The Corner Booth

My mom was diagnosed with Type 1 when she was five years old back in 1958. She was recently able to travel to Boston to the Joslin Diabetes Center as part of the 50-Year Medalist Study , after being encouraged by her current endo Dr. Fred Whitehouse at Henry Ford up in Detroit. This is her account of that experience. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The 50 Year Medalist Study hopes to test about 1,000 people. I was number 652 in the testing process. Joslin has given out approximately 1,500 of the medals so far. When I received my medal in 2008, I did not volunteer to participate in this study. Since then, I've been encouraged by several people I hold in high regard to do so. Upon thinking about it and talking to the study coordinator, it seemed like maybe something good would come out of it. Why are there people after 50 years with few or no complications and people after 10 years with major problems? Do some of us hold answers to things like this? Maybe we

Our driving experiences bring us together, typically twice a day. Sometimes more. Insulin Pump: you stay fastened on my belt-line, keeping up my insulin fix as we travel along. You occasionally get to move around and escape that plastic holster, in times of coffee-bolusing or minor comfort-adjusting. That usually lets you brandish that tubing around with reckless abandon, and that’s a concern. Seatbelt: the law tells me that you must stop hanging around when I’m behind the wheel. That means you have to get all clickety-snuggly in that slot to secure my safety, and usually equates to sharing personal space with Said Insulin Pump. Obviously, I’m right there with you both. The Diabetic Driver who gets stuck in the middle as you try to wrap yourselves around me with care, all in the name of simultaneous driving and blood sugar safety. I know. Things can get confusing, when we’re all jumbled together. Especially when we’re Already Running Late. But you two must co-exis

So, last week was Invisible Illness Week and many of my friends in the online diabetes and health communities took to posting about this and answering 30 questions relating to their views on living with an invisible illness. I didn't. Life was busy. And I had enough real-world writing to do for my day job. The weekend came, and as much as I appreciated reading the other posts and pondered doing up my own List of 30, I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. 30 is a lot, after all. And I'm not the greatest fans of just doing MeMes, anyhow (even though I wrote one up in 2010 .) But in reflecting on my own Type 1 diabetes over the weekend, it dawned on me: I actually did want to write something about this topic. Simply, a message: My D was in fact INVISIBLE for most of last week, but it's not anymore in that same way. And it's by MY OWN choice. See, I'd taken a pump hiatus a month or so ago. Tried one a year ago and had great success, and so I got to the point du

A friend and fellow D-Blogger had a post today about a recent Twitter-exchange that I'd missed out on. It inspired me to follow in those footsteps, with this post. If you could customize your blood meter countdown ( to replace the 5,4,3,2,1... ), what would your 5 Words be? Here are my top answers: This Meter Will Self Destruct. (Read: Blood Meter Nirvana = Mission Impossible) Or: Do you feel lucky, punk? (Talking meter would say this in Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry voice ) Possibly, could also be exchanged with: " Go Ahead, Make My Day. " And Finally: Turn Around Before Zombies Attack. Possibly to be interchangeable with: " They're Coming For You, Barbara. " ( Because Diabetes and Zombies go hand in hand. ) What would your number-replacing-words be? Feel free to copy and paste your response to Jess's post. Or just not answer here if you've already done so at Me And D . Happy Weekend!

I was running behind Wednesday morning. Late to work, thanks to traffic woes. Courtesy of the construction on Indianapolis expressways and the drivers who simply shouldn't be allowed to take up space in the traffic lanes. While I was going to be late, we're not talking an extraordinary amount of time - just enough to ensure that I'd be walking into an important meeting at work minutes after it was set to start. Or that I'd be responsible for delaying it. A phone call to let my boss I was en route and all seemed OK, but I wasn't eager to prolong my delay any more than necessary. Finally made it downtown after the construction and congestion. Came to a halt on fourth floor of my parking garage. Sacrificed a quick moment to test, dreading the result ( 300+ mg/dL, in case you were wondering ). Lifted my shirt and took my morning Lantus injection that I hadn't had time for earlier while still at home and also grabbed some skin to pinch for a correction bolus. The fac

Summer has been pretty intense in terms of weather, personal and professional aspects of life, and diabetes in general. Very busy, chaotic, and up and down. Now that we're in September and Labor Day has come and gone, I've finally gotten a chance to reflect and slow down. I took some time to look back on Diabetes Blog Carnival entries - and apparently I've been delinquent on these posts for several months. So, here's a rundown of those entries I hadn't written for several months, making this a Summer Selection of D-Carnival posts. For September, the entry is: If I didn't laugh about the used blood test strips that follow me around , then I would be totally overwhelmed by the fact that I was being stalked by a line of bad D-decisions in my life .  You know, because those darn little strips are everywhere. On the floor. In my shoe. Beneath my desk. On floorboards of my car. Even in my coffee cup from time to time. It's like they are trying to taunt me

Are those CGM farm animals alerting farmer to a Low?! I found myself singing this song recently, while sitting at my kitchen table: "Lantus in the leg. Lantus in the leg. Hi-ho, the derry-o, a shot of Lantus in the leg." Go on. Sing along. You know you want to. Now, I can't tell you What the Fructose a dell or derry-o even are, sine I'm not a farmer and I didn't care enough to Google it. But I do know it's a catchy tune. So that's all there is to it. (Humming to myself... Snapping my fingers to the beat.) Now, just imagine what it'd be like if Old McDonald Had a D-Farm...

I'm happy to be participating in the second annual D-Art Day. My pair of 2010 "Kitchen Creations"  from last year can be found here. But for 2011, here are my two newest artsy-attempts....in an attempt to simply do what Lee Ann says: Create. Communicate. Connect. So, enjoy! Our D-Lives are a non-stop game of chess, made up of some of these pieces... Diabetes on the Mind... sorry it's not the most clear. If only you could spin the computer as you read what's on my mind...