Sad Little Pudding


The walnuts hide some of the sadness.

I’m sad. I thought having a second diabetic child would be like having a live-in Sam Talbot or Kris Freeman, sunny and well-adjusted, leaving a trail of glitter and test strips as he hopscotched through this minor blip in his life. It is not like that.

This week we will go to the pediatric endocrinologist. What will she possibly tell live-in Sam Talbot? I don’t think there are treatment plans or xeroxed forms for early-discovery T1d, other than watch for signs you’re getting worse, and then call for help.

But there could be treatment plans and xeroxed forms. The group of patients diagnosed with T1d in the wee phase must be growing rapidly—TrialNet is actively creating it every day. Maybe someone has made up a list reasonable rules. Like…

  • Test your fasting blood glucose every morning, and call for help if it is over 150 mg/dL.
  • Limit g CHO per meal to 50 or fewer.
  • Wear a Dexcom so you can learn what foods really fern you up and try to avoid them.

Depending on the author, the rules could also be things like…

  • Enjoy this special time.
  • Have a ball.
  • Try to not think about this.

Talbot’s leaving soon for three weeks. Camp. Surely there will be Lucky Charms*. We all know that Lucky Charms do not cause diabetes, but I believe Lucky Charms would almost certainly hasten the conk-out of a conking-out pancreas. (*Lucky Charms here = stand-in for any stereotypical teenager camp foods.)

Would it be fair to say don’t eat the Lucky Charms? Or would it be more fair to say Eat an egg before you eat Lucky Charms? Or would it be better to say, Try to be aware of how you feel after you eat Lucky Charms? As a parent, what can I say that is both loving and straightforward, yet will also subliminally manipulate him into wanting to be gentle on that crud pancreas? Surely the guidance would be more likely to work if it came from a doctor. And no matter what I say or what his doctor says, he’s the decider, at least in terms of inserting food in mouth.


The dishtowel is very pretty.

It would not be fair to say, This grainy, taupe pudding is your new breakfast. But I’ve been inserting chia pudding in my own mouth, which seems fair, since I made it.

I like how it tastes, but I can’t bear to look at it. The taste is kind of like rice pudding, one of my all-time favorite things, right up their with puppies and reading magazines in a hammock. But it is low carb, so I can eat it without going crazy.

Ugly Pudding

This is how I make the rice pudding-esque chia pudding, based on a recipe in the new Gwyneth Paltrow book It’s All Easy. Shake together in a jar: 1/4 cup chia seeds, 1 tsp. grated ginger root, 3/4 cup unsweetened coconut milk (the fridge carton kind), 6T coconut milk (fatty kind from a can), 1 Truvia packet, 1/4 tsp. cinnamon. Let this sit in the fridge overnight. Eat within a few days. This is about 5g CHO, before adding beautification walnuts.








Bigfoot say other thing

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