Time for Me Time! (Or You Time.)

Okay, confess. How many of you Googled "kewpie doll" after the last post? C'mon, don't be shy. "I won't point and laugh," he said, pointing and laughing.

This blog about diabetes has been focused on a lot of doom and gloom. You shouldn't do this! Don't do that! You need to worry about the other thing! It really sets a person up for Failure Mentality. That feeling that the goals set in front of you are impossible to reach, so you might as well give up and embrace oblivion.

First, let me revisit the fact that diabetes is a pain in the butt. You have to keep an eye on your blood sugars, take your medication in a timely manner, and see your doctors regularly. There's also a lot of information about the disease that you should keep in mind. If you're young and relatively healthy, you have to think about how something like a lengthy bike ride might affect your blood sugar. If you're older and less mobile, like me, then you're trying to calculate the exact dose of insulin to take with every meal, because changing up our carb consumption is going to be too difficult at this late stage. Without a doubt, it's a mental juggling act.

Unfortunately, you can't ignore those aspects of diabetes. If you do, then feel free to reread all of the aforementioned doom and gloom, and then brace yourself for them to become a reality.

But if you can get a handle on your diabetes and keep your Hgb A1c between 6.0 and 7.0, then you have wiggle room to live a little more freely. Because truth be told, I'm a diabetic with a sweet tooth. And I cheat on my diet DAILY! 

"You want to know what the best junk food is? Ask a diabetic." I have been telling people this for decades. My latest favorite cheat? Cinnamon bears. Soft, chewy, tongue-tingling cinnamon bears. Mmmmmm! I could probably sit to watch a movie and polish off an entire bag.

But I don't. I can't. WE - you and I - CAN'T. That would be a guaranteed visit to the hospital, as well as the extreme discomfort of being sick enough to land there. So how do I do it?

I start with the near-ancient diabetic exchange diet. 15 grams of carbs = 1 piece of bread. I take a fixed number of units of insulin for each "bread" that's in a forthcoming meal. So if a label says there's 46 grams of carbs in the meal, I'm multiplying my dose per carb by three. (I'm not sharing actual numbers because I am EXTREMELY insulin resistant and take A LOT of insulin.)

If you're not seeing how I cheat, then I'm getting a solid gold kewpie doll and dropping it on your foot.

Okay, I'll explain anyway.

My dietary cheating comes with meals, and ONLY with meals. Taking randomly timed doses of insulin throughout the day is a quick way to wind up in a diabetic coma. (Have I even discussed insulin peak times? Let me know.) (See what I did there? I made a funny. Because no one comments. Ha-ha.) Having read the labels of my upcoming meal, I also read the label of what I want to cheat with. Those cinnamon bears of mine are pretty big, so three of them equals 22 grams of carbs. Six bears will be close enough to 44 grams, so I add three more "breads" to my insulin calculations. Now I'm all set for a meal and some dessert.

"But Rob... What if I'm out to eat with friends and want some cake or ice cream after a meal?" 

If you're keeping your A1c between 6.0 and 7.0, then you know your body pretty well. For a small serving, take at least enough insulin to cover one "bread." For larger servings, make it two. Later on, when it's time for that final test of the day, take a dose that covers any potential fallout from your cheating session.

Now that I've taught you all how to cheat on your fairly strict diet, let's get a few things straight.

1. If your Hgb A1c has been 7.1 or higher, don't cheat. Just don't. You need tighter control than that to live more freely. I haven't gone over 7.0 in... Okay, I'm honestly losing track, so let's say seven years. That's why I allow myself to have some fun with my diet.
2. Don't consult your dietician or endocrinologist for permission about this. No one is going to approve of you cheating on what's supposed to be a strict diet. They'll never say, "Sure, play Russian Roulette with gummy bears!" 
3. That said, when you bring your records to the medical professional trying to help you manage your diabetes, if there are upswings in your glucose that are a result of cheating, admit that and explain that that's why your sugar jumped so much. Better they should know than start thinking that you need major adjustments to your care, and they should be impressed with your honesty at the very least.
4. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, DO ANY BINGE EATING USING THIS CHEATING METHOD! This is not a free pass to go nuts with all of the things you shouldn't be eating. Diabetes management is still a delicate dance of medication, diet, and exercise. Binge eating is the equivalent of entering a mosh pit. Don't do it!

