Blood Sugar: 128
So, the new doctor understood my need for the pump but also realized that I needed an endocrinologist to do it right. She suggested that I go see the endo she was affliated with. She said to go see the endo one time and if I didn't like her, that she would do what she had to do to get me pumping. I saw the endo and found another woman with the heart of a teacher. She wanted to help me, she wanted me on the pump, she wanted me to have a better life. As far as doctors go, I've hit my second grand slam. They are both terrific. So I saw the endo the first time in June 2007. I saw her CDE (Certified Diabetes Educator)in July and we applied to my insurance for coverage of a pump. Of course it was a fight. The insurance company didn't want to give me a pump because I hadn't bothered to take care of myself all this time, let alone go to the doctor. So they said that because I hadn't been seen by a doctor 4 times in the last year, that they wouldn't approve me. It was a long road...but I got my appointments in and started on my pump 6 months later. Quite the change from my original doctor. And I'm going strong. My only regret is that I didn't make the switch sooner, but I guess that everything has it's reason and purpose and I have to accept that. Maybe the wait was a way for me to grow as a diabetic and caring for myself so that I was ready to go on the OmniPod in January. It's been life-changing...all for the better.
Showing posts with label Diagnosis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diagnosis. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
The Saga Continues...
Blood Sugar: 101
I was a diabetic mess. I ate what I wanted and only took shots here and there. I was 15 when I was hospitalized for DKA and in the ICU overnight. They started giving me insulin and amazingly I got better very quickly! LOL I know they obviously knew that I wasn't taking my shots, but I assured them that was not the case and I always did as I should and blah, blah, blah. The doctors never questioned me again about it, but how could they not know that I was lying? All the details made it perfectly clear that I wasn't doing what I should. Diabetes was my enemy and I was going to do whatever I had to do to combat it. Looking back, I realize that I treated diabetes as the annoying person that always shows up uninvited. If you just keep ignoring them, eventually they will quit coming around. I realize now all the valuable time that I wasted thinking like that. How many years did I personally subtract from my life by allowing myself to live this way? I spent a lot of time blaming people and it wasn't until I met my husband at age 26 that I had an epiphany. You can't always point the finger of blame at everyone else...more often than not, you need to point it right at yourself.
So when I moved back to Ohio in 2001 , I got a job that offered health insurance and started seeing an endocrinologist. I liked him well enough and I thought he was cute, so it wasn't difficult to make myself go to the appointments. I told him that I realized that I needed to make some changes in my life and I wanted to start on insulin pump therapy. He tried, really he did. I just had absolutely no control of my diabetes and appointment after appointment only showed how futile my attempts were. I hadn't controlled my diabetes for years and it wasn't giving up too easy.
He was in a practice of several doctors and decided I needed to start seeing his colleague. Fine, how bad could it be, right? So I went in for my first appointment and he gave me a formula, a sliding scale for injections, told me to count my carbs and come back in 30 days. I was lost. He didn’t explain the formula, I didn’t know how to count carbs and I was a mess…still. I made an appointment with his assistant and he explained how the formula worked, explained why we count carbs instead of exchanges and told me to test, test, test. I went in for my follow up appointment with the doctor a month later. I counted carbs every time I ate. I was testing at least 4 times a day but it was usually 6 or 8. I hadn’t tested my blood sugar on a regular basis since I was under the strict supervision of my mom. The doctor was appalled by the information I was giving him. He asked me how I thought he could make educated decisions about my health care, if this was the information I was giving him. So I told him to tell me exactly what he wanted…WOW. He wanted me to test 8 times a day AND every day for a month at 2 AM. He wanted me to keep a detailed diary of the foods I was eating and count the carbs. OK, I’ll do it. I wanted to be on the pump and this was the road to get there. I left that day with a mission, made my appointment for 30 days later and went to the store and bought a food scale and new measuring cups. I was going to knock his socks off at my next appointment. So I didn’t get up every day for the next 30 at 2 AM, but I did do it a lot…I’d never done it before. There were FEW days that I didn’t test 8 times a day, but it was FEW. I wrote down amounts and foods and carb contents in a notebook and couldn’t wait for my next appointment….then I went. He was appalled by my records, he was appalled by what I ate, he screamed at me about not taking care of myself. I’d had it. I started telling him what I thought about all of this diabetes crap and as I gathered up my stuff, I told him that it was a pity that his knowledge was wasted on him because he was an ass. I continued cussing him as I left. Told his nurse I was sorry she had to work for him. Then I cussed him some more as I walked through the waiting room. I vowed to NEVER go to a doctor again.
