Just ate way too many Nacho Cheese Doritos and watching the horrible remake of Clash of the Titans. What happens to all these decently made period pieces? Do they go to third world countries like so many Goodwill clothes and hopeful Superbowl Tshirts? I'd like to see a scrappy kid dressed like a Roman soldier with a Cowboys Playoff tshirt underneath and holding a sword.
The beetus maintenance has gone great, for the most part, and has turned into part of the daily routine as much as it can be. My recent A1C was 5.9, which puts me in the "normal person" category, which is fab. It's actually better than the "Excellent" rating for a diabetic. Which means my body doesn't even know I'm diabetic, so my brain better keep it's mouth shut. Plus it makes me feel like I totally aced some crazy hard diabetes test I had to study every day for. Feels pret-tyyy, pret-tyyy, pret-ty good.
With this new A1C, and an encouraging visit from my current Endo, I'm pretty sure I won't have to go on the pump. Which is great, because my recent Destin vacation couldn't have happened on it. Beach vs pump? Yeeeeahh, screw you, pump. I dig the whole, "being half robot" thing, but I'd rather have a gun leg or an arm I can attach Kitchenaid mixer attachments and an electric toothbrush to.
Fact: You can have sweets as a diabetic, but you feel like shit, your heart races, and your A1C shoots through the roof. So yes, technically, you can put sweets in your mouth, chew, and swallow them, but will you enjoy them as much as you used to? The answer is: Hell naw, son. :(
Fact: You have to work out to maintain good A1C. Without it, your blood sugar turns into a horrible rollarcoaster of high highs and low lows and you feel pretty awful for most of the day. So you bettah believe I'm in the gym at least 3-5 times a week. Still need to up my gym fashion game though, I'm surprised no one has politely told the homeless lady struggling on the stairmaster that she needs to leave.
Fact: I want to get a tattoo, but I dunno what I want yet. :/
Titans is over, aka Paul changed the channel to Food Network, and I'm slowly getting sucked into this show that makes a pseudo-celebrity chef eat lots of hot shit and sweat, snot and drool on camera. Why is this entertaining? And why do I want hot wings now?
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
April in Texas is BUSY!
Feels like everyday there's about 40 hours of crap do to in 24 hours. Whether it's finishing up the house, working overtime for Travelocity, finishing up a big freelance project, or redesigning my website (oh yeah, it's comin!), there just isn't enough time in the day.
I really felt it today at work when I hit the Goldie Hawn wall at 6:00pm (after working 11 hours). You know the Goldie Hawn wall, that part in Overboard when she's been with the kids all day and she's laid up in the water filled rain barrel muttering, "Buh buh buh buh buh buh..." Brain does not compute...anymore.
I've been super proud of myself coming home on these hard work days and actually going out for a 30 min jog like I'm supposed to. But the jogs are hard since I'm mentally drained and not into it.
The jogs are my last ditch effort to train up for the 10k Mud Run this weekend. I was officially scared shitless after I learned all the girls in our group are wearing combat boots. COMBAT BOOTS? I didn't know I'd be stormin the beaches of Normandy this weekend.
Paul's pussed out and I don't blame him one bit. However Rob may step in as the surrogate husband and run with me. We'll take turns fireman carrying each other through the course.
Goldie Hawn wall is kickin in again...off to bed. buh buh buh buh....
I really felt it today at work when I hit the Goldie Hawn wall at 6:00pm (after working 11 hours). You know the Goldie Hawn wall, that part in Overboard when she's been with the kids all day and she's laid up in the water filled rain barrel muttering, "Buh buh buh buh buh buh..." Brain does not compute...anymore.
I've been super proud of myself coming home on these hard work days and actually going out for a 30 min jog like I'm supposed to. But the jogs are hard since I'm mentally drained and not into it.
The jogs are my last ditch effort to train up for the 10k Mud Run this weekend. I was officially scared shitless after I learned all the girls in our group are wearing combat boots. COMBAT BOOTS? I didn't know I'd be stormin the beaches of Normandy this weekend.