I think that covers all I have to say on the subject of cheating on a diabetic diet. So now it's time for the glorious ending of my post, where I say or do something silly.

With winter coming in, I'm completely 

with Bernard, Destroyer of Worlds.

You Take One Down and Pass It Around...

It's probably a recurring nightmare for parents... that moment when the kids have learned to count WAY past 10 and start singing One Million Bottles of Beer on the Wall. Especially at the start of LONG a family trip. If you listen hard, you can hear the parents praying, "Please, whatever gods are out there... Kill me, my children, and/or all of us. Just make it stop." The alternative song that brings about prayers for a swift demise is The Song That Never Ends, but it's unrelated to this post.

Time passes, and eventually they/we learn to sing Show Me the Way to Go Home. Oh, but summer camp taught us an even better alternative! Murphy's Saloon, also know as Give a Cheer! 

Give a cheer, give a cheer

For the men who drink the beer

In the cellar of Murphy's Saloon!

They are brave, they are bold

For the whiskey they can hold

In the cellar of Murphy's Saloon!

Well it's drink, drink, drink,

'Till you vomit in the sink!

Yell out your order loud and clear:

MORE BEER!

Well it's more, more, more

'Till you pass out on the floor

In the cellar of Murphy's Saloon!

Apparently, the lyrics are regional, but there's nothing quite like a bus full of teens and tweens singing at the top of their lungs about something they know absolutely NOTHING about!

"Hey, Rob...? This is entertaining and all, but does this have anything to do with diabetes?"

The songs? No. The subject of alcohol? Yes.

There are things about the diabetic diet that can drive a dietician to the brink of madness. Two that I can think of immediately. The first is pizza. Between the variable size of slices, to the mystery of how much sugar might have been used when making the sauce, it makes it next to impossible to calculate carb content. The other thing... well, things, plural... are alcoholic beverages.

Drinks for growed-ups contain the perfect combination of substances to make your body scream, "WHAT'S HAPPENING?!?" If your beverage of choice is beer, it's going to have basic carbs. If you prefer mixed drinks, as I do, then they're going to have sugar. Mind you, I now have only one ounce of booze twice a year - once on my birthday and once on New Year's. But there was a time when I wouldn't turn down a well made Long Island Iced Tea. Gods above and below! You can barely make out the taste of alcohol in one made to perfection. I met one bartender whose secret ingredient was powdered lemonade mix. It was a delicious way to get soused. And the sugar in that lemonade mix probably did horrible things to me that the alcohol politely numbed.

Yeah, the sugar/carbs in various adult beverages drive a diabetic's blood sugar upward. If you're out at a bar, you can't exactly ask the bartender to slap a label of the nutritional value of your drink of choice, so you can't really guess at what dose of insulin you should take to cover your night out.

Besides, alcohol lowers the blood sugar.

Yup. The capricious Fates have decided that having a few drinks with your friends raises and lowers your blood sugar simultaneously. Fun, right?

My years of experience have taught me that it's usually the sugar that wins the glucose tug-of-war, but my best advice...? Don't drink. I don't mean "Don't drink EVER!" Save it for special occasions, just as you would a massive slab of seven layer German chocolate cake. 

Twice a year, I settle down with a single ounce of Irish Mist on the rocks, and I sip it so slowly that the melted ice usually winds up dominating the glass. I rarely finish drinking it. When I was younger, however, I could knock back my drinks like I was on a mission to kill myself that very night. Peach or peppermint schnapps made me the go-to guy at several parties. "Oh, you wanna get smashed faster? Go ask Rob for some of his stash." There was one night when my friends and I bought a bottle of Mescal simply because Van Halen sang about it in their song Cabo Wabo. I wish digital cameras were a thing back then! "We drink Mescal right from the bottle... A salt-shake, a little lick of lime... Mmmm!" They sang it, we did it, and the faces we made as we swallowed what must surely have been gasoline would have made for some interesting tales later in life.

