I have another visit to the Orthopaedic Specialist on Monday and as I promised last time I would go to the medical supply store and pick up a foam pad for my ankle I thought I'd better get on to it. The OS assured me that I could pick up an Achilles foam support anywhere. He described it as a larger padded version of those bunion pads that are sold in the foot care department of any pharmacy. The padding would keep the back of my shoes away from the bump allowing me to wear boots and closed shoes in the winter.
A combination of unseasonably warm weather and this diabetic's fear of surgical supply stores meant I was able to put off the purchase until the last possible moment. But I couldn't wait any longer so I started my search at the local store. I weaved my way around half a dozen wheelchairs and a display of canes until I reached the salesperson. I really thought that I could just grab one off the shelf but no such luck. She only had heel cups and arch supports - the same that I could buy at CVS but at a 50% upcharge. She suggested an orthopedic supply store and I limped off imagining once again that I could pick up this surgical aid in a couple of minutes.
Yeah, a five minute trip turned into a nightmare where I had to force myself to go into a building that advertised "Prosthetics" in neon lights. Inside there were no prosthetics on display, thank goodness, but also no foam donuts. Half hour later an orthopedic specialist came to look at my ankle and declare that they would have to have something made because they only dealt in made-to-measure orthotics, preferably charged to my insurance. They would be happy to make one, perhaps included in a lace-up shoe, but maybe I could manufacture something myself out of lambswool and adhesive? What the f***? Do I look like Martha Stewart? And I'm not about to go clumping about in some old person's frumpy shoe either. Strike two but I did leave with the address of another surgical supply place so I got back into the car and drove another five miles.
This place was a regular pharmacy with a surgical supply department that had leg braces, knee braces, covers for plaster casts, even a sling to support the pregnant bulge for mums-to-be but no donut, foam or otherwise. The pharmacist even got out the catalog and the only thing that was remotely suitable was this decidedly unsexy sock, which will look great with my stilletos. Strike three. Empty-handed and footed and two and a half hours out of my day later I decided that the foam donut was a figment of the OS's imagination. However, given how common this injury is I'm sure there's an opportunity for someone to develop something. Perhaps with interchangeable diamond edging?
Friday, November 17, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Health"care" provider
I made my monthly run to the pharmacy to load up on supplies: insulin, syringes, pen needles, other prescription meds and of course test strips. Since I became a "good" diabetic nearly a year ago I have been getting 300 of these suckers each month. I have a current script from my doctor for three more refills so I expected to get my full amount.
The pharmacist motions me over and explains that my excellent healthcare provider in its wisdom has decided that the limit will be 200. Starting now. But, he explains, all I have to do is call my endo and if she deems that my diabetes is severe enough to warrant 300 test strips a month she can write that on the scrip and fax it in.
My wonderful healthcare provider, the people who hound me if my A1c is above 7 with repeated phonecalls: "What can we do to help you achieve your goals?". Who are so proud of their diabetes education program. The one with the suckiest website in the universe, which they just made better by insisting I change my password to a combination of letters and numbers that I cannot remember so I have to phone them and request they reset it, again. Yes, you Oxford, I'm talking about you, here's what you can do to ensure I keep my BG at an acceptable level.
Leave the decision about how many strips I use to me and my doctor. Once we have decided that, do not interfere and never, ever make me take time out of my day to phone my endo unless it's an emergency; and don't tie up the health professionals' time either, not the the pharmacist, the doctor nor the nurse. Oh, and don't demand that diabetics are classified into groups based on how many blood testing strips they use.
What's next? Will they insist I change to a meter that uses cheaper strips unless I get a note from my doctor to say I really need the smarter meter?
And what do they think I'm doing with the extra 100 strips? Making collages?
The pharmacist motions me over and explains that my excellent healthcare provider in its wisdom has decided that the limit will be 200. Starting now. But, he explains, all I have to do is call my endo and if she deems that my diabetes is severe enough to warrant 300 test strips a month she can write that on the scrip and fax it in.
My wonderful healthcare provider, the people who hound me if my A1c is above 7 with repeated phonecalls: "What can we do to help you achieve your goals?". Who are so proud of their diabetes education program. The one with the suckiest website in the universe, which they just made better by insisting I change my password to a combination of letters and numbers that I cannot remember so I have to phone them and request they reset it, again. Yes, you Oxford, I'm talking about you, here's what you can do to ensure I keep my BG at an acceptable level.
Leave the decision about how many strips I use to me and my doctor. Once we have decided that, do not interfere and never, ever make me take time out of my day to phone my endo unless it's an emergency; and don't tie up the health professionals' time either, not the the pharmacist, the doctor nor the nurse. Oh, and don't demand that diabetics are classified into groups based on how many blood testing strips they use.
What's next? Will they insist I change to a meter that uses cheaper strips unless I get a note from my doctor to say I really need the smarter meter?
And what do they think I'm doing with the extra 100 strips? Making collages?
Monday, November 13, 2006
Rocking again
I've got tickets to see The Raconteurs tonight, oh and yeah, Bob Dylan is playing too. I've had the tickets since they went on sale in August and I am seriously looking forward to this even though I can't wear my kick ass cowboy boots because of the damn lump at my Achilles tendon; hell, I can't even wear sneakers.
The ankle had responded really well to physical therapy and I thought it was pretty much healed but a week or so ago it suddenly became much more painful. I changed orthopaedic surgeons and found one that is gentle and sympathetic and who actually examined my feet! He sent me back to PT but suggested that I don't do any training other than weight lifting at the gym for the next couple of weeks. This has kind of thrown my work out routine into chaos. I tried just using the resistance machines for abs and pecs but I never felt like I warmed up enough before I started and after ten minutes I wasn't sure what to do next. I don't want to just work those muscles for an hour because I think I'm just going to get sore. So I'm having a week off from the gym but I'm feeling both guilty and fidgety because I'm not getting any real exercise apart from strolling around with the big dogs twice a day.
