the honey-mustard isn't it?

2. Chicago-style Spinach and Artichoke Dip from Houston's. Many have tried to duplicate the recipe. All have failed. I know it, but then I'd have to kill you.

1. Hawaiian Ribeye Steak from Houston's. Marinated for 3 days in pineapple juice, sugar, and ginger, then grilled to a perfect medium and served with a loaded baked potato. I think I just had a little one right then.

I have precious few talents in life, but eating is one of them. As long as I am in the gym 3-4 times per week I don't develop a weight problem...but my arteries may beg to differ.

Search Terms

2008-09-17T15:04:00.007-05:00

I've noticed that Kerri and Shannon posted to their blogs the various terms people enter into Google and then, for whatever reason, end up on their blogs. Here are some highlights:

"Phineas and Ferb"
"Pictures of a man after a vasectomy"
"High Heel Pump"
"Bartles and Jaymes Wine Cooler Nutrition Facts"
"Fire Big Yellow Car Wash"
"My wife's a retard"
"Really, really bad jokes."
"Pictures of the dumbest people on earth."

Maybe I should edit my blogs a little more carefully.

My Big Ideas

2008-09-17T15:04:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I like to just kick back and think. Sometimes I think about things like "I wonder what would happen if I shot a rubber band at that customer right there?" But more often I like to think about all my big ideas. Here are two of my ideas that I think would be sure-fire moneymakers.

1. Sani-Mist. You know how you can set a bug-bomb in a room, turn it on, and then return hours later to a room full of multi-legged corpses? My big idea was to develop a product like that that would kill germs. For example, you just know that most day-care centers don't clean and sanitize all of the toys at the end of the day. Theoretically you could set a can of Sani-Mist in the middle of the room, activate it, and it would disinfect everywhere it reached. The marketing possibilites are endless I think. Hospital rooms. Sick rooms at home. If any of you out there are in the chemical business let me know if this is actually viable.

2. Jungle Jim's. This one is a restaurant concept named after my nephew Matt. When he was little he was always jumping off furniture and landing awkwardly. So I called him Jungle Jim. I digress. How many of us have sacrificed our taste buds and eaten at McDonald's just so our kids would play a bit and leave us alone? The idea is a two-story, all-booth restaurant. The upper level features booths surrounding an atrium level, and it would be a quality, full-service restaurant. On the lower level would be a giant play area enclosed with plexi-glass like a hockey rink with only one door going in and out. It would be staffed at the door and by caregivers inside the play area. That way parents can eat a great meal in peace, but still be able to see their kids playing below them. There would be a minimum fee for the play area, plus 30 minutes of free play for the kids once the meal is served. After that "rent" is charged for each 15 minutes thereafter. I would pay it in a second.

Those are my big ideas. I didn't say they were good. Just big.

Crying

2008-09-16T21:48:00.002-05:00

I cry easy. I'm kind of a sissy like that. I cry when people win lots of money because I am so happy for them. I cry at the end of Extreme Makeover Home Edition. I cry when people that have had difficult lives get great trips or new cars. I'm just a crier I guess.

Prior to Emma being diagnosed, I had only really cried a lot in my adult life when my brother Billy passed away. That was like a week-long, soul-wrenching, burning kind of cry. Not a good cry at all.

When Emma was diagnosed I learned what it meant to cry. The first time was when she was still in the hospital after being diagnosed. She was taking a nap and we were taking in the "new normal." She awoke and was very upset and crying a lot. We tested her and her BG was 35. And I was completely useless. I'm actually pretty handy to have around in medical emergencies, but in this case I was not. The nurse manager happened to be in the room and they treated the low. And I cracked. Completely.

The next time was when Amy and I went into her room late one night that first week home, and she needed an injection. She was sound asleep, and I gave her a shot in her tummy. Keep in mind she was nine months old. She awoke when the needle pierced her skin and cried. A lot. And so did I. A lot. More than I had since her diagnosis. I knew then that part of my mission in life was to jab my precious little girl and cause her pain just to keep her alive. I was resolute but emotionally unprepared.

After that I made the critical mistake of watching Steel Magnolias. You may not believe this, but I had NO IDEA when I sat down to watch it that the main character had type 1 diabetes. But when I saw the scene in the hair salon where she had a low blood sugar, I promptly went to the bedroom and had a thoroughly comprehensive breakdown. It was a very difficult thing to see as a parent of a child with type 1.

Lately now it's been more common. Just yesterday, or maybe the day before, we did a very routine site change on Emma. But this one hurt her a lot, and she cried in pain for several minutes. So I went into the kitchen to put away the various supplies and hid behind the open cabinet and cried.

Maybe it's good that I cry so easily. Maybe not.

Winds of Change

2008-09-14T21:08:00.001-05:00

With all the blustering about "change" from our politicians, it reminded me of an old favorite song of mine. Enjoy.

9/11/01

2008-09-11T20:15:00.001-05:00

Remember.

THE Dumbest Show on TV, and Why I Am Hooked

2008-09-09T21:01:00.003-05:00

The title says it all: Wipeout.

Ostensibly it is a television program about athletic ability and endurance. And it is that for sure. But it's also a vehicle for providing the rest of us amusement provided by the armpit of America. Shows like Wipeout and the now-defunct Dear Factor prove what I have always known: that people will do absolutely anything to be on TV.

On Wipeout, my favorite part is where "contestants" are forced to cross a bridge that consists of four very large inflated rubber balls. Invariably the contestant bounces awkwardly from the first ball and then off the second in an extraordinarily uncomfortable-looking position. Often they hit the water below them in a position that most people are only in when they are delivering a child or very, very drunk. Nonetheless, the top six that make it past the initial weeding-out stage do indeed appear to have some athletic qualities. I can see myself doing that for a shot at $50,000. And thus add another hair to America's armpit.

Now "Fear Factor" is a whole other story. If I were GUARANTEED $50,000 there's no way I am eating a rat-milkshake. Let's face it, $50,000 is a lot of money, but it won't buy nearly enough mouthwash to rid myself of a rat-shake. Driving a car into a pool of water? Cool. Jumping off a boat onto a rope dangling from a helicopter? Check. Eating a live scorpion? Hell no. No way. Ever.

I'm starting to dig this trend toward Japanese-based game shows. People in other countries have weird senses of humor, which is probably why I like them so much. I once saw a Japanese show where contestants had to drink 4 ice-cold beers, eat a plate of cold spaghetti, and have a bag of ice hung strategically next to their genitalia. The objective? See who could go the longest without peeing. Awesome.

The Egyptians have a bit of a darker sense of "humor." In one program, hosted by a single creepy Egyptian man in a dark suit, a man would walk up to strangers on the street, set a briefcase down next to them and run away. Hilarity ensues. Bear in mind this show was done in the Middle East. But funny nonetheless.

Folks, I hate to break this to you, but reality-based programs are here to stay. In a time where advertising revenues are way off (thanks in large-part to DVRs), reality programs are ridiculously inexpensive to produce, and it's easy to find actors. For me, the only scripted shows I really watch anymore are Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, and How I Lost My Penis. OK, I made that last one up, but it explains the TV shows I watch.

Oh, and to placate my blog-critics. My blood sugar has really sucked lately. Probably watching too much TV.

Reflections on a Sunday

2008-09-07T10:23:00.002-05:00

It's nice to know people are still reading my blog!

Right now I am sitting on the couch watching my two kiddos play together and watching House of Mouse, and anxiously awaiting that time of year most men yearn for and most women dread: Football Season. That's right, as I sit here I am but 5 long hours away from my beloved Dallas Cowboys kicking off with the Cleveland Browns. Cleveland has some offense, Edwards and Winslow receiving, Jamal Lewis at RB, and Derek Anderson at QB. For sure though, they have a terrible defense, and I suspect that Romo, Barber, TO, and the rest of the gang won't have a lot of trouble scoring today.

Along with football season comes that awkward fashion time of year when it's chilly enough in the morning to require long pants, but then still hot in the afternoon. Often this time of year requires me to take a change of shorts and shoes to work every day. Within a few weeks I am hoping I can go with the shorts and long-sleeved shirt. That always seems to work out nicely. Of course in Lubbock, truly cold weather always, ALWAYS, waits until Halloween night. Every year I swear I am going to get a remote starter for my truck so Brenden and I don't freeze all the way to school and work. Is Brenden old enough now to learn how to go outside and start the truck?

I'm not a fan of Halloween. I think it's kind of twisted and evil, and lately it seems to be an excuse for women to dress like tramps. I'm not really complaining, it was just an observation.

Remember the days when we didn't have to "screen" cartoons to make sure they were appropriate? Maybe I'm just idyllic, but I don't remember Bugs Bunny, Tom and Jerry, etc. being so....sophisticated. I'll give you that many of Disney's classics are very dark.

Finally, my favorite part of this time of year: SOCCER!!! I would rather go and watch Brenden play soccer than do just about anything else. If someone offered me $1,000 to skip one of his games, I doubt very strongly I would take it. This may be a surprise given my current health, but I was quite the athlete from about 10th grade on. Football, soccer, track, wrestling, lacrosse, you name it, I played it. I have tried indoor soccer and softball, but my body doesn't forgive me like it used to. I was really into lifting weights for about a year and a half, and the benefits were really showing. I just can't get up at 6am anymore.

Thanks for tolerating my musings. Maybe I'll post some diabetes stuff later. Or not. It's my blog, and I'll post what I want!

Phineas and Ferb

2008-09-03T09:00:00.002-05:00

If you haven't seen this show on the Disney Channel yet, you are missing out. Incredibly clever writing that is VERY funny.

Worn Out

2008-09-03T08:47:00.003-05:00

Man have I been burning it at all ends lately or what? One full-time job as a car wash district manager, one part-time job as a business instructor two nights per week, and working security for Texas Tech football games and various concerts. Then it goes without saying that I have a beautiful wife that needs time with her husband, a perfect little boy, and of course Emma. Emma's a job all herself. Every day I get up and go wake up my beautiful little boy from his slumber and make his breakfast. While he eats breakfast I set out his clothes for the day, pack his lunch, and gather up his school binder and set them by the door. Once that's done, I go and dress myself and complete any grooming tasks I may have neglected the night before. Once I am ready and dressed, it's time to get Bren to brush his teeth and then fix his hair. With any luck, we have a few minutes left to just sit and watch Spongebob together. In a few more days, there will also be soccer practice 2-3 times per week and games on Saturdays. (I gave up coaching, but that's another story).

Hmmmmm, what have I missed? Oh yeah, that whole diabetes thing. Of all the things I have to do in the morning testing my blood sugar just hasn't been a priority. Diabetes just hasn't been a priority. It's there. I know it. But it has taken the proverbial back seat to all the other things going on in my life right now. Strangely enough, while I haven't given it a whole lot of thought, it's constantly at the front of my mind. Does that make sense? With the prospect of my car washes selling soon, I will have to enter the job market for the first time in 8 years. The difference now as opposed to 8 years ago is that I cannot just take any job at any pay with any benefits package anymore. It has to be a relatively high-paying job with benefits that begin at the latest after 30 days of employment.

