The Corner Booth

As a teenager, I sat in the cold unpersonalized classroom listening to the obese man in the front of the room. He sat at a raised podium-like desk, spouting strange phrases focused on numbers and angles and how they all connect. A blackboard in the background was littered with figures and symbols, but none of it made any sense to me. Mr. High School Math Teacher broke from his monologue and pointed a question at me, grimacing as I shot back an answer that indicated I was clueless and didn't much care about what he was talking about. His face contorted as if in pain, and he held up and shook a large textbook as if to say, "This is important to your life and you should care, Mr. Hoskins." In response, I gave an answer that hadn't been said aloud to a teacher before: "No, it's not important to me. I'm never going to use this in real life. If you can tell me how that's going to be important to my writing career, then maybe I'll take more of an inter

My eyes opened. Groggy, barely able to take in the morning sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Kicked the covers off my body, lifting myself up and swinging my feet toward the side of the bed to stand up and welcome the new day. The dog appeared, wagging her tale and putting her front paws on the bedside to greet me with a wet nose and good morning kiss. As I stood, my hands habitually went to my waistline to feel for my Minimed Paradigm 722 at its usual spot. Nothing. Eyes only slightly ajar, my hands surveyed the bed and felt underneath the pillow in search of the stray pump. All while I gained my footing, and prepared to take the first step away from the bed. Still nothing, and the thought of my pump tubing becoming taught and pulling loose my sight entered my mind. Panic. Eyes opened fully, and I scanned my surroundings in search of my missing lifeline. That’s when it hit me: There’s no connection. For the first time in 9 years, I am not attached to any insulin pump

Imagine a Crazy Diabetic Man, loose in the streets and wanting to do harm. Armed with syringes and little lancets and always in search of people to stab. You don't have to speak to or bother this man, just somehow stumble across his general vicinity and he may come after you. Stinging you relentlessly. This isn't an episode plot for Criminal Minds or Law & Order. Actually, it's a reality. No, not a reality show, but something that is happening. Whenever the weather is warm. You see, this type of aggressive, evil, and crazy-stabbing-with-a-sharp-object happens each spring, summer, and fall. You've likely observed this behavior. Possibly, you've been a victim yourself already. The simple truth: We aren't talking about Crazy Diabetics here. It's about Bees. Wasps. Hornets. Anything That Buzzes and Stings. I write this as a warning to all who might encounter them. You see, I don't like bees. Or wasps. Or anything really that has the ability and desi

Sometimes, pictures speak 1,000 words. This Is It, in a Nutshell. Here's to hoping we can all keep it together long enough to matter. Or at least long enough to make it to a time when a Blog of Substance can be summoned from the depths of the mind. Here's to hoping for better Health, ongoing D-Living, and Everything Else that's tapping time and energy. We go on...

We know that Living With Diabetes brings High and Lows, and that often it seems as if we're riding a curvy rollercoaster that never ends. That was my Tuesday. It sucked. Woke up to 167 just before 6 a.m. Ok. That's fine. Disconnected for a shower, got dressed, went to office. By 10 a.m., I'm at 335. WTF?!?! It seems that whenever I use the Quicksets, it doesn't connect properly and I end up going high. Went to office men's room, took off shirt (thanks, arm site) and dis-re-connected a couple times to ensure the link. Corrected. Half hour later showed 351. By noon, the correction was working - down to 191. Getting better... Ate lunch, bolused, worked. Three hours later: 97. Then, the trend that I've seen on consistent days: dropped Low by the time the afternoon was ending and commute home was near. Hit 60, which a day earlier had been 43. Was still dropping. Ate some glucose tabs, grabbed some leftovers from breakroom, and waited to be at safe driving-levels

Today is March 23 and it's the American Diabetes Association's annual Diabetes Alert Day . Always falls on the fourth Tuesday of March, and this marks the 22nd year. Basically, this awareness campaign is designed to make people more aware of Type 2 diabetes and offer them ways to assess their own potential in developing this condition. As this date approached, I began pondering a question that usually comes to mind everytime this Tuesday rolls around - What does this really mean for me, or anyone who's already been Living With Diabetes for any period of time? Particularly for those Type 1s who were diagnosed as children? The name almost implies we should be involved in it, but really does it even apply to our worlds? It often spurs some resentment for the misconceptions that are so prevelant in our society, relating to the differences between types and how it's portrayed inaqeuately under the same umbrella term. Type 2 is the "epidemic" and rightfully dese

Lawmakers made Insurance Industry Reform History with a 219-212 vote on March 21, 2010. This may reshape how Americans deal with wellness and illness overall, particularly those of us in the Diabetes Community who have faced the arbitrary, profit-driven unfairness of our current health insurance industry. To be clear: I don't understand much of this package, and do think there are good and bad elements in it that will continue playing out through the coming decade and beyond. In my eyes, this isn't a cure. Rather, it's possibly akin to the creation of home-use Blood Glucose Meters ( widely inaccurate as the FDA is exploring, but still very essential in our daily lives .) With that, I offer some coverage from the trusted Indianapolis Business Journal (Disclosure: my employer, though I work for its sister legal-newspaper) that has an ace health industry reporter covering this beat.  Here are some highlights that I've taken from this , with my thoughts following in it