Here it is, later in life, and I can't help but wonder what kind of damage I did during that relatively short period of partying, my blood glucose bouncing up and down from moment to moment. Mind you, I wasn't an alcoholic. Booze was rarely a part of our regular gatherings... which was good, because I wasn't a happy drunk. Some people get happy or violent. I got depressed. It's why I can't even recall the last time I was drunk.

What my friends and I DID do regularly... is a topic for a different day. 

That brings this bit of suggested diabetes management to a close. As with everything else I discuss, what I have to say is a matter of "should" versus "shouldn't." I won't say "you can't" because, as it turns out, I have no way of stopping you from doing anything. And if you doubt what I'm saying or are experiencing outright denial, you can always consult your doctor.

And now, in case any of you are cat lovers...

😉

Recognizing My Dumb Mistake

It's not easy to look at your own reflection and say, "You knew better, but you did the dumb thing anyway. Are you going to own it? Or are you going to deflect?" And lemme tell ya, I wanna deflect. "No, I didn't do anything wrong. It was the capricious nature of Fate that made my life so difficult." I could then go on to deny any knowledge of what was happening, blame things on my goofy metabolism, and continue blissfully onward... all the while knowing deep down that I was screwing up.

Wow, that was a good opening. I'm gonna end the post there. I don't want to ruin it with words that might upset me.

Well, obviously I can't just end the post. I used a lot of words, but didn't actually SAY anything.

So here's the scenario: Late in the evening, feeling like I've been a good diabetic all day, I decide to treat myself to things that aren't approved for a diabetic diet. Sometimes it's garbage that is better left to the diets of children. Sometimes it's a serving portion that's slightly excessive. (I'm weird, and a larger bowl of Wheatena before bed appeals to me for some reason.) Because I sometimes play guessing games with the math, I take a dose of insulin that I THINK is going to cover me. And when I wake up in the morning, my fasting blood sugar is abnormally high.

Here. These are my fasting blood sugars for the mornings of September 16, 17, and 18 respectively: 248, 342, 400. (It's so weird to get a number as neat as 400, even if 400 is so bad for me.)

After my realization of what was happening and working things out, these are my fasting blood sugars for the mornings of September 22, 23, and 24: 140, 97, 86.

So where was I going wrong? The easy answer is that I was eating too much before bed. But the evidence against that idea is that I'd stopped that practice altogether on the night of the 18th, and my fasting sugars for September 19, 20, and 21 looked like this: 302, 257, 224. That's because, out of habit, I was still taking just a little extra insulin with my evening snack.

Did you catch that? My morning blood sugars were high because I was taking too much insulin!

"But Rob, that makes no sense. If you're taking too much, your morning blood sugars should be REALLY low!" 

You'd be correct, if not for what is known as the Somogyi Effect. The simplest explanation is that while the diabetic is asleep, they become mildly hypoglycemic. As a result, the body releases glucagon to bring the glucose levels back up. The diabetic never feels a thing until they wake in the morning with all of the ugliness that is hyperglycemia.

How did I fix it? (It's list time!)

1. Stop eating random amounts of carbs before bed. Whether it's three or four "breads" on the diabetic exchange diet, I keep it as exact as possible. That means nothing that requires guesswork, like random amounts of hot cereal or leftover pizza.
2. Calculate my insulin dose exactly. No random additions of "just a few more units to make sure I cover X amount of carbs." Account for what my glucose is at the time of the meal, as well as the carbs I'm about to ingest, and NO MORE THAN THAT!
3. Adhere to these steps religiously. It's a pain in the tuchas. It means relinquishing some of the freedom I've felt since taking a proactive stance on my diabetes maintenance. But if I'm not awake to make adjustments on the fly, I'm putting my overall health at risk. And that means...
4. If I'm going to be a bad diabetic, be bad during the day, when I can feel most of the effects of my glucose rising and falling. Well, mostly rising. Falling, as mentioned in my 20 September post, is becoming more and more of an issue.

