Wordless Wednesday: Spare A Rose.

(Please feel free to steal and share everywhere - two days left in the Spare A Rose, Save A Child campaign!!)

App Photobomb.

I've been using the iBGStar a bit more lately, now that my insurance is finally covering (at second tier pricing, but whatever) the strips for it. I'm finding that when my meter is attached right to my phone it's pretty hard to forget to check my blood sugar, and that serves as a helpful reminder for me.

Cases will be available from the
iBGStar website "soon", I'm told.

Another benefit is the giggling that takes place when the meter is transferring data to my phone. If you're not familiar with the app, there's a little cartoon iBGStar that pops up in the bottom left corner of the screen while data is being pulled. It appears for only a couple of seconds, and then it slides out of view again.

Which, to my brain, makes it look like the little meter is photobombing my glucose readings.




Cheeky little meter, that one.

HWDs.

For those who aren't familiar with the tem "hipster", here you go.

And if you thinking having an insulin pump with a rotary dial is actually kind of awesome... you might be one. (Spoiler: I'm raising my hand.)

Insulin Break Dance.

Thanks go to Gina for the Photoshop assist, and also for humoring me when I asked if she could "put an insulin bottle on some cardboard, like it's breakdancing".

The Bright Side (Of Diabetes).

I was pretty crabby yesterday, so, like I do, I decided to turn it around by making a list of things to be happy about. Or, at least, things that can be considered "the bright side" of having diabetes.

Do any of these make YOUR list?

About those scarves: I bought those from Hanky Pancreas; they were not freebies, and no one asked me to mention them. They also aren't cheap (around $40 a pop), but for good reason - they are extremely well-made and cleverly designed. I am in love with mine.

Chasing After The Car.

Did anyone else catch the premier of Matthew Perry's new TV comedy, "Go On", Wednesday night? If you didn't, here's the gist: Matthew plays an "irreverent but charming" sportscaster who has recently lost his wife in a car accident, and he's required by his employer to attend ten sessions of a support group designed to help him deal with that loss. The plot seems to revolve around the contrast of the support group leader's method of sharing feelings and talking through emotions, and Matthew's character's idiom: "Enough talk, just go DO something". The pilot finds him viewing the sessions as a waste of his time: he just wants to get back to, and on with, his life.

At his second session, he's paired up with a young man who brings out his phone. As he flips through some images on his phone, he tells Matthew about the Google Maps car with the camera on top of it, and how people sometimes follow this car and engage in some sort of antics. He shows images taken from the car of people in costumes; jumping, laughing, enjoying themselves. The young man then shares that this was something his brother showed him one day before he fell into a coma - the very loss he's there to deal with.

I'm telling you about this because of a moment at the end of the episode. We find the group assembled, with Matthew's character finally sharing something about his own personal loss. He abruptly stops, rises from his chair, and proclaims that they all need to go outside right then: it's the Google Maps car, and we suddenly find the group chasing after it with toy swords, funny hats, and plastic body armour. They're playful; they're laughing. You can almost see their respective weights lift off of their shoulders, even if just for those few moments. They are being juvenile, together, and the catharsis of that behavior shines through. They are able to shift that burden off of themselves, even if only for that minute.

I think that's why, when a group of us who have diabetes (or a very personal connection to it) get together, things get pretty silly. It's why we love memes. It's why we're often irreverent and why we need humor in the face of our own sorts of loss.

We're having our own "chase after the car" moments.

I've said it before, and I do mean it: levity is as essential to my health as insulin.

*Unrelated to this post, but still relevant to your interests, probably: head over to the You Can Do This Project site and watch the video published today. As many others who attended the Roche Social Media Summit can attest, Josh Bliel made quite an impact. Also, I'm pretty sure this is the first video contributed to YCDT by someone with no personal connection to diabetes - so there's that.

Friends For Life: The Outtakes.

I think this is my last FFL post. Really. I'll shut up about it now.

Along with the bonding, learning, and misty eyes, we also had a lot of laughter. A lot of silly. A lot of video that we couldn't really use.

Unless you make a blooper reel, that is.

Grocery Store Lows.