So tonight there will be no dancing in the aisles for me or jumping up and down but it'll still rock, right?
The ankle had responded really well to physical therapy and I thought it was pretty much healed but a week or so ago it suddenly became much more painful. I changed orthopaedic surgeons and found one that is gentle and sympathetic and who actually examined my feet! He sent me back to PT but suggested that I don't do any training other than weight lifting at the gym for the next couple of weeks. This has kind of thrown my work out routine into chaos. I tried just using the resistance machines for abs and pecs but I never felt like I warmed up enough before I started and after ten minutes I wasn't sure what to do next. I don't want to just work those muscles for an hour because I think I'm just going to get sore. So I'm having a week off from the gym but I'm feeling both guilty and fidgety because I'm not getting any real exercise apart from strolling around with the big dogs twice a day.
So tonight there will be no dancing in the aisles for me or jumping up and down but it'll still rock, right?
Friday, November 10, 2006
I'm clean
Good news today.
I have been officially certified free of any communicable disease. That's great news for anyone who might have rubbed up against me recently or over whom I may have coughed or sneezed.
Whatever you've got you didn't catch it from me.
I have been officially certified free of any communicable disease. That's great news for anyone who might have rubbed up against me recently or over whom I may have coughed or sneezed.
Whatever you've got you didn't catch it from me.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Cranky Jane is Back
I'm really cranky today. Those in the cheap seats who are yelling "Give us a break, how are we supposed to tell the difference? You're always cranky, Jane" can just settle down for a moment while I relate the source of my crankiness.
Last week I had my endo visit and all was good, very good even; for me it was great. I had blood drawn and as I don't have to go back to the opthamologist until next March I thought I was done with doctors for a few months. Ha, not so fast, missy.
First, hurrah! I had a call from the immigration lawyer to tell me that our case has been read and we should go get medicals asap. These have to be performed by a designated Civil Surgeon and there was only one in our area. She had an appointment the next day or in four weeks time, so we duly leapt on the less than twenty-four hours notice one.
Basically, people, the only things that the US government cares about are that immigrants do not have any communicable diseases, that they are sane and don't have problems with drugs or alcohol. I think I scored on the sane front when the doctor asked me how much I drank and I answered "Not nearly enough". I don't have a non-prescription drug problem either as my co-pays on all the prescription drugs I take leave me with no extra cash to spend on recreational drugs. As for the communicable diseases bit, if I had any, I picked them up in the six+ years I have been breathing pure American air.
Still, I had to have blood drawn by the Civil Surgeon for an HIV test and a gonorrhea test. Then I had to have a purified protein derivative injected under the skin of my right forearm to see if I have TB. Because I no longer have a record of vaccinations I had to go to my regular doctor who drew blood to see if I was immune to MMR and who gave me an unnecessary tetanus shot because my last one was in Belgium and try getting proof of that in English within 10 days.
For those who are counting I have had blood drawn three times in five days. I swear if you press down on the vein in my right arm blood will shoot right out. I got a free blood pressure reading thrown in each time, too. In fact I got two each time as they couldn't hear my BP the first time they tried. Isn't about time we found a more scientific way to take BP than a cuff or a finger sensor?
I also have a sore arm because the arm I had the tetanus shot in was the same arm I had the flu shot in three days before. And I hate getting shots almost as much as Kerri does. In Belgium my family doctor used to let me give myself the flu shot on the basis that I had more practice than she did.
Three doctors' visits, two shots, three separate lots of blood drawn, six blood pressure readings and a skin test. Is it any wonder I'm cranky? The irony is that every one of the three doctors I saw was willing to say I was in excellent health. Diabetes, thyroid disease, arthritis, PCOS, achilles tendonitis, they are apparently not contra-indicators of healthiness. Isn't that nice to know?
Last week I had my endo visit and all was good, very good even; for me it was great. I had blood drawn and as I don't have to go back to the opthamologist until next March I thought I was done with doctors for a few months. Ha, not so fast, missy.
First, hurrah! I had a call from the immigration lawyer to tell me that our case has been read and we should go get medicals asap. These have to be performed by a designated Civil Surgeon and there was only one in our area. She had an appointment the next day or in four weeks time, so we duly leapt on the less than twenty-four hours notice one.
Basically, people, the only things that the US government cares about are that immigrants do not have any communicable diseases, that they are sane and don't have problems with drugs or alcohol. I think I scored on the sane front when the doctor asked me how much I drank and I answered "Not nearly enough". I don't have a non-prescription drug problem either as my co-pays on all the prescription drugs I take leave me with no extra cash to spend on recreational drugs. As for the communicable diseases bit, if I had any, I picked them up in the six+ years I have been breathing pure American air.
Still, I had to have blood drawn by the Civil Surgeon for an HIV test and a gonorrhea test. Then I had to have a purified protein derivative injected under the skin of my right forearm to see if I have TB. Because I no longer have a record of vaccinations I had to go to my regular doctor who drew blood to see if I was immune to MMR and who gave me an unnecessary tetanus shot because my last one was in Belgium and try getting proof of that in English within 10 days.
For those who are counting I have had blood drawn three times in five days. I swear if you press down on the vein in my right arm blood will shoot right out. I got a free blood pressure reading thrown in each time, too. In fact I got two each time as they couldn't hear my BP the first time they tried. Isn't about time we found a more scientific way to take BP than a cuff or a finger sensor?
I also have a sore arm because the arm I had the tetanus shot in was the same arm I had the flu shot in three days before. And I hate getting shots almost as much as Kerri does. In Belgium my family doctor used to let me give myself the flu shot on the basis that I had more practice than she did.