Of course, suddenly realizing I've been dumb and waking with good fasting glucose levels left room for me to be silly, which is why I was able to post to Facebook on the 23rd...

I wouldn't throw it away! That stuff is worth

more than gold!

Besides, if I told you how much insulin I took to get that 86 for lunch, you'd think I was attempting suicide by insulin. But that's a topic for a different day.

EDIT: Funnily enough, this post is coming after I've written about the absurd amount of insulin I take for a cup of coffee. I originally wrote this post on 24 September, but then got distracted by other things. My apologies.

And as I end this blog, and this is completely unrelated to diabetes, but...

This is gh0xttherebel.

He's been reacting to my favorite American anime, RWBY. His reactions have been absolutely incredible, and his editing skills are off the charts. gh0xttherebel is the channel's name, so if you want a laugh while watching an excellent show, go check him out.

We're All DOOOOOMED! But Not Really.

It occurs to me that a lot of my posts are... Well, terrifying, if I'm completely honest. "This happened to me. That happened to me. It's going to happen to you." Etc. I try to emphasize that my complications are the result of not taking care of my diabetes when I was younger, and that you, my commentless audience, run the same risks. When - not if - they happen to you, they will probably happen differently.

That being said, let's all take a deep breath and consider this statement: "Diabetes is the healthiest disease you could ever have." It sounds like utter nonsense. "It's a disease, ya dummy. Diseases ain't healthy," you say to me. And you're right. Diabetes, however, is the one disease that makes healthy eating and exercise key parts of its management.

"But Rob... I'm like you. I'm so old that I'll be turning into crude oil on my next birthday." Well, I feel your anguish in that regard. If you're 40+ years old and have been diagnosed as Type 2, you might have had decades to develop poor eating habits, and the most exercise you get is lifting a fork to your mouth. Diabetes imposes a sense of urgency in changing those habits, and you should. But asking you to get a gym membership and overhaul your eating habits overnight would be unreasonable. (And yet doctors will ask, anyway.)

Allow me to make two immediately horrible suggestions on the dietary front. My go-to snacks are pork rinds and string cheese. (No, I don't peel the cheese. I bite into it like the savage that I am!) If you're a young diabetic, you can dig into these things as much as you want because - and here's the kicker - ZERO CARBS! Yes, pork rinds and string cheese have no carbs to upset your blood sugars.

BUT - and there's always a "but," isn't there? - these snack items are absolutely terrible for fat and salt content. Older diabetics need to be on top of those things, especially if a cardiologist has been added to the list of doctors you need to see regularly. The reason I get away with eating such garbage is because my cholesterol is under control and I haven't been retaining water.

"Hey, Rob... What about sugar free candies? I can eat plenty of those, right?" No... for a few reasons.

1. "Sugar free" does not mean "carb free." As bothersome as it is, look at the labels. Eating so many pieces equals one serving size, and that serving will have a carb count. It's annoyingly deceptive to make such things look like a good dietary replacement when they really aren't.
2. The cost. I don't know about you, but I'm not made of money. Sugar free candy comes in nearly microscopic packages and two or three times the price of a full bag of the sugary stuff. It's just not worth it, especially because...
3. They may have a laxative effect! Yeah, this one caught me off guard at one of the worst moments in my life. Mind you, I learned of this effect before it struck because I was bored and started reading the near-empty tin of some sugar free hard candies someone gave me. And right there, in the tiniest print possible, were the words: Caution! May have a laxative effect. That was not a good day.

Like my post made to Type 2 diabetics, diabetes mellitus is ultimately annoying in many aspects of its management. Reading food labels...? Utter pain in the tuchas. But it's also essential if you want to maintain good glucose control.

Now for the exercise. If you are young and slim, this shouldn't be too difficult. Heck, if you're older and slim, it's still not much of a problem. Remember that obesity isn't the sole cause of Type 2 diabetes. Just maintain an active lifestyle and all should be well.

