I'm in the grocery store the other day just taking my time going up and down the aisle. it's like a crazy relaxation meditation technique I've been using since I was 9. Don't ask me why or how, but grocery stores soothe me. All the pent up anger just melts away.
So I'm walking down the chips and sparkling water aisle when I notice this new beverage on display. It's carb free and sugar free. But is it aspertame free? My body hate aspertame, all I need is a little and my blood sugar goes sky high for hours. Which means, I have to read the nurtition labels and ingredients to EVERYTHING. Some people look at fat content, others a carbs, I look at carbs, sugar, and what sort of sweetner they use. I don't even go near anything that has splenda in fear of what it could potentially do to me. The only reason why I know aspertame is bad for me is because when i was first diagnosed I started drinking Crystal Light and ate sugar free jello. My blood sugar was always high and I did not understand how it could be so high if I was eating and drinking sugarfree things. And then I cut Crystal Light and Jello out of my life and all of a sudden my blood sugar went from the 500's to the 200's. So anything with aspertame is a no go. No more sugarfree jello, or Crystal Light, or gum. Did you know aspertame is in every single version of gum out there. So frustrating.
I look at the contents and see no aspertame. Immediately I get excited. No aspertame, no splenda, this might actually work. AND there are yummy flavors like lemonade and strawberry lemonade. Needless to say I'm quite happy and take two bottles home. When I get home, I'm just itching to tear into them but I decide to let them chill for a bit. Afterall, lemonade is the best cold.
Yesterday I opened one, poured it, put it to my lips and realized I made a horrible mistake. It tastes like chemicals. Like rancid car battery acid. And then my stomach goes all blargh causing me to go to the bathroom constantly. I really hate when my stomach does this and the only remedy is to shoot more insulin into my body. This is not good. So I had to dump the rest of one and all of the other bottle out. Cascade Ice....you are not friendly at all.
So frustrating.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Must repeat to myself that I size 4/5 is not fat
So I've gained a bit a weight. Finally added meat to my bare bones. Everyones proud of me and my pouchy stomach. But my size 4 jeans are getting small and I'm having problems dealing with it. On top of that, my boobs are getting fuller meaning I'm growing boobs. Boob growth hurts. I forgot how much growing boobs hurt, or maybe I just don't remember going through this when I was 9.
This is good and I know it. But I'm a female and all women have weight gain issues. I just have to remind myself of the goal. I'm putting on weight to make babies. BABIES! And that's how Bryan and I look at it. Once I have the baby I can go back to that crazy skinny figure we had gotten used to. Luckily he loves this figure too. And to be quite honest, I missed my old body. However with the reimergence of this body comes the potential of old thoughts resurfacing. Bad old thoughts that could bring back an eating disorder. They say once you have an eating disorder, it never truely goes away. I agree, it waits lurking in the darkness for you to put your guard down or submit to an insecurity. Then it strikes and boom what you fought long and hard to pass comes back.
This is why repeat to myself that a size 4/5 is not fat. A) it really isn't fat, B) I'm insecure about my body and know I always will be. Whether I'm down to 104.6 or up to 135, I will have a problem with my weight, C) Women exercise a shit ton to get this body, D) I'm starting to look really healthy and not sort of healthy. This is a good thing and it's only to get to one point of my life. After I achieve my goal and can got back down to whatever weight I feel comfortable. My new magic number is 115.
I've come a long way up from that rabbit hole.
This is good and I know it. But I'm a female and all women have weight gain issues. I just have to remind myself of the goal. I'm putting on weight to make babies. BABIES! And that's how Bryan and I look at it. Once I have the baby I can go back to that crazy skinny figure we had gotten used to. Luckily he loves this figure too. And to be quite honest, I missed my old body. However with the reimergence of this body comes the potential of old thoughts resurfacing. Bad old thoughts that could bring back an eating disorder. They say once you have an eating disorder, it never truely goes away. I agree, it waits lurking in the darkness for you to put your guard down or submit to an insecurity. Then it strikes and boom what you fought long and hard to pass comes back.
