New Blog/New Name

I have changed names of my blog.  Please go to "www.DiabetesDaze.blogspot.com" to see further posts.  People were having a difficult time finding the correct site.  If you google DiabetesDaze, it comes right up and is much easier to find.  I will be publishing a new post starting Monday, March 5, 2012.  Thanks for following my blog.  It's very encouraging!

What's In A Name

       "I want Rocco!"

       "I don't like Rocco!  I want his name to be Mr. Coffee."

       "That's a dumb name."

       "Now boys, be kind."

       "How about Herbert?"

       "I really like Branko, it means . . ."

       "Mom, we don't care what the name means.  We just don't want to be embarrassed by it."

       "I like Sentry."

       "No."

That's about what it sounded like around here when the question of names came up.  We loved all of your input, votes and suggestions.  We think you all should get puppies too, then all those cute names can be put to use.

But alas, we had to make a decision.  The back and forth banter of names was still popping around when suddenly, the name "REX" flashed through my head.

      "What about the name Rex?"  The room was silent for just a fleeting second and then . . .

      "I like it."

      "I like it too."

      "You do?"

     "Yeah, I do."

      "Me too."

      "Okay, Rex it is. Everybody happy?"

A simultaneous "Yeah!" sounded and all was calm again

               . . . . at least until . . . .


"What's his middle name gonna be?"

WE HAVE A PUPPY!!!!!  Get up and dance, shout a hallelujah, stomp your feet!  I am so excited, I can barely contain myself.  Now hold on - (Oh, do we have to?!)  We don't actually HAVE the puppy here at the house.  The breeder (Warren Retrievers) has chosen our puppy out of the litter and designated it as Our Puppy.   But it's there, in Virginia, growing and waiting and learning the first steps of how to be our D.A.D.  So, so exciting!  We'll get pictures soon, I hope, and we'll be receiving it in mid to late March.  That's soon!  I've been eyeing the dog beds and dog toys at Costco these past few weeks; now I get to buy them!

I have a favor from you all, if you please.  Our dog is a male, chocolate labrador retriever, who has superior scent detection and is mid to high energy (in order to keep up with two active boys).  We have come up with some possible names, but we need your opinion.  Here are our thoughts of names (in random order):

• Bruno - means "brown" in german
• Milo
• Rocco - means "Rest"
• Branko - means "Protected Glory" in Serbian (we would pronounce it like Bronco, even though the Serbian pronunciation is Bran-ko, because we kinda like the sound of Bronco but like the meaning of Bran-ko.  Isn't this getting too complicated?
• Sentry - you know, for "Protector"
• Apollo  - god of protection (among other things)
• Osman - means "God's Protection"
• Garrison - means stronghold, protection
• Schuyler - means scholar, protection
• Muddy - keeping with the "brown/chocolate" theme
• Albert - means "noble, bright"
• Mr. Coffee - need I say more?

This dog is going to be busy protecting the boys EVERY DAY, that's why we've thought of so many "protector" names.  Any other ideas?  We welcome your suggestions!

Can't Catch Me!

Callie . . . . .Dog#2

Callie - - Our second brush with the unbelievable.

It was a warm, sunny day, and my friend and neighbor, KL, was outside with her puppy, Callie.  The boys and their friends were running and playing on the lawn, Callie's lawn.  The excitement of wild boys with squirt guns, wide-open grassy lawns and chatty moms was almost too much for little Callie - Nothing could stop her. . . . nothing,  . . . . EXCEPT . . . a little guy with diabetes.

Little Guy was running, squirtin' his gun, laughing and playing with Callie.  The two were having fun - playing a game of "Can't catch me!" - Callie running away, then Little Guy switching it out and getting Callie to chase him - unabashed, footloose and tail-waggin' FUN!

But then the the tone of their play changed.  Instead of "You Can't Catch Me!," Callie was switching it out to a more insistent sniffing, nose-pushing, paw jumping session that Little Guy couldn't get away from.  He was squatted down on his knees and she was pushing him backwards onto his rump with her nose and paws.  Again, it seemed like something more than just "play".  Remembering our experience with Sonja earlier that summer, I pulled out the glucometer from his kit and pricked his little finger.   Callie, who never calmed down on her own volition in the midst of so much excitement, immediately sat down next to Little Guy.

Blood sugar read "55".

"You're low.  Drink this juice," I snapped in my worried state.   Squatting down next to him, I looked at the colorless pallor of his skin and beady sweat droplets poised on his nose.  I held the juice box straw to his lips as he sucked it in.  It was then that I noticed the little fluff of white fur next to his legs.   "Look at Callie.  Does she usually sit like this, so still and at such attention?"

"No.  Never.  This is very unlike her," replied KL in amazement.

"I think she sensed his blood sugar low," I observed.

KL said, "Wow.  I can't get her to settle down at all unless I remove her from the excitement and take her inside.  This is very unusual."

Just then, Callie got up on all fours, ears pricked up and ran off to the other boys.  Was Callie giving the A-OK signal by getting up and leaving his side?   I re-checked his blood sugar.  The glucometer read "94."  "You're okay again," I said to Little Guy.  "Just eat this snack and go play."