If you DO decide to kick your exercise routine up, do it incrementally! A drastic increase while still taking your previously established medication doses could have adverse effects on your blood sugars! You could also hurt yourself if you try to do more than what your body is prepared to handle. Don't start with 100 pushups. Start with 10... then two sets of ten... then three... etc. Build your way up to it. Yes, you might feel a bit of pain initially. "No pain, no gain" and all that. But if the pain is extreme, LISTEN TO YOUR BODY! You're doing too much. Back down a bit. Obtain reasonable goals in a reasonable amount of time.

Or become a cyborg. Because cyborgs are cool.

For heavier folks... This is going to be rough. Your body is already struggling to carry the extra weight, so your true physical condition is a HUGE variable. I urge you to talk to your doctor about this! Y'see, I'M STILL NOT A DOCTOR! (Yeah, I know it's been a few weeks since I said it, but one doesn't earn an M.D. or D.O. in a couple of weeks, especially when not going to med school at all.) Instead of going right into an exercise regimen, your doctor may recommend physical therapy to get you started.

In fact, while I'm recommending seeking professional help, you should also probably consult a dietician about the changes you need to make to your eating habits. If you say, "Some guy in the internet suggested pork rinds and string cheese," I promise that you'll get disapproving looks from a dietician. 

The reason why my PCP hasn't complained about my dietary choices is because... Well, I've made it 48 years as a Type 1 diabetic and I'm still not dead, (despite my best efforts). My cholesterol is within normal range thanks to the statin I'm already taking. (A statin is for controlling one's cholesterol.) My Hgb A1c has been between 6.0 and 7.0 for seven or eight years, so I might as well keep on truckin' the way I have.

Try to keep in mind that this blog is meant to be educational and amusing, but that I'm not a medical professional. I could be a "professional diabetic," since I have decades of experience. But there's more to learn, and "doing your own research" on the internet can only take you so far. I'm not reading medical journals or attending lectures on new treatments. I'm hoping to educate and warn you against the consequences of mismanaging your diabetes, and hopefully make you smile along the way.

But if you'd rather "do your own research," then look up images of "diabetic foot ulcers." "Diabetic blisters." "Diabetic retinopathy." "Vitrectomy." "Charcot foot x-rays." Those images might bring more than an education than reading these pesky words. They might also include trauma, which is always fun, right?

This post became something of a mess, but that will happen when a dozen ideas pop into my head simultaneously. My main message is that you try to take immediate steps to alter your lifestyle, but it's okay to take two steps forward and one step back. As long as you're moving toward proper care of yourself and your diabetes, then all should be well... or at least better.

And now...

This... will take too long.

Hang on...

This is Jane Douglas. She is "YouTube famous," has a degree in physics, loves video games, and has a brilliant smile. I love her. She is my wife, even if she doesn't know it. In fairness, I've sent divorce papers to her in an effort to allow her to escape, but by addressing them to "Somewhere in England," I doubt they'll reach her.

(Jane, if you ever see this, please don't hate me for being silly. My blog isn't monetized, so I'm not using you in that regard. I'm using you to make me look ridiculous. But you are beautiful, and if an old troll like myself even stood a chance with a lovely woman like you, I'd at least ask you to... ummm... come over and help me clean my apartment, because it's starting to get away from me, and I could really use the help. 🙂)

"Happy" Anniversary

Let us all raise a glass of something sugar free and toast this momentous time. It was 48 years ago - not to the day - that I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes mellitus. We were into the second week of second grade when I was rushed to the hospital, but no one was marking the day on their calendars, hence this anniversary being an approximation.

I wrote about my diagnosis already, but I don't think I covered my feelings very well. To this day, as clear as it could ever be in my mind... I don't remember much. I was a kid. I was confused at the fuss being made over me. Mr. Hypo is My Friend did nothing to improve my understanding. I knew whatever was happening was serious because, like my older brother who'd had leukemia, hospitals were reserved for serious illnesses. The explanations that followed over the following week in the hospital only impressed upon me that being a normal kid wasn't going to be possible.