Paul's pussed out and I don't blame him one bit. However Rob may step in as the surrogate husband and run with me. We'll take turns fireman carrying each other through the course.
Goldie Hawn wall is kickin in again...off to bed. buh buh buh buh....
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Done as a bun in the sun...
K. I'm wiped. Like, really wiped.
The past week has been nothing but packing, moving, unpacking...repeat, then repeat some more. Good news is that we have about 60% of the house unpacked in just a few days, bad news is that I just want to crawl under the covers with a fat bowl of icecream and have a braincation.
I don't want to answer the phone, I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't want to unpack ANYMORE, I just want rest somewhere familiar and not think about everything for a good half of my day.
On the plus side, living in a house is an absolute joy. It feels like you've come full circle and you're back in the place you started, if that makes sense. Guess it's that whole, "we're all trying to get back to our inner child" thing. Not to mention I have my own office, which is the adult equivalent of your bedroom as a 10 year old...complete with "No Boyz Allowed" sign. I forgot how awesome it is being surrounded by all YOUR stuff. And if I want to paint my walls neon green, by god, I can.
The kitties have warmed up to the place nicely. Toki was the first to have a sniff around and get acquainted, the little girl made her way out from under the futon a few days later. We'd hear a little pathetic mew from under the futon every now and then which was so sad to hear, but whatevs...cats are cats, and they adjust.
Their morning burnout and drifting sessions on the wood floors have been the highlights of the morning. What makes it even better is that the little girl is a complete spaz and scared of everything by nature. So in mid burnout, she gets scared that she's getting no traction and grabs another gear and really tries to haul ass. It's like watching a flipbook of a cat running. The cat's going balls out and not getting anywhere.
Beetus drama has kicked up a bit. I'm debating on whether or not to get the pump and use a continuous monitoring system. The combo together basically acts as a bionic pancreas that's always "stuck" on you. Of course, having a needle stuck in my belly all the time sounds like an absolute picnic, but it would supposedly make me feel more "normal". My life wouldn't scheduled around mealtimes and shots, the pump would do all the work.
Also, I need to worry about long term affects of high/low blood sugar and the toll it takes on my body. Unfortunately, 7-10 BL checks every day isn't enough to catch all your highs and lows, you really need something that monitors continuously.
I am, however, kind of excited by the wireless, Apple-esque sexy "Omnipod". It kinda just sticks on you like a giant white junebug that wireless transmits your information to a monitor. You can stick it in alot of places that will hopefully be concealed by clothes, but I honestly don't really care if it's noticeable. If my little junebug peeps out from under my clothes, I'll just tell people I'm a robot and move on.
One thing I am kinda worried about is sexy times. To me, a giant mechanical device stuck to your muffin top is just about as sexy as a giant skin tag. The thought of Paul having to graze his hand over that thing pretty much craters my self esteem and makes me feel broken. It's just something I thought I would NEVER have to worry about in my entire life.
So...if I were to divulge the secret advertising trick that would make a diabetic buy anything, promise them the product will make them feel NORMAL AGAIN. Trust me, we'll buy anything that promises that. :/
The past week has been nothing but packing, moving, unpacking...repeat, then repeat some more. Good news is that we have about 60% of the house unpacked in just a few days, bad news is that I just want to crawl under the covers with a fat bowl of icecream and have a braincation.
I don't want to answer the phone, I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't want to unpack ANYMORE, I just want rest somewhere familiar and not think about everything for a good half of my day.
On the plus side, living in a house is an absolute joy. It feels like you've come full circle and you're back in the place you started, if that makes sense. Guess it's that whole, "we're all trying to get back to our inner child" thing. Not to mention I have my own office, which is the adult equivalent of your bedroom as a 10 year old...complete with "No Boyz Allowed" sign. I forgot how awesome it is being surrounded by all YOUR stuff. And if I want to paint my walls neon green, by god, I can.
The kitties have warmed up to the place nicely. Toki was the first to have a sniff around and get acquainted, the little girl made her way out from under the futon a few days later. We'd hear a little pathetic mew from under the futon every now and then which was so sad to hear, but whatevs...cats are cats, and they adjust.