Hopefully returning to the blog will get my mind right about diabetes again. Very soon.

I'm Fired Up

2008-09-02T21:55:00.004-05:00

Yes, this is a diabetes blog. But it's MY diabetes blog. And when something strikes my fancy I will post about it. A comment on my last post from "anonymous" questioned why I posted it on a diabetes blog.

Diabetes does not insulate me from life. Diabetes does not make me immune to the world around me that doesn't involve testing blood sugars or keeping the never-ending doctors' appointments. I would point out that a diabetic...the PARENT of a diabetic, would have more to gain from liberal policies than many people. But I will never be a liberal. I understand their arguments, and for a while, I pretended not to care. This election matters. And I cannot "not care."

Barack Hussein Obama sat in a church for 20 plus years and listened to a man that hates America. HATES America. If YOU or I went to a church that railed and railed about the "US of K.K.K.A.," and we offered the feeble argument that we didn't agree, do you think anyone would buy that? Please.

Barack Hussein Obama couldn't even improve test scores in South Chicago.

Barack Hussein Obama thinks that taxing oil companies and other businesses is just a grand idea. Right. And those businesses will just absorb the tax? Try again Barack Hussein Obama.

Mrs. Barack Hussein Obama has, until this year, been ashamed of being an American.

Barack Hussein Obama believes that if a doctor doesn't succeed at murdering an unborn child then the child should be delivered and left in a storage closet to die on its own.

Barack Hussein Obama has never been an executive of any kind in the public or private sector. His biggest claim is as a "community organizer."

Barack Hussein Obama says he didn't support the war. Wow, what an act of courage. He wasn't in the Senate at the time.

Barack Hussein Obama admits in one of his TWO autobiographies that he readily enjoyed drinking beer and doing drugs as a teenager. Not experimented. ENJOYED.

Barack Hussein Obama is an excellent public speaker......as long as he has a prepared script. Barack Hussein Obama refuses to do Town Hall meetings with John McCain because John McCain doesn't have to think about the political ramifications of his answers.

Barack Hussein Obama is the single most liberal member of the Senate. Even more than Ted Kennedy. Would the most conservative member of the US Senate be given that kind of free pass by the media? PUHLEEEEEZE.

Sarah Palin has more character, experience, intellect, and real life experience than Barack Hussein Obama's campaign could ever manufacture.

I'm voting for McCain-Palin. Change matters, as long as it's for the better.

Remember

2008-09-01T23:31:00.002-05:00

As we near the anniversary of that infamous date, please watch this video and remember that Barack Hussein Obama believes we should negotiate with people that force our people to choose between leaping from 1300 feet or burning to death...

Untethered

2008-07-05T21:32:00.003-05:00

Despite my last experience off my pump and on Lantus, I decided I was ready for another break from my pump. This time I picked up a fresh vial of Lantus from CVS, because I am fairly certain the last fiasco was caused by old Lantus.

So Thursday night I pulled out one of my old friends, a syringe, and loaded it with 40 units of Lantus, pinched an inch on my side, and slowly injected it. The result was a blissful night without rolling over on a pump, being able to go to the bathroom without the pump dragging my shorts down to my knees (it was wonderful to be able to pee without having to hold up my shorts).

The next day was sort of strange. I kept thinking I must have left the house without something important like my wallet. I caught myself more than once instinctively reaching for my belt to check that my pump was safely attached to my hip. Sure enough, it wasn't. Just my handy new Blackberry. For once I was able to work without looking like Han Solo. I was also pleasantly surprised at my blood sugar control. I expected some speed bumps (like that first early morning interrupted by my bladder telling me my BG was unreasonably high: the result of a late-absorption of a PB&J). And then there was lunchtime today when I dropped my vial of Novolog on the floor at Cracker Barrel before I was able to bolus. Luckily Emma loaned me some of hers.

Other than that, my BG control on Lantus and Novolog injections has been nothing short of excellent. I wonder if that is because the Lantus somehow gives me better control or if I am just being that much more careful?

I have been pleased enough with the results that I think I will remain pump-less for at least a few more days. It seems like such a waste, my pump sitting on the kitchen counter quietly pumping insulin into no one. I wonder if it knows? Hang in there Achilles, I'll return to you soon.

Request for CGMS: DENIED BY INSURANCE

2008-07-01T10:36:00.003-05:00

I am one of the lucky ones. My insurance pays for CGMS for me and my daughter, but that doesn't mean I am immune or blind to the outrageous denial of this wonderful technology by insurance companies. Led by the misguided and uninformed such as "Dr." Richard Kahn of the ADA, insurance companies have taken the short-sided view of CGMS technology.

Slave to Diabetes

2008-06-14T14:21:00.002-05:00

D sucks. It sucks in lots of ways. It sucks when you are trying to play raquetball but your blood sugar won't cooperate. It sucks when it spikes like crazy in the night prompting many sleep-interrupting trips to the bathroom. It sucks when you watch kids and adults alike stare at the CGM on your child's arm.

Diabetes impacts us all in so many ways that it's almost impossible to list them all here. One of the indisputable facts of life with diabetes is that I will always be a slave to group health insurance. Don't get me wrong, I am not necessarily an anti-insurance company type, and the coverage I have now is great. But the simple fact remains that I will never be able to go out on my own and open up my own restaurant, or become an author, or a world traveler. None of those things offer a reasonable chance at group health insurance. In other words, I will always be somebody else's bitch.

I also wonder what will happen one day should I need to re-enter the job market. There may come a day that my 8 year stint in the car wash industry will come to an end. What do I do at interviews? Should I stash my pump? Tuck it away inside my pocket? I have a very strong feeling that even a company that makes its money selling products to diabetics would hesitate before bringing on a type 1 with a type 1 child. I honestly can't say I would really blame them.

Myself and two other guys are making a strong run at purchasing the three car washes that I currently manage for a living. They have the money, and I have the experience. I insisted on a group health plan, and I can only imagine what our rate quotes are going to be when they find out there are two type 1 diabetics in a group of maybe ten people. One thing I do know about insurance companies, they are going to make their money one way or another.

If I seem unusually cynical, there's a really good reason for it. Trust me.

The Name Game

2008-06-12T09:31:00.002-05:00

I've been fascinated by the array of options given to me to name my pump. I was kind of leaning toward Atlas, but when I look at my little device clinging to my belt "Atlas" just didn't seem quite right. Therefore I went out on my own and came up with a name for my pump.

Achilles.

I think it's appropriate don't you? Achilles was a powerful warrior that was suceptible to wounds in his heel. Now I may not be a powerful warrior, but I can be quickly taken down by a wound to my pancreas.

Since I decided my wife wouldn't really appreciate it being named "Angelina," I chose something that she would probably like. Thanks to all that entered the contest! No pens for you!

What's in a Name?

2008-06-05T09:25:00.003-05:00

Yesterday Kerri was showing off where she hid her pump inside her wedding dress on her wedding day. I left a comment that finding her pump was like playing "Where's Waldo?" Long story short, her pump is now named Waldo and Michelle posted a hilarious picture of Kerri's newly named pump. I suppose that sort of makes me Waldo's Godfather. If Kerri were Jewish, I guess I would have to hold it during its Bris.

That brings me to this. How many of you name your pumps? Emma likes to call her pump "pumpie." No points for originality there, but what can you do, she's only 3. I seem to recall there being a thread at CWD about naming pumps. I have made the offhand comment that I named my pump "Angelina." I don't know that my wife would appreciate that too much, so it can't really be named that. I suppose I could name it after a pet, or a celebrity, or a sports hero. My pets' names are Eclair and Genevieve, and I don't want to offend one or the other. I really don't know. It's kind of a big decision to name your pump. It's sort of like your pet rock or that awesome pen you stole from the UPS store 6 months ago, except that losing the pen won't kill you or cost you $6,000.

Therefore I am throwing open the doors to anyone that wants to name my pump. The best suggestion wins a pen from the UPS store.

A List of Reasons Why I am Stupid

2008-06-02T19:31:00.001-05:00

Bear in mind that this list is not all-inclusive. Feel free to add additional reasons in the comments section.

1. I'm afraid a shark will eat me in swimming pools.
2. Until a year ago, I didn't know where hay came from.
3. I speak before I think sometimes.
4. I turn down the radio if I am low on gas or lost.
5. I went through THREE sensors on Emma before Amy reminded me, via telephone, that you can't put IV prep on before you do a sensor.

That last one is the big one.

Where Have I Been?

2008-05-15T08:41:00.002-05:00

I've always kind of scoffed when people have told me they've been too busy to blog. Seriously? How long does it take to sit down and hammer out a blog? Well, evidently it takes about a month, which is the last time I think that I blogged. Frankly, I've been busy. Work, teaching, two soccer practices per night, kids, etc. So here I am again, sitting down to blog, and I find that I have little to say...

Really, I'm just a big nervous wreck. For one thing, the purchase of several carwashes by my partners and I is going a little slower than I would have liked, and it's starting to make me nervous. I'm such an instant-gratification type guy that if it doesn't happen quickly I tend to lose interest. I'm still excited about the prospect of owning the businesses I have operated for the last eight years, but there are always pitfalls. The group health insurance plans I am looking into likely won't cover Emma's care in Denver. That would suck big time. I'm still working on it though.

My son's soccer team, the Comets, wrapped up an undefeated season on Tuesday night by beating a pretty good little team 4-1. This Saturday we face the other undefeated team for the championship. In our last meeting, we tied 2-2, a game that featured many close calls and lots of shots bouncing off the goalposts. The other team, the Mad Dawgs, are talented and fancy. They play a very organized style of attack and do it in their fancy $100 uniforms purchased by the physician-parent of one of the kids. Our team is comprised of two great players, five really good ones, and three...well...not so good ones. But we're in great shape and we are TOUGH. After playing the Comets, it's not unusual to see a couple of limping and battered opponents on the other sideline. The entire league is rooting for us to win. They all hate the Mad Dawgs. I'm as nervous as I have ever been in my life, and I don't even play, I'm just the coach!

Finally, in just two weeks, Amy and Brenden are joining my dad and step-mother in a trip to Florida. That means Emma and I will be home alone for four days! Amy's more worried about it than I am, but my plan is to run my BG around 200 the entire time to avoid any crippling lows. My biggest fear is that Emma, by day two, will miss her mommy more than she will enjoy being with dad. We'll do great, and Amy will be able to do something she hasn't done in YEARS: travel alone.

I promise to blog more soon. There's so much to tell when you have nothing to say.