Actually, now that I think about it, I recall feeling "special." Mine was a fairly populace town*. (According to the Census Bureau, as of April 2020, its population was 18,613, which was actually down a couple hundred from 2010.) So let's round the number down by 2,000 for 1974 and say it was around 16,000 as a guesstimate. (OMG! "Guesstimate" is an actual word?!? I was expecting a little red line beneath it to say I'd abused English again, but NOPE! It's a word. Whodda thunk it?) That's a fairly well-populated area*, and I was the only Type 1 diabetic as far as I knew. That made me... more awesome? 🤨

Again, I was seven. I didn't know anything. Beneath the thoughts of being unique - which I certainly wasn't - was the ongoing thought that I'd have to remind the adults around me that all of the garbage I used to love to eat were no longer permitted. I HATED that I had to remind them, but if I didn't, the incubator would, and then a different adult would be reprimanding me with, "Why didn't you tell me?"

And would you look at that? What followed that fateful September and its major alterations to my life? HALLOWEEN! I can remember an old Super 8 film of my cousin and I at age five, dressed up in cheap Batman and Superman costumes. The ones with the mask held on by a flimsy rubber band that would slip from the staple that held it in place after the mask was removed/lifted half a dozen times. We'd go house-to-house with an old pillow case until we could barely stand. And then... And then... 

Yeah, Halloween sucked. Absolutely - 100%, with nary a doubt in my mind - sucked.

Thankfully, Dad took some of the sucky-ness out by offering up a trade. He would give me five cents for every piece of candy I collected. Six or seven dollars was a fortune to a child, so at least I had "wealth" to assuage my upset with Halloween. And to my benefit, Dad would always round up to the nearest dollar.

My feelings now...? I wish I had a time machine so that I could go back and set my young self straight. "It's bad, but not that bad. Diabetes is an inconvenience, not the end of the world. Take your insulin as prescribed. Follow your diet. When home glucose tests become available, do them. And for the love of all the gods in every known pantheon, a pound of Twizzlers does NOT make Stephen King novels better! Stay out of the hospital. Yes, your home life is a nightmare because of the incubator, but 18 isn't really that far off, and nurses being nice to you in the hospital isn't actually 'better.' Odds are pretty good that they're telling one another that you're a moron for making yourself so sick, and that you'll pay the price later."

That would just be the beginning. Given the power of time travel and a few hours, I'd tell that stupid kid all sorts of things that would help him avoid being declared disabled by age 33.

So what would you tell your younger self? Would you focus on your health? Your financial situation? The girls/women you should avoid or keep in your life? Which employment path is the best? Our would you just show them how cool videos games will get down the line?

As I bring this post to a close, I've decided to give the beautiful, scantily clad young woman a break to play a bit of Never Have I Ever... Play along if you'd like.

My actual score is 1.

Cheaters Never Prosper

Yeah, yeah. It's a cliché. I'm sure we can all think of someone who cheated and prospered plenty, primarily because they were never caught. However, when it comes to diabetes, cheating on your diet without taking the proper precautions will eventually catch up to you.

I mentioned last post that I learned how to cheat on my diet right under the noses of the people responsible for making sure that I didn't cheat. The analytics of my blog have taken a dive and no one has commented, so I figured I'd just make my way through the list. But not necessarily in order. No, that wouldn't be any fun. I'm still just going to go with whatever I'm in the mood to write until someone makes a suggestion otherwise. So nyah! 😛

Back in the before times, when cell phones were an impossible dream and video games could only be found in arcades, my father became a member of The Suburban Players. This was a community theater group that would put on productions just a few short steps upward from high school quality. They may not have been the best shows ever performed, but they had fun.

In 1977, the musical they chose was Mame. The show has a character named Patrick Dennis. Patrick is 10 years old in the first act and an adult in the second act. And you'll never guess who was 10 years old that year!

That's right! It was me! (I made it really difficult to guess, didn't I?)

Me and a dozen other kids auditioned for the role. In the race for the role, I placed second, (making me the first loser). I was disappointed, but I was also 10, so it wasn't the end of the world.