Their morning burnout and drifting sessions on the wood floors have been the highlights of the morning. What makes it even better is that the little girl is a complete spaz and scared of everything by nature. So in mid burnout, she gets scared that she's getting no traction and grabs another gear and really tries to haul ass. It's like watching a flipbook of a cat running. The cat's going balls out and not getting anywhere.
Beetus drama has kicked up a bit. I'm debating on whether or not to get the pump and use a continuous monitoring system. The combo together basically acts as a bionic pancreas that's always "stuck" on you. Of course, having a needle stuck in my belly all the time sounds like an absolute picnic, but it would supposedly make me feel more "normal". My life wouldn't scheduled around mealtimes and shots, the pump would do all the work.
Also, I need to worry about long term affects of high/low blood sugar and the toll it takes on my body. Unfortunately, 7-10 BL checks every day isn't enough to catch all your highs and lows, you really need something that monitors continuously.
I am, however, kind of excited by the wireless, Apple-esque sexy "Omnipod". It kinda just sticks on you like a giant white junebug that wireless transmits your information to a monitor. You can stick it in alot of places that will hopefully be concealed by clothes, but I honestly don't really care if it's noticeable. If my little junebug peeps out from under my clothes, I'll just tell people I'm a robot and move on.
One thing I am kinda worried about is sexy times. To me, a giant mechanical device stuck to your muffin top is just about as sexy as a giant skin tag. The thought of Paul having to graze his hand over that thing pretty much craters my self esteem and makes me feel broken. It's just something I thought I would NEVER have to worry about in my entire life.
So...if I were to divulge the secret advertising trick that would make a diabetic buy anything, promise them the product will make them feel NORMAL AGAIN. Trust me, we'll buy anything that promises that. :/
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Manage THIS!
You know you're managing the beetus pretty well when you completely forget to take your insulin before lunch. I put that first garbanzo bean in my mouth and panicked, "crap! what am I doing?!" and raced to the bath room to shoot up. Ahhh...the joys of beetus.
I also completely understand how my Pawpaw felt while he was "managing" his Type II Diabetes. Mom tells a good story about catching Pawpaw in the kitchen checking his blood sugar after eating a gigantic piece of cake. The man was actually verbally assaulting the cake in a Ricky Ricado-esque slew of english/german cusswords for making his blood sugar skyrocket.
I feel your pain Pawpaw, I feel your pain. Last night the words, "GD F'in Cool Whip!!" actually came out of my mouth. I don't think anyone's ever been so mad at a dairy product. 4 carbs worth of Cool Whip made my bloodsugar soar up 60 points. WhatEVS.
An interesting tidbit I've recently discovered is that fishing all day will REALLY get your blood sugar down. I was crashing in the boat all over the place. Poor Dad would look back at me all slumped down in the co-pilot seat and say, "Make a noise every now and then so I know you're still alright". Then he was would turn around and keep on fishing.
Don't think he wasn't worried, you're talking about a man that will put his sandwich in his pocket or on his seat so his hands are free to keep fishing.
Plus, SOMEONE had to fish for the two of us, because I definitely wasn't settin the hook. :P
BTW - My amazing husband found a subreddit ALL ABOUT BEETUS. I read it ALL the time, and it makes me feel so much better reading about people my age going through the same thing I'm going through, and with a sense of humor.
http://www.reddit.com/r/diabetes
The FUUUUUU diabetic comics are the freakin best. :)
EAT YOUR DAMN OATMEAL!
I also completely understand how my Pawpaw felt while he was "managing" his Type II Diabetes. Mom tells a good story about catching Pawpaw in the kitchen checking his blood sugar after eating a gigantic piece of cake. The man was actually verbally assaulting the cake in a Ricky Ricado-esque slew of english/german cusswords for making his blood sugar skyrocket.