"Retard"

2008-04-24T21:26:00.004-05:00

Tonight in class, I lectured my students about job satisfaction. The textbook makes the argument that productivity is closely tied to employee compensation. Basically, it stated that the higher a person is paid, the more satisfied they will be with their jobs. I couldn't disagree more. I have an employee named Earl that makes $8 per hour and is the happiest, most satisfied person I know. Satisfaction, I argued, is relative to the individuals circumstances and expectations. Bear with me.

Some time ago, there was a bit of an uproar on the forums at Children with Diabetes, because a person had used the word "retard" to describe an otherwise normal person that had done something extraordinarily incompetent. The mother of a child with Down's Synrome took great offense to this and said so. I sat back and watched the debate for some time and chose to simply tell this story:

One time I went to the bank on business. I submitted a change order, and the teller kept making mistakes counting the change back to me. She was a young girl, probably 19 years old, and she kept calling herself "retarded." I did not correct her, or ask her not to use that word, I just smiled and patiently waited for her to complete the transaction. After I left, I called my company's banker and told her the story of Billy. Billy was my big brother, and he was a "retard." Billy was born with severe cerebral palsy. He could not walk, he could not talk, and he had the mental capacity of a baby. I explained to my banker that I was not at all angry, because this girl obviously did not intend to use this word in an offensive manner, but that she should be cautioned that one never knows the full history behind a simple word.

I tell the story about job satisfaction because it relates to closely to satisfaction with life itself. If you are content in your life, you will find and maintain work that maintains your contentment. Billy, though he could not speak or walk, was probably the most content human being I have ever known. How many people get truly excited when "The Price is Right" comes on TV? He did. He was content with eating three hearty meals per day, and clapping his hands, and humming the few songs he could hum. In short, he was satisfied with life. Friends and family brought him great joy. Not new cars. Not big houses. The finest jewelry in the world would have meant nothing to him. But when his little brother, me, came to visit him in the State School, he was the happiest person alive.

Tonight is the anniversary of Billy's death. On this night in 2003, my father and I sat at his hospital bed in ICU and watched as his heart rate suddenly began to drop, and we knew that the end was near. We held his hands and stroked his thick, beautiful hair. We kissed him on his forehead and told him it was ok. It was ok for him to go now. He waited for his mother to show up, and then he breathed his last. We felt his skin grow cold in the minutes after his passing, and in an instant I was comforted with the knowledge that he was whole in Heaven.

Billy lived an extraordinarily rich life. The things we consider the minutiae of daily life brought him great happiness. Sitting outside watching the birds. Laughing at silly faces. Cuddling the new stuffed bear his mom or dad brought him.

We all have a lot to learn from the "retards."

Raising Voices

2008-04-14T21:39:00.004-05:00

So today is Raise Your Voice Day, and I was a baaaaad blogger. Nothing witty or stirring, nothing profound or provoking, just a quick cut and post of a picture hacked from Jess's blog and a simple story about...not much. Quite frankly, that's all I had time to do today. And that's good.

Diabetes complicates everything. This morning, I rose at 5:30 to meet my trainer at the gym, and went I got there, I tested only to have my meter happily inform me that my BG was 522. 522? What? I showed this result to the trainer, and we agreed this would not be a good morning to workout, and so I went home, tested for ketones (there were none, which makes it even weirder) and went back to bed. I re-set my alarm for 7AM, so I could get Brenden up and off to school, only to realize at 7:15 there was no school that day.

The rest of the day was filled with all the minutiae that fills our days. Work. Meetings. Painting buildings. Well, not many of you do that last one, but today I did. Then I came home in time to hear both of my exhausted children losing their minds.

That's what we all dream of though, isn't it? A day full of things OTHER than diabetes? Days full of sleeping in late and doing all the things normal people do? Well, except for that hiccup at the beginning of the day, diabetes tended to stay out of the way, and for that I was grateful. So I am formally raising my voice. I'm raising my voice and telling people that normal is good, and I hope for many more just like it soon.

Amy's New Online Store

2008-04-14T21:27:00.003-05:00

If you have a little princess in your family like we do, be sure to check out Amy's eBay store "Too Sweet Boutique." She's worked VERY hard on these items, and they are AWESOME! Check them out!

http://stores.ebay.com/Too-Sweet-Boutique

Raise Your Voice!

2008-04-14T11:48:00.001-05:00

Today I gave an interview to a graduate journalism student about life with type 1 diabetes. About living with it yourself, living it through your precious child, and living it through your wife's deceased father who died of type 1 many years ago. Raise your voice and raise some money!!

Small Places

2008-04-08T09:47:00.005-05:00

I wonder what it's like to live in a little place. And there are all kinds of little places. There are geographically little places like Rhode Island, Monaco, and Luxembourg. There are big small places like New York City, Chicago, and Tokyo, where the place is so big that there's no room left for all the people. Because I have lived in spacious Texas about 99.9% of my life, I have grown accustomed to things like personal space, driveways, and dumpsters in the alley behind my house. When I visited New York when I was in college, it was quite a shock to have people's shoulders touching mine as we walked down the street and shared the same 20 square feet of eating space in restaurants.

Rhode Island, at just 1500 square miles, is just about twice the size of the county in which I reside. I'm also told it has it's very own language. I've never actually been to Rhode Island of course, but I did used to watch the television show Providence, starring one Melina Kanakaredes (whose name, ironically enough, is almost as big as the state itself.) But the funny thing is, it's one of those big small places. I doubt very much that people are crammed together like canned herring, and I suspect that if they were, they probably wouldn't mind very much. I wonder if there is some sort of inferiority complex that goes along with being a resident of the country's smallest state? Do they wear platform shoes and wear tall hats as if to prove a point? And when one travels through Rhode Island, do you stop and say to yourself in a satisfying manner, "My state is bigger than this one!" You could, but then you'd be pelted with an old cup from Del's Frozen Lemonade.

And then there's Tokyo small. A place so big, and packed with so many little people, that it's...well...small. I'm sure you've all seen it, but this is the place where there are people that are paid to cram as many people as they can into subway cars. Everytime I see the crab fishmen on Deadliest Catch cramming crab into the ship's holding tanks I always think of that. People there live in buildings that are so tall that Sir Edmund Hillary took one look and said "No thanks."

Maybe I'll visit Rhode Island one day. Maybe I'll visit Tokyo. Nah, I'm scared of heights.

Miracles

2008-03-31T15:46:00.002-05:00

Over at Children with Diabetes (now a subsidiary of Johnson and Johnson, more on that later), there was a thread that really got the emotions going. It was one of those threads that you can just tell by the title it's going to get nasty. Briefly, the parents of a child with diabetes, who was in a coma due to severe hyperglycemia and DKA, sought out prayer rather than medical intervention. Yep. That's what they did. And when the child got worse, they called in more people to pray. Not surprising, the child died, and because of Wisconsin state law, the parents cannot be charged in her death. The actual mechanics of what I believe in this case are a little weighty for our purposes here, so in lieu of spelling out my belief system in gruesome detail, let me say a few things about divine intervention and miracles.

God does not like to be tested. He specifically commands us not to, as in "I'll go to church every Sunday if You'll just do THIS." In the example above, as my wife very intelligently put it, it would be like jumping in front of a bus and saying, OK God, save me. It's not going to happen. Not likely to anyway. I do know, however, that God can and does often intervene when we ask Him to and when He wants to. But He also gave us the ability to learn for a reason. I don't think that good things will happen to us if we just believe hard enough. Otherwise, none of our children would have diabetes, cancer, or anything else. But He does intervene. He does. Indulge me two stories, would you?

For some reason, I always feel compelled to tell this story. I know in my heart it's God that commands me to, and so who am I to tell Him no? When I was in college, I worked at a small Italian restaurant in the kitchen. One night, there had been a terrible ice storm, but because we were enclosed in a kitchen, we didn't know it. So as part of my regular duties, I was carrying a sixth pan (that's about two quarts) of extremely hot grease out to our grease trap in the alley. Just outside the back door, there was a concrete ramp...coated in ice. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the frozen ground with boiling hot grease coated on my right arm. The pain was instant and unbearable. A guy I worked with rode to the hospital with me, and he also happened to be a guy I went to church with. Seeing how severely I was burned, he asked if there was anything he could do, and I asked him to pray. And he did. And he prayed like a good Pentecostal man should pray. Much later, while I was (thankfully) knocked out, the surgeons told my wife that the burn was very bad, and because it went all the way around my arm, there was a good chance I would lose my right hand, but that they'd watch it. The next morning, the surgeon came to see me in the burn unit, and was completely befuddled. He said, "Grease burns are usually the worst. They always get down under your skin and just keep burning because there's nothing to stop it. But in your case, the burning just STOPPED sometime shortly after the accident." It stopped burning just around the time I was riding in the car with my Pentecostal friend.

Sometimes I ask "Why me?" Why did I have to get diabetes? Very early this morning, I got my answer. I awoke sometime around 2am with the wool sweater on my tongue that means my BG is sky-high, and a, let us say urgent, need to pee. When this happens, I always go into the bathroom that is connected to our bedroom, then go to the kitchen to test my BG. Not this time. For some incredibly odd reason, I chose to use the kids' bathroom they share in their hallway. I have no idea why. I've never done it before. When I got to the hallway, I heard Emma's pump alarming. I was very faint, but I could hear it. So I went to her room, and saw she was lying on top of her pump, which had muffled the sound and was why we never heard it through the baby monitor. When I rolled her over and looked at her pump, her BG was 51 and dropping. So to recap, I had a very high BG in the night, which is rare, went to the kids' bathroom, which I've never done in the night, and I heard her pump alarming from down the hall while she was lying on it and it was covered in blankets.

Miracles are kind of like rain. Sometimes it's just a pitter-patter, sometimes it's a big one, sometimes you may have to wait what seems like forever before you get one, and the more you wish for it it seems less likely to happen. Miracles do happen if you just know how not to ask.

You might be a redneck if...

2008-03-27T13:25:00.008-05:00

Ok, so in the previous post I griped about other people, so now I will post something poking fun at myself. Here are some things that I enjoy that may or may not qualify me as a redneck. Of course, these aren't the only things I like, but they are dubious to say the least.

My pharmacist, who is also a good friend, gives me endless hell because I watch NASCAR. Start to finish.

I don't play as much Playstation as I used to, but if left alone, I will play it until I begin to decompose.I don't actually wash my own truck in my driveway, but I do love my truck (it was a birthday gift from my wife, Amy, back in November of 2002.

King George. Need I say more?

I spent a lot of time as a kid playing in my room and listening to the radio. I can name just about any 80s song, and sing the lyrics, after hearing the first few notes.

The Far Side is just pure genius, and one of the few things that will cause my wife to laugh out loud.

Avoidance

2008-03-27T12:57:00.004-05:00

Today I am writing to avoid the Lazy Blogger Stamp. I couldn't very well declare myself president, king, and dictator-for-life of the Lazy Bloggers Club if I were not regularly blogging now could I?