And then the director and producer of the group realized that the kid they'd cast was actually a giant. They'd given the supporting role of Agnes to a sweet woman who was about 5' 2". In the very first scene, the characters of Agnes and Patrick are supposed to be lost in New York, and they pause for a musical number... as one does when lost in Manhattan. But the boy who got the role of Patrick was growing like a weed. He was already about four inches taller than Agnes and still growing.

So guess who replaced him! (Yeah, I'm terrible at setting up a mystery.)

For three months, every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evening was rehearsal. Blocking, singing, and choreography. Ummm... When I use the word "choreography," I'm using the word VERY loosely. As a group, the Suburban Players could sing and act. But dance...? Not to save their lives! Me included! After those three months, it was showtime.

Totally unrelated to diabetes care, but entertaining... The most flattering compliment about my performance came during these rehearsals, and this compliment wasn't given with words, but with actions. The role of Mame was played by a woman named Marian. The character was supposed to perform in a show within the show and do so badly that she gets fired after her first performance. That's when adorable little me, carrying a bouquet of roses, stepped into the scene to lift her spirits with the song, My Best Girl. Every time - EVERY SINGLE TIME! - Marian would start to cry because she thought it was so sweet. And there was out director, Marty, shouting at her, "MARIAN, STOP CRYING! WE CAN'T AFFORD WATERPROOF MAKEUP!" 🤣

[/boasting]

As mentioned previously, I was taking only two injections a day. It was a mix of NPH (Neutral Protamine Hagedorn) and Regular insulin. What made it "regular?" No idea. I just know it was called "Regular." I took a larger dose during the day to cover the majority of my meals - breakfast, lunch, and afternoon snack - and a smaller dose to cover dinner and evening snack. For the record, the evening dose was about half the size of the morning dose.

Opening night, I was an uncontrolled ball of nerves. I'd been singing in front of the cast for months, but now I'd be performing in front of 300 strangers. ~ Gulp! ~ In my nervousness, I accidentally took my larger morning dose at night. And in case you've forgotten, being extra active makes insulin work harder. Even if I wasn't going to sing and dance, the adrenaline pumping through me would be enough to keep my blood racing through the night.

As luck would have it, one of our cast members was a pediatrician by day. My parents consulted him about what should be done to counter my accidental insulin overdose, to which he suggested - brace yourself - Twinkies. There wasn't time to feed me an entire meal to counter the higher insulin dose, so he recommended I just down a couple of Twinkies as a shortcut.

Can you see what just happened? Yes? No? Maybe?

I - a diabetic for three years up to that point - had been taught to absolutely hate my disease with every fiber of my being by the incubator and two years at a summer camp full of tyrants... had just learned that the "threat" of hypoglycemia warranted an opportunity to "legally cheat" on my diet. And because there was no way to instantly verify this back in the day, my minders had to take my word for it. Remember, this was still the time of urine tests, which were notoriously unreliable in terms of blood glucose management. Home blood testing was still years away. As far as 10-year-old me was concerned, I'd been granted carte blanche to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. It's really not the kind of thing you want to teach a less than emotionally stable diabetic.

Technically, that was the beginning of me pushing the boundaries of my diet off a proverbial cliff. This was the foundation to many of my hospitalizations, as mentioned in my post from 25 July 2022. By then, of course, I didn't have to lie to people around me. I could take my allowance money and buy the garbage I shouldn't have been eating without anyone being the wiser.

There's a different philosophy toward diabetic diets now. "Take enough insulin to cover your terrible eating habits." You don't have to lie and sneak around. Just be honest with yourself AND your doctor. They might not be happy with what you eat, but knowing you're actually paying attention to your blood sugars and adjusting your insulin doses accordingly will keep them from berating you. I'm still not a doctor, but I AM a diabetic whose Hgb A1c has been between 6.0 and 7.0 for the last eight years, with the last one being 6.5. So just as I said near the start... nyah! 😛

Okay. Here we go. Beautiful young woman... scantily clad... aaaaand GO!

Oh, great. I try to share a picture

of a beautiful, scantily clad woman

and wind up sharing a Link instead.