This is why repeat to myself that a size 4/5 is not fat. A) it really isn't fat, B) I'm insecure about my body and know I always will be. Whether I'm down to 104.6 or up to 135, I will have a problem with my weight, C) Women exercise a shit ton to get this body, D) I'm starting to look really healthy and not sort of healthy. This is a good thing and it's only to get to one point of my life. After I achieve my goal and can got back down to whatever weight I feel comfortable. My new magic number is 115.
I've come a long way up from that rabbit hole.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
New Job, New Diabetic Problems
When I was a massage therapist, well with my last job, well when I came back from recovery, I didn't really have a set schedule.
Schedules are major for type 1's. They are pretty strict, one wrong time or not the right carb count can potentially end in disaster. We found out with the human replicated insulin my blood sugar likes to be low around lunch time and then bottoms out around 2PM if I don't eat anything. With hunger comes an angry Michelle that uses lots of profanity. It's not pretty.
When I worked at massage envy, I had a semi set schedule complete with a break that would allow me to shoot up and eat or have a snack. Problem was, I never really adhere to this schedule because the bovine replicated insulin had a little leeway. It was easy, I ate and shot up. Which is probably why I was really bad with that set up. With the spa I previously worked at I was on call all the time so my schedule was always off. I tried to make sure no one interrupted my lunch time but without fail, something would happen and I would find myself trapped in a room with a client feeling the low blood sugar takes it toll. It's hard to massage when your body hates you and you have trouble focusing.
I started a new job friday. A normal full time - 9 to 5 job. Which means more stability for my schedule 5 days a week. But I've noticed something, my blood sugar goes low around 11:30AM. It's been ranging from 45 - 78. 78 is okay, 45 is not. I've already told my boss my body's warning signs of low blood sugar so he knows what to look for. I've been eating scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast which to me is a lot of food. For lunch I've been doing spinach salads with a shit ton of vegetables, hard boiled egg, croutons, turkey/ham, and cheese. Like crazy healthy. Almost as healthy as my health food freak days. However, because of the nature of being a receptionist, my body has changed a few of it's warning mechanisms. It's taken me about 3 days to figure out what my body is doing to me and at what stage what symptom pops up. Dizziness is still common denominator. As is not feeling good. Not feeling good is such a vague description to what a really feel. I usually feel really off and I don't know how to get back to normal. There is no panic associated with this feeling because I know it's temporary. It's merely frustrating. Blurry focus (I know what you're thinking, it's part of being dizzy. No it is not. Totally different) when I look at the computer screen is new. Minor headache is new. Forgetfulness is new. Actually, forgetfulness pissed the crap out of me. I feel like it makes me look incompetent and fear of being fired sets in. I know he won't, I am way more smarter than the girl before me. The blurry vision and forgetfulness is going to bite me in the ass somehow, I can feel it. Needless to say, I snack on cookies around lunch time and sip on Dr. Pepper. I only have about 8 ounces of the DP from the 2 liter bottle I brought in. Sure I could drink one of the cans from the 12 pack he brings in, but I'm trying really hard not to go overboard. I'm a coke addict, and it's not the horrible deadly overdose kind. Caffiene is my drug of choice, it's my demise, slow active poison. But combined with the cookies and salad, it brings my blood sugar to where it needs to be by dinner time.
I realize I should probably not be eating a salad for lunch, but I thought the carbs from the greek dressing and the croutons would be enough. I could be wrong. I know I was definately wrong with the scrambled eggs on toast thing. I'll have to add more breakfast food or succumb to childrens sugary cereal. MMMM fruit loops with mashmellows. NOMNOMNOM....Or I could mess with my dose and lower it. But I have a feeling that my Endo will definately slap my hand and say, "Bad Michelle." Choices choices. I like this feeling. Sort of makes me feel normal. Hopefully this will bring my A1c down. I've found a job, I'll be in the house before long. Good things will come from this.