So for a year I continued to use the sliding scale and formula he had given me. I refilled my prescriptions every month and was taking better care of myself even though my BG's never showed that. I woke up every morning with my blood sugar at least 300, but usually in the 500's. I just coped. Figured my dose and continued just taking 3 shots a day of Novolog and Humulin N. Finally, I called in a refill and the pharmacy said that the doctor wouldn't refill it until I went in. What's a girl to do?
I realized that I had to find a doctor. Boy, I didn't want to have anything to do with a doctor, but I was in need. I could go, get the prescriptions written and then I was good for another year. A girl I worked with HIGHLY recommended her GP...She could write a prescription for insulin and that was good enough for me. So I made the appointment. Something strange happened in her office that had never happened to me before...I liked her...really liked her. I liked her enough that I wanted to hear what she had to say. I told her that I wanted to be on the pump and that I wanted her to put me on it.
I was a diabetic mess. I ate what I wanted and only took shots here and there. I was 15 when I was hospitalized for DKA and in the ICU overnight. They started giving me insulin and amazingly I got better very quickly! LOL I know they obviously knew that I wasn't taking my shots, but I assured them that was not the case and I always did as I should and blah, blah, blah. The doctors never questioned me again about it, but how could they not know that I was lying? All the details made it perfectly clear that I wasn't doing what I should. Diabetes was my enemy and I was going to do whatever I had to do to combat it. Looking back, I realize that I treated diabetes as the annoying person that always shows up uninvited. If you just keep ignoring them, eventually they will quit coming around. I realize now all the valuable time that I wasted thinking like that. How many years did I personally subtract from my life by allowing myself to live this way? I spent a lot of time blaming people and it wasn't until I met my husband at age 26 that I had an epiphany. You can't always point the finger of blame at everyone else...more often than not, you need to point it right at yourself.
So when I moved back to Ohio in 2001 , I got a job that offered health insurance and started seeing an endocrinologist. I liked him well enough and I thought he was cute, so it wasn't difficult to make myself go to the appointments. I told him that I realized that I needed to make some changes in my life and I wanted to start on insulin pump therapy. He tried, really he did. I just had absolutely no control of my diabetes and appointment after appointment only showed how futile my attempts were. I hadn't controlled my diabetes for years and it wasn't giving up too easy.
He was in a practice of several doctors and decided I needed to start seeing his colleague. Fine, how bad could it be, right? So I went in for my first appointment and he gave me a formula, a sliding scale for injections, told me to count my carbs and come back in 30 days. I was lost. He didn’t explain the formula, I didn’t know how to count carbs and I was a mess…still. I made an appointment with his assistant and he explained how the formula worked, explained why we count carbs instead of exchanges and told me to test, test, test. I went in for my follow up appointment with the doctor a month later. I counted carbs every time I ate. I was testing at least 4 times a day but it was usually 6 or 8. I hadn’t tested my blood sugar on a regular basis since I was under the strict supervision of my mom. The doctor was appalled by the information I was giving him. He asked me how I thought he could make educated decisions about my health care, if this was the information I was giving him. So I told him to tell me exactly what he wanted…WOW. He wanted me to test 8 times a day AND every day for a month at 2 AM. He wanted me to keep a detailed diary of the foods I was eating and count the carbs. OK, I’ll do it. I wanted to be on the pump and this was the road to get there. I left that day with a mission, made my appointment for 30 days later and went to the store and bought a food scale and new measuring cups. I was going to knock his socks off at my next appointment. So I didn’t get up every day for the next 30 at 2 AM, but I did do it a lot…I’d never done it before. There were FEW days that I didn’t test 8 times a day, but it was FEW. I wrote down amounts and foods and carb contents in a notebook and couldn’t wait for my next appointment….then I went. He was appalled by my records, he was appalled by what I ate, he screamed at me about not taking care of myself. I’d had it. I started telling him what I thought about all of this diabetes crap and as I gathered up my stuff, I told him that it was a pity that his knowledge was wasted on him because he was an ass. I continued cussing him as I left. Told his nurse I was sorry she had to work for him. Then I cussed him some more as I walked through the waiting room. I vowed to NEVER go to a doctor again.
