Diabetes

All posts in the Diabetes category

Pin one recipe aimed at pregnant ladies, and suddenly Pinterest has made way off-base assumptions about my current child expectancy situation.

Published February 4, 2018 by Malia

I’m in a quandary.

If you’ve been here over the last month, you know that I’m starting the process of bringing my blood sugar down and getting my diabetes back into the realm of “Controlled.”

I’m making sure I’m taking my meds religiously (even though they make me feel like crap 24/7). Since January 8th, I’ve not had one sugar reading over 200. I’m seeming to stay between 120-140. I know there’s room for improvement, but considering that I was consistently in the 220-240 range a little over a month ago, I’m happy to be where I am.

Not only am I supposed to be lowering my blood sugar numbers, I’m also supposed to be losing weight.

And that’s not happening.

I’m stuck. I’ll lose 5 pounds, and then those five pounds immediately come back. And then I’ll lose them again, just to find them back a few days later. It’s a frustrating, brutal cycle.

I’m stressing out so much about the weight not cooperating (and stress is really, just about the best thing for blood sugar numbers…not!). I’ve only got until the end of March to show improvement, or I’m facing insulin.

I don’t want to go on insulin! It’s not even something I can afford to think about having to do.

So, that’s my quandary. How do I get the weight to come off and stop coming back? It’s not like this is a new challenge, either. I’ve been fighting this losing weight battle for so long now, I’m at my wit’s end.

Advertisements

A 4 a.m. rant about lancets.

Published January 18, 2018 by Malia

Um…no. I’m sorry to burst anyone’s bubble, but the “special contact mask” does NOT distract attention from the fact that I’m literally pushing a freaking needle into my finger. Y’know what would be great? How about a button that triggers the needle, instead of some fancy extra bit of plastic that has a ridiculous, super-impressed with itself name? There are days that I find myself staring at my fingers going, “Which one of you is gonna be the victim?” and then it takes me minutes to talk myself into pushing the needle into my finger. Sometimes the fact my stupid fat fingers require me to not use fine lancets make me truly sad.

Dear Bread, it’s not you, it’s me and my inability to metabolize sugars properly.

Published January 15, 2018 by Malia

I have 3 months, kids. 3 months to make good progress on my weight and my A1c, and keep my doctor from putting me on insulin. That may seem like a lot of time, but trust me, it’s not. And I’m terrified and overwhelmed.

It wasn’t until tonight that it really hit just how much this is. I went to the doctor this morning, and I was 100% there, completely motivated to make this happen. However, as the day has worn on, I’ve found myself wanting to run and hide from this reality. I don’t want this to be reality. I’ve been trying to keep it from being reality for nearly six years.

So, I had my last pizza, for the present foreseeable fiture, and went to a movie with my girlfriends. We were a bit loud, a bit inappropriate, but we laughed so much and it was just the best. Then, I came home and the true enormity of all this just hit.

I wish I could just hop in the car and drive across the state to where the boy is working this week. I wish he was sitting here, telling me that I’ve got this. That I can do this. For now, I just have to accept that text messages and phone calls are going to get me through until Friday, and thank God that he’s not gone more than he is.

Also, if anyone can explain the Mediterranean diet to me, that’d be super helpful. Because apparently I’m supposed to be on it, and Pinterest and Google are only serving to overwhelm and confuse me even more regarding it. The only thing they seem to agree on, is that I should be using small, colorful tomatoes in all my cooking. Which is concerning since I only like tomatoes pureed and mixed with a ton of sugar and vinegar.

So, yeah, it’s gonna be a fun 3 months!

I didn’t stay up all night playing Heathstone. The keyword in that statement is “all.”

Published January 14, 2018 by Malia

I blame the Metformin.

Seriously.

Okay, so Metformin is the medicine I have to take for my diabetes/pcos. It’s supposed to help both things. I’m not sure it does, but I’m taking the pill anyway. I am sure that it hates me.

On a good day, I take it and just feel a bit off. The way you feel when you’re about to come down with something, but you aren’t truly sick yet. However, on a bad day, things get ugly.

And the bad days are far more frequent than the good days

Here’s a bad round with Metformin. It acts like I’ve come down with a stomach bug. I get achy (head and all over), lightheaded and dizzy, hot, exhausted, everything in me liquifies and comes out the southern end accompanied by intense abdominal pain, and then there’s the nausea. So much freaking nausea. The good news is, I only feel this way the first 12-24 hours after I’ve taken my meds. Usually, by the time it’s time to take my next dose (24 hours later) these symptoms have abated. Just in time, to start the whole process all over.

Believe me, I’ve tried to appease the Metformin deities. It doesn’t matter if I make good food choices or bad, it doesn’t matter if I’ve been in constant motion or just been a sedentary rock for the day. This med just hates me, so very much.

I’ve told every doctor I’ve seen about how the Metformin hates me, and I pretty much always get the sane response, “Well, you have diabetes and pcos, and this is the med we prescribe for both those things.” My ob-gyn’s solution was taking me off the non-extended release form and putting me on extended release (er) so that I take it at night, before bed, and will sleep through the worst of it. Some nights this works, and then some nights are like last night.

Last night, I took my medicine and headed to bed. Instead of waiting for me to fall asleep, the stomach pain started and I knew I needed a distraction, because sleep was probably not going to happen for a while. So, I hopped on Hearthstone, and it mostly kept me focused away from the pain. Then, though, I got into competitive mode.

I’ve been playing Hearthstone super casually for over a year. Mostly, I only played when the boy had a quest he needed to complete and it required playing against a friend, or having your game be observed by a friend. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I learned about ranked play. I knew that there were professional players, considered the best, but I hadn’t a clue how they had become ranked. Did the game just log that they played a ton? It was genuinely a mystery. Then the boy received an in-game reward, and when I questioned how he had gotten it, he explained that I could actually play and get ranked and vet free stuff. I like free stuff. I felt so dumb for not having figured this out on my own.

So, last night, I was actually doing pretty decently and making my rank slowly crawl up, and I got a little sucked into the game. At one point it suddenly dawned on me that when I’ve seen pictures of the best Hearthstone players, they’re all male. And suddenly, something inside me was very annoyed. Brcause I know I’m not the only female who plays the game. Which made me then more determined to climb the rankings. Maybe it was because it was the middle of the night, but suddenly I was rambling to the boy about how this game needed way more female representation on the leader board, and I really think I should make it a goal to be one of those females. And he, being the supportive husband went, “Ok, babe.” Which may not read supportive, but it totally was.

And then it was 3 a.m., and I was finally so tired, it outweighed my abdominal misery.

I slept for four hours, woke up and had a half-hour of quality time with the bathroom and my angry tummy, and then decided to share my pain and craziness with all of you.

Weirdly, that late night fervour I suddenly felt to excel at Hearthstone, didn’t pass like the contents of my stomach did. I’m awake, exhausted, but awake, and I still want to try to see if I can become, if not a top player, a really awesome player. (Wow, that sentence had a ton of commas. Believe it or not, I actually excelled in grammar back in high school.)

At least it would mostly distract me from the Metformin.