Happy holidays and all that. We had some endo days and these are my notes.
One thing: Tab’s keeping Lantus at 10u/day, and adding Humalog with meals at 1:70.
One to S E V E N T Y. (!)
The care team says Tab also needs a glucagon kit at school, ketone strips for school, and a medical alert bracelet to wear at all times. I said something like that sounds serious and they said something like we for real. The endo said the iPhone medical ID and T1d stickers on medical devices do not suffice and both guys really need to wear bracelets, because that is what EMTs look for. Our group was meh on this. I don’t believe I have been spoken to about the necessity of bracelets since several endos ago. I actually thought bracelets were a relic—due to the ubiquity of iPhones—like a Walkman. We agreed we’d order Road IDs. We have yet to do this. Remember.
Bubs is fine. No changes. He is taller. He has no questions or comments. He is, frankly, bored with disease. Does it spice things up at all, to have his brother added into the mix? It appears not to have done so.
One favorite part of the first appointment was that it ended right at lunch time and the sushi bar we pass on our way home has a $12 lunch special: any two maki rolls, miso soup, and your choice of green tea or Diet Coke. Tab probably should have bolused.
Two days later = today. Tab and I went in for newbie meetings with the dietitian and the CDE. It was interesting to see what had changed in five years, in terms of basic d-education.
What struck me about the dietitian portion of the program is that a dietitian seems to be required to say things d-people no longer believe, e.g. grains are necessary (as per MyPlate), or eggs cause heart disease. It sounds like old information, but maybe it only seems old and is actually cutting edge? Also “free snacks”—has this concept ever applied to my original d-person? By the time Bubs’s I:C ratio was banging enough to require insulin for a snack, I think he had a pump. But today all the classics were laid out before us: sugarless jello and whipped topping; three celery sticks, each with with one tsp. peanut butter and two raisins. String cheese. Olives. Cream cheese, your choice of regular or low fat. I remembered that we do like Knox Blox and that I briefly had amazing fingernails.
The Calorie King = still a thing. The 2016 edition is green instead of blue, but the floating-head royal portrait remains exactly the same. We spent a chunk of the dietitian’s time carb counting an imaginary meal of tuna-avocado rolls and miso soup, trying to parse why the King in the book declares miso soup 11 g CHO/cup but the King online calls it 5 g CHO/cup. This discrepancy was used as a lesson in consulting multiple resources to come up with a best guess. We looked up carbs in miso, carbs in tofu, carbs in seaweed and decided to go with the 5g CHO guess.
What struck me about the CDE part of things was that her content was pretty much the same as it was five years ago, but I (having, uh, matured, I guess) was much more aware of the depth of her kindness. She emphasized the philosophy that a d-person ought not blame himself, that he ought to have a target of 80-150, but know full well he will miss that target on the regular. When I heard those precise sentiments five years ago, I believe I heard it as a challenge: ah, but they’ve never met a person quite like me before—I will do everything right! This time I took it as truth. They’ve met a person like me thousands of times.
After all that, Tab and I were still in a miso soup and “free snacks” mode, so we went to the little Whole Foods and got stuff to make dashi so our home miso soup would taste more restaurant-y. Tab headed over to produce to get scallions, and on my way to the seaweed aisle I happened upon Tab’s nursery school teacher (LOVE) and she gave me a big hug. Then Tab came over all six feet tall and handsome with a bouquet of scallions and reserved demeanor oh, hi, yes, I remember you, nursery school, right, but you could kind of tell he was confused while the teacher probably saw his exact same baby head but on a man body.
All of that juxtaposing wore me out and turned my mind toward acquisitions. I went and spent my Christmas money on an Apple Watch. My idea at the time of purchase was that I could really blossom as a caregiver with children’s glucose data upon my wrist. Now that I’ve had the watch on for a few hours, I believe it’s going to sort out my whole life. It already rumbled at me when I sat still for too long.