Looking Back: Diabetes Superhero.

Last night, I fell into a YouTube vortex consisting of a lot of "why do I keep clicking on these" and "holy crap, 1960's Batman fight scenes are still hilarious". That last bit reminded me of a post I wrote a couple of years ago - before I knew that diabetes superheroes really do exist - so let's revisit it, shall we?

* * * * *

I want a Diabetic Superhero.  And I want to call her Betey.  (Pronounced like "Betty".)

No guilt, no frustration, no sadness.  No unexplained rollercoaster, no worry over complications, no mental struggles.  Just a whole bunch of compassion, strength, and ass-kicking ability.

Some superheroes have a utility belt with a grappling gun, stun grenades, and smoke pellets; Betey's belt would have glucose tabs, a glucagon kit, and an insulin pen.  And probably a Diet Coke.  And maybe some throwing stars made out of lancets.

Her outfit would be blue, of course.  Boots of steel, to protect her feet.  Betey's insulin pump would double as a flamethrower.  Instead of a regular bow and arrow, she would have a really, really huge crossbow, and over-sized CGM sensor needles for arrows.  (The mere thought of that setup actually existing would deter me from crime all-together.  Terrifying.)

But most of all, she'd be invincible.  Her strengths would be a direct result of her weaknesses.  Each encounter with a low blood sugar would make her fear them less and less.  Challenge and adversity would lay the way for motivation and determination.  Pump sites wouldn't dare clog up, for fear of what she'd do to them in return.  And with every person she helped, Betey would grow more and more confident.

I try to be more and more Betey-like every day.  I try to learn from my mistakes, and not let the daily challenges of diabetes get me down.  Some days are harder than others.  When do I get my darn cape?

It May Only Make Sense To Me(me).

I'm not through finding diabetes-themed memes hilarious.

(Does this one make sense to anyone else? It might be humorous only in my head.)

Highly Uncomfortable.

If we're connected on Twitter or Facebook, you may have seen that I had a bit of a scary HIGH on Friday. I haven't seen a number like that in... well, a really long time. Frankly, it freaked me the heck out.

So what can you do when it all goes wrong, despite doing everything "right"?

Apparently you grab the maple syrup out of your fridge, use groan-worthy puns, and attack a lion. (Sorry, Medtronic!)




(P.S. In case you're wondering who my furry friend is, he's Lenny the Lion - Medtronic's insulin pump mascot for kids, and kids at heart. His stomach, arms, legs and tush are made from polyurethane foam, which is fur-free and ready for kids to try out pump infusion sites on for practice. He's available from Medtronic's online store, and also from Build-A-Bear.)

(P.P.S. Disclosure: I received a free Lenny from Medtronic, as they sent one to all of the diabetes advocates who attended the Forum last month. I'm pretty sure this wasn't the use they had in mind.)

Upgrade.

Since my pancreas is old and busted, I ordered a new one off the internet.

Also, you probably saw this photo coming:

"OMG BRB JK LOL!!!"

You can get your own pancreas (or heart, or thyroid, or or or...) at iheartguts.com. They had a great deal a few weeks back on Fab.com... I might have ordered a few. Hey, pancrei can't be trusted. I need backups.

Please Explain.

PANIC! No, Wait, Everything's Fine.

For about five seconds, I thought today was a first: after arriving at work, I rummaged through my purse (and because my purse is huge, it took a while) for my CGM. I came up short. I thought, "Noooo! I finally left it at home for the first time!".

I was all ready to post this:

I felt defeated. I mentally counted how many test strips I had with me, and wondered if I should set up some reminders to test every hour. (Have I mentioned that not wearing my CGM makes me feel a little helpless?)

But then, as I reached in the wrong pocket for my insulin pump, I discovered:

Apparently my hip is dead? How did I not feel that in my pocket? Ixnay on the anicpay. We're good.

(Sidenote: I am really, really going to miss Picnik when it shuts down next month.)

Insulin Pumps In The Wild.

You know that moment where your diabetes-related spidey sense kicks in, and you can't help but stumble all over yourself?

