I met my new endocrinologist and CDE today. The short version goes something like this: I love everything about them. And I’m getting a t:slim. And I feel great about everything.
Tell ‘em Stanley.
The longer version requires a some fragmented thoughts and sentences. Continue reading
Created by Regina Holliday
Last month I sent Regina Holliday a jacket and a little write up summarizing my diabetes advocacy efforts thus far. Today Regina is sending my jacket back with this mural painted on the back. It’s beautiful. I might have cried a bit when I first saw it. I can’t wait to wear this during Medicine X.
Seriously. It’s incredible.
Right before you go to sleep.
Last week I spoke with Dr. Mike Sevilla about Medicine X and my cats distracting me in front of a webcam. But mostly about Medicine X. Here’s the video.
The big takeaway is that Medicine X has something called a Global Access Program that features a livestream of all sessions in the main hall for the entire conference. For free. If you’ve ever had a passing interest in anything I’ve had to say about Medicine X, you should sign up – it’s free. If you applied for an ePatient Scholarship but didn’t make the final cut, you should sign up – it’s free. If you want to start thinking about diabetes advocacy from a different perspective, you should sign up – it’s free. If you care about things like data access, patient empowerment, digital health care solutions, technology’s impact on medicine, you should sign up – it’s free.
Basically, if you’re reading this blog post, you should sign up – it’s free.
Dayle and I went to a recording of Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me tonight. It was fantastic.
From a podcaster’s perspective, it was fascinating to see how the show actually comes together including the rereads and cold opens that go into the final edit. And in case it wasn’t evident from the shows that air on Sundays, Peter Sagal is a really funny guy. Being that quick-witted on stage takes some serious talent.
If this show ever comes to your neck of the woods, you should jump at the opportunity to be part of the audience. It’s well worth the price of admission.
This? Right here? Is what all of the fuss was about.
Thanks again for participating.
As my endocrinologist appointment approaches later this summer and I prepare to start wearing an insulin pump for the first time, I’ve noticed a new range of thoughts and emotions around the upcoming change to my diabetes management. I’ll try to lay it out, but I must warn you: my mind works in mysterious ways.
It goes something like this:
- Wearing an insulin pump is an open display of my diabetes
- This isn’t exactly new to me as I’ve been wearing my Dexcom sensor on my arms for years now
- But this will be different in that it will not be as easy to contain the visibility of the pump, the tubing, or other components I’m forgetting
- On one hand, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing – see #showmeyourpump
- But this will still be new to me
- I don’t care
- But I do
- To be more specific, I don’t care what people will say or think if they see my insulin pump
- But I have to actively not care about caring what people will say or think if they see my insulin pump
I’m not anticipating ridicule or persecution or anything like that, but I think I’m going to need some emotional training to go along with my technical training when I start using this thing. Thus, the mental jui-jitsu referenced in the title…this could get tricky.
I remember when I used to go to the bathroom to take my insulin injections when I was first diagnosed. I remember injecting insulin under the dinner table so no one had to see my insulin pens. I remember going out of my way to make my diabetes comfortable for everyone else to be around instead of putting my health above all. Yes, things will be easier with a pump now that insulin will be a few button presses away, but I’m still anticipating/dreading…dreanticipating? all of the new adjustments I’m going to need to make to my life to get along with this new device.