I feel your pain Pawpaw, I feel your pain. Last night the words, "GD F'in Cool Whip!!" actually came out of my mouth. I don't think anyone's ever been so mad at a dairy product. 4 carbs worth of Cool Whip made my bloodsugar soar up 60 points. WhatEVS.
An interesting tidbit I've recently discovered is that fishing all day will REALLY get your blood sugar down. I was crashing in the boat all over the place. Poor Dad would look back at me all slumped down in the co-pilot seat and say, "Make a noise every now and then so I know you're still alright". Then he was would turn around and keep on fishing.
Don't think he wasn't worried, you're talking about a man that will put his sandwich in his pocket or on his seat so his hands are free to keep fishing.
Plus, SOMEONE had to fish for the two of us, because I definitely wasn't settin the hook. :P
BTW - My amazing husband found a subreddit ALL ABOUT BEETUS. I read it ALL the time, and it makes me feel so much better reading about people my age going through the same thing I'm going through, and with a sense of humor.
http://www.reddit.com/r/diabetes
The FUUUUUU diabetic comics are the freakin best. :)
EAT YOUR DAMN OATMEAL!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Handling the D on Vday...
Someone at work was very sweet and gave me a Valentine's Day cupcake...
...but I can't eat it. :(
This has made me way sadder than I thought it would, almost to the point of crying.
And no, it's not just about the food...this cupcake that I can't eat is the catalyst that could set off about a month's worth of:
1. A shitty strict diet
2. 5 days a week of hard exercise even though my knees and legs are killing me
3. Lovely blood sugar crashes like when I was at Central Market then bit my tongue trying to eat a banana to bring it up again, followed by leaving immediately because that triggered a panicked cry fit
4. Gaining weight and pretty much saying goodbye to the awesome size 8 black skinny jeans I was fitting into
5. Only having one beer in the last month.
6. Getting on a diabetic forum only to find people that were extremely rude and pretty pessimistic.
Ugh, I'm done. I wanna go home. :(
...but I can't eat it. :(
This has made me way sadder than I thought it would, almost to the point of crying.
And no, it's not just about the food...this cupcake that I can't eat is the catalyst that could set off about a month's worth of:
1. A shitty strict diet
2. 5 days a week of hard exercise even though my knees and legs are killing me
3. Lovely blood sugar crashes like when I was at Central Market then bit my tongue trying to eat a banana to bring it up again, followed by leaving immediately because that triggered a panicked cry fit
4. Gaining weight and pretty much saying goodbye to the awesome size 8 black skinny jeans I was fitting into
5. Only having one beer in the last month.
6. Getting on a diabetic forum only to find people that were extremely rude and pretty pessimistic.
Ugh, I'm done. I wanna go home. :(
Friday, January 28, 2011
This Old Pancreas...
BEETUS CHECK!!!
The 'beetus is getting a lot more manageable, I'm not thinking about it 100% of the time. Which is great, because thinking about it 100% of the time just isn't healthy. That leaves 0% for everything else. Plus, I think everyone's juuuuust about sick of hearing me talk about it. :)
The weight gain is fiiiiinally starting to level out. I was really starting to worry about that. :/ I've also learned that a room full of typical Type II diabetics really don't give two shits about my 145 pound weight "problem". Hey, a pound is a pound is a pound, ladies. Quit giving me the stink eye.
I've also been to a few "intro" diabetes classes at my medical center...aka...Diabetes for Dummies. It was as if Sesame Street did a special on diabetes, except there was no muppets...which was a disappointment. For $20 a class, I demand to have pancreas puppets with little arms on wires. What the hell do I pay you people for? ENTERTAIN ME!
On the house front, we got our inspection done today and it went well! Only some minor issues, mostly cosmetic. One issue that completely shocked me was that the oven didn't turn on! Wtf lady?! How are you, 1) not aware that your oven doesn't work and 2) if you are aware of it - not include it in the seller's disclosure? Not a dealbreaker, but dang...give a kitchenista a heads up!
All in all, things are looking up. Feeling good about the 'beetus, and the new chapter of life that is, "the house". It's new and exciting and I feel so grown up. May not be so exciting after our downpayment...but I'm soaking it up while I can.