Schedules are major for type 1's. They are pretty strict, one wrong time or not the right carb count can potentially end in disaster. We found out with the human replicated insulin my blood sugar likes to be low around lunch time and then bottoms out around 2PM if I don't eat anything. With hunger comes an angry Michelle that uses lots of profanity. It's not pretty.
When I worked at massage envy, I had a semi set schedule complete with a break that would allow me to shoot up and eat or have a snack. Problem was, I never really adhere to this schedule because the bovine replicated insulin had a little leeway. It was easy, I ate and shot up. Which is probably why I was really bad with that set up. With the spa I previously worked at I was on call all the time so my schedule was always off. I tried to make sure no one interrupted my lunch time but without fail, something would happen and I would find myself trapped in a room with a client feeling the low blood sugar takes it toll. It's hard to massage when your body hates you and you have trouble focusing.
I started a new job friday. A normal full time - 9 to 5 job. Which means more stability for my schedule 5 days a week. But I've noticed something, my blood sugar goes low around 11:30AM. It's been ranging from 45 - 78. 78 is okay, 45 is not. I've already told my boss my body's warning signs of low blood sugar so he knows what to look for. I've been eating scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast which to me is a lot of food. For lunch I've been doing spinach salads with a shit ton of vegetables, hard boiled egg, croutons, turkey/ham, and cheese. Like crazy healthy. Almost as healthy as my health food freak days. However, because of the nature of being a receptionist, my body has changed a few of it's warning mechanisms. It's taken me about 3 days to figure out what my body is doing to me and at what stage what symptom pops up. Dizziness is still common denominator. As is not feeling good. Not feeling good is such a vague description to what a really feel. I usually feel really off and I don't know how to get back to normal. There is no panic associated with this feeling because I know it's temporary. It's merely frustrating. Blurry focus (I know what you're thinking, it's part of being dizzy. No it is not. Totally different) when I look at the computer screen is new. Minor headache is new. Forgetfulness is new. Actually, forgetfulness pissed the crap out of me. I feel like it makes me look incompetent and fear of being fired sets in. I know he won't, I am way more smarter than the girl before me. The blurry vision and forgetfulness is going to bite me in the ass somehow, I can feel it. Needless to say, I snack on cookies around lunch time and sip on Dr. Pepper. I only have about 8 ounces of the DP from the 2 liter bottle I brought in. Sure I could drink one of the cans from the 12 pack he brings in, but I'm trying really hard not to go overboard. I'm a coke addict, and it's not the horrible deadly overdose kind. Caffiene is my drug of choice, it's my demise, slow active poison. But combined with the cookies and salad, it brings my blood sugar to where it needs to be by dinner time.
I realize I should probably not be eating a salad for lunch, but I thought the carbs from the greek dressing and the croutons would be enough. I could be wrong. I know I was definately wrong with the scrambled eggs on toast thing. I'll have to add more breakfast food or succumb to childrens sugary cereal. MMMM fruit loops with mashmellows. NOMNOMNOM....Or I could mess with my dose and lower it. But I have a feeling that my Endo will definately slap my hand and say, "Bad Michelle." Choices choices. I like this feeling. Sort of makes me feel normal. Hopefully this will bring my A1c down. I've found a job, I'll be in the house before long. Good things will come from this.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Test Strips....Everywhere
Today I was running errands. You know, being a good wife.
I decide to go to Food Town for whatever reason, probably because it was the closest grocery store. I pull into a parking spot and notice little droplets starting to pound my windshield.
Rain. When I was younger (younger being 16) I loved the rain. I used to sing and dance in the rain. Now at the ripe old age of nearly 29, I hate the rain. I hate being wet. If it's raining, don't expect to get me out of the apartment. I will glad wait for it to pass. I blame that one year in Boston where it rained nonstop for 11 days straight.
