Thursday, March 15, 2012

DB Meetup #6

How do you define a fabulous diabetes meetup?
Feeling sort of blue for several days, and then your mood turning 180 degrees after the first 10 minutes.
And, waking up the next morning with a big smile on your face!

Cynthia and Al

Mikey and Scott enjoying some bolus-worthy carbs

The boys, in attentive picture-posing mode

Scott and me

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Thursday, March 08, 2012

Me and Mildred at the Y

Well, the novelty of using the treadmill has gradually been wearing off. I've been a little intimidated about trying all the cardio and weight machines. That is, until I saw Mildred on the elliptical. Mildred is an 81 year old, retired art teacher who wears a lavender beret. She lives in a senior highrise downtown but come to my neighborhood (called "uptown") to buy kumquat preserves at a grocery store.
One day she told me she was going to try the elliptical. I didn't think it was a good idea - she walks with a cane and is a tad unsteady. But we got a trainer and she hopped on and took off without a problem. When she was done she had trouble stepping off the platforms stepping off the platforms, so I told her that whenever we were there at the same time I'd be sure to stay so I could help her.
After seeing her success, I decided to try one new machine each week. I really like the leg press:

But it's somewhat awkward getting yourself positioned as your body has to be scrunched up so your feet can press against the resistance board:

I hardly ever have problems going low during a workout because I go right after lunch and right after dinner. Most of the time I don't need any prandial insulin to cover lunch, nor do I have to worry about hypos.
I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I realized I was low and tried to get up to get my sugar out of my fanny pack. I got one leg down, but did not know how to move the other. So I just laid there and stared at the ceiling. I wasn't too concerned but then, upon dropping even further, started my usual dramatic sobbing. Mildred was lifting one pound weights and came over, but I had no words to tell her what was happening. She said maybe she should pull the fire alarm. I had no way of protesting. Fortunately, what she thought was a fire alarm was some other doodad on the wall.
By then I guess my liver had released a bit of sugar into my bloodstream and I was able to reach my pack. However, I still could not get off the machine:

A sullen looking teenager, who probably should have been in school, sauntered up to me and said "hey lady, aren't you almost through?". I said, "would it kill you to give me a second?"
I finally got up, went into the mat room, and laid down on the floor. Mildred came in to say goodbye. I stared up at the ceiling and thought, "just another day in diabetes land".