The 'beetus is getting a lot more manageable, I'm not thinking about it 100% of the time. Which is great, because thinking about it 100% of the time just isn't healthy. That leaves 0% for everything else. Plus, I think everyone's juuuuust about sick of hearing me talk about it. :)
The weight gain is fiiiiinally starting to level out. I was really starting to worry about that. :/ I've also learned that a room full of typical Type II diabetics really don't give two shits about my 145 pound weight "problem". Hey, a pound is a pound is a pound, ladies. Quit giving me the stink eye.
I've also been to a few "intro" diabetes classes at my medical center...aka...Diabetes for Dummies. It was as if Sesame Street did a special on diabetes, except there was no muppets...which was a disappointment. For $20 a class, I demand to have pancreas puppets with little arms on wires. What the hell do I pay you people for? ENTERTAIN ME!
On the house front, we got our inspection done today and it went well! Only some minor issues, mostly cosmetic. One issue that completely shocked me was that the oven didn't turn on! Wtf lady?! How are you, 1) not aware that your oven doesn't work and 2) if you are aware of it - not include it in the seller's disclosure? Not a dealbreaker, but dang...give a kitchenista a heads up!
All in all, things are looking up. Feeling good about the 'beetus, and the new chapter of life that is, "the house". It's new and exciting and I feel so grown up. May not be so exciting after our downpayment...but I'm soaking it up while I can.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Type I? Type II?
Just came back from the doc with some mediocre news. My peptide levels were in, (which measures how much insulin your pancreas is cranking out) and the news wasn't good.
The average person is between 0.5 and 3.
I had a whopping 0.5.
Which means that my pancreas is extremely lazy and is just taking up space in my gut.
By this number, the doc puts you into either a Type I or Type II group. A 0.5 would put me in the Type I group, which means my pancreas is producing VERY little insulin and insulin therapy is needed.
OH RLY??!!!!
However, there's hope. This test was run a week ago, and if my crashing blood sugar levels from the past three days say anything, there is a possibility that my pancreas has somehow got the hell outta bed and went to work. Imagining it going out the door grumbling with a briefcase and a hat on makes me giggle.
As far as the length of this whole ordeal goes, the doc said it's either going to go away in a month or two (he's seen it happen) or be with me forever, (he's also seen that happen too).
Oh, another side of insulin...WEIGHT GAIN! HAPPY DAY! I've managed to gain 10 lbs in 10 days. Woohoo! I'm guessing most of it is water weight that I really needed to put on anyways, since untreated diabetics are walking around mostly dehydrated. But my pancreas owes me some new jeans. NICE ONES TOO, JERK!
Oh well...I'm getting healthy and I guess I'd rather be fat than go blind or loose my kidneys. Jeez, those are my choices now? UGH!
The average person is between 0.5 and 3.
I had a whopping 0.5.
Which means that my pancreas is extremely lazy and is just taking up space in my gut.
By this number, the doc puts you into either a Type I or Type II group. A 0.5 would put me in the Type I group, which means my pancreas is producing VERY little insulin and insulin therapy is needed.
OH RLY??!!!!
However, there's hope. This test was run a week ago, and if my crashing blood sugar levels from the past three days say anything, there is a possibility that my pancreas has somehow got the hell outta bed and went to work. Imagining it going out the door grumbling with a briefcase and a hat on makes me giggle.
As far as the length of this whole ordeal goes, the doc said it's either going to go away in a month or two (he's seen it happen) or be with me forever, (he's also seen that happen too).
Oh, another side of insulin...WEIGHT GAIN! HAPPY DAY! I've managed to gain 10 lbs in 10 days. Woohoo! I'm guessing most of it is water weight that I really needed to put on anyways, since untreated diabetics are walking around mostly dehydrated. But my pancreas owes me some new jeans. NICE ONES TOO, JERK!
Oh well...I'm getting healthy and I guess I'd rather be fat than go blind or loose my kidneys. Jeez, those are my choices now? UGH!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)