Don't sweat it: adventures in type 1 diabetes, weight loss, fitness and bladder control

My goals are to have good blood sugar control over time, lose another 10-15 pounds, and have Michelle Obama arms. But nothing is simple, you know? I was on target Friday for a reasonable set of meals. Unfortunately, I went low twice on the plane while we were stuck on the tarmac and the only snack I had handy was pretzel M&Ms. They're delicious, but that was 360 calories more than I had planned to have while just sitting on my ass in a plane. So I started dinner with 196 calories left for the day. That was unrealistic. I ate reasonably and at 10pm my blood sugar was 160. I was fine with that and figured the pump would alarm if my sugar started to climb. My pump did its duty faithfully from about 1am until 7am when I woke up, but it was under the 50 pounds of covers provided by the Marriott so I never heard it. I woke up with a sugar of 331 and a low pump battery. So. Angry. I love that my Minimed sensor is built into the pump but I hate that it doesn't have sufficient range that I can put my pump outside the covers and still have it work. I could really be tempted to get a separate sensor just for that one reason.

I grumpily put on my workout clothes and wasn't sure how much insulin to take as a correction. I was about to get on a treadmill, but my sugar was really high. Rich was heading to breakfast and I wasn't sure if I should eat yet and how much. I also hated that all this had put me in a foul mood first thing in the morning and my teeth felt all fuzzy and my head hurt and dammit, why didn't my sensor work better? I opted for oatmeal, a banana and a bagel with Rich and then planned on running all that off.

I ran for 45 minutes. I didn't turn off my pump like I normally do, but I also hadn't taken any insulin for my breakfast which would have been probably 6-7 units. About 30 minutes in, I decided to take 3 units and see how that would fare. After running my sugar was 153 but I had two down arrows on my pump telling me it was going to possibly tank. I suspended the pump for 30 minutes or so to see what it would do, since I still intended to do some sit-ups, push ups, and other stuff in our tiny hotel room. By 11am I was at 147 and fine with that.

We walked 1.25 miles down Michigan Avenue to lunch and my sugar was 114 when we sat down. I had salad and a small steak sandwich. I only took 3 units for the bread, anticipating another 1.25 mile walk back to the hotel. My sensor has not quite recovered from this morning so it keeps thinking my sugar is around 150 (so it keeps alarming to warn me) but it's really more like 120.

That's all the logistics from my day so far, but I wanted to talk about some of the emotional stuff. It's frustrating that blood sugar maintenance and calorie control can seem at odds with each other so often. I also would have loved to run down to the Navy Pier this morning versus watching Good Morning America on a tiny TV in the crowded Marriott fitness center, but I'm not willing to risk a low blood sugar miles from home and there were just too many factors this morning between a roller coaster of sugars and foods and travel.

I absolutely love running. I thought it would be boring but it's very zen for me. I am so slow but I just don't care. No really, however slow you are? I'm slower. I don't have to change the pace on the treadmill between my warm up walk and my run. I rock the 15 minute mile and I'm fine with that. I don't want to run with other people. I just want to listen to my playlist and do my thing.

And holy smokes would I love to not have to get off the treadmill every time I have to cough in order to avoid wetting my pants. It's a little ridiculous. I would have to jump off the treadmill to the side bars, cross one leg over the other, do a little squat, cough, and then hop back on. We'll just call it cross-training. As a few coughs snuck up on me, I failed to make it through my entire workout with my bladder control intact. I am going to make one of those Map My Run apps that rates how many of the miles I ran were with clean, dry undies. You all can click "Like" on Facebook to cheer me on through my kegels. Absolutely. Ridiculous.

But once you've wet your pants, you no longer are worried about if you look ridiculous singing along to your iPod.

Three's Company

I have been incredibly upbeat about Rich's cancer, but when we went to Tennessee at the beginning of May for his orientation and initial dosage, I got a little sad. As we went over the details of Rich's treatment on that first day, they reminded us that while in pill form and with minimal side effects, this is still considered chemotherapy. As a chemotherapy patient, Rich and I are not supposed to create any new lives while this drug is in his system. Therefore, any plans we would have for a second child are on hold as long as he's taking these drugs. They instructed that it would take 60 or 90 days after his last treatment before they felt like everything was out of his system. We couldn't take that kind of break from the drug trial without forfeiting his participation. So if Rich stopped treatment for us to get pregnant, he would have to wait for another trial to become available. That didn't seem like a good idea. And so, no babies any time soon.

We are unclear how long Rich will need this drug trial treatment. It could be over a year, depending on how the CT scans look. It's all up in the air. So as we waited for more blood work for Rich, I sat in the next room and looked like this.

In the grand scheme of things, this is the best plan. I can't imagine being the Chancellor of Optimism while either pregnant or tending to a newborn. We watched my six-month-old nephew the other day and that one evening gave me an idea of how bedtime can be touchy with a super tired three-year-old along with a super tired baby. Everyone has her limits. Rich also tends to worry when I'm pregnant so he doesn't need that stress on top of his worries about his own health. Again, everyone has his limits. So it makes sense to wait. But I had started thinking about our next foray into parenthood and was even getting a little excited about it. So it was just a bummer all around.

After the first six weeks of Rich's treatment, though, I've come around to this plan. We have our hands full at the moment with Ian and regular flights to Nashville. It's a bit of a luxury to only have one kid in our house while that one kid is under the age of four. Rich and his brother are five years apart and thick as thieves. My two older brothers are 6.5 and 18 years older than I am and we're all doing great.

We do want more kids (well, we've at least agreed on one more). We just have to wait for now. I promise you'll get a memo as soon as operation sibling is a success. But the three of us are having a good time in the meantime.

Lost and found

You know how your favorite song comes on just as you're going into the tunnel? But this is a song you have rocked in many a karaoke frenzy so you have got this! You've got the first 30 seconds or so under your belt and feel like you've got the tempo down.

But when you emerge back out into the sunshine, you are half a song ahead of the radio or suddenly it's switched from Livin' on a Prayer to Devo.

That's how my blood sugar was last night. Around 2am or so, my sensor lost track of my pump somewhere in the covers (the Minimed is very persnickety about anything being between the pump and the sensor, like Overly Attached Girlfriend). So at 6:30am, it just said LOST SENSOR on the screen. No worries. I went to bed with a blood sugar of 77. How bad could it be?

250, you say? Well, we are not men indeed; we are devo-raciously thirsty and annoyed. I think I ate too much watermelon before bed to fix a low blood sugar. But I just feel better when all my gadgets are on the same page.