I have no excuse. I just haven't done it. I was in fact, actively avoiding it. Yesterday I sat at the computer and began to formulate a blog about things that bug me. That's sort of the reason to have a blog isn't it? I came up with two things that bug me. Two. And I happen to know for a fact that LOTS of things bug me, like when people "shop" for lottery tickets at 7-11 while all I need is an orange juice. On that note, if you write a check at a convenience store, I will be forced to hate you. The other thing that bugs me is TV commercials; specifically, I despite home pregnancy test ads and local car dealership commericals. Let's begin with the HPT. I can envision their marketing headquarters now:

"OK, we need to be able to tell the absolute dumbest people on Earth that they are pregnant within 6 minutes of conception."

Seriously, it's one line or it's two. It's not that hard. But evidently it is, because now they say "yes" or "no" or
"pregnant" or "not pregnant." There's a reason the HPT companies keep making them "easier." It's because we keep getting dumber.

Ahhhh, car commercials. My only question is, is there ever a time when it's NOT good to rush right down and buy a new car or truck? Are they ever not on sale? Are there ever times when there are no rebates, no special financing, no free pair of boots with every test drive? Car commercials are one of the reasons I don't watch the late local news anymore.

And then there's all of our personal favorite. Liberty Home Medical featuring your favorite diabetic and mine, Wilford Brimley.

"If you have di-yu-beeee-tus, and yer own Medicare, then your testing supplies may be cuver'd." Well thank God that his two test strips he uses per week will be "delivered right to his door."

Fear

2008-03-24T11:40:00.002-05:00

There is a bond among parents of kids with diabetes. And it's not even an unspoken one; we generally stand up for one another and worry for each other when our kids face some kind of crisis medical, social, or otherwise. Before I tell this story, let me begin with a little background information about the street where I live. I don't actually live in the street, of course, but you get what I'm saying.

On my block, there are five diabetics that I know of, with only one of them being type 2. The rest are type 1. There's me, Emma, my neighbor, the OTHER neighbor (he's the type 2) and a little boy down the street that just moved in. Josh was playing basketball with my son in our driveway, and he saw Emma's pump. Instead of staring, he knew what it was. So our block is good for drug reps and bad for ice cream trucks.

So the other night at about 9pm, we were in the kitchen when a fire truck went screaming down our block, and then an ambulance, and then another, and then several police cars. Needless to say, my internal redneck couldn't resist the urge to walk outside and see what was going on. I saw the fire truck parked at the end of the block, and then the ambulances all pull in to what appeared to be...Josh's house. I said, to no one in particular, "Oh my God, it's Josh," and quickened my pace to the end of the street. Your mind races with so many thoughts about what can happen to a diabetic kid. Was his glucose too low? Did he injure himself? Did something happen to his parents? And then you revert to that bond that you have with other parents of diabetics. You hope and you pray, even as you walk down the street with tears in your eyes, that everything is ok. It must be Josh, I thought. I knew from my experience as an EMT student that emergency responses to kids tend to be rapid and excessive.

When I reached the end of the block, I was incredibly relieved to see Josh standing at his door looking to see what was going on like the rest of the hicks. I wanted to hug him and kill him at the same time for scaring the crap out of me. Turns out it was his neighbor's father in law, who I also knew on a casual basis. And I was very grateful. Not grateful that something had happened to someone, but that it wasn't Josh. And he's not even my kid. But in a way, they all are.

The Stares

2008-03-20T20:41:00.002-05:00

As an adult with type 1 diabetes who happens to wear an insulin pump, I am well-accustomed to the "stare." And I understand it. People just don't know what that thing is that is always attached to my belt with a strange tube coming out of it. I've got people that have worked for me for years that have only recently gotten up the nerve to ask what it was. Cell phone, MP3 player, pager, you name it, I've heard it. Most reply with a sort of reaction that makes them look as if they've taken a long sniff of a can of Coleman's Dry Mustard. When I get a new semester of students, I always tell them in week 1 what it is just to spare them the agony of wondering. I sometimes wonder if any of them have ever taken up a sort of office pool on what it is, like the Captain in "Saving Private Ryan."

Emma's pump is usually safely enclosed in a pump pouch, and so no one really seems to notice. When they see us messing with it in public, I like to look up and say things like "There, that oughta shut you up for a while," or I'll look at their stomach and say "You're next, tubby." With the addition of the CGMS, the stare has become a bit of an issue. It's nice and warm now here in Texas, and so Emma wears short-sleeved dresses and shirts, exposing the sensor that is usually inserted in her arm. Amy had warned me that people were staring at it...a lot. And I figured as much. To the untrained eye, it would look like a battery pack. (If only kids were that easy).

Tonight I got to experience the "stare" in person for the first time this warm Spring. We took Emma's Mimi out for her birthday to Pei Wei for Ginger Beef, rice, and salads. As Emma sat beside me, with her right arm fully exposed to most of the restaurant, I could easily observe the stares. And the whispering. And the pointing. And the subtlety. Well, not so much the last part. First, there was a little girl about seven years old that quite literally walked up to Emma, and just...stared. When Emma said "hi!" in her usually exhuberant fashion, the little girl seemed alarmed as if my little princess was going to zap her with lasers from her eyes (powered of course by the battery pack on her arm). Then there was the grandmother at the next table that took every opportunity to..you guessed it...stare.

It was an extraordinarily emotional moment for me. I went from wanting to yell "Can I HELP YOU?" to understanding their curiosity, to grief. I was quickly overtaken with the understanding that people were STARING at my little girl becuase of the sensor on her arm. My little girl is different. I had to take a moment to gather myself before I had a bit of a public meltdown. My beautiful, funny, precious little angel, who has no idea that she is different, was being stared at while she was enjoying a plate of rice, broccoli, and carrots.

Because my brother was so profoundly disabled, I have been trained since as far back as I can remember to ignore the stares. I can very clearly remember being angered by other kids when they would stare at my brother, who was perfectly content to be just the way he was. Staring, I concluded, was not the result of the defect of the subject, but of the observer.

In the case of Emma however, very few are going to actually ask. They're just going to keep staring. And you'll find me in the men's room. Crying.

Ignorance is Not Bliss

2008-03-11T08:20:00.002-05:00

As diabetics, we face all sorts of obstacles when it comes to managing this disease in ourselves, our children, and our loved ones. Not in the least of these obstacles is ignorance of the disease itself. Much like diabetes, there are two types of ignorance: there are the sympathetic folks that want to learn more about type 1 diabetes. They may ask how many shots we take, or if we use pumps. I have found that these people generally have known someone with T1 sometime in their life, but don't really know a lot about the disease itself.

Then there's the other type of ignorance. Stupid ignorance. Dangerous ignorance. First example, there is a family on the boards at Children with Diabetes right now that is facing a battle that will absolutely make your blood boil. Their three children are in a private school, and one of those kids has T1 diabetes. Seems the always-brilliant school nurse felt that this newly-diagnosed child was having too many lows at school (she'd had three in one week). The rational solution here would be to share these concerns with the parents and discuss with the endo ways to adjust her insulin. It's also worth noting that this child is still in the honeymoon, making lows partucularly unpredictable.

But if this nurse were acting rationally this wouldn't make much of a story would it? Fast-forward a few hours to when all the kids have come home for the day and are talking with mom and dad about their day. The two non-diabetic kids inform their parents that some "people" had come to the school asking the kids lots and lots of questions about their mommmy and daddy. The school nurse had called children's protective services. Among the allegations the nurse levied were claims that the "child's diabetes is not being managed properly because she has had lows," and the parents are neglecting their child because they aren't packing her a "special diabetic lunch" every day. Dad was, understandably, enraged. He called the school and let them know exactly how he felt. The school's response? Add dad to the list because he's belligerent.

This is the dangerous side of diabetes ignorance. An ignorant person doesn't know that diabetics sometimes go high, and we sometimes go low. It happens. Ignorant people say things like "Did eating too much sugar give you diabetes?" And they also think that we have to eat a "special" diet like a lab rat. These are the people that stare at our kids and whisper when we give them a cookie while we're out shopping.

Stories like this are what keep me writing, and I promise that if I can goad the name and address of the school out of the parents I will post it here with a big yellow sign.

Nutritional Information via Text-Message

2008-03-09T18:38:00.002-05:00

I saw this in a thread over at CWD, and loved it so much I wanted to share it here. It's a service where you text what you're about to eat to "Diet1" or "34381" and it immediately texts back the nutritional information on what you sent. For example, I typed in "Big Mac" and within seconds I got a text telling me:

McDonald's Big Mac
Cal: 540
Fat: 29g
Carb: 45g
Protein: 25g

And the best part is that it's free. You only pay text-messaging charges from your carrier. Try it out!

http://www.diet.com/mobile/

Rate Your Endo

2008-03-05T17:21:00.001-06:00

I've begun a new blog (in addition to this one) where I have invited everyone to tell me what they think of their endo. There will be much more added to the site very soon, including how to submit your endo's ranking/evaluation. Check it out here.

007

2008-03-04T08:09:00.002-06:00

Like a good American citizen, I went this morning and voted in the primary election. Also like a good American, I did my part to infiltrate and influence the other side. I am what you might call an unmotivated Republican voter. That is, most years I enthusiastically support the Republican candidate, but since I am no longer all that interested in politics, I only casually support them. Of course, my vote still counts the same regardless of the passion with which it was cast.

Texas is one of those states wherin you are not required to register with one party or the other. That means you are allowed to vote in either party's primary. This is where my little act of subterfuge comes in. For the first time in my voting life, I voted for a Democratic candidate. Specifically, I voted for Hillary Clinton.

John McCain has the Republican nomination locked up, so there really was no sense in voting for him. My goal now is to ensure that McCain faces a candidate that he can beat. And that candidate is Hillary. Besides that, as I have said before, Obama is an empty suit and would be a terrible president.

I felt like a secret agent of the OSS being parachuted behind enemy lines to blow up railroad lines and steal maps. In a very real sense, that's what it was. You see, Lubbock is the conservative capital of the US. Bar none. I could clearly see that by the time I had voted (at 7:52am) that the Republicans had filled up at least three pages, while the Democrats managed just half of one page. And the scar on my temple made it all seem that much more dangerous. I was really afraid someone I knew would see me voting in the Democratic primary and blacklist me. I called my dad and told him he should do the same thing. He said he would, but only if he could wear his George W. Bush t-shirt I gave him some time ago.

I'll be interested to see how it turns out. What are your opinions on what I did?

If you weren't afraid of flying before:

2008-03-03T14:50:00.002-06:00

It's notsomuch the flying that's scary as it is the landings...

How many times do I have to explain this?

2008-03-02T22:07:00.002-06:00

Last Thursday I went to see my endo after wearing an old Guardian Gold system. It's the diabetes equivalant of a Ford Pinto. The nurse gave me my readings that resembled a map of ski trails. Very random, I thought. That's about right.