The rain is more of a sprinkle so I figured I'll be alright. I open my car door, step out of the car, look down and what do I find? Test strips....everywhere. Littering the parking spot I had chosen to occupy. Accuchek. I couldn't help but smile. God's little way of reminding me I'm not alone with this infliction.
I decide to go to Food Town for whatever reason, probably because it was the closest grocery store. I pull into a parking spot and notice little droplets starting to pound my windshield.
Rain. When I was younger (younger being 16) I loved the rain. I used to sing and dance in the rain. Now at the ripe old age of nearly 29, I hate the rain. I hate being wet. If it's raining, don't expect to get me out of the apartment. I will glad wait for it to pass. I blame that one year in Boston where it rained nonstop for 11 days straight.
The rain is more of a sprinkle so I figured I'll be alright. I open my car door, step out of the car, look down and what do I find? Test strips....everywhere. Littering the parking spot I had chosen to occupy. Accuchek. I couldn't help but smile. God's little way of reminding me I'm not alone with this infliction.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
It's a kiloid....
Today was my Endo appointment.
Usually I take Bryan with me, but he was in Cali. He comes with me because I always forget to ask two question and he'll ask them for me. Despite going over the questions the night before over the phone, I still forgot a question.
There was good news and horrible news.
Good new- my blood pressure was 100/70! That's super duper awesome. I think it's the lowest I've had it in about 5 years which is amazing when you take into consideration that when I was 20 I was suffering from high blood pressure. And I brought it down without taking those god awful turn me into a zombie blood pressure pills. On top of that, my cholesterol came down and my good cholesterol is high. Thank you avocadoes. And to think, I didn't fill the cholesterol pill prescription or take supplements. I knew my body would go back to normal one day. Only took nearly 8 months. Oh and I was 117 with all my clothes on! Yay for being diabetic healthy (which is extra healthy in normal people terms) and gaining weight! I did not enjoy this whole being 104.6 pounds.
Horrible news - "Your diabetes has gotten worse, it's a 9.6"
I told him what happened. He called the flu the near deadly Puerto Rican flu. Then he warned me how this sort of illness can trigger DKA quite fast and to have a plan in place. I told him Bryan and my insane preventative measures we have now instituted. "That's a good husband you have there."
See, it would have been a good number. I'm still pissed off over this. I have to be on extra good behavior with my diabetes now to lower it to where I want it. Atleast I know at my next appointment in November, the number will definately be lower.
My endo was pretty surprised how cheerful and talkative I am. He then reminded himself that the first time he met me I was in a coma pretty much dying. "Yeah, this is pretty much how I am."
And then I asked him about the scar.
"It's a kiloid. You can go to a dermatologist and have it removed. You will have to go back after for a series of steroid shot though."
"How many of these shots are we talking about?"
"It depends. It can be one, it could be more. The purpose of the steroid is to stop the kiloid from growing back. It helps speed up the recovery process."
Interesting. It's a kiloid. It can be removed. I can be reinstated in my previous glory. I will not be a deformed person for the rest of my life with people staring at me while out in public. It has occured to me that the reason why I haven't found a new job was because of this deformity. No one wants a deformed person as the face and first impression of the company.
I'm not looking forward to this procedure. Maybe I'll wait. I still have nightmares from having the two welts on my leg lanced while I was pregnant and the OB not waiting for the numbing agent to set in when he took a scapel to me. I know it probably won't be like that but also, shots on my face. Ugh, I already use syringes 3 times a day, and I hate it when the needle goes in. I hate when I have to get labwork done. I usually look away when they stab me and whisper over and over, "Having pina coladas on the beach in Puerto Rico." until they've taken all the blood they need. But this time, it will be needles coming at my face. MY FACE! I'm going to have to close my eyes to get through it. ANd Bryan will definately have to be there for moral support. I'm fearless to a point. This and lasik is where I cross the line. And I will totally be a baby about it and I'm perfectly fine with that. Maybe I'll have it done around xmas, start the new year with my old face. There will be a yay michelle's face is back to normal party complete with a pinata that has my face with the kiloid for the guest to kill. It'll be great.