Within seconds, the two were at it again - "Can't catch me!"

KL and I looked at each other in disbelief, wondering . . . how in the world did all that happen?

The Vulnerable

Vulnerable.  Ugh!  We've become vulnerable in the midst of our diabetes.  It's not a good feeling, not a state we want to sink our feet in and settle down into.  It feels kind of "muckish".  Ugh . . .again.  Simple fact is, when something isn't working right, like your pancreas, for instance, you lack knowledge, you're inexperienced, you're scared, you're trying to act normal when you feel anything but normal, you're just plain exhausted because of your Post Traumatic Stress Disorder you got the day your child was diagnosed with this disease . . .and you Just, Plain, Want to go back to the way things were supposed to be . . . . you are now vulnerable.  Suddenly, you're thrust into a new world of needles, glucometers, carb counting,  insulin pumps, continuous glucose monitoring systems, blood glucose data management systems.  And there's more than one brand to choose from!  They all promise so much:  better sugars, less pain, more accuracy, a good night's rest (hah! that's a good one!), more alarms, less alarms, more user-friendly, more high-tech - it leaves your head spinning; spinning helplessly into the Vulnerable.

Enter Dog #1 - Sonja.   After all the promises of better sugars, less pain, more sleep, yada, yada, yada, we discovered our first spontaneous, miracle, diabetes alerting dog.  Let me tell you of our first experience with this God-gift.  My mother has, what we affectionately call, a "mexican mutt" named Sonja.  She's a big, black "somethin'-or-other" alpha-dog, and, boy, is she smart.  We had just arrived in California, the boys and I, and we were all playing outside in the front lawn with Sonja when Sonja started pushing her nose against Little Guy's chest.  He giggled and laughed and tried to avert her nose away, but she wouldn't stop.  She was becoming a nuisance with her insistent nose pushing.  "Sonja, No!" my mother urged.  Sonja only stopped nosing on him to move towards me.  She threw her front paws on my chest and wouldn't get down.  It seemed excessive.  "It seems like Sonja is trying to tell me something, Mom.  Do you think she is?"

"Sonja, Get Down!" commanded my mother.  "I don't know what's gotten into her.  Sonja, Down!"

"I think she's trying to tell me something.  Do you think his sugar is low?  Is she trying to tell us something about his sugar?  I've heard about those dogs that alert diabetics to sugar lows.  Do you think Sonja's one of them," I asked with concern?

"I don't know.  Take his sugar.  See what's happening."

I asked Little Guy, "Do you feel low?"  He shook his head, no.  I pulled out his glucometer, loaded the needle and pricked his finger of its blood.  The glucometer hesitated, blinking out the seconds " 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1."   In the next moment, something miraculous happened.  Something so amazing.  Something only the Great Designer could dream up.  Sonja was lying down quietly on her haunches right next to Little Guy, and the glucometer read "68".  That was too low!  My Little Guy's sugar was low and Sonja knew it even before he knew it!  I gave him a juice box with Sonja sitting so patiently at his side, waited our usual 10-15 minutes with a low, and once again, miraculously, Sonja got up from the Little Guy's side and meandered calmly back into the house.  His sugar was 105, back to normal.  She had done her job!  Sonja had instinctively sensed Little Guy's sugar low and had figured out how to alert me of it.  It was a miracle!

Vulnerable, us?  Absolutely.  But we are not left to our own devices (or the diabetic devices of Medtronic, Omnipod, and Real-Time CGMs -  my fellow diabetic families know what I'm talking about ;-)  Thank God we have God and his wonderful creations - Dogs.  Who would've ever known it would come down to this for us. . . . a real, live D.A.D.  Ah-Maaa-zing.

Beginnings

It's hard for me not to talk about diabetes.  After all, it's the first thing I think about when I get up.  "I wonder what their blood sugars are.  Oh that's right," I think to myself.  "I checked them at 3 a.m. and set the basal amount (of insulin) back by 20%.  I wonder if it worked."

I roll out of bed and wander into Little Guy's room.  "What's your blood sugar?"

"I don't know.  Do I have to wear a long-sleeved shirt today?" Little Guy is distracted by the mundane.

"Yes, it's going to be cold today."  With persistent focus I herd him back to the main idea, "Don't forget to check your blood sugar, and remember to bring your glucometer downstairs when you come.  Both of you!"  Big Guy is in the adjoining bedroom.  He hears, but isn't listening.  I know this.  These data gathering techniques of mine I know are not effective, but after an abbreviated night of sleep, abbreviated due to finger pricks of My Guys, I've lost all creativity at 7 a.m. to muster up an effective plan to find out what anyone's blood sugar is.

"Okay, Mom," says Little Guy.

Nothing from Big Guy.  Figures.

We slip downstairs.  I move towards the coffee maker; Big Guy eases in beside me to fry up some eggs.  He's become so helpful at breakfast.

10 minutes later . . ."Have you checked your blood sugars?"  Silence.  Anybody?  Anybody?  Is Anybody listening? (A Pink Floyd melody comes to mind.)

For some reason, it doesn't seem as important to them as it does to me. . . . maybe that's why I'm starting a blog.