Then the endo comes in and looks at the readings.

"Looks pretty random, huh?" I offered.

"No." He said?

"You're kidding!"

"Yes."

"Ha ha."

They were random. No rhyme or reason to them. He went on to explain, as he has many times before, that we needed to get the variances under control, and he began to talk about adjusting basal rates. He then looked at a couple of days and asked why one was so different from another.

Well, on Monday I went to the gym early in the morning, and was on a temp basal, then had a post-exercise spike which I did not correct because I knew it would come down on its own. Then there was a gradual increase all the way until lunchtime where there was a dramatic drop that lasted the rest of the afternoon. I explained that the car washes had gotten very busy, and I spent the afternoon washing cars on a temp basal.

It's like that with me, you see. Some days I am very busy assisting the staffs at the car washes in a very hands-on way. On those days, keeping my BG up is a struggle. On other days, it may be raining or I am cooped up in the office doing paperwork. On those days I have to fight to keep my numbers down. Many days are half of each. There's just no telling.

But he doesn't seem to get it. It's all very straight-forward to him. If you are running high over a particular period, you raise basals. But what happens when you can't narrow it down to a particular period? I use lots and lots of temp basals. I use so many that my standard basal patterns are almost useless as a tool for measuring insulin sensitivities.

I like my endo very much. He's not especially nice, but he's not rude either. He's very efficient for sure, and if you're ever in the hospital, he's a great doc to have. True story, I was once in the hospital with a severe stomach bug and told him I had a bad headache. So he gave me Demorol. Gotta love him.

How do you all interact with your endos?

Politics

2008-02-27T09:48:00.007-06:00

I hate politics. I really do. I haven't always though. I used to be very active in politics. I watched the news every day, I listened to talk radio, I read the newspaper. All of it. I knew what was going on in national politics all of the time. I had very strong opinions, and I wasn't afraid to share them with anyone that cared to listen to debate them. Then we went on a trip to Denver to see Emma's diabetes team at the Barbara Davis Center, and something changed. While I was there, I noticed that everyone was just so darned nice no matter where I went, so I resolved to remove as much from my life that I could that wasn't contributing to my own or my family's happiness. Number one on the list was politics. Before that trip, I actually lost a pretty good friend (who happens to be my next door neighbor and also a type 1 diabetic) over a political fight. Specifically, he said I was a bad parent because I didn't support stem cell research, and I replied with a not so courteous invitation to leave my house. Something had to change. Quickly.

I gave up talk radio (haven't to this day listened in over 6 months), and I rarely watch the news. I do still read USA Today every day at lunch though. And I couldn't be happier with that decision. I will still discuss politics, but in a much more rational way. Since I don't really passionately support my side any more, I find myself able to debate individual topics rather than general political theory. For example, I will still take the conservative approach on most things, but it doesn't dominate my thinking like it once did. To be sure, there are serious hotheads and activists on both sides, and I'm not going to use this blog as a way to convince anyone one way or another, but there is something that really bothers me about all the candidates for president this year. In defense of President Bush, like him or not, he has shown the political courage to attack problems that no career politician has ever tried to do: real social security reform, terrorism, and immigration. All serious political minefields that every president before him has deftly avoided.

To his credit, Bill Clinton did attempt to reform health care. He didn't succeed, and I didn't agree with his plan then or now, but he did try. And there's something to be said for that.

That brings us to our three potential presidents: John McCain, Barack Obama, and Hillary Clinton.

McCain seems like a good enough man. Lifetime to service and a solid record in the Senate of voting the way he thought was right. In other words, he showed political courage throughout his career rather than making decisions based on opinion polls. I strongly agree with the decision to give amnesty to illegals rather than deport them all en masse. Think about this one for a second. The ramifications of suddenly withdrawing millions of people from the workforce and the economy would be devastating. Given the tenuous state of the economy, I don't think now's a good time for such a drastic measure. Now on to his health care plan which is...uh...it's....uh....well, you get the idea.

Barack Obama is an empty suit. Bottom line. The Clinton's got it right when they said that he says a lot and very little at the same time. He, like all the other candidates, also has zero executive experience. And what's especially disturbing is the complete free pass the man is getting from the press. Without trying to be inflammatory, Obama is being treated with kid-gloves because no one wants to be accused of being a racist. That's a brand that, once levied, never leaves. He's very good at speaking about general things like optimism and hope. That's great and all, but how will he handle a military crisis with China?

Hillary Clinton is in a no-win situation here. Her negatives are just too high for her to win in a general election. People just don't like her much. Americans view her negatively at a clip of about 50%, which is just too much, and would cause Nader to siphon away too many votes. My personal opinion of her is that she's just too calculating. I don't see an ounce of political courage at all. I'm afraid that she would govern based on opinion polls rather than true core beliefs. That said, she is by far a superior candidate to Obama. If she wants to win in Texas and Ohio, she's going to have to take off the gloves. If I were her, I would publicly point out the free pass Obama is getting and attack him on the issues. And when he tries to song and dance out of taking a stand on an issue, she needs to push him even more.

So there's my political blog. I don't like politics, and I doubt seriously you'll see another one. But there it is.

The Lazy Bloggers Club

2008-02-26T08:22:00.003-06:00

The other day I gently chided a fellow blogger because she hadn't posted a blog in several days. (Pot calling the kettle black, right?) I told her if she didn't blog I was going to report her to the Lazy Bloggers Police. Of course no such organization exists, but I was willing to take that chance and bluff her. Then this morning I was staring at a blank screen knowing I needed to blog something...anything! There's much to talk about: my wacky BG numbers yesterday, politics, etc. Then I decided that I was going to really make a difference in the blogger world.

Therefore, I officially announce the formation of the "Lazy Bloggers Club" whose rules are enforced by the "Lazy Bloggers Police." Since I am the only one nominated, I humbly accept your appointment as head of the Club and the Police.

Therefore, when addressing me as president of the club I must ask that you all refer to me properly as "Chancellor Brensdad." If you are so unlucky as to find yourselves in violation of the club's rules, then you must refer to me in official hearings as "Darth Brensdad."

So, should you choose to join the "Lazy Bloggers Club," then here are the bylaws:

The first rule of Lazy Bloggers Club, you do not discuss Lazy Bloggers Club.
If you do not blog at least every three days, Chancellor Brensdad will pay your site a visit and stamp your blog with a Lazy Blogger stamp.
If you have not blogged within two days of the stamp, then the dreaded Darth Brensdad will revoke your blogger status and banish you for one week to that place that all bloggers fear. The place where all intellectual thought and discourse has been banished. The true underworld of bloggers: Myspace.

I ask you all to commit to the Lazy Bloggers Club in the comments section. By the way, does anyone know how to make a Lazy Blogger Stamp?

Random Questions

2008-02-26T08:00:00.002-06:00

Got This from The LuckyDruggie:

Answer the questions and write the first thing that comes to your mind, don't change it.

1. You & your ex:
Well, keep in mind that it has been in excess of 16 years since I've had an ex, but my ex and I were never really right for each other to begin with.

2. I am listening to:
My assistant talk about Chelsea Clinton's visit to Lubbock last night.

3. Maybe I should:
Finish up here and get onto work-related things.

4. I love?
My wife, my kids, my parents, and smart, funny people.

5. I don't understand:
Why it is that when I am in a hurry, all the lights are red, but if I need to stop and test or something every light is green.

6. I have lost my respect for:

7. I last ate:
A graham cracker last night.

8. The meaning of my display name is:
Long ago when my first child was born, we named him Brenden. And since then pretty much every username I have ever had has been a take on his name: Brensdad.

-IS YOUR/ARE YOU-

1.Is your hair red like a punk white boy?
Um no.

2.Is your cell phone right by you?
ALWAYS.

3. Do you miss someone?
I miss my deceased brother dearly.

4. Do you wear protection?
Don't need it.

5. Are you tired of gay people?
I'm tired of the "token gay man" that seems to be mandatory on every sitcom these days, but otherwise they don't bother me.

6. Are you wearing a mullet?
Nope

7. Are you mad?
In a cosmic sort of way, maybe.

8. Are you gay?
Negative, ghost rider. My taste in shoes is not nearly refined enough.

HAVE YOU
1. Recently done anything you regret?
Yeah, I shouldn't have drunk that Gatorade last night with no insulin. Believe me, I'm paying for it today.

2. Ever lied?
Yes.

3 and 4 were intenionally omitted. This is a PG-13 Blog.

5. Ever tripped out while you were on acid?:
I have never even sampled an illegal drug of any kind, ever.

TODAY HAVE YOU:
1. Have you cursed ?
Not yet, but it's really just a matter of time.

2. Have you gotten mad at someone?:
Daily

RANDOM
Q: Is there a person who is on your mind right now?
Emma and Brenden enter my mind about every two minutes in one way or another.

Q: Do you have any siblings?
Yes, three brothers. It's complicated. My natural brother died a few years ago leaving me with my two step-brothers, Joey and Nathan. We've been step-brothers for so long that we don't call each other step-brothers.

Q: Do you want children?
Already have two. And two weenie dogs.

Q: Do you smile often?
Yep, pretty often.

Q: Do you untie your shoes every time you take them off?
Nope, just toe them off.

Q: Do you like your handwriting?
Hate it.

Q: What were you doing at 7PM yesterday?
Watching Deal or No Deal and telling Brenden to get in the shower for the tenth time.

Q: I can't wait till:
A decent vacation.

Q: What would you rather be called?
Your Majesty

Q: When did you cry last?
Last night when the two people on Deal or No Deal didn't win the $1 million. I'm sappy like that.

Q: Are you a friendly person?
Mostly

Q. Do you have any pets?
Two weenie dogs that are cute as pie and dumb as bricks.

Stitches

2008-02-21T23:00:00.003-06:00

Two things I had never done until this past Tuesday: kicked a clown in the groin or gotten stitches (among other things of course). I can tell you that as long as I don't have a seltzer bottle sprayed in my face that the first one shall remain incomplete, but I have officially ended my streak in life with no stitches. (Side note: I challenge you all to try and type "stitches" over and over again, so heretefore they shall be called "owies.")

But before he began, I wanted to test my BG right before the procedure, and then again right after to see if the Lidocaine, nerves, or minor pain would cause any sudden variances. He seemed interested too so I tested. 117.

The surgeon was very nice, and we shared some idle chit-chat while I lay prone on the little table and waited for my procedure to remove my third head, I mean my carcinoma, from my temple. We visited about manly things like college sports and tools and such. While I was waiting, I casually asked how much a jar of Lidocaine costs. No one seemed to know (or wanted me to know). They shared awkward glances and changed the subject. It seemed to be a bit like walking into a nuclear power plant and asking where the "off" button was. So we all seemed to decide that would be a good time to stick a giant needle in my head at least 67 times until it was nice and numb. After I was numb, he handed me a metal plate and told me to hold it very tight. I guess you just don't ask a lot of quesitons when a man is holding a scalpel to your temple.

