Candy Hearts Blog

It's a sweet adventure full of gluten free goodies!

Candy Hearts Blog - It's a sweet adventure full of gluten free goodies!

2015 DBlog Week: Keep it to Yourself

While I’m pretty transparent about our life, there are some things I just don’t feel comfortable talking about here. To be honest, I don’t actually know what all of them are, because I’m pretty sure many of them haven’t even happened yet.

That being said, I just want you to know I understand.

If you’ve ever had to make the choice between a tank of gas and a test strip copay, I understand.

If you’ve ever sat up in the middle of the night, fretting over a glucose level while eating through an entire shelf in your pantry, I understand.

If you’ve ever cried for no reason, but for a million reasons at the same time, I understand.

If you’ve ever stopped believing in your dreams, I understand.

If you’ve discovered new ones you never wanted to find, I understand.

If you’ve watched life wander by, and wondered if you’d ever find joy in it again, I understand.

If you’ve ever looked in the mirror, and stared confused at the stranger in front of you, I understand.

If you’ve ever felt alone in crowded spaces…or crowded in quiet places, I understand.

If you’ve ever been stuck at a crossroads, and opted to remain stagnant instead, I understand.

If you’ve ever been terrified to move, to breathe, or to speak for fear your world would crash, I understand.

I show you the stuff I want you to see, but there’s a story behind the silence.

Thank you for understanding.

This post is part of the 6th Annual Diabetes Blog Week. To read more Keep it to Yourself stories, click HERE!

2015 DBlog Week: I CAN

Ten years ago, I knew.

Deep inside this (candy) heart of mine…I knew.

I knew something was wrong. I knew it was more than an occasional saturated diaper. I knew it was more than a simple childhood virus, but I was too afraid to push harder for an answer. I wasn’t ready.

I couldn’t.

I was right. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. On July 25, 2005, she was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. The room stared at me – the nurse – expecting that I would step up to teach my husband how to give our daughter a shot. Instead, I sat in a rocking chair, holding our sleeping baby, suddenly afraid of every needle on the planet. I was horrified that this is how she would live…how we would live…

I couldn’t.

At home a few weeks later, settled in for the night…I still replayed the doctor’s instructions in my mind over and over again. When to eat, how many carbs to eat, what to do if she was low, when to test for ketones, when to correct, when not to correct…I drifted off to sleep, and something forcefully woke me around 2 or 3 am. It literally shook me out of a deep sleep and forced me to check her blood glucose level for no reason. I found my baby sleeping soundly with a BG of 38. She barely responded when I was trying to force her to drink juice. I was sure I’d never sleep through the night again.

I couldn’t.

Fast forward a few years, and it was time to start preschool. All the other moms smiled and waved, then went back to their cars. I smiled and waved, then went to the office with my double stroller, newborn, and toddler. We’d sit there for the next three hours so I could be readily available because the staff didn’t feel confident about having her in the program.

I couldn’t.

She was invited to birthday parties, and sleepovers, and swimming playdates. I watched as other kids showed up to navigate these events on their own, but stuck around and didn’t go home. I slept on couches, and passed out cake. I helped monitor poolside, and took care of anything I could so I didn’t get in the way. She wasn’t ready to manage diabetes on her own yet.

I couldn’t.

And then, one day, I could.

I could face the diagnosis and do the shots. I was able to learn how to balance overnight BG monitoring and sleep. I left the preschool…then kindergarten…then, in the blink of an eye, 5th Grade. We figured out birthday parties, and she learned how to handle sleepovers.

Looking ahead, there’s so much yet to come.

Adolescence has arrived. Soon to follow middle school, high school, her first date, class trips, proms…eventually, her first job, driving, and college.

History has taught me I can do this.

WE can do this.

This post is part of the 6th Annual Diabetes Blog Week. To read more I CAN stories, click HERE!

Dear New Friend (The one whose child was just diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes),

Your sweet child (no pun intended) was just diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I know you woke up today in the haze of this whirlwind, and I realize you may wonder if this is actually reality, or some weird dream-like state of consciousness you never knew existed. Whether you are familiar with what type 1 diabetes is or not, you are probably in shock and doing your best to take in the enormity of the situation without panicking.

In the coming hours, days, weeks, and months you will have information thrown at you from a million directions. When you turn to the internet, it’s possible you’ll end up tripping and falling down a rabbit hole you never saw coming. In this age of technology, there are a million people with a million opinions waiting behind every click. Unfortunately, not all of the information at your fingertips will be helpful — or accurate, for that matter.

2015 marks the 10th year since my daughter’s Type 1 diagnosis. She was diagnosed about three weeks after her 2nd birthday, and we’ve stumbled around this block a time or two. From being told to “suck it up” to a suggestion to try feeding her camel’s milk (because I always wanted a pet camel, right?), I’ve heard a lot of stuff on this journey.

With that in mind, I wanted to give you 10 useful tips (in no particular order) to help you figure out how to plant your feet in the right direction:

BUT FIRST!!!!! This is a long post. I mean…it’s been TEN years for us…so TEN tips adds up. I just want to say that if you don’t feel ready to read this right now, that’s okay. Type 1 diabetes is here. It isn’t going away. You can always come back to read this another day.

1) You will, no doubt, deal with a range of emotions as you go through the motions of adjustment…and beyond. I want you to know that it’s okay if you aren’t feeling “happy happy joy joy” every minute. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay feel frustration over the financial toll, sleep deprivation, and stressful impact type 1 diabetes will have on your family. Pretending any of that doesn’t exist won’t make it go away. Acknowledging the challenges doesn’t mean diabetes “wins”. It means you’re facing reality.