Three doctors' visits, two shots, three separate lots of blood drawn, six blood pressure readings and a skin test. Is it any wonder I'm cranky? The irony is that every one of the three doctors I saw was willing to say I was in excellent health. Diabetes, thyroid disease, arthritis, PCOS, achilles tendonitis, they are apparently not contra-indicators of healthiness. Isn't that nice to know?
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
First casualty
Rumsfeld is stepping down.
I must remember this is firstly a blog about diabetes and other auto-immune diseases. So here is a piece of news about stem-cell research in mice that may, some years down the road, help people with visual complications from diabetes see again.
But it's also my life, people, and it's a political one.
I must remember this is firstly a blog about diabetes and other auto-immune diseases. So here is a piece of news about stem-cell research in mice that may, some years down the road, help people with visual complications from diabetes see again.
But it's also my life, people, and it's a political one.
Voted.
My faith in the democratic process, restored and without my help. You really can't fool all of the people all of the time.
My favorite moment, even though it was never seriously in doubt, was this piece of schadenfreude.
I got four hours sleep last night so if there are errors in my html or spelling I apologise. I'm going to have a little nap at my desk.
My favorite moment, even though it was never seriously in doubt, was this piece of schadenfreude.
I got four hours sleep last night so if there are errors in my html or spelling I apologise. I'm going to have a little nap at my desk.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Voting rights
I'm so frustrated at the moment. I'm holding my breath to see who is elected to the Congress, alternately checking MSNBC and CNN, and half a dozen websites because I'm a political junkie. The frustrating part is that once again I was not allowed to take part in the democratic process.
One of the worst things for me about living in a country where I'm not a citizen is that I have no right to vote. I've lived here for more than six years and I'm a legal resident who pays taxes but I'm not yet "of the people". Not being able to cast a ballot for the person that I think will serve society best makes me feel alienated, disenfranchised and impotent.
The only thing that makes me more sad and angry is people taking democracy for granted and not exercising their right to vote when they have the opportunity to do so. This time around, though, it seems that there has been a higher than usual turnout at the polls. I'm so heartened by this, it's great to see democracy in action, but I firmly believe that it would be better if I could take part too.
One of the worst things for me about living in a country where I'm not a citizen is that I have no right to vote. I've lived here for more than six years and I'm a legal resident who pays taxes but I'm not yet "of the people". Not being able to cast a ballot for the person that I think will serve society best makes me feel alienated, disenfranchised and impotent.
The only thing that makes me more sad and angry is people taking democracy for granted and not exercising their right to vote when they have the opportunity to do so. This time around, though, it seems that there has been a higher than usual turnout at the polls. I'm so heartened by this, it's great to see democracy in action, but I firmly believe that it would be better if I could take part too.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Make my surprise secret, please
I suppose I should read my emails more carefully then I wouldn't have been surprised when the UPS guy walked up the path and handed me a parcel from dLife. But it's been busy here and I was expecting a parcel from Amazon and not a surprise gift from dLife.
I've already written about my willingness to look a gift horse in the mouth and then bitch at it so it will come as no surprise to you, dear reader, that I was more than miffed by this one.
DLife sent me a meter. Another free meter. I'm guessing now that this is where the last free meter came from. I examined my dLife profile and although I had left unchecked the box that asked if I wanted a free meter, I got one anyway. At least the last free meter arrived in a plain brown wrapper. This parcel came in a custom box in the signature blue and yellow colors with the dLife logo proudly printed all over it and a message on the UPS label: DLIFE-FOR YOUR DIABETES LIFE just above the "Ship to Jane" part of the label.
I know, I should have read the privacy statement a little closer and not put my address on my profile, so it's my fault but I never expected that offers from dLife and partners would arrive in such obvious packaging.
And yes, I realize I'm being a little inconsistent here. After all I write a blog that has my baby photo on it, my real name and the town where I live, so it wouldn't be hard to track me down but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the UPS guy knowing my medical condition.
Wait a minute, I am sure about this. I'm mighty uncomfortable about it. Something to do with a feeling that my privacy has been invaded. I choose who to tell about my life with diabetes and when to tell them. I don't need to be outed by an information and support website. While I applaud the work that dLife is doing to raise the profile of diabetes I'm not keen on them raising my particular profile. I like to do that for myself.
On the positive side though, I now have three spare meters, one I bought for myself just before I traded up to the Lifescan One Touch UltraSmart and two brand new ones, one still in its original, unopened packaging. Of course they all take different types of test strips so I would have to get a prescription from my doctor before I could use any of them except the one I bought for myself as that uses the One Touch strips I have for my regular meter. Hmm. Anyone need a free meter?
I've already written about my willingness to look a gift horse in the mouth and then bitch at it so it will come as no surprise to you, dear reader, that I was more than miffed by this one.
DLife sent me a meter. Another free meter. I'm guessing now that this is where the last free meter came from. I examined my dLife profile and although I had left unchecked the box that asked if I wanted a free meter, I got one anyway. At least the last free meter arrived in a plain brown wrapper. This parcel came in a custom box in the signature blue and yellow colors with the dLife logo proudly printed all over it and a message on the UPS label: DLIFE-FOR YOUR DIABETES LIFE just above the "Ship to Jane" part of the label.
I know, I should have read the privacy statement a little closer and not put my address on my profile, so it's my fault but I never expected that offers from dLife and partners would arrive in such obvious packaging.
And yes, I realize I'm being a little inconsistent here. After all I write a blog that has my baby photo on it, my real name and the town where I live, so it wouldn't be hard to track me down but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the UPS guy knowing my medical condition.