He proceeeded to cut away a fairly good-sized piece of skin. I could feel the tugging and cutting, but it didn't hurt at all. Then he turned on some sort of electrical device and told me it would be used to seal off any bleeding. He also told me that if I let go of that metal plate while he was using it my heart would stop. Excuse me? It was rather if he was telling me to tie my shoes so I don't trip on my way out. I clung to that plate like Kate Winslet hung onto the wooden door in "Titanic." Then, reassured that my heart was still dutifully pumping away, I worried that this little death band-aid would damage my pump. So I asked "Will that thing damage my pump?" To which he replied, without missing a beat, "Hope not."

So the doc wrapped up the cutting and told me it was time for the owies. Eleven altogether that will have to be removed on Monday. He told me I could let go of the metal plate. I told him it was just fine where it was, thanks.

So now I have eleven owies on my right temple, and rather than telling people it's from a carcinoma, I tell them I got it in a fight with an Asian biker gang. "I got four of 'em before the fifth one gave me this!" Scars are sexy anyway, right?

Oh, and post-op BG? 117. Must've been the metal plate.

Really, really bad joke

2008-02-21T10:20:00.002-06:00

One day a mad scientist made a clone of himself. The only problem was that the clone was always sticking his head out of the window of their three-story building and screaming obscenities at people walking by on the street. Finally, the mad scientist had enough and had no other choice but the throw the clone out of the window. He was arrested and charged with making an obscene clone fall.

Google AdSense

2008-02-20T08:28:00.002-06:00

So while I was working on my blog yesterday, I looked over the page from Google offering me the chance to make a little money by placing ads on my blog. I thought, sure why not? So I went to Google and signed up to have the ads placed. The way it works is that anytime someone clicks on the ad on your site, you get a little bit of money. What harm could that bring?

Last night as I was laying in bed, a troubling question occurred to me. "What if I don't approve of the content of the ad?" How many times have we all done a search for "diabetes" and seen paid search results promising "cures" for type 1 diabetes? I was instantly horrified that this might happen and knew that would be the first thing I would check this morning.

Sure enough, the first ad I see on MY blog says "Reverse Type 1 Diabetes! 64% success rate!"

So I have removed the Adsense code from my blog and pledge never to do that again.

Making Cuts

2008-02-19T13:25:00.003-06:00

Well, here in just a few minutes I'll be heading to the surgeon's office to have a section of skin removed from my temple. The doc says it's a pretty quick procedure, and the only side-effect for the first couple of days afterwards will be that my right eyebrow will be raised slightly. To which I replied "So I'll spend the next three days looking skeptical?" He laughed. We'll get along just fine.

50 Things About Me

2008-02-18T14:09:00.004-06:00

I was born on December 19th, 1974.
Gerald Ford was president when I was born.
I know just enough about computers to fix most things and seriously screw up others.
I'm afraid of heights.
I am not afraid of public speaking.
I sleep on my back.
I drive a 2003 Silver Dodge Ram 1500 Pickup.
I like watching NASCAR.
People always fight to have me on their team when we play trivia games.
I have an MBA.
I am afraid that a shark will attack me even when I am in swimming pools.
When I shave off my goatee I look like I am 20 years old.
I constantly battle my weight.
I play goalie for two indoor soccer teams.
I met my wife of New Year's Eve 1992.
I wanted to name Emma "Emily."
I type 55 wpm.
I can only sleep if my room is pitch black.
My cell phone rings more times in a day than most peoples' ring in a month.
I like seafood.
I never let my son beat me when we play "Madden."
I like Jim Beam.
Bill Bryson is my favorite author.
My second favorite is Gary Larson, author of "The Far Side."
I prefer brunettes.
My wife is a brunette.
I'd rather watch my son play soccer than breathe.
I wear a Rolex watch.
I have not thrown up in over two years.
My favorite TV show is still "Seinfeld."
I wish I was rich.
I like to tease my wife by saying that the kids' real father in the UPS driver.
I think scared people are funny.
I can carry on four different conversations at once.
My favorite restaurant is Houston's.
I really like managing car washes.
I come up with a lot of really stupid ideas sometimes.
I've tried quitting chewing tobacco at least ten times.
I'm going to keep quitting until I succeed.
When I get overwhelmed, I just shut down.
I refuse to leave the house, even to go to the mailbox, without my wedding ring on.
I never miss Dallas Cowboys games on TV.
If left alone, I would eat until I exploded.
I constantly worry that I am a good father to my kids.
I've never voted for a Democrat.
I'm bad about leaving money in my pockets and then finding it later in the dryer.
I like onions.
I get carsick just by riding in a car no matter how short the trip.
I get tired of my insulin pump.
I wear sunglasses that are too small for my head.

The Greatest Game that No American Likes

2008-02-18T11:27:00.002-06:00

Some of you that were readers of my previous blog know that I am a HUGE soccer fan. Well, when I say huge, I don't mean in a "drinking all day and rioting with the Bobbies" kind of way. I love to play it, and I love to coach my son's soccer team, and I always watch when the American team plays in international matches. Most Americans don't really care for the sport. It's boring, they say. To that I respond, in a country where BASEBALL is "America's Pasttime" soccer is considered boring? Please. I would rather watch "Ishtar", "Catwoman", and "Gigli" than a single baseball game on TV. Oooooh, darn it, he missed that ball AGAIN. Baseball is a sport where people that can actually hit the ball and get on base 30% of the time are hailed as geniuses of the first order.

This isn't to say that soccer is perfect; it certainly has its flaws. But if I could for a moment, allow me to offer up a few suggestions that might make soccer more appealing to the American palate.

1. Allow free subsitution like in hockey. Soccer players are incredible athletes, but could you run for 90 minutes? Me either. And they don't either, they do coast, and that's why allowing a player that leaves the field to re-enter would make for a more exciting game.

2. Add an additional referee to the field. There is no way a single referee is going to catch everything, and in fact he rarely sees when his assistants on the sidelines raise their flag to call a foul.

3. If a sideline official calls offsides, the play should be allowed to continue, and if a goal is scored, it should be reviewed by instant replay. In the USA's match against Mexico, there was a TERRIBLE offsides call made against the Americans (one of many by a clearly biased official) that led to a goal being disallowed. The side official should raise his flag if he sees offsides, and just like in hockey, the play should be allowed to continue until a goal is scored, the goalkeeper makes a save, or there is a change in possession. If there is no goal, then play continues as normal, if there is, we go to the videotape.

4. Players diving and faking injuries in order to draw fouls must be dealt with. This is where adding a second official to the field helps. Habitual divers must be given yellow and red cards.

'Cause it ain't funny!! DUUUUUUHHHH!

2008-02-16T15:38:00.002-06:00

I was looking through some of my old blog postings the other day, and wondered to no one in particular why I couldn't write "funny" anymore. My old blog was full of witty quips like "Ford Intergalactic Space-Jumpers" and stopping a diabetes protest by dousing them in Kool-Aid. Now that Bennet and I are writing a "humorous" column over at Children With Diabetes, my "humor" seems to have deserted me. Perhaps, as it was pointed out to me, it's because the subject itself isn't all that funny.

Surely there are funny things about diabetes, right? I mean how many non-pancreatically-challenged folks have dropped their pancreas in the toilet? Or had their pancreas snag on a doorway causing an awkward stop that looks like they just stepped in a puddle of liquid nitrogen? Shoot, we used to think it was at least marginally funny that when Emma was very little and got a little low, she would start bumping into things like a shaken cicada. Now add in her diagnosis of polyarticular juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and the chemotherapy drugs she takes to combat it, and the humor tends to fade a bit.

Even now as I sit here in a high blood sugar fog, the words just seem to float away. What gives? Who knows? I'll keep at it though.

What the Funk?

2008-02-14T15:57:00.002-06:00

I've been browsing a few blogs this cloudy afternoon while my son sits next to me and tells me that "the car wash is the slowest business" on his Sim City-esque game. Kids.

In several of the blogs I've read today, the author talks about themselves being in a funk. Their BG is running high, they're chasing stubborn lows, they want universal health care, they're tired of being up all night with a child whose BG is too high or too low. They're not in a funk, they're burned out. For most people, when they get burned out on something, they just walk away from it for a while. They take a vacation, or they go to lunch, maybe catch a movie.

Diabetes doesn't allow that. It may let you pretend it's not there for an hour or two, but that's it. It will remind you that it's there with a pounding heartbeat or a mouthful of old sweaters. Either way, there's no escape from D burnout, and the problem is that I never know what to suggest. Having been subject to a major D burnout about a year ago, it would seem that I would have something to offer, but I don't. When I would let it slide for bit, diabetes quickly reminded me, everytime, that ignoring it was simply not an option.

Being the annoyingly optimistic type that I am, I tend to take setbacks in stride and just move forward, but there are some people who aren't born with this particular curse that I call "misplaced optimism." My guess is the best thing to do is just to listen. When my wife comes to me with a problem, I always ask "Is this one of those 'I need a solution' problems, or one I'm just supposed to listen to?" Seems to work so far. Happy Valentine's Day.

Checks and Balances

2008-02-12T14:58:00.001-06:00

So lately life has pretty much sucked. Let me recap it for you:

"You only have some minor background retinopathy."
"That mole we removed came back positive as basal cell carcinoma."
"The water bill for your car wash for the last two months is $42,000." And if you don't get it taken care of we are going to close your car washes.
Emma had to start on a JRA medication most commonly known for treating cancer.
Amy is stuck at home with a child whose only real friend moved away along with her mom, who happens to be Amy's confidant and sister.

So today, the following things happen. First, I get a call from the city wanting to meet with me regarding the outrageous water bill that was caused by a plumber and made worse by them. My first appeal had been denied, but now she wanted to meet with me face to face so we could "settle this issue." I expected them to offer half or some such thing. I show up for the meeting, and the city has forgiven the entire bill. Every penny. Whew. Big whew.

Not 30 minutes after I get this great news and pass it up the chain, the principal from a local elementary school calls and tells me that Emma has been accepted into a full-time public school preschool. When I tell her Emma has diabetes, she says "Oh, we have another child on a pump and the nurse knows how to do everything. We're very excited to have her!"

I still have retinopathy, and I still have to have a big part of my head cut off, but I still have a job, and Emma has a preschool. Sometimes God doesn't work in mysterious ways, He just works.

Hey buddy, your tire's a little low!

2008-02-08T12:19:00.001-06:00

Doctors spend much of their time around people with gruesome and fatal illnesses. Maybe that's why when they see something that is not necessarily gruesome or fatal, they can be a little non-chalant about the problem you're having. For example, after an appointment with my retinologist, he said "You still have that small hemorrhage and some minor background retinopathy." And that was it. It was like he was telling me that I had a stain on my carpet that might not come out. Sure, no big deal to him because I can still see. But what does that mean for the future? Will it get worse? What gives?