Whenever possible, face it – don’t fake it. Your emotions are validated. Justified. Heard. But you are also the parent, and that means you won’t allow life to fall apart either. You’ll do what needs to be done — even when you’re feeling down — because that’s how you roll.

{Further reading: I wrote this post detailing my emotional journey when we got to the 5 year mark — now we’re standing at the brink of 10 years, and not much has changed.}

2) There isn’t a magic cure. Well-meaning people will offer up all kinds of solutions to try to help your child. I say “well-meaning”, because I’d like to think they aren’t intentionally suggesting you try things that could kill your child. I won’t link to some of the outrageous propaganda here (because I don’t want to give them click stats, and also because I don’t want to send you down the wrong path), but cinnamon won’t cure your child…neither will any special combination of foods…or eliminating a food group altogether…or trying an exotic essential oil…or giving your child a variety of supplements…or trying a specialized exercise program.

Insulin is NOT your child’s enemy. Insulin is a hormone essential for life-sustaining function. Without it, people die. It is the ONLY treatment available for the management of type 1 diabetes. Remember, prior to the discovery of insulin, T1D was a universally fatal disease. No one survived…despite trying every herb, every oil, every diet, every exercise, every everything…everyone died. No one was spared.

Insulin saved your child’s life too.

{Sidenote: You’re child may enter something called a “honeymoon phase” after being diagnosed. For awhile, it might seem like diabetes has disappeared, but it hasn’t. I’m sorry.}

3) There will be no shortage of advice. Once you begin to integrate online, you will find there are as many opinions about every detail as there are details. Remember when you were a new mommy and got sucked into the vaccine debate? Or the breastfeeding debate? Or the cloth vs disposable diaper debate?

Yeah. Like that.

Do you change your lancet with every poke? Did you check ketones with every BG over 250? DO YOU — USE AN ALCOHOL WIPE FOR EVERY INJECTION????? The list is long, and the commentary is longer.

Here’s a tip: Don’t pay attention to any all of it. Do what works for your kid, and let another mother do what works for hers. Take what you find helpful, and leave the rest behind. That’s all there is to it. Pick and choose what (and who) you want to spend your energy on.

Along those lines, be aware that sometimes people will interject themselves into your crisis. And, make no mistake, right now — in the aftermath of your child’s diagnosis — this is a time of crisis as you adapt your new normal. There are some people who are just constantly in a state of drama. They come on strong, act like they know everything — been there/done that, and monopolize your time with their theatrics.  They’ll constantly compare your situation to theirs. They turn every conversation around to be about them, and they never stop to listen. Every day is a new dilemma for many of them, and you’ll grow tired of listening to all of their struggles while trying to balance your own.

You don’t have to make time for all that right now — or ever, for that matter. It’s okay to avoid them. Unfollow. Defriend. Block. Whatever it takes.

Catch your breath.

4) Ask for help. You are going to need someone who can check your child’s BG, count carbs, and help give insulin. You will need someone who can watch your child for an hour or two at some point in time. I know it might feel impossible right now, but be honest when people ask you what you need.

Sure you can always use help with dinners, and errands, and all that good stuff…but for the long haul, you will need someone to be willing to step up in this area. Tell your friends and family you need them to learn everything they can so they can help you take care of your child.

Not everyone will be willing, but someone probably will. You might be surprised who it is.

5) Technology is out there.  When it comes to diabetes technology, there’s a lot of information to absorb. From glucometers to insulin pumps to continuous glucose monitors (CGMs), there’s plenty to learn. While I feel inclined to tell you to cross those bridges when you’re ready, I also feel obligated to let you know that technology has, literally, revolutionized this journey for us.

#1 – The precise micro-dosing offered by the insulin pump helped us stop the horrible low blood sugars that were causing my little 2-year-old daughter to pass out repeatedly. {She wears the Animas PingHERE’S WHY, if you’re interested.}

#2 – Yes, she did begin carrying a cell phone at 9 years old. It was a game changer, and my only regret is we didn’t get one for her sooner. Putting a cell phone in her hand gave us a direct connection for the times we couldn’t be together…like, for example, when she was Toto in the school play and stayed after school twice a week for most of the school year; and that time she went to her 1st sleepover (which didn’t go very well, btw); and all the weekend services we’ve spent apart during church worship. These days, she goes to the park with her pals, rides her bike around the neighborhood, and calls me anytime she’s dealing with a BG issue she feels like she needs help with. I love that we have cell phone technology in this day and age of parenting — and diabetes management.

#3 – Finally, the peace of mind offered by her Dexcom Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM) is second to none. Dexcom measures the interstitial glucose levels using a very thin sensor placed just beneath the skin. It displays a glucose reading every 5 minutes, along with an arrow to indicate which direction the glucose level is moving. We’ve found it to be incredibly accurate, and would consider it one of the most important tools in our tool box.

Currently, I’m able to remotely monitor my daughter’s Dexcom data using Nightscout. This means I can see her numbers on my laptop, smartphone, and even on my Pebble watch (using an Android app) no matter how far apart we are! Ten years ago, the idea of being able to remotely monitor my daughter’s glucose levels would have been a dream come true…and now here we are. {Nightscout is actually a bit more complicated to set up than I’m making it sound here, but it’s pretty amazing and worth the investment of time.}

If you are a family of iPhone users, the Dexcom SHARE might be a great option for you. There isn’t as much set up required as Nightscout, and you can still remotely monitor your child’s glucose levels. Unfortunately, Dexcom didn’t make their remote monitoring software available to Android users (something I have a pretty big problem with — a soapbox I’ll rant on another day), so I can’t give you a firsthand account of the experience, but I think it’s going pretty well for iPhone users who have been able to use it.

Finally