Accuracy has been a long-discussed topic in the Diabetes Community, but most recently it's been the blogging rage because of an FDA meeting on blood glucose meter accuracy. Last week, several fellow D-Bloggers posted their thoughts on this topic -  KellyK , Kerri , Samantha , and ScottS to name a few. Of course, I'd be remiss if not to mention Jim Huck , who has an incredibly funny post on the topic. Being a math teacher, he poses this scenario: Johnny is a type 1 diabetic who tests his blood sugar at 6pm and discovers that he is 240. He had eaten 3 slices of Round Table Pizza at 5PM (when his BG was 118), which had 72 grams of carbohydrates and 30 grams of protein. He had already taken 4 units of Humalog at 4:45 PM, and his normal insulin to carb ratio is 1/13. Since the pizza has a lot of fat, Johnny expects that it will take about 3 hours for the pizza to finish digesting. Taking into account that his meter has a 20 percent margin of error, the food label has a 20 per

NEVER forget how much.... Your puppy loves you. Or how much love you should show each day. Just like you should never forget to test your blood sugars and take care of your diabetes. But sometimes, it happens... So, if you EVER forget to test or love your pup or kitten, just remember: You'll pay for it.   With a sad, depressing look. Or a High or Low Blood Sugar. Then, you'll have to play with puppy or test your sugars OFTEN to balance it out, using all the tools in the shed. This will teach you to ALWAYS love your dog. To ALWAYS remember that you must take care of your diabetes. There isn't a break - that love and D-Care is always around. If you try to take a breather, there'll be more work and care needed in the end. Of course, you may also learn another important lesson from someone who could have predicted how it all was going to turn out: The Cat knew all along. Because the Cat is ALWAYS the smartest one in the room. No doubt. So go on. Live, Lau

Over the course of five days recently, Minimed Customer Service has been a regular part of my life. 151 minutes of my life, to be exact. Little more than 2.5 hours. Can't say how much of this was On Hold Time, but I'd venture to guess most of it. As a result, I've become very accustomed to the company's On Hold Tunes, to the point of knowing how the system often quips in with an automated message affirming how important you are as a customer and that someone will be "right with you." Through all of this Holding different tunes play in the background. An instrumental of Solitary Man may be streaming through my phone speaker, but that's not what I hear: Nope. To me, it's the Jeopardy theme music, taunting me as my fingers quicken their table-tapping pace. As the frustration grows, Eye of the Tiger begins playing in my head as I feel a Rocky Balboa-like adrenaline surge. Blood starts boiling and I'm ready to start tossing punches at the Unknown Mini

Slow start this morning. Woke up just after 7 a.m. to a 433 mg/dL. Grumble. Didn't sleep well last night, and apparently I'm accused of being restless and stealing covers. This was probably due to the High, which tends to make me a pain to be in the same bed with at night. Or so I'm told. Anyhow, this was one of those nights and now I knew the BG number to blame. Looked down at my infusion site on my right side leg. Redness. Grumble. Skillfully peeling the tape and Silouette stickiness away from my leg, I yank out the site. Fortunately, I wasn't wearing anything with light colors. Anticipating what ultimately did happen, I had strategically placed a towel to cover up the newly-washed bed sheets that I had no interest in covering with blood. The foresight was to my advantage, it turned out. We had Blood. A Gusher. With that, I've added another war-torn mark to my body. A Hallmark for any Insulin Pumper. Grumble. Not ready to deal with the frustrations of fi

For The Record: Not MY cat. Found this video online at YouTube, and couldn're resist posting it on here. My cat would never play along like this. Never.

His eyes tear up. His voice wavers, his face emotional as pictures of his daughter and her future fiance flash on a large screen at the front of the room. That emotion is only so brief, before the man's composure returns and he returns to talking about his mission that wouldn't exist without that daughter. Another man stands in the same room that day, sharing stories and talking about his own experiences with his teenage daughter. His eyes tell their own story, one that clearly shows he simply wants his girl to have the chance to live a full and productive life, to grow up and be happy like the first man's daughter who now has a promise ring to be engaged. Standing on a beach with a sunset in the background, the embodiment of happiness and perfection that makes the heart melt with joy. Both men share a passion for their children. But their bond goes deeper, in that each daughter is a Type 1 diabetic. That's why these two men, and so many countless other parents of T

A trend is afoot. You must have seen it. It's pretty obvious. At least to those in the Diabetes Online Community who frequent the Twitter World. Not a day goes by (usually) that Bacon or Cats aren't brought up in some form, and while it's sometimes random, there is often a connection to Diabetes specifically mentioned or implied. Blogs. Vlogs. Videos on YouTube. Tweets. Photos. Random Internet articles and Google searches. All portray a simple reality consisting of Three Themes: 1. Bacon Rules. There's no question there. (We must honor Ninjabetic , the Almighty Bacon Lover and Connoisseur!) We have the concept of Bacon Cupcakes. Gifts of Bacon Toothpicks. This AWEsome video about Bacon Rockets , and a Rap about Bacon . Twitter's even ventured into the arena of creating Bacon Avatar Tributes. Wow. 2. Cats Are Everywhere . They seem to frequent our Diabetic lives. We've latched on to the Colorful Daydreaming Friskies Cat Mingling with Pilgrim Turkeys and

The year was 1984. No, this isn't an Orwellian story full of perpetual war, pervasive government surveillance, and public mind control. Though, it does have some of the same elements in a sense: perpetually battling Highs & Lows in a Never-Ending War, a need for pervasive surveillance of one's health, and the requirement that one constantly be disciplined to control mind and emotions. You guessed it. This was the Start Of My D-Story. It was most likely March, but could have been early April. Clearly, it was sometime just after my 5th birthday on Feb. 1. That's when Type 1 Diabetes came into my life. An exact date isn't known, as we didn't catalog that and any diagnosis records from Children's Hospital of Michigan in Detroit have long since been destroyed. However, we know it came on the heels of my birthday following my maternal grandfather's death in late January that year. However, despite the exact date uncertainty, I've now made an ex