I then saw that I was talking to an eye chart on the wall through my dialated eyes in a dark room. Is there such a thing as minor retinopathy? "You have cancer, sir, but just a little bit." I'm not done with this one. Time for Google and WebMd. WebMd will tell me to call my healthcare provider, to which I will wonder, "How would I know I have retinopathy withourt having seen a health care provider?"

Sheesh, at least WebMD won't make me read year-old magazines.

Im-patients

2008-02-08T12:01:00.001-06:00

Doctors are strange people. And going to see a doctor is always a strange experience. I have this flaw, you see. I don't put doctors on an un-touchable pedestal and take their words as gospel, and I also don't put up with any crap from them or their office staff either. Really, my biggest beef right now with doctors is that I am tired of them keeping me waiting for an hour past my scheduled appointment time. Diabetics see endocrinologists, primary care physicians, retinologists, podiatrists, cardiologists, and nephrologists. That's a lot of ologists, and a lot of time in waiting rooms.

Airplanes are late on a regular basis, and people raise all kinds of heck about it in the media. The difference is that airplanes are late because one of them may be broken, or there was bad weather somewhere, or someone insisted that a piano will in fact fit in the overhead compartment. If someone comes to one of my carwashes, and it takes 10-20 minutes longer than we quoted them, they are sure to be in my face yelling at me about it. If you are stuck in the drive-through for longer than 5 minutes you may tell the manager about it. And we pay these people just a few bucks per visit.

What do we do in doctors' waiting rooms when the doctor is running late? Nothing. We pick up another two year old edition of Highlights magazine and continue to wait as the person next to us thoughtfully breathes her flu germs into my pores. Why? We pay doctors hundreds of dollars for just a few minutes of their time, and yet we never really know when we are getting in to see them! I'm reminded of a favorite book of mine that talks about air travel in the Middle East. In Egypt, for example, you are expected to show up at 8am on the day of your flight and hope for the best. The plane may leave at 11am, it may leave at 6pm, you just never know.

It is time, my friends, to make our voices known. Stop being patients and start being impatients! I for one, do not wait any longer than 30 minutes after my scheduled appointment time. I have been known to leave an exam room just as the doctor was coming in because I had been there an hour and a half after my scheduled time. Most of the time they are quite stunned. I would imagine this is common in an urgent care clinic or an ER, but at a doctor's office? If the doctor is running that late, then they should tell us when we check in so we can decide if that doctor is going to get our $200 that day or not. If time is short and you must leave, stop and tell them first that you are leaving and why. If it is a large practice or clinic, ask for the number of the office manager and write to them about your concerns. I promise you that it works. I once walked out on an endocrinology appointment that was 2 hours late, and let them know that I was not at all pleased. They were very courteous, and I have NEVER waited past a scheduled time again...ever. When they see me come in, they are quick to get me into a room and seen by the doctor asap. I had to leave my primary physicians office last week because he was 45 minutes late for the appointment. Next time I went in..no charge for the visit. Doctor's offices are BUSINESSES, folks, and it's time we start acting like customers.

It's time for us all to be that squeaky wheel that needs some grease. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this and what some of you have ever done when your doctor was late.

This is Really Cool....

2008-02-08T08:02:00.000-06:00

http://mygluco.com/

For those of you with diabetic kids, this device is a must-have...

From what I can tell, it looks like a caregiver tests your child's BG, and the result is sent to you via your cell phone. Emma's too young still to need this device just yet, and because she is on a CGMS we don't do as much finger-stick testing as we used to. But it sure would be nice on those few occassions that she is hanging out with one of her plethora of grandparents.

CGMS Cost Savings

2008-02-07T08:40:00.000-06:00

I've created a spreadsheet that helped us to get CGMS coverage, along with instructions on how to fill in the form. See the links below.

http://docs.google.com/Doc?docid=djvpt7b_0d89qkhcv&hl=en

In order to edit the spreadsheet, you will have to save a copy to your own computer, as it will not allow you to modify the original version:

http://spreadsheets.google.com/ccc?key=pPELY_yjfILtG_YqMxgLACQ

I've had several people ask about this, so I decided it was just time for me to try and post it online. I'm not real technically astute, so this is my first attempt at publishing documents. As always, drop me an email if you need help with it.

I am still doing my best to try and make this thing so that you can save it to your computer and edit it to serve your own needs. Thanks JR for the tips, but I'm still not sure I am doing it right.

Florida, part II...the airports

2008-02-06T10:07:00.000-06:00

I kind of like flying. Airports to me are fairly soothing places where there are lots of good books and magazines to choose from as well as plenty of places to sit and read them. Soothing that is, once you get past security.

You see, my company likes to fly us around the country one-way. Let me tell you, based on experience, the TSA does not like people who are flying across the country one-way, and so just as I expected: "Sir, the airlines have selected you for additional screening." What they're really saying is "Sir, we are going to take you aside into a little plexiglass room and run a wand between your legs." No problem, it happens so often now that I am prepared for it. I will say that everytime I have flown the TSA people in Lubbock are always very courteous and generally know what my insulin pump is (as opposed to the old guy in Orlando that said "Yer gonna hafta take that mp3 thingy or whatever that is off.") Since I flew last, there is now a restriction on carrying on liquids, so I was sure to tell the person I had two vials in my carry-on, and she very nicely asked me to take them out and put them in their own little bucket for screening. Fast-forward now to Houston (where I had to actually exit the terminal and go through screening AGAIN, this time minus the crotch-wanding. I dutifully took my vials out of the bag and put them in their own bucket, and the "girl" working there screamed at me to put the vials back in the bag and then ROLLED HER EYES at me just as big as she could. So, being the kind and patient fellow that I am, I stopped where I was, looked at her, and yelled back at her and very nicely asked that she not ever roll her eyes at me or anyone else ever again. Very nicely....of course.

I was lucky enough on the last leg from Charlotte to Fort Myers that I had two very emaciated older ladies on either side of me, so I had plenty of leg room. My colleagues that were on the same flight were not so lucky. It looked like the airline decided to pick the three fattest guys they could find, put them on the same row, and filmed them for a secret reality show called "fat, snoring guys squished together on an airplane." I took great pleasure in looking back at them and indulging in a big, long stretch topped off with a yawn.

Part three...the road trip. And this one includes all kinds of diabetes drama. Hang tight.

Florida, Part One

2008-01-30T21:15:00.000-06:00

Don't you hate it when one of your smart-ass comments turns in to the idea of the century? Yeah, me too. This is pretty much how it went on the phone:

Brensdad's Boss: "We've got $100,000 worth of merchandise sitting in Florida that we need to get back here to our Texas locations, but shipping is going to be a nightmare, and we need that stuff here before January 31st."

Brensdad: "I know, why don't you fly two of us to Fort Myers, and we'll rent a truck and drive it all back!"

I swear that I was rolling my eyes through the phone as I said it.

Long silence. Too long. Oh shit. He likes it.

"That's actually a great idea."

"Say what?"

"It's a great idea! Call Mark in Dallas and see how soon he can go!"

"Um....really?"

"Hell yeah! Do it, and call me right back."

And so I had to call the regional manager in Dallas and explain to him exactly why it was that we had to fly, in two days, from Texas to Florida. And then rent a 26 foot truck, and then drive it BACK to Texas. And so began the trip to Florida and back.

Stay tuned for the entry about the flight to Florida...

You Mean I Don't Get Paid for This?

2008-01-30T21:09:00.000-06:00

HEY! Guess what everybody! And when I say everybody, I mean all nine of you, I got myself a real life column-writin' gig over on Children With Diabetes. Myself and two other guys have been given the opportunity to write a humorous column once per week on the CWD main page.

The owner of the site, who obviously doesn't read this blog or he never would have allowed it, insisted that we provide him with several weeks' worth of inventory in case we get tired of it and stop doing it. How could anyone get tired of writing funny stuff? I guess maybe it's just that I am so over-opinionated that I am grateful to find a new audience. People who know me stopped listening to me YEARS ago.

Once our first column is actually up, I'll be sure to post the link here. And I TOTALLY plan on using that column to artificially boost my hit count here. It's the American Way, after all.

Oh, and for those of you waiting on the "Trip to Florida and Back" blog, hang tight, it's coming.

Home Sweet Home

2008-01-26T19:02:00.000-06:00

Whew. Just got back from a VERY long road trip, so I haven't had time to blog, but I promise an extraordinarily amusing one about my adventure through the deep South. Well, maybe not extraordinarily. But it'll be well worth the wait.

Ways to have fun with your child's diabetes

2008-01-20T19:25:00.000-06:00

Of course diabetes isn't fun, but let's pretend it is...maybe for just a minute?

1. When eating with friends, constantly tell your child to hold their breath after each bite. When your friends ask why you do that, say "Air is FULL of carbs. Didn't you know that?"

2. While you're pushing buttons on your child's pump in public, loudly proclaim "There, that oughta shut you up for awhile!"

3. If you see someone staring at you while testing your child's blood sugar, look at their stomach and say, "You're next, tubby."

4. If your child's pump starts to alarm in public, hold it up close and say, "Dang it! Out of ink again!"

5. When drawing up an injection at a restaurant, ask the waitress if she would mind having the kitchen "nuke" it.

6. (This one's just for the older kids who can play along. The lawyers insisted.) While eating a meal with family or close friends, have your child tear a small ketchup packet, and when he pokes his finger, have him smear the ketchup on his hands. Hilarity ensues.

7. After giving your child an injection, remove the plunger from the syringe and use the casing as a straw.

8. Next time you are pulled over with your child in the car, tell the officer you were speeding because your child has type 2 and is late for an appointment with their trainer.

9. Go to a bar where people play darts and start throwing syringes at the board.

10. When your child's pump alarms at the grocery store checkout (doesn't it always?) Look up at the clerk and say "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Bonus: Collect every single test strip you use for an entire year. Mail them to your insurance company with a note that says "Are you SURE you don't want to cover a CGMS?"

CGMS, Here I Come!!!

2008-01-18T14:32:00.000-06:00

I just got off the telephone with my insurance company, and I am more than thrilled to inform all six of you that they are covering the CGMS! I am absolutely ecstatic!

Of course, there is always the fine print. Maybe I'm just blinded right now by visions of stable blood sugars, but I'm not reall worried about them. Here they are, as I understand them:

1. CGMS and sensors are covered under Durable Medical Equipment as an "insulin pump accessory."

2. My DME has an annual maximum benefit of $2500.

3. My copay, once the deductible has been met, is 10%.

What does all that mean?