Usually I take Bryan with me, but he was in Cali. He comes with me because I always forget to ask two question and he'll ask them for me. Despite going over the questions the night before over the phone, I still forgot a question.
There was good news and horrible news.
Good new- my blood pressure was 100/70! That's super duper awesome. I think it's the lowest I've had it in about 5 years which is amazing when you take into consideration that when I was 20 I was suffering from high blood pressure. And I brought it down without taking those god awful turn me into a zombie blood pressure pills. On top of that, my cholesterol came down and my good cholesterol is high. Thank you avocadoes. And to think, I didn't fill the cholesterol pill prescription or take supplements. I knew my body would go back to normal one day. Only took nearly 8 months. Oh and I was 117 with all my clothes on! Yay for being diabetic healthy (which is extra healthy in normal people terms) and gaining weight! I did not enjoy this whole being 104.6 pounds.
Horrible news - "Your diabetes has gotten worse, it's a 9.6"
I told him what happened. He called the flu the near deadly Puerto Rican flu. Then he warned me how this sort of illness can trigger DKA quite fast and to have a plan in place. I told him Bryan and my insane preventative measures we have now instituted. "That's a good husband you have there."
See, it would have been a good number. I'm still pissed off over this. I have to be on extra good behavior with my diabetes now to lower it to where I want it. Atleast I know at my next appointment in November, the number will definately be lower.
My endo was pretty surprised how cheerful and talkative I am. He then reminded himself that the first time he met me I was in a coma pretty much dying. "Yeah, this is pretty much how I am."
And then I asked him about the scar.
"It's a kiloid. You can go to a dermatologist and have it removed. You will have to go back after for a series of steroid shot though."
"How many of these shots are we talking about?"
"It depends. It can be one, it could be more. The purpose of the steroid is to stop the kiloid from growing back. It helps speed up the recovery process."
Interesting. It's a kiloid. It can be removed. I can be reinstated in my previous glory. I will not be a deformed person for the rest of my life with people staring at me while out in public. It has occured to me that the reason why I haven't found a new job was because of this deformity. No one wants a deformed person as the face and first impression of the company.
I'm not looking forward to this procedure. Maybe I'll wait. I still have nightmares from having the two welts on my leg lanced while I was pregnant and the OB not waiting for the numbing agent to set in when he took a scapel to me. I know it probably won't be like that but also, shots on my face. Ugh, I already use syringes 3 times a day, and I hate it when the needle goes in. I hate when I have to get labwork done. I usually look away when they stab me and whisper over and over, "Having pina coladas on the beach in Puerto Rico." until they've taken all the blood they need. But this time, it will be needles coming at my face. MY FACE! I'm going to have to close my eyes to get through it. ANd Bryan will definately have to be there for moral support. I'm fearless to a point. This and lasik is where I cross the line. And I will totally be a baby about it and I'm perfectly fine with that. Maybe I'll have it done around xmas, start the new year with my old face. There will be a yay michelle's face is back to normal party complete with a pinata that has my face with the kiloid for the guest to kill. It'll be great.
Monday, July 30, 2012
A1C = epic failure always.
A1c is like that test in school that you know you are destined to fail no matter how hard you study.
I hate it.
I so hate it.
I'm going to fail it majorly this time. I got sick last month and it destroyed any chance of me having a good test. DESTROYED. It was another reason why I was mad and frustrated with this whole Madrina situation. I was going to have a good test. I was elated. And they ruined it. And I know why you're thinking, "It can't be that bad." But it is, it is that bad. Imagine a wedding going completely wrong - the cake is for a differnt wedding, the colors are a various shades of one color, the food gives everyone food posioning, the DJ/Band never comes, the photographers camera breaks, someone spills wine on the bride, everyone gets overly drunk from the open bar breaking glasses, chairs, and plates, maybe a window or two, a fight breaks out...see where I'm going.... and times that by a bazillion. This is my health we're talking about after all. You screw with it and I could die in the process.
