Tag Archives: insulin

Mama’s Shoes Don’t Fit

Last week I was put in the shoes of my moms for probably the first time ever. Okay, yes, I have a child just like she did (although, I’m only doing it once, not four times over) and some of you may relate that to walking in her shoes. But for me and my moms, it wasn’t until last week that I truly felt what it was like to walk in her shoes.

I didn’t like it.

So here’s the back story: Lightening Bolt’s parents were in the hospital awaiting the arrival of Baby Number 4 (who by the way has the BEST video game name ever) and I was charged with insulin injecting duties for little LB. Something to do with me having the disease, going 28 years of injections, you know, being veteran T-1 and all. And at first I thought no problem. But then the cogs in my brain started spinning.

I have only ever given myself injections. I have never given anyone else a needle, and I have never liked anyone else giving me a needle. I know my pain threshold. I don’t know LB’s. What the frick did I agree to? Oh freaking crud. This kid is going to hate me!

Insert Dr. Google: My fingers frantically danced over the keyboard in search of injecting tutorials. And low and behold, there is a huge spectrum of them: Wikihow; YouTube; BD.com; etc., etc., etc.. Pictures, videos, words, pretty much anyone can become a needle-loving drug addict online! And FYI, none of it is how I do it!

Insert Second Guessing: What if I can’t do it? I haven’t injected a tiny pen syringe in over five years. What if I’ve forgotten the steps? What if I nick a vein? What if I choke? Nope, that wasn’t an option. Texting back and forth with my lovely sister-in-law helped grow my confidence.

But, his eyes: Those what the frick do you think you’re doing eyes as I held the pen in my right hand. His bottom lip, quivering as he realized oh freak, she ain’t kidding. The tears. The clutching, the pulling down his sleeve, the desperate protecting of his arm. The heartbreaking “No! No! No!”. I don’t remember my own tears at the hands of my moms, but I remember the screams at the hands of the nurses who more often than not left my arms purple and blue. Oh dear. How could I do this?

Granny, you're not seriously letting her near me with that thing are you? Granny????

Granny, you’re not seriously letting her near me with that thing are you? Granny????

I counted. My moms consoled. I rubbed his back. I tried to calm him.  His big brother jumped, bounced and danced. My boy looked at me with those same eyes, what the frick you doing to my cousin bestie mama? I showed him my pump, I showed him my meter, I told him we were the same. But a 4.5 year old facing a needle at the hands of someone he’d never had a needle from prior was not going to understand.

I didn’t know his pain threshold.

The needle was in, the needle was out. The un-trusting glare on his face remained. I will never forget that look, and likely will be getting it for the next 30 years.

Last week I walked in the shoes of my moms; I didn’t like it.

3:30 p.m. BG before: 4.7
Temp. basal: -100% (1 hour)
Carbs: gummy bears
Time: 41:45
Distance: 7.13 km
Average pace: 5:51 min/km
4:30 p.m. BG after: 9.1
Temp. basal: +100% (1 hour)

This run was bittersweet – sweet that I made it a whole 2 more kms then I did on my runs last week, but bitter in that my heel was achy and my toes got a bloody cramp in them half way into the run. Argh!

(Top) Taken moments before the beads of sweat on my forehead became beads of sweat in my eyes – youch! (Left) From my run on Saturday when my foot was freshly taped and I felt not even a tick of an ache for the whole run. (Right) Toe cramp! Toe cramp! Toe cramp!

(Top) Taken moments before the beads of sweat on my forehead became beads of sweat in my eyes – youch! (Left) From my run on Saturday when my foot was freshly taped and I felt not even a tick of an ache for the whole run. (Right) Toe cramp! Toe cramp! Toe cramp!

T-1 25 days until Global Heroes Medtronic Twin Cities in Motion 10 Mile. I will conquer this!


The ballad of my life

Today is World Diabetes Day.

This day is the birthday of Dr. Frederick Banting, who, 91 years ago, discovered insulin.

Insulin keeps me alive.

But insulin is not a cure.

Today, I would much prefer it be World Diabetes CURE Day.

My life with diabetes. My life with insulin. My life without a cure.

Singing hallelujah

Ohhh Lordy.

Yes, on a day where I was blessed with that beautiful autumnal God light on my way to work this morning (sorry no pics, probably not safe to whip out the camera while driving) it feels only proper to tap into my religious roots.

And by religious, I mean, holy hell I saw my life flash before my eyes multiple times tonight – MULTIPLE TIMES!!!

For all of you out there who think aqua jogging is wimpy, think again. I was almost drowned tonight not once, not twice, but five times, once by the lane dividers while life guards were dividing up the lanes, and three times by a demon swimming chick who thought it prudent to start speed swimming right in my line of jogging. Uhm, okay, maybe I’ll just tread some water here as you smash your left arm down onto my head. Thanks for that. And how about that time she was backwards swimming right bloody well through me. And the multiple times her legs were kicking into my freaking hips. Seriously, her legs + my hips = WTF bruises! Are you kidding me?