It could be triggered by a familiar-sounding "beep-boop-beep!" from outside of your personal bubble, a glimpse of pump tubing flapping in the breeze, or the accidental eavesdropping of a conversation not aimed at you.

But sometimes, it's seeing a purple pancreas clipped to the pocket of a Target employee as you pass by. You don't want to be "that crazy lady", so you bite your tongue and keep walking. But then, minutes later, that pump and its owner are mere steps away again, and you can't help yourself. It's like word vomit. It has to come out.

"Is that an insulin pump?", you offer cheerfully. (You know very well that it is - right down to the brand name - but you want to ease into this.)

"Yep!", she responds cautiously.

You motion to the silver pump tucked into your own pocket, as if performing some sort of secret handshake maneuver known only by those who have joined The Club No One Wants To Join. "Me too! I have a Ping." Your voice is tinged with a tad too much enthusiasm.

"Cool."

*awkward pause*

"Yeah. Well, rock on." You realize that you had no road map for conversation past this point, and with the one word replies you've accumulated, you retreat.

Cut to the checkout line, as the cashier rings up the last of your items: she's back. In your line. Standing right next to you.

You debate. You know you should just shut up, pay for your multi-pack of dry erase markers, and walk out the door. But YOU JUST CAN'T.

"So how do you do this? I mean, every time I'm here, I drop low from walking around so much. It's like you guys have inhalable insulin in here."

She politely laughs, albeit uncomfortably. "Oh? Um, I don't know. It, uh... it doesn't really happen to me that much."

You smile, say "Oh, okay", and get the heck out of there.

(And, sometimes, diabetes-related spidey sense happens while you're in a bathroom stall at the mall and can overhear the conversation at the sinks:

Friend 1: "Geez, you always take forever!"

Friend 2: "It's the insulin pump! I have to hold it in one hand and then try to do everything else with the other."

But fortunately for you, the Target experience happened first. You've learned your lesson, and zip it.)

I Don't Give A Sheet.

I dare you to not care what other people think about your diabetes.

Be fearless with me!

Planking.

You've heard of planking, right? It's highly ridiculous, but pretty entertaining. The idea is to lay face-down in an unusual place, while keeping your body completely straight (like a wooden plank - get it?). The more difficult the situation, the funnier/more impressive the planking is. All the kids are doing it!

In that spirit, I'd like to coin a new Diabetes Term of Endearment. For those times when a CGM graph looks so straight that you actually test your blood more often because you don't believe the graph. For the times you've tested four times that day and all results were between 150 and 155. For the times you have no explanation other than, "I'm cured!" when your blood sugar is much, much more in range than you expected it to be.

Planking.



image courtesy of @jeffmather



Ninja Scarves?

This is what comes to mind when I think about what people with diabetes might have on their wish lists this holiday season.

This is also what happens when I have a respectable amount of caffeine and cabin fever.



Happy Holidays (a wee bit early)! :)

This Might Be Why They Know Who I Am Before I Tell Them My Name.

SCENE: WALGREENS - 5:43 PM

Kim walks towards the back end of the store but gets sidetracked by some Pinot Grigio in the clearance bin. Somehow, a bottle ends up joining her on the journey.

She approaches the counter. And waits.

The pharmacist finishes up with the drive-through customer and heads towards the counter.

PHARMACIST: Oh, hey. 

The pharmacist pivots and heads straight for the refrigerator. She returns with bottles of insulin.

Kim plops her wine bottle on the counter. The pharmacist eyes it for a couple seconds, rings it up along with the prescription, and begins to bag the items. Kim realizes what the pharmacist must be thinking.

KIM: Well, you know. One keeps me alive... the other keeps me sane.

The pharmacist smirks.

The Perils Of Being A Mouse In A Diabetes Research Study.

Infusion sites engulf your entire stomach.

Insulin pumps were not built for someone of your stature.

Blood tests require about half of the blood in your body just to fill a test strip.

How do you carb count cheese? I don't know, either.

You are the envy of at least 5% of the world's population.

(Disclaimer: none of this is actually what happens in a research study, I'm pretty sure. Facetious World Diabetes Day Celebration FTW!)