The A1c is an evil test that all diabetics have to take. It measures the average of numbers that your blood sugar have been for the past 3 - 4 months. From this they can figure out if your dosage works, tweek the dosage, and other medical crap we have to deal with. They want you to be a 5 - 6. 7 is on the edge, below a 5 is bad. The lowest I've gotten was a 7.2, the highest a 15 from when I went into the hospital. It's evil. No diabetic looks forward to it. We dred it. We take our sweet time getting there, dragging our feet all the way to the patient room.
Imagine writing a thesis for your masters degree and the panel keeps rejectig it asking for elaboration on the most trivial materal. That's the A1c. Every endo appointment revolves around it. Mine also checks my cholesterol and hormones.
So not only do my numbers ned to stay in check, so does the cholesterol. And we discuss what I need to do to keep the evil diabetes at bay. That evil diabetes...
Needless to say, I dread my Endo appointments. I view them as awaiting punishment. It's like being caught doing something stupid and having to go to your dad and explain what happened knowing he's going to scold you. And it happens 3 - 4 times a year. The office calls it a diabetic upkeep appointment.
Blah. I don't want to go. I don't want to go. I skipped the last one because I was sick, and I was happy all that day despite being sick and having no voice. This appointment ruins my day because I know there will be no god news and what do I do? I go eat bad something after the appointment just to soften the blow.
It's not only the appointment. It's the going to a lab and getting bloodwork done on top of that. They take four vials of blood. FOUR! I end up leaving there all dizzy. Also, the fees for the bloodwork and easily put you in debt. Orginially I was paying $300, but I managed to find a place for $136 after 3 years. Some diabetics call and reschedule thier appointment if thier numbers don't look good in order to give them a chance to make up for it and get a better reading. I throw my arms up and say, "Fuck it. Whatever happens happen." Honestly, it can't get any worse than 15. 15 pretty much equals death.
Even though I am soooo not looking forward to this appointment, atleast when he gives me the grave news about my numbers I have a reason behind them. I can explain. I guess it makes it not as bad. But, he might scold me for not going to the hospital when I tell him the fluctuation of my numbers.
I hate it.
I so hate it.
I'm going to fail it majorly this time. I got sick last month and it destroyed any chance of me having a good test. DESTROYED. It was another reason why I was mad and frustrated with this whole Madrina situation. I was going to have a good test. I was elated. And they ruined it. And I know why you're thinking, "It can't be that bad." But it is, it is that bad. Imagine a wedding going completely wrong - the cake is for a differnt wedding, the colors are a various shades of one color, the food gives everyone food posioning, the DJ/Band never comes, the photographers camera breaks, someone spills wine on the bride, everyone gets overly drunk from the open bar breaking glasses, chairs, and plates, maybe a window or two, a fight breaks out...see where I'm going.... and times that by a bazillion. This is my health we're talking about after all. You screw with it and I could die in the process.
The A1c is an evil test that all diabetics have to take. It measures the average of numbers that your blood sugar have been for the past 3 - 4 months. From this they can figure out if your dosage works, tweek the dosage, and other medical crap we have to deal with. They want you to be a 5 - 6. 7 is on the edge, below a 5 is bad. The lowest I've gotten was a 7.2, the highest a 15 from when I went into the hospital. It's evil. No diabetic looks forward to it. We dred it. We take our sweet time getting there, dragging our feet all the way to the patient room.
Imagine writing a thesis for your masters degree and the panel keeps rejectig it asking for elaboration on the most trivial materal. That's the A1c. Every endo appointment revolves around it. Mine also checks my cholesterol and hormones.
So not only do my numbers ned to stay in check, so does the cholesterol. And we discuss what I need to do to keep the evil diabetes at bay. That evil diabetes...
