Diabetes

All posts tagged Diabetes

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.

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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.

I’m just going to put a heads-up here: The word penis is used more than once in this post. You’ve been warned.

Published January 6, 2018 by Malia

So, I just had a meltdown about brownies. I genuinely hope you had a better night than that.

And, it’s not even really about the brownies. It kind of is (I really love brownies, and the brownies that started my falling apart were filled with cream cheese and homemade), but it’s about so much more. It’s about my bruised fingertips, it’s about no longer being able to turn to food when I’m stressed, and it’s about having to stop avoiding my diabetes. I’ve gotten really good at avoiding it, but I feel like I’ve reached this point where if I don’t grow up and get my disease under control truly bad things are going to happen much sooner than I’d like.

Because I spent my evening in a funk, I didn’t even think to share my video. So, first, it needs so explaining.

Last week, I was wandering on the internet, and I stumbled across video for this product, the Rollie Eggmaster, that can make eggs pretty quick. I was immediately intrigued, because I really need to be eating some kind of healthy breakfast, and most mornings I just don’t have the time as I have to feed the animals, take the dog out, and get my butt to work. I found the product on Amazon, and it was cheap-ish,so I decided to try it.

It arrived on Thursday, and Friday morning I used it for the first time…and here’s how it turned out:

It’s okay, I know what you’re thinking,”Egg penis eggrection.” You’re also probably wondering what that bag-looking thing on top is. First, the bag looking thing is actually just egg white that didn’t make it all the way to the bottom of the cooking chamber. Second, yes, yes that is an egg penis.

I sent that video to a friend, and her response was, “That’s terrifying. I suddenly feel I need to file a sexual harassment charge against your breakfast…”

In case you were wondering, it doesn’t just make egg penises; it also makes pb & j sandwich penises, pizza penises, burger penises, the food penis options are almost endless

All joking aside, it really did work and did what I needed it to. Yes, it’s a bit weird, and yes, I’ll probably giggle like a teenager everytime I use the thing; but it’s nice to have an option for breakfast that’s quick and healthy.

You take the good, you take the bad…

Published January 2, 2018 by Malia

When we driving home from my in-laws on Christmas Eve I had this thought enter my brain, “Next year, there might be three of us.”  And for the next 48 hours I was in a pretty happy, pretty hopeful place.

No, I’m not pregnant.  I didn’t think I was.  But, there was this smidgen (and boy ,do I mean smidgen) of a chance, that in the next year I might be.

So here’s the deal, last Wednesday, I was supposed to have a surgery.  My doctor was going to shrink my stupid giant ovaries down to normal size by cutting wedges out of them.  There was no guarantee, but there was this chance that it’d undo a lot of my PCOS mess.  There was a chance that I’d actually be able to make some progress on the weight loss front.  There was even a chance that it’d make me a little less insulin resistant.  There was a chance it’d make the mystery pain go away, and that it would lessen my mood swings.  And…there was this chance that I could get pregnant and stay pregnant.  I was so excited.  I was weirdly calm.  I think I was so desperate for just one of those many things to be a little bit better that it outweighed the anxiety and fear I was also experiencing.

And then I went to my pre-op last Tuesday…

Picture it…9 a.m. the day after Christmas.  I got to my appointment, and things promptly went downhill.  My first warning sign came when I was going through my paperwork, verifying that they had my info correct, and noticed that they had down the doctor from my work’s employee health clinic down as my primary doctor (she’s nice and I have seen her in the last year, but she’s not my primary doctor, or even my ob-gyn).  I pointed this out, and the receptionist told me that she wasn’t able to change that, and that someone in the surgery center would need to fix it on the day of my surgery.  I remember feeling confused as to why she’d asked me to check to make sure everything was correct if she couldn’t actually change any of it.

I then got taken into the exam room.  Both the nurse and the anesthesiologist were either really annoyed they had to work the day after Christmas, or were super hungover, or both.  I just know that they were both in bad moods, and every time I tried to be even a little funny I got death glares from both parties.  First, the anesthesiologist was upset with me because of my diabetes and my difficulty keeping my blood sugars down.  Then, she was annoyed that I’m overweight.  To make it a trifecta, I frustrated her because I snore so I must have sleep apnea and I really need to be getting that treated.  I should probably be undergoing a sleep study (at least, according to her).  If I hadn’t been stressed and anxious before, I was at that point.  A great way to feel the day before surgery.  More than once the anesthesiologist informed me that I was ONLY having an elective procedure and I really wasn’t in any condition to have any elective procedure.  I kept thinking, “I’m not here for bigger boobs.  You know those things that you’re really frustrated and annoyed with me about?  This is a procedure that could actually make those things better.”

They drew my blood.  The anesthesiologist gave me many print outs (all about the health problems that she had concerns about), gave me another lecture about how I really shouldn’t be having an elective procedure, and I went home, my calm now tinged with a small amount of dread.

That evening, I was about to go flush out my system (yeah, that’s as nasty as it sounds), and I got a phone call.  From my doctor.  And it started with her saying, “I’m so sorry, I was so sad when I heard about tomorrow.  I was really looking forward to seeing you.”  (I should mention here that my doctor is a beautiful, kind, sweet woman who genuinely gives a crap and actually listens to me and I kind of love her.)

To which I replied, “What about tomorrow?”  Dread amount was no longer in the small category.

“Didn’t the hospital call you?  They said they called you.”

