Monday, 5-13-13: Often our health care team only sees us for about 15 minutes several times a year, and they might not have a sense of what our lives are really like. Today, let’s pretend our medical team is reading our blogs. What do you wish they could see about your and/or your loved one’s daily life with diabetes? On the other hand, what do you hope they don’t see?
It’s Blog Week for the DOC. So I’ll be using this week to journal along with multitudes of other PWDs about the same prompts. Consequently, I also leave for vacation on Friday, so I’ll be writing a LOT and scheduling my posts accordingly.
Anyway, let’s start. First thing: I actually have shared my blog with one of my medical team. Well sort of. I passed the link along to my rep from Medtronic while I was getting plugged in to my CGM. I have no idea if she stops by on occasion. I also often talk about my run ins with medical staff here, knowing that yeah, maybe one day it could be found. But when my average hits per day are less that 5, I’m guessing I’m not popping up on Google searches very easily.
But what would they do or say if I was discovered? They probably wouldn’t have time to care, honestly. I’m just one PWD in their busy schedule. I have zero complications, semi decent control, and I exercise. I’m “low risk” as some might say. I generally don’t have a problem explaining my reasons for eating certain foods at certain times, or experimenting with dosing and medicinal needs on my own. I ultimately have to face the consequences later and am educated enough to make the adjustments. They are simply there as a guide.
But gosh, darn it. Maybe I want a slice of pizza every so often. Or want to head out to sushi. Yeah – I know what it does to my post meal BGs and that those spikes are completely unacceptable during pregnancy. However, I’ve been trying to keep this “invincible disease” as invincible as possible, so blending in with my peers and their meal choices are my ultimate goal. Besides, it’s not like pizza is a daily meal.
I will have random spikes that I can’t explain, and I can’t expect you to either. But it always leads back to the question, “well, what DID you do there?” Blame serves me no purpose in this fight.