I read other PWD’s blogs, and they always seem like they have it so together. But then again, when fellow diabetics meet me in person, they seem to think I have it all figured out, too. Closer to the truth is probably that we’re all just taking it day by day. And man, do I stray sometimes:
I don’t carry around backup insulin. I did tote around a vial of Apidra for a few weeks one time, and It went bad, so that turned me off. Now I just carry a single syringe in my OmniPod case, with the vague idea that if the Pod fails while I’m out and about, I could draw up the insulin out of the defunct Pod. I really need to test that theory empirically soon.
I never eat bread, but every once in a while I snarf up almost an entire bag of Quaker cheddar rice cake snacks — to the tune of at least 75g carbs in one sitting. Yipes! My B-A-D. (And to think that most folk consider rice cakes “diet food”…)
I put off getting my lipid panel test for up to two months sometimes, because I can’t stand the fasting thing. Not eating breakfast before I leave the house makes me feel weak and off-the-scales cranky. Thankfully, my hubby’s willing to make it a “lab date” and take me out to breakfast afterwards. I hereby apologize for everything that happens before we hit the café, Honey.
On bad BG days, I often think, “Oh, what the Hell?” and I indulge in “taboo” foods like a big bowl of frozen yogurt or a nice chewy granola bar chock full of raisins. (What?! I’m messed up already, aren’t I?)
When I go on hikes, often I take along glucose tablets only. That means I even leave my meter behind, which in my case is also my insulin pump controller — which would freak out many a tethered insulin pumper, I know. But sometimes one just NEEDS to be hands-free and medgadget-free. At least for a few hours.
I walk barefoot around the house (in warm weather) and I rarely check my feet for injuries. Luckily, my City-Gal feet are so delicate that I could probably feel a single flax seed in my shoe. I also like purty shoes, the kind that aren’t necessarily D-friendly.
So am I still a “good diabetic”? Yes, I think so. Am I a perfect? Um, noooo. A control freak at heart, diabetes has clearly helped me to wean myself off the more neurotic strain of perfectionism. Hopefully I’m morphing into the good kind of perfectionist — one little diabetes defiance at a time.