“No, they didn’t call me.”

Turns out that blood draw (the one that a week later I still have a bruise from), sent a result back that the anesthesiologist didn’t like.  And just like that, my surgery was cancelled.  The hospital called my doctor  while she was performing someone else’s surgery, and left her a message regarding the cancellation.  They gave me no chance to redo the tests, or to fight to stay on the schedule.

I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.  The sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe something was finally going to get fixed in my body, was gone, at least for now.  I cried all that night.  I cried the better part of surgery day.  And then, I think my body just ran out of tears.  It’s now been a week, and I’m still hanging in there.  I’m disappointed that I have to shelve the surgery for now.  However, it’s not like it’ll never happen, and even if it doesn’t, it’s not the end of the world.  I have an amazing husband, adorable pets, precious nephews and a niece, and a collection of graphic novels that should keep me entertained for the next two years (possibly more, it’s amazing how cheap you can get them on Ebay.  The boy need not know how much I’m adding to our already large collection…).

And for now, I’m going to refuse to give up hoping that someday, in the future, I’m going to be a better, healthier me.

So…It’s Been Awhile…

Published June 10, 2015 by Malia

I think this pretty much covers it.

Turns out, thinking about writing blog posts and ACTUALLY writing blog posts are two different things.  Over the last few months, I’ve frequently had ideas and thought, “That’d make a good post,” and then never followed through.  So, it’s time to play catch up…

April

As far as I can remember, the last updating I did took place in April.  Which, while not a long time ago, is well over a month past.  April ended interestingly.

When the boy and I got married, we were on pretty different work shifts.  He would leave for work before 7 a.m. and get home mid-afternoon.  I, on the other hand, would start work at 1:30 p.m., and not get home until well after 10 p.m. (just in time for the boy to head to bed, and me to be wide awake with post work adrenaline).  Going into our marriage, we both knew this was something we were going to have to deal with, and I honestly thought it’d be okay.  Which only goes to show that I’m an idiot.  In truth, it was misery.  It was depressing.  It was lonely.  So, at the end of April, when I saw a perfect job opening at a local hospital.  So, I submitted an application.  And then a week later I got a call from the hospital asking me to come in for an interview.  It was one of those interviews that when I left I honestly couldn’t tell if I was going to get a job offer, but they assured me they were going to call my current job to verify that I really did work there.  Which meant I had to tell my boss that I had gone on an interview.  To cut a very long, boring story short, my boss wasn’t exactly thrilled when I shared this tidbit with her, and I didn’t get offered the job at the hospital.  However, my work offered to let me change schedules, which meant that I didn’t have to start somewhere new, and no more long, lonely mornings home alone.

May & Early June

May will be remembered as the month of medical drama.  About a week after the wedding (back in March), I started having bad abdominal pain.  Because I’m super stubborn, and completely convinced that things will just get better, I put off going to the doctor until May.  Finally, I broke down and decided to go get checked.  The first two weeks of May found me going to the Ob-Gyn and the Endocrinologist.  Neither were fun visits, and neither gave me a decent answer for the abdominal pain.  All that really happened was that I ended up back on Metformin (for diabetes and the PCOS).  My Metformin dose was supposed to start slow, and every week go up.  The first week I had to up the dose, I started getting super sick.  Migraines, pain, dizzyness, nausea, and other fun things plagued me for three solid weeks.  I couldn’t eat, was having trouble sleeping, and was generally miserable.  I spent a decent amount of time playing phone tag with both the Ob-Gyn & Endocrinologist offices.  Both just kept blowing me off and telling me it was just my reaction to the Metformin and to take upping the dose slower.

By the start of the third week, I had the worst sore throat I’ve ever had.  The start of the third week was also my first week on my new shift at work and it was a horrendous week.  Fearing that I might have strep, I ended up at a quick sick clinic.

I didn’t have strep.

No, as of last Thursday, I learned that I have Mono.  Not only do I have mono, but this is actually the second time in my life I’ve had mono.

I wish it felt this cute.

Through it all, the boy truly has been my steady rock.  He has taken such good care of me.  Definitely has made me feel valuable even when I have felt super worthless.  He’s nursing me through this mess, and gone on more chocolate milk pick-up trips than has been fair to him (side note: whole chocolate milk is so thick and creamy it’s the perfect thing to drink if you can’t swallow anything else).

So, in case this has all been TL/DR (too long/didn’t read)…Started a new shift at work, got mono, my husband is amazing, and I am now going to try to update more faithfully.

Random Saturday Musings

Published January 13, 2013 by Malia

-It has been reinforced to me this week just how many STDs are floating around out there.  I’m baffled by how many people engage in sex without having their partner thoroughly tested.

-It really sucks just how depressed my diabetes meds make me.  Doesn’t help that I forgot to take my meds for about a week, and when I started up again I got hit really hard with the depression.

-I’m thinking I want to save up for one of those giant bean bag chairs.

-I’m glad that my hair is finally long enough to braid.

-The first images from Catching Fire are really making me want to see the film, even though I had pretty much decided I didn’t want to see it.  The books are fantastic, but so depressing.  However, I’m thinking I shall probably plan to see it.

-Pizza sounds amazing right now.

-I am soooooooooo overwhelmingly excited for my first real paycheck in years!

-Tonight a friend used the words, “Make it so.” while we were talking online.  The only thing that would’ve made it more entertaining would be if he had included a photo of Picard.