Wait a minute, I am sure about this. I'm mighty uncomfortable about it. Something to do with a feeling that my privacy has been invaded. I choose who to tell about my life with diabetes and when to tell them. I don't need to be outed by an information and support website. While I applaud the work that dLife is doing to raise the profile of diabetes I'm not keen on them raising my particular profile. I like to do that for myself.
On the positive side though, I now have three spare meters, one I bought for myself just before I traded up to the Lifescan One Touch UltraSmart and two brand new ones, one still in its original, unopened packaging. Of course they all take different types of test strips so I would have to get a prescription from my doctor before I could use any of them except the one I bought for myself as that uses the One Touch strips I have for my regular meter. Hmm. Anyone need a free meter?
My Post-Hallowe'en Scary Day
November 1st. All Saints. It was more like "Saints Alive". I'm not a candy eater so I didn't expect anything different with my BG tests on November 1st. I certainly didn't expect this:
BG before breakfast: 55
BG before lunch: 56
BG before dinner: 61
BG before bed: 59
I'm really glad we had left-over trick or treat candy because I couldn't hold a decent number all freakin' day. I didn't dare risk the gym because I don't like to exercise if I'm below 120 and the highest post meal number was 81!
I'm with the doctors on this one BG and BP better high than low. Oh well, it all helps the magic A1c I guess.
BG before breakfast: 55
BG before lunch: 56
BG before dinner: 61
BG before bed: 59
I'm really glad we had left-over trick or treat candy because I couldn't hold a decent number all freakin' day. I didn't dare risk the gym because I don't like to exercise if I'm below 120 and the highest post meal number was 81!
I'm with the doctors on this one BG and BP better high than low. Oh well, it all helps the magic A1c I guess.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Life below 7
6.7 baby. 6.7
It's been so many years since I had an A1c that low that I truly thought I wasn't capable.
And this is despite a really bad couple of days a fortnight or so ago when I couldn't get a sensible reading at all. It started after I'd upped my workout quite a bit. I had a BG reading of 429 that I corrected (probably a little too aggressively) and I rebounded to 33. By dinner time it was back in the 400s and although I corrected it (a lot more conservatively) for the next day I hovered around the 300-450 mark. Then just as suddenly I was back down to 117 and I've had no real issues since.
I don't know if my body just got stressed by the extra exercise or the insulin was just not getting to where it needed to be but I was expecting that this would throw my A1c out. And that would have been really unfair. But my endo was really excited by the rest of the numbers and there was a lot of cheering when they phoned them through to me today. I put this down to them being hyped up on Hallowe'en candy but who cares? I got the pat on the back that I though I would get three months ago.
Whoopee.
It's been so many years since I had an A1c that low that I truly thought I wasn't capable.
And this is despite a really bad couple of days a fortnight or so ago when I couldn't get a sensible reading at all. It started after I'd upped my workout quite a bit. I had a BG reading of 429 that I corrected (probably a little too aggressively) and I rebounded to 33. By dinner time it was back in the 400s and although I corrected it (a lot more conservatively) for the next day I hovered around the 300-450 mark. Then just as suddenly I was back down to 117 and I've had no real issues since.
I don't know if my body just got stressed by the extra exercise or the insulin was just not getting to where it needed to be but I was expecting that this would throw my A1c out. And that would have been really unfair. But my endo was really excited by the rest of the numbers and there was a lot of cheering when they phoned them through to me today. I put this down to them being hyped up on Hallowe'en candy but who cares? I got the pat on the back that I though I would get three months ago.
Whoopee.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Orange Cheese is Everywhere
It's bad enough that I had a nightmare about orange cheese but it seems that I can't turn around these days without seeing it somewhere.
American "cheese" was the secret ingredient in the first episode of the TV reality show Top Chef. Then we went to the movies on Sunday to see Infamous, about the life of Truman Capote, which in one scene featured an entire chest cooler full of Velveeta.
It's so ironic that I could go throughout life without this product puncturing my consciousness and know I am pursued by it. As long as I never have to taste it!
American "cheese" was the secret ingredient in the first episode of the TV reality show Top Chef. Then we went to the movies on Sunday to see Infamous, about the life of Truman Capote, which in one scene featured an entire chest cooler full of Velveeta.
It's so ironic that I could go throughout life without this product puncturing my consciousness and know I am pursued by it. As long as I never have to taste it!
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Thanks for your support, sweetie
"Why are you limping?" my man inquired this morning.
I explained that I wanted to beat my 5k time on the elliptical yesterday and my ankle was objecting today.
"Don't you think you should have a day off?"
"But I'm never going to be thin." I wailed.
"Exactly. Accept it and move on."
Am I weird because I find this hysterically funny?
I explained that I wanted to beat my 5k time on the elliptical yesterday and my ankle was objecting today.
"Don't you think you should have a day off?"
"But I'm never going to be thin." I wailed.
"Exactly. Accept it and move on."
Am I weird because I find this hysterically funny?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Cheese gives you nightmares
Last night I dreamt I had put cheese in the dishwasher. Orange cheese, which I had previously shaped into spirals and cones and placed on cocktail sticks and skewers. Then, so I wouldn't eat it, I cleared it away into the dishwasher, carefully placing the cheese kebabs upright in the cutlery basket so they wouldn't get damaged.
This is worrying on so many levels:
Firstly, I put cheese into the dishwasher. The new dishwasher. Why would I do that? Why not just through it in the garbage?
Secondly, it was orange cheese. I love cheese but only, for example, the sort of artisanal cheese made by lederhosen-clad goatherds on a hillside in Sicily. That artificially coloured mass-produced stuff? Ugh. That sits right along with pumpkins, carrots and the actor George Hamilton - all lurid shades of orange are kept well away from my kitchen.