So for a year I continued to use the sliding scale and formula he had given me. I refilled my prescriptions every month and was taking better care of myself even though my BG's never showed that. I woke up every morning with my blood sugar at least 300, but usually in the 500's. I just coped. Figured my dose and continued just taking 3 shots a day of Novolog and Humulin N. Finally, I called in a refill and the pharmacy said that the doctor wouldn't refill it until I went in. What's a girl to do?
I realized that I had to find a doctor. Boy, I didn't want to have anything to do with a doctor, but I was in need. I could go, get the prescriptions written and then I was good for another year. A girl I worked with HIGHLY recommended her GP...She could write a prescription for insulin and that was good enough for me. So I made the appointment. Something strange happened in her office that had never happened to me before...I liked her...really liked her. I liked her enough that I wanted to hear what she had to say. I told her that I wanted to be on the pump and that I wanted her to put me on it.
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Beginning of My Journey
Blood Sugar: 315
So this is the story of my diagnosis...and life prior to the pump. I know it's long, but I bet there are many, many out there that can relate to many, many things that I did and went through. Leave me a comment and let me know you've been there...we're not alone in this, even though it feels like we are at times....
As they say in The Wizard Of Oz, it’s always best to start at the beginning. I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in 1984, when I was 8 years old. I had been feeling pretty bad for a while and losing weight, drinking excessively. It was a Monday...I remember it clearly. We had gotten in trouble on the school bus on Friday and as we were waiting for the bus that morning I turned to my mom and said, "I don't feel good." She started to check me out when my older brother says, "We're supposed to get in trouble today because of what happened on the bus Friday. She's not sick, she's scared." So out the door I went. Ok, so I was scared, but I really didn't feel good.
So anyway, at lunch time, I made my way to the lunch line with the other kids...I was feeling worse and worse the longer I stood there. I finally get to the cashier and I looked at her and said, "I don't feel good." Annoyed, she hollered at me, "Well don't tell me about it, go tell the nurse." I left my tray of food there and headed to the nurse's office.
I get to the doorway and realize that the nurse’s office is down three flights of steps. I was dizzy, I was sweating, I thought I was going to toss my cookies. I stood at the top of the steps for a moment before I realized there was no way that I could walk down them. So I sat and scooted myself all the way down three flights of steps and two landings to the nurse. I think when she saw me, she knew something was amiss. I started telling her how I was feeling and I think she had an inkling that it might be diabetes. She called my mom and my mom had my grandparents come to the school and pick me up and my mom met us at the doctor's office.
We got right into the doctor...I don't remember her name, but those few minutes that my mom and I were in the exam room I will never forget. They took blood and urine and poked and prodded me and I don't know exactly what they found in their testing...but they told my mom that I had diabetes and that she should take me home and wait for the call to go to the hospital.
Well, a lot of things run through your mind when a doctor says, "diabetes," and your mom starts crying. I just knew I was going to die. What else could it be? I mean, nothing makes moms cry, right?
So we went back to grandma's to wait for the call that they were ready for me at Children's Hospital. I can't even begin to imagine what my parents were going through. They had divorced in 1980 and were both remarried...but the pain for each of them was the same. They were going to be trained to put their daughter through the paces of diabetes every day.
I remember not feeling good. I remember the nurses being nice. I have NO recollection of any doctors at this point. I'm sure they were all over me, but I must be blocking them. LOL I remember watching my mom, dad and step-dad give shots to towels, then to oranges and then to each other. I remember when they started coming after me.
We had no idea about carb counting. There was a STRICT exchange diet and I was miserable. Nothing tasted good anymore and I was always hungry...what I would have given for one more bowl of Strawberry Shortcake cereal...I still remember how good it was. My mother meticulously measured and weighed everything that I ate. She packed my meals and snacks for school. I couldn't tell at the time when my blood sugar was going low and often passed out at school. To punish me, that's what it felt like, my teacher made me eat my snack in class and then bring my snack bag up to her so she could make sure that I'd eaten it all. I was horror stricken. I was SO different from everyone else and 8 year olds are not nice. They made sure I knew how different I was. They would tell me to go and sit with my own kind. I'm 32 years old and I can still see the faces of these children and I can still feel the sting of their words today...as if all this time had never passed.
I think it was at this point after my diagnosis that I began to let the hate fill me. I hated doctors and I hated my parents, I hated the other kids that could eat their Halloween candy, I hated my brothers and sister for eating the Halloween candy that I had gathered. I was bitter and alone and left there.