But the worst of it, oh man, I am so freaking ashamed to be putting this out for all to see, but it must be said, it must. Are you ready? Are you prepared? ARe you sitting? Okay… here goes: I… swallowed… pee water! Big gulp swallowed it, like right down my esophagus to a point of no return. Oh. My. God.


  • 5:15 p.m. BG before: 8.1
  • Temp. basal: -100 per cent (1 hour)
  • Distance: 4 sets of 4 lanes in the deep end with one long lane in between each set
  • Time: 40 minutes
  • 6:30 p.m. BG after: 3.4
  • Temp. basal: +50 per cent (1/2 hour)

So I met up with my favourite ironchickie tonight for another installment of our hardcore aqua jogging sessions. I have a suspicion, given her excitement at discovering a book with a chapter on AJ drills, these sessions might very well get even more hardcore in the  near future. But hey, after tonight, I’m prepared for anything!

As we were chatting away, trying to avoid the demon chick around us, ironchickie starts telling me this story, a funny story, a full-bodied, laugh-out-loud story, and just as my mouth opens to barrel out a hearty laugh, a gush of pool water splashes up (no doubt due to the demon chick) right into my mouth. I started hacking, gulping for clean air, trying to get the pee water out, but it was so fast, it was already down in my belly before my brain could even register a reactionary spit. From there, the thought of potential germs, viruses, diseases took over my brain: parasites? amoebas? hepatitis? e. coli? worms? cholera? dysentery? Oh my!

Favourite ironchickie, with a grim look on her face, tried to ease my worries: “Least it’s full of chlorine,” she said. “Surely that’ll kill it all.”  I can only pray.

And so, because of today’s heart stopper of a session (which was followed up with throbbing thighs and butt cheeks) I have decided to no longer refer to our AJ sessions as aqua jogging, but rather water running – oh yeah, way more hardcore 😉

Have you seen the new $100 bill that was released yesterday on World Diabetes Day, which was apparently also Superhero Banting’s birthday. An old-school vial of insulin, front and centre. Props to the superheros!

Experiment. Day 2.

Diabetes pic a post #2: Waking up with a morning low is NOT a good way to start the day. (The blur could be the result of low lighting or my spastically shaky hands, which is a common low BG symptom.)

For a girl who doesn’t like change, I’m sure doing a lot of it lately.

For almost two years my belly has been the go-to locale for my infusion sites, and for the 22 years prior to that, it was the number 1 spot for my injection sites. That’s not a good thing. Skin tissue that is repeatedly poked and prodded and injected full of stuff in the same spot builds up scar tissue which if you build up enough can pretty much deform your body.

But here’s the deal, I’ve got a buddha belly, always have, and it is a prime spot for finding a good wad of skin and subcutaneous fat, which means less opportunity for a jab that causes eye-wincing pain.

However, my belly, as buddhalicious as it is, does have fat-finding challenges. When I was three, my appendix was removed by a butcher who left me with a giant scar that pretty much takes up the right side of my stomach. From day 1 of diabetes, I was told to steer clear of the scar when giving injections due to the build up of scar tissue and the insulin not being able to distribute properly throughout the body. So, for the first 22 years of diabetes, I favoured the nice, hefty wad of fat on the lower left side of my stomach that I could easily grasp in one hand. Day in and day out that is where the needles went.

I kid you not, my stomach was warped. The right side was sunken in as a result of the appendix scar and the left side was protruding out as a result of the injections. I knew it wasn’t a pretty sight, and I knew it wasn’t good; the doctors kept telling me so. But I hated giving injections in my arms as I could feel the insulin seeping in as I pressed down on the plunger, and my legs were just too complicated having to take my pants off and all, and my butt, well that was just a neck crick waiting to happen. So, belly it was.

With the infusions, though, I’ve been a lot better, actually rotating sites around my belly, using the thinner areas higher up, as well as the more fatty areas, and the areas around my waist, and around the edges of my back as well. But, a belly is a belly and after 24 years of poking and prodding and jabbing and shoving, she’s looking and feeling a tad worn out.

So yesterday, changing the infusion day, I stuck her in my touche. (That sounds so wrong!) Now, the thing is, I’ve tried using my legs and my rear before for my infusions, but they always ended in disaster, and by disaster, I mean they were ripped right clean out when taking down my pants to go to the washroom, which is fine if I’m home (inconvenient as it is) but not when I’m at work, or in the valley, or midway through a run when I don’t have any backup around. One time on a run, I had to tape the site up to keep it in place after half ripping it out. Not cool.

This time, though, so far so good. Two days in, and I’ve only nearly ripped her out 10 times, but haven’t actually ripped her out, so that’s progress, right. Just one more day to go before changing the infusion day comes around again, and that, my friends, will be success 😀

Loving the fall sunsets.


  • 5:30 p.m. BG before: 5.8 (chocolate biscuit, no bolus)
  • Temp. basal: -50 per cent (30 minutes)
  • Distance: 4 km
  • Time: 23 minutes
  • 6:15 p.m. BG after: 3.5 😦

Found a friend along the route.