Then there's the cheese-shaping aspect. I have absolutely no Martha Stewart tendencies. Cheese is served on an old but impeccably designed wooden Bodum platter, the only adornment a handful of whatever nuts are available at that moment. I don't shape food, I eat it or rather at this moment I avoid it.
This must be my psyche telling me that I am taking this dieting thing too far. Cheese denial. Cheese dreaming. Can sleepwalking refrigerator raiding be far behind?
This is worrying on so many levels:
Firstly, I put cheese into the dishwasher. The new dishwasher. Why would I do that? Why not just through it in the garbage?
Secondly, it was orange cheese. I love cheese but only, for example, the sort of artisanal cheese made by lederhosen-clad goatherds on a hillside in Sicily. That artificially coloured mass-produced stuff? Ugh. That sits right along with pumpkins, carrots and the actor George Hamilton - all lurid shades of orange are kept well away from my kitchen.
Then there's the cheese-shaping aspect. I have absolutely no Martha Stewart tendencies. Cheese is served on an old but impeccably designed wooden Bodum platter, the only adornment a handful of whatever nuts are available at that moment. I don't shape food, I eat it or rather at this moment I avoid it.
This must be my psyche telling me that I am taking this dieting thing too far. Cheese denial. Cheese dreaming. Can sleepwalking refrigerator raiding be far behind?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Why I really shouldn't exercise in the company of others
Back to school means the gym is fuller than usual, especially in the mornings. And that means that sometimes there is only one machine free downstairs.
I hate exercising next to people because I make a lot of noise. I grunt and puff and I sing along to my iPod. In short I think I'm really annoying, so what other people think must be much worse. I always try to leave at least two ellpiticals free on either side of me. Today that wasn't possible. The choice was take the free machine or go lift weights without warming up. So I sucked it up and jumped on. Then I noticed that I had inserted myself between ultra-fit man and tireless woman.
This is the other reason I shouldn't exercise with other people. I am horribly competitive. I could not get off the machine until the people on either side had finished. And I had to match their fitness level too. So I set the elliptical at cardio/random, plugged in the iPod and walked.
I figured I was good for thirty-forty minutes, but after twenty it was getting to be really hard work. My lips were fizzing and my legs felt like lead. A normal person would have stopped, tested their BG and taken some dextrose. A stubborn person might have reached into their pocket pulled out the dextrose, and chewed it while exercising. A complete idiot would think: I can't stop now, these people were here before me and they are still going. I'm never going to be fit if I quit.
Luckily, at that point the tireless woman got off and a few minutes later the ultra-fit man started his cooldown. I was now going so slowly I think I was going backwards. I got off and went to test my BG. I was so hypo I could barely read it, but I think it was 36. Oh, shit. I didn't bother with the weight-lifting today and it was nearly 30 minutes before I was fit to drive home.
Well, at least I'm only a danger to myself when I disobey the one free machine on either side rule. Look what could happen if men disobey urinal etiquette.
I hate exercising next to people because I make a lot of noise. I grunt and puff and I sing along to my iPod. In short I think I'm really annoying, so what other people think must be much worse. I always try to leave at least two ellpiticals free on either side of me. Today that wasn't possible. The choice was take the free machine or go lift weights without warming up. So I sucked it up and jumped on. Then I noticed that I had inserted myself between ultra-fit man and tireless woman.
This is the other reason I shouldn't exercise with other people. I am horribly competitive. I could not get off the machine until the people on either side had finished. And I had to match their fitness level too. So I set the elliptical at cardio/random, plugged in the iPod and walked.
I figured I was good for thirty-forty minutes, but after twenty it was getting to be really hard work. My lips were fizzing and my legs felt like lead. A normal person would have stopped, tested their BG and taken some dextrose. A stubborn person might have reached into their pocket pulled out the dextrose, and chewed it while exercising. A complete idiot would think: I can't stop now, these people were here before me and they are still going. I'm never going to be fit if I quit.
Luckily, at that point the tireless woman got off and a few minutes later the ultra-fit man started his cooldown. I was now going so slowly I think I was going backwards. I got off and went to test my BG. I was so hypo I could barely read it, but I think it was 36. Oh, shit. I didn't bother with the weight-lifting today and it was nearly 30 minutes before I was fit to drive home.
Well, at least I'm only a danger to myself when I disobey the one free machine on either side rule. Look what could happen if men disobey urinal etiquette.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Sick Day Meme
The nice thing about having a rotten, streaming cold is that you have time to watch The View for the first time. (Rosie O'Donnell pretty much runs that show, doesn't she? ) And do memes like these from Sandra
1. Do you still have tonsils?
Yes, I have all my bits intact.
2. Would you bungee jump?
I'd jump before I bungee jumped.
3. If You Could Do Anything In The World For A Living What Would It Be?
A doctor so I could prescribe my own drugs and by-pass that whole waiting room/form filling hell. But as the sight of blood or a scalpel brings on a heaving flop sweat I don't think it'd work out.
.
4. How many tattoos do you have?
Art goes on the wall not my skin.
5. Your favorite fictional animal?
Pigs rule. Wilbur from Charlotte's Web is lovely but the most memorable is the stalinist Napoleon from George Orwell's Animal Farm.
6. One person that never fails to make you laugh?
My youngest brother. Always the witty riposte
7. Do you consider yourself well organized?
I'm punctual to the second, put things away the moment I've finished with them, make lists and stick to them. That's normal, no?
8. Any Addictions?
I'll admit to Project Runway. Adirondack sparkling water (unflavored).
9. From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news?
The BBC, Keith Olbermann, Jon Stewart, the huffington post. Progressive, liberal, lefty, socialist, I've been called them all. So, what's wrong with that?