It was in junior high that I realized that the doctors didn't know what they were talking about. I could skip shots and be fine all day long. So that's what I did. I'd skip one shot a day, usually my morning one and then do whatever I wanted at school...I ate milkshakes and Icees and Little Debbie was quickly becoming my best friend. I didn't need instruction and I didn't need to take shots, the doctors and my parents were just overreacting...look at me, I'm fine. I was finally, for the first time in my life, functioning just like everybody else and it felt good....then I realized that I could skip both my shots every once in a while and things would be fine....that all changed the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school...
So this is the story of my diagnosis...and life prior to the pump. I know it's long, but I bet there are many, many out there that can relate to many, many things that I did and went through. Leave me a comment and let me know you've been there...we're not alone in this, even though it feels like we are at times....
As they say in The Wizard Of Oz, it’s always best to start at the beginning. I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in 1984, when I was 8 years old. I had been feeling pretty bad for a while and losing weight, drinking excessively. It was a Monday...I remember it clearly. We had gotten in trouble on the school bus on Friday and as we were waiting for the bus that morning I turned to my mom and said, "I don't feel good." She started to check me out when my older brother says, "We're supposed to get in trouble today because of what happened on the bus Friday. She's not sick, she's scared." So out the door I went. Ok, so I was scared, but I really didn't feel good.
So anyway, at lunch time, I made my way to the lunch line with the other kids...I was feeling worse and worse the longer I stood there. I finally get to the cashier and I looked at her and said, "I don't feel good." Annoyed, she hollered at me, "Well don't tell me about it, go tell the nurse." I left my tray of food there and headed to the nurse's office.
I get to the doorway and realize that the nurse’s office is down three flights of steps. I was dizzy, I was sweating, I thought I was going to toss my cookies. I stood at the top of the steps for a moment before I realized there was no way that I could walk down them. So I sat and scooted myself all the way down three flights of steps and two landings to the nurse. I think when she saw me, she knew something was amiss. I started telling her how I was feeling and I think she had an inkling that it might be diabetes. She called my mom and my mom had my grandparents come to the school and pick me up and my mom met us at the doctor's office.
We got right into the doctor...I don't remember her name, but those few minutes that my mom and I were in the exam room I will never forget. They took blood and urine and poked and prodded me and I don't know exactly what they found in their testing...but they told my mom that I had diabetes and that she should take me home and wait for the call to go to the hospital.
Well, a lot of things run through your mind when a doctor says, "diabetes," and your mom starts crying. I just knew I was going to die. What else could it be? I mean, nothing makes moms cry, right?
So we went back to grandma's to wait for the call that they were ready for me at Children's Hospital. I can't even begin to imagine what my parents were going through. They had divorced in 1980 and were both remarried...but the pain for each of them was the same. They were going to be trained to put their daughter through the paces of diabetes every day.
I remember not feeling good. I remember the nurses being nice. I have NO recollection of any doctors at this point. I'm sure they were all over me, but I must be blocking them. LOL I remember watching my mom, dad and step-dad give shots to towels, then to oranges and then to each other. I remember when they started coming after me.
We had no idea about carb counting. There was a STRICT exchange diet and I was miserable. Nothing tasted good anymore and I was always hungry...what I would have given for one more bowl of Strawberry Shortcake cereal...I still remember how good it was. My mother meticulously measured and weighed everything that I ate. She packed my meals and snacks for school. I couldn't tell at the time when my blood sugar was going low and often passed out at school. To punish me, that's what it felt like, my teacher made me eat my snack in class and then bring my snack bag up to her so she could make sure that I'd eaten it all. I was horror stricken. I was SO different from everyone else and 8 year olds are not nice. They made sure I knew how different I was. They would tell me to go and sit with my own kind. I'm 32 years old and I can still see the faces of these children and I can still feel the sting of their words today...as if all this time had never passed.
I think it was at this point after my diagnosis that I began to let the hate fill me. I hated doctors and I hated my parents, I hated the other kids that could eat their Halloween candy, I hated my brothers and sister for eating the Halloween candy that I had gathered. I was bitter and alone and left there.
It was in junior high that I realized that the doctors didn't know what they were talking about. I could skip shots and be fine all day long. So that's what I did. I'd skip one shot a day, usually my morning one and then do whatever I wanted at school...I ate milkshakes and Icees and Little Debbie was quickly becoming my best friend. I didn't need instruction and I didn't need to take shots, the doctors and my parents were just overreacting...look at me, I'm fine. I was finally, for the first time in my life, functioning just like everybody else and it felt good....then I realized that I could skip both my shots every once in a while and things would be fine....that all changed the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)