Well, thanks to A Plus Medical Supply, I am not at all worried about the deductible. Once they have billed my insurance company for my first supply order, my modest $500 deductible will be history in no time. As always, co-pays and other up-front costs are what will sting a bit in the beginning. $699 upfront to upgrade my pump from the Minimed 715 to the 722. Minimed informs me that United will pay for an upgrade to a pump every three years. I'm only on year two. The good news is that $400 of that is refunded once they receive my old 715 in the mail.

The transmitter costs $600, $540 of which will be covered by insurance. For those of you keeping score at home, that means $359 out of pocket so far, and $60 applied to my $2500/year DME maximum. Riveting, I know. The cool thing is that with A Plus, my deductible is "gone." I don't have to pay it.

Next come the sensors. The regular price for sensors is $35 apiece. I don't now if United has a negotiated rate with Minimed yet or not, but I suspect that is the case. Those sensors are approved for 3 days' of use, but the reality is more like 6. So I figure I can get by on 5 sensors per month. That's $17.50 in co-pays for me, and another $157.50 against the DME maximum. So, in a year that's $210 worth of copays, and $1890 against the $2500 maximum.

It's going to be close with that DME limit, but maybe if I ask her Emma will loan me one or two of hers.

Like a Thief in the Night

2008-01-17T18:33:00.001-06:00

Diabetes takes a lot of things away from people. It takes away time, money, energy, and even limbs and lives. I try not to think too much about my own mortality. I know I am getting older, but not necessarily wiser. I worry much more about my daughter who, when she is my age, will have had diabetes for 32 years. Lately something else has bothered me more than any of these things though.

When I was a teenager and had fallen madly in love with this gorgeous brunette named Amy, I envisioned for us a future that included a house, two cars, a cat, a dog, and an absolute house full of children. I was absolutely certain that I was going to have a home so littered with children's toys that it would resemble a Toys R Us. And I really meant it. I wanted kids. And lots of them. Well, maybe not lots, but at least four. I imagined that one day when I was old I would have my four grown children over to visit us and ten or twelve grand babies running all over the place with Amy chasing after them offering milk and cookies. I seem to remember Amy being fine with that. But then I seem to remember lots of things that didn't happen, and not remembering lots of things that did.

And then came diabetes. You see, it's wise not to mess around with what many surveys indicate is most important to women: security. And I think that's true. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs missed the boat on that one, I presume. Amy was once married to a healthy, strapping and robust young man. The next day she was married to a man with a disease that would probably kill him much sooner than she had planned. Granted she's probably plotted my death many times since, but not so much at the time. She's even hinted, "You know, I could give you a massive bolus in the night if I wanted to." Yikes. This was not a woman in any condition to produce at least four children.

After Emma's diagnosis, the first priority was making sure our second child was as stable and healthy as possible. The second priority, only very closely behind the first, was to make sure there wouldn't be a third child. So I went off like a good husband and had a vasectomy. And so diabetes had taken its first real toll on me. I never really discussed this with Amy. She was, after all, right. Emma was going to be a handful, and we knew that from the minute she was diagnosed.

Diabetes had robbed me, and not even like a thief in the night as the title of this entry suggests. It had pistol-whipped me, tied me up, and stolen my virility from me at gunpoint. I hadn't wanted to give it up. I wanted to have lots of kids. Diabetes wins again.

Diabetes 360.

The Financial Side of Diabetes

2008-01-16T13:40:00.000-06:00

I just finished making a spreadsheet for a mom over at Children with Diabetes that will hopefully convince her insurance company that a CGMS is not only an effective way to control blood glucose but also a financial advantage to both the insurance company and the patient. When we were trying to get Emma covered for the CGMS, a similar spreadsheet helped us to convince United HealthCare that the CGMS would be a good deal. At least I like to think so.

Every day I am amazed at all the posts on the various forums and blogs that have to do with financing diabetes. Let's take a moment to look at the retail cost of all the supplies I use in a month. Just me, not including Emma.

1. Novolog insulin, 3 vials per month: $246.96
2. Test strips, 180 per month: $159.96
3. Pump tubing, reserviors, and infusion sets: $250
4. Alcohol swabs, IV prep, the occassional syringe, glucose tablets, etc.: $50

That's easily over $700 per month in a good month.

I am lucky. I happen to have excellent insurance, great pharmacists, and a little place called A Plus Medical Supply. If you are a diabetic with PPO insurance, you must call them NOW.

Anyway, I digress. It's no wonder that the financial management side of diabetes becomes so quickly overwhelming. I used to scoff when the media would report that people were choosing between medication and food. I don't scoff anymore, because I see it now everyday in the forums. I'm not going to advocate socialized medicine here or anything, but isn't it really about time that drug companies stop charging $80 for a vial of insulin and $1.00 per test strip?

There is a fight brewing in Congress over generic insulins. Generics labs say that can make it, and the patent-holders say no way. The FDA can't do anything yet because there's no process for testing and approving generic insulins. Is there anything more frustrating than that?

Sweet Stability

2008-01-14T14:31:00.000-06:00

I'm proud to announce that after just a few short weeks in the gym, playing raquetball, and indoor soccer that my blood sugars have returned to some form of stability. After weeks and weeks of waking up to high blood glucose, then a long period of highs after meals the exercise is finally paying off. It's come at a price, of course. It takes up to two hours of preparation for me to engage in raquetball or soccer, but not quite as much before a weight-lifting session. I usually now just remove my pump while I am lifting weights- something I had never done before. I know, it's a luxury that I, being type 1.5, have over a true type 1 diabetic. That is, I still produce a little bit of insulin, so ketones are not really a problem for me unless I have a nasty stomach bug. It's been nice to be relatively stable, and of course the weight loss that has gone along with the exercise has definitely helped.

Yesterday Amy gave me a list of a few things she needed done before I went off to play raquetball, so I hooked up my iPod and got to work. While I was working on my various tasks (hauling Christmas decor up to the attic, taking down a few remaining lights, cleaning up the backyard, and scalping the lawn), I thought it might be fun to do a little experiment. My plan was to measure my BG every thirty minutes during the Dallas Cowboys playoff game versus the Giants to see how much impact emotions had on my blood sugars. I never did it, but I may still someday. Pity, guess it'll have to wait until next year.

Inactivity Penalties

2008-01-10T09:13:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I was reading in USA Today about the little scam retailers run on consumers who buy gift cards. Specifically, if you don't use them within a set period of time, they begin to charge you fees. And like most things I see, I made an instant connection to diabetes. I have become much more physically active in the last week or two than I have been in some time. Raquetball, weightlifting, personal trainer, and now...indoor soccer. There have been some real upsides and even some downsides to my manic burst of my once-dormant athleticism. Believe it or not, I was once a pretty good athlete. Soccer, football, wrestling, track and field, and even lacrosse are all sports that at one time or another I participated in. Some of them I even excelled at. The difference is that back then I didn't have to account for blood sugars.

Now physical activity is really a must, and along with it comes the need for precise blood sugar control and lots and lots of planning. For example, last night I was getting ready to go play indoor soccer. After dinner, my BG was 102, which is great 99% of the time. When you're about to play a strenuous sport like soccer, it's not enough. More than once over the last two weeks I have been frustrated by my inability to get my BG up enough to play raquetball or lift weights. Don't get me wrong, the exercise has given me great numbers, and I am proud to report that as of last night I have lost 4.5 pounds. But the fact remained that 102 wasn't going to sustain me through a game of soccer, so I drained a juice box (actually it was one of those "juice-in-a-keg" things) and ate a couple of graham crackers. An hour later I was 223. That would be just about right.

Then I am sitting at the field waiting for my game, and all those nerves started to kick in. I get very excited before a game, and so I tested one last time: 318. 318!? My pump suggested 7.5 units. I corrected with just 2 and played. All the while knowing that playing a sport late at night was just asking for a severe late-night low BG.

When I got up this morning I was 150, so it all worked out just about right. But all in all, it took well over 2 hours of intense management to get ready to play soccer for an hour.

Diabetes 360.

There's a Reason it's Called "Diabetes 360"

2008-01-07T07:16:00.000-06:00

In the title of my blog, I state that no matter where I turn, diabetes is there. Well this weel I have been playing a lot of raquet ball as a way to get myself into better cardiovascular condition. It's great exercise, it's a lot of fun, and unforunately it requires a lot of preparation. A "normal" person just picks up their racket and plays. Well it's not quite as easy for someone with diabetes.

I won't get too terribly far into the details, but yesterday I was set to play at 5pm, so at 3:30 or so I had a nice big lunch and just barely bolused for it so I would have a blood sugar cushion before I played. The first day I played my BG was 199 when I started, and after just one game it was 97. That's a big drop! So anyway, I figured a plate of enchiladas and a yogurt would be plenty to carry myself through an hour of play. Before I left I tested...79. WTF? No way was that going to work. No way. So I stopped at 7-11 and picked up a Sunny Delight (58 carbs) and a bottle of Gatorade. Slammed the Sunny D and tested before I began. 77. It was as close to crying as I have been since the Steel Magnolias incident. It was just so frustrating. So I had to sit out the first 15 minutes of play and wait for the Sunny D to kick in. It finally did, and I played well and had a lot of fun.

An hour later? 225.

Diabetes 360.

Day Two (and Final) Day Off the Pump

2008-01-03T08:48:00.000-06:00

Last night I again struggled with moderately high blood sugar that stubbornly held in the 200 mg/dl range, but stubbornly I continued on. And with the aid of 64 ounces of ice water, got the BG down to 118 mg/dl at bedtime, which happened to be around 11:00. Fast forward now to 12:38AM, when I awoke to a pounding heartbeat and the general feeling of unease I get when my BG is low. So I got up and VERY unsteadily made my way to the kitchen to test. I finally managed to open up my kit and somehow got my shaky hand to meet up with the test strip. 52 mg/dl, and based on how I was feeling, it was still on its way down in a hurry.

There was no time to fool around with this one, so I went straight for the atom bomb...pop-tarts. And then a peanut butter sandwich, then another, then chocolate milk...

By now I was as scared as I have ever been while low. I could really feel myself struggling to hang on to consciousness. Scary thoughts began to race through my foggy mind. What if I took too much Lantus? What if my BG isn't coming up? I eyed the glucagon and considered a micro-injection to provide a fail-safe boost. I tested again after eating all that food. Still 52 mg/dl. That was actually ok because I knew that I wasn't dropping anymore, and so I went to bed. Normally I have a hard time falling back asleep because of the counter-regulatory response. Not this time. I'm fairly certain I just passed out.

At 7AM I awoke to the diabetes hangover. Sticky, dry mouth, headache, etc. This was not going to be good. Normally after one of my nighttime feasts I can drop a quick pump bolus to minimize the damage. Not this time. 483 mg/dl. I took an injection of 15 units of Novolog and hooked my pump back on with a temp basal of 4 units per hour for the next 3 hours. It's going to be a miserable day.