10. Would you rather go to a carnival or circus?
I'd consider going on the pump before I'd go to either.
11. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Foreign correspondent.
12. Best Movie You've Seen This Year?
Little Miss Sunshine.
13.Favourite alcoholic drink
Gin Martini: Tanqueray Gin, extra dry, ice cold, olives.
14. What is the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?
It used to be reach for the coffee, now it's groan. See # 17 and #29
15. Siblings?
Two younger brothers.
16. What is the best thing about your job?
I can work from home. This is also the worst thing about it.
17. Have you ever gone to therapy?
That would mean sitting still for an hour, right? No.
I have had eight sessions of physical therapy on my ankle though. We're getting there.
18. If you could have one superpower what would it be?
I'd love to be able to fly. I could see things from a different perspective. I could visit people and places any moment I chose. And I might bump into Superman up there.
19. Do you own any furniture from Ikea?
Two gorgeous leather sofas from IKEA in Belgium that look like they cost 5x what I paid for them and are still in great condition 10 years later. I also have a sculpture that is sexy and so unIKEA like I can't believe it.
20. Have you ever gone camping?
Almost every year until I came to the US. Now we use hotel points.
21. Gas prices! First thought?
Please, try paying European prices. But don't you think it's ironic they are coming down just before the election?
22. Your favorite cartoon character?
Kenny from South Park. (Oh, my God, they killed Kenny!)
23. What was your first car?
Blue VW Polo.
24. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual?
I honestly don't get it. We did it to save taxes. Then the tax laws changed, so we should get divorced. But then I wouldn't have the right to stay in the US. Stupid bureaucratic crap.
However, whatever works for you.
25. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons?
Not much of a choice but The Simpsons if I was pushed.
26. Do you go to church?
To worship? No. To look at architecture? Sure.
27. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
It'd be a toss-up. Bill Clinton because he would be such an intelligent, entertaining companion or George W Bush so I could get a lot off my chest.
28. What errand/chore do you despise?
Washing the floors. I put it off forever as you can tell be the state of my feet/socks.
29. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?
Don't have an alarm. Have animals instead. First thought? Why are you waking me at 5:08 stupid talking cat?
30. Last time you puked from drinking?
Cinco de Mayo 2005. Just before we were due to get on an early plane to Nashville. Also the last time I drank Margharitas.
31. What is your heritage?
I'm a Celt.
32. Favorite flower?
Calla lily.
33. Disney or Warner Bros?
Please, no more cartoons.
34. What is your best childhood memory?
Hiding in an ice house in the pouring rain.
35. Your favorite potato chip?
Kettle Chips. Roasted Red Pepper and Goat Cheese. Also my secret addiction. Sssshhh.
36. What is your favorite candy?
No candy, only pure milk chocolate, preferably Belgian (used to be called Callebaut but is now Jacky) but I'll take Wholefoods 365 Swiss Milk. Although if they made a candy from butter and salt I'd probably like that. It's a celtic thing.
37. Do you burn or tan?
I'm a Celt. What's tan?
38. Astrological sign?
Sagittarius
39. Do you own a gun?
Good grief. The world would be much safer if there were no guns, especially handguns.
40. What do you think of hot dogs?
A cruel and unusual punishment? Bratwurst though, that's real food.
1. Do you still have tonsils?
Yes, I have all my bits intact.
2. Would you bungee jump?
I'd jump before I bungee jumped.
3. If You Could Do Anything In The World For A Living What Would It Be?
A doctor so I could prescribe my own drugs and by-pass that whole waiting room/form filling hell. But as the sight of blood or a scalpel brings on a heaving flop sweat I don't think it'd work out.
.
4. How many tattoos do you have?
Art goes on the wall not my skin.
5. Your favorite fictional animal?
Pigs rule. Wilbur from Charlotte's Web is lovely but the most memorable is the stalinist Napoleon from George Orwell's Animal Farm.
6. One person that never fails to make you laugh?
My youngest brother. Always the witty riposte
7. Do you consider yourself well organized?
I'm punctual to the second, put things away the moment I've finished with them, make lists and stick to them. That's normal, no?
8. Any Addictions?
I'll admit to Project Runway. Adirondack sparkling water (unflavored).
9. From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news?
The BBC, Keith Olbermann, Jon Stewart, the huffington post. Progressive, liberal, lefty, socialist, I've been called them all. So, what's wrong with that?
10. Would you rather go to a carnival or circus?
I'd consider going on the pump before I'd go to either.
11. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Foreign correspondent.
12. Best Movie You've Seen This Year?
Little Miss Sunshine.
13.Favourite alcoholic drink
Gin Martini: Tanqueray Gin, extra dry, ice cold, olives.
14. What is the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?
It used to be reach for the coffee, now it's groan. See # 17 and #29
15. Siblings?
Two younger brothers.
16. What is the best thing about your job?
I can work from home. This is also the worst thing about it.
17. Have you ever gone to therapy?
That would mean sitting still for an hour, right? No.
I have had eight sessions of physical therapy on my ankle though. We're getting there.
18. If you could have one superpower what would it be?
I'd love to be able to fly. I could see things from a different perspective. I could visit people and places any moment I chose. And I might bump into Superman up there.
19. Do you own any furniture from Ikea?
Two gorgeous leather sofas from IKEA in Belgium that look like they cost 5x what I paid for them and are still in great condition 10 years later. I also have a sculpture that is sexy and so unIKEA like I can't believe it.
20. Have you ever gone camping?
Almost every year until I came to the US. Now we use hotel points.
21. Gas prices! First thought?
Please, try paying European prices. But don't you think it's ironic they are coming down just before the election?
22. Your favorite cartoon character?
Kenny from South Park. (Oh, my God, they killed Kenny!)