Needless to say, I dread my Endo appointments. I view them as awaiting punishment. It's like being caught doing something stupid and having to go to your dad and explain what happened knowing he's going to scold you. And it happens 3 - 4 times a year. The office calls it a diabetic upkeep appointment.
Blah. I don't want to go. I don't want to go. I skipped the last one because I was sick, and I was happy all that day despite being sick and having no voice. This appointment ruins my day because I know there will be no god news and what do I do? I go eat bad something after the appointment just to soften the blow.
It's not only the appointment. It's the going to a lab and getting bloodwork done on top of that. They take four vials of blood. FOUR! I end up leaving there all dizzy. Also, the fees for the bloodwork and easily put you in debt. Orginially I was paying $300, but I managed to find a place for $136 after 3 years. Some diabetics call and reschedule thier appointment if thier numbers don't look good in order to give them a chance to make up for it and get a better reading. I throw my arms up and say, "Fuck it. Whatever happens happen." Honestly, it can't get any worse than 15. 15 pretty much equals death.
Even though I am soooo not looking forward to this appointment, atleast when he gives me the grave news about my numbers I have a reason behind them. I can explain. I guess it makes it not as bad. But, he might scold me for not going to the hospital when I tell him the fluctuation of my numbers.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Oh Lord, they're multiplying....
Ok, someone tell me how on earth I have managed to end up with 6 diabetic monitors? Where did they come from?
1 is from my first endo.
1 is that company that gives me free monitors and test strips if I'm part of thier program designed to help diabetic get thier supplies because test strips can be expensive with no insurance. If you don't test, you don't know where you're blood sugar is. If you don't know what the number is then you can't give yourself the right dose and then it's only a matter of time before you end up in a coma.
1 is from one of Bryan's coworker who helped us when we didn't have the money for test strips.
1 is from some person whose family member had diabetes and died
1 is the one I currently use.
That's five.
I know the six one did not grow legs, saw me, and decided to follow me home.
Oh that's another part of diabetes no one ever warned me about - you have a collection of supplies. A collection. Test strips new and used. Lancets used for 5 different monitors because they all come with thier own prick the fuck out of your finger device. Monitors. Syringes of all kinds and gauges. Needles when you go from a pen to a vial. Glucose tabs if you like them. Various information packets the Endo gives you on how to use whatever device you have and how to eat correctly with tips on carb counting. Free samples of the lastest super extreme blood sugar raising tabs. Alcohol swabs. Kits for the supplies.... When I die, I bet this collection will be so large that you could fit it in a moving truck.
All I can think is where the fuck did this sixth one come from? These monitors are like pictures in an album, I swear.
1 is from my first endo.
1 is that company that gives me free monitors and test strips if I'm part of thier program designed to help diabetic get thier supplies because test strips can be expensive with no insurance. If you don't test, you don't know where you're blood sugar is. If you don't know what the number is then you can't give yourself the right dose and then it's only a matter of time before you end up in a coma.
1 is from one of Bryan's coworker who helped us when we didn't have the money for test strips.
1 is from some person whose family member had diabetes and died
1 is the one I currently use.
That's five.
I know the six one did not grow legs, saw me, and decided to follow me home.
Oh that's another part of diabetes no one ever warned me about - you have a collection of supplies. A collection. Test strips new and used. Lancets used for 5 different monitors because they all come with thier own prick the fuck out of your finger device. Monitors. Syringes of all kinds and gauges. Needles when you go from a pen to a vial. Glucose tabs if you like them. Various information packets the Endo gives you on how to use whatever device you have and how to eat correctly with tips on carb counting. Free samples of the lastest super extreme blood sugar raising tabs. Alcohol swabs. Kits for the supplies.... When I die, I bet this collection will be so large that you could fit it in a moving truck.
All I can think is where the fuck did this sixth one come from? These monitors are like pictures in an album, I swear.
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