23. What was your first car?
Blue VW Polo.
24. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual?
I honestly don't get it. We did it to save taxes. Then the tax laws changed, so we should get divorced. But then I wouldn't have the right to stay in the US. Stupid bureaucratic crap.
However, whatever works for you.
25. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons?
Not much of a choice but The Simpsons if I was pushed.
26. Do you go to church?
To worship? No. To look at architecture? Sure.
27. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
It'd be a toss-up. Bill Clinton because he would be such an intelligent, entertaining companion or George W Bush so I could get a lot off my chest.
28. What errand/chore do you despise?
Washing the floors. I put it off forever as you can tell be the state of my feet/socks.
29. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?
Don't have an alarm. Have animals instead. First thought? Why are you waking me at 5:08 stupid talking cat?
30. Last time you puked from drinking?
Cinco de Mayo 2005. Just before we were due to get on an early plane to Nashville. Also the last time I drank Margharitas.
31. What is your heritage?
I'm a Celt.
32. Favorite flower?
Calla lily.
33. Disney or Warner Bros?
Please, no more cartoons.
34. What is your best childhood memory?
Hiding in an ice house in the pouring rain.
35. Your favorite potato chip?
Kettle Chips. Roasted Red Pepper and Goat Cheese. Also my secret addiction. Sssshhh.
36. What is your favorite candy?
No candy, only pure milk chocolate, preferably Belgian (used to be called Callebaut but is now Jacky) but I'll take Wholefoods 365 Swiss Milk. Although if they made a candy from butter and salt I'd probably like that. It's a celtic thing.
37. Do you burn or tan?
I'm a Celt. What's tan?
38. Astrological sign?
Sagittarius
39. Do you own a gun?
Good grief. The world would be much safer if there were no guns, especially handguns.
40. What do you think of hot dogs?
A cruel and unusual punishment? Bratwurst though, that's real food.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Got to keep sweating
Here's a study I can believe.
Scientists at the University of Alberta found that walking just doesn't kick it if weight loss and getting fit are your goals. You really do have to do some aerobic exercise to achieve that. That's borne out by my own experience.
I sent the link to my man who emailed back that he'd reached that conclusion but hadn't had sufficient motivation to do anything about it yet! I really have no ideas left for spurring him to take up a sport so I'm going to let it slide.
What I really need is a study that tells me exactly how much I have to sweat each day so that I can achieve my ideal weight (that's my ideal weight for me, not some BM index decided by a mathematical formula) and feel fit. Is it a cupful? A bucketful? Or a bathtubful? Or do I only stop when I have dissolved into a large puddle on the gym floor?
Scientists at the University of Alberta found that walking just doesn't kick it if weight loss and getting fit are your goals. You really do have to do some aerobic exercise to achieve that. That's borne out by my own experience.
I sent the link to my man who emailed back that he'd reached that conclusion but hadn't had sufficient motivation to do anything about it yet! I really have no ideas left for spurring him to take up a sport so I'm going to let it slide.
What I really need is a study that tells me exactly how much I have to sweat each day so that I can achieve my ideal weight (that's my ideal weight for me, not some BM index decided by a mathematical formula) and feel fit. Is it a cupful? A bucketful? Or a bathtubful? Or do I only stop when I have dissolved into a large puddle on the gym floor?
Monday, September 25, 2006
I'd better look elsewhere for a gym buddy
After weeks of pleading, nagging, dropping subtle and not-so-subtle hints about the need to take some form of regular exercise, and buying him a new pair of Reeboks as a bribe, I finally persuaded my man to come to the gym with me. After all, I don't see why I have to be the only one exercising my butt off and he is always bemoaning the extra pounds that America has given him.
I had a guest pass good for a week's worth of gym fun and I figured that I could get him there at least a couple of times over the weekend, and with any luck he'd find it fun. I am proud to say that he did give it a try on Saturday morning despite complaining that he had nothing to wear, that he hated the whole "gym ethos", and that he took regular exercise in the form of walking the dogs once a day.
I thought I'd get to the gym and then hand him over to a trainer who could explain the machines but there was no one around to help so it was down to me. I put him on the elliptical while I went to drop my bag and when I returned he had the machine at such a high rate his HR was 150. Of course he thought this was excellent and wouldn't hear of warming up or cooling down. After 10 minutes he started complaining his thighs hurt and he swapped to the treadmill, which he set at an incline of 9 and a speed of 5.6. And he kept pushing the increase buttons. It was him against the machine, and the machine was going down.
After I'd done my 30 minutes cardio I suggested we go do some resistance training for half an hour or so. It was then that I knew that he was never going to the gym again. At least not with me. He just wanted to make those weights go up and down as fast as possible, never mind the risk to his muscles or my nerves as they crashed back to the stack each time. Up and down, faster and faster like the Duracell Bunny on speed.
Eventually he stopped. Covered in sweat and barely able to speak, he indicated he had had enough and was going to sit in the car while I finished my workout. Later he said he had no idea how hard working out could be until he tried it for himself or that he was so unfit but he had no intention of repeating the experience.
I guess I'll be going to the gym alone again this evening.
I had a guest pass good for a week's worth of gym fun and I figured that I could get him there at least a couple of times over the weekend, and with any luck he'd find it fun. I am proud to say that he did give it a try on Saturday morning despite complaining that he had nothing to wear, that he hated the whole "gym ethos", and that he took regular exercise in the form of walking the dogs once a day.
I thought I'd get to the gym and then hand him over to a trainer who could explain the machines but there was no one around to help so it was down to me. I put him on the elliptical while I went to drop my bag and when I returned he had the machine at such a high rate his HR was 150. Of course he thought this was excellent and wouldn't hear of warming up or cooling down. After 10 minutes he started complaining his thighs hurt and he swapped to the treadmill, which he set at an incline of 9 and a speed of 5.6. And he kept pushing the increase buttons. It was him against the machine, and the machine was going down.
After I'd done my 30 minutes cardio I suggested we go do some resistance training for half an hour or so. It was then that I knew that he was never going to the gym again. At least not with me. He just wanted to make those weights go up and down as fast as possible, never mind the risk to his muscles or my nerves as they crashed back to the stack each time. Up and down, faster and faster like the Duracell Bunny on speed.
Eventually he stopped. Covered in sweat and barely able to speak, he indicated he had had enough and was going to sit in the car while I finished my workout. Later he said he had no idea how hard working out could be until he tried it for himself or that he was so unfit but he had no intention of repeating the experience.
I guess I'll be going to the gym alone again this evening.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Assumptions
Maybe it's better if they don't read the medical chart...
I had another physio session last night, this time with a different therapist. She introduced herself and then asked "How long have you had chronic foot pain?" Then she looked at the sole of my foot and says "Where is the pain?"
I lift my leg up and point to the large bump on the heel.
"But is that all? Where else does it hurt? Haven't you got other pains?"
Nope, that's it. Annoying, painful but not yet chronic.
"But I read your chart. I thought with your history you would have had chronic foot pain by now".
Ah. Lightbulb moment. Diabetes =neuropathy.
Sorry to mess with your understanding of diabetes but even though I've been a diabetic for twenty-one years it still hurts if you stand on my toes, I can still tell the difference between hot and cold and that blister I got from overdoing the elliptical the other day in backless trainers (yes, I am that committed to working out/stupid), it hurt like crazy but it healed without a trace in two days.
So far no tingling, burning or numbness. I should be pleased that I've been complication-free but I just felt deflated.
And then I read this: Weightlifting Glaucoma Risk. If the diabetes doesn't cause me to go blind, maybe the exercise regime will.
For some irrational reason that made me feel much better. I'm going for a walk now. I may or may not look both ways before I cross the road.
I had another physio session last night, this time with a different therapist. She introduced herself and then asked "How long have you had chronic foot pain?" Then she looked at the sole of my foot and says "Where is the pain?"
I lift my leg up and point to the large bump on the heel.
"But is that all? Where else does it hurt? Haven't you got other pains?"
Nope, that's it. Annoying, painful but not yet chronic.
"But I read your chart. I thought with your history you would have had chronic foot pain by now".
Ah. Lightbulb moment. Diabetes =neuropathy.
Sorry to mess with your understanding of diabetes but even though I've been a diabetic for twenty-one years it still hurts if you stand on my toes, I can still tell the difference between hot and cold and that blister I got from overdoing the elliptical the other day in backless trainers (yes, I am that committed to working out/stupid), it hurt like crazy but it healed without a trace in two days.
So far no tingling, burning or numbness. I should be pleased that I've been complication-free but I just felt deflated.
And then I read this: Weightlifting Glaucoma Risk. If the diabetes doesn't cause me to go blind, maybe the exercise regime will.
For some irrational reason that made me feel much better. I'm going for a walk now. I may or may not look both ways before I cross the road.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Physical Therapy
I've had three physio sessions so far and the good news is that the heel looks much better. I get ultrasound, TENS and massage each time (yes, I know, it sounds like prenatal care) and I feel fantastic when I leave.
The bad news is that the physio says my feet are horrible. No neuropathy, but my calf muscle is still like "marble", I have problems with the tendon as well as this bursa, some arthritis, and apparently my feet are only flexible in the opposite direction to most other people! Although I have the bursa on one heel, the therapist judges from my stance that I will probably have some problems there in the future. So I am icing and stretching four times a day and have to keep off the treadmill for the forseeable future. I can, however, keep up the resistance training and swimming. I'll have to find an indoor pool as it's too cold to swim in our pool anymore this season.
I got far more information from the therapists here than from the Orthopaedic Surgeon and they cheerfully answer any questions I have: Is this diabetes related? Is it because I walk badly? Am I just getting old and wearing out? (All the above, except the first, plus a change in exercise and wearing high heels can cause it). The only question they can't answer is how long it will take for this bump to go away completely and all the discomfort with it.
The evil treadmill is probably partly to blame, as is the fact that I tend to wear my trainers until they fall to bits because I am a cheap girl. And in a vain attempt to shed poundage I really upped the training since March. Something had to give, I was hoping it was the fat but it turned out to be the posterior archilles tendon.
The really irony is that through all the stress my BG has never been better. Go figure.
The bad news is that the physio says my feet are horrible. No neuropathy, but my calf muscle is still like "marble", I have problems with the tendon as well as this bursa, some arthritis, and apparently my feet are only flexible in the opposite direction to most other people! Although I have the bursa on one heel, the therapist judges from my stance that I will probably have some problems there in the future. So I am icing and stretching four times a day and have to keep off the treadmill for the forseeable future. I can, however, keep up the resistance training and swimming. I'll have to find an indoor pool as it's too cold to swim in our pool anymore this season.
I got far more information from the therapists here than from the Orthopaedic Surgeon and they cheerfully answer any questions I have: Is this diabetes related? Is it because I walk badly? Am I just getting old and wearing out? (All the above, except the first, plus a change in exercise and wearing high heels can cause it). The only question they can't answer is how long it will take for this bump to go away completely and all the discomfort with it.
The evil treadmill is probably partly to blame, as is the fact that I tend to wear my trainers until they fall to bits because I am a cheap girl. And in a vain attempt to shed poundage I really upped the training since March. Something had to give, I was hoping it was the fat but it turned out to be the posterior archilles tendon.
The really irony is that through all the stress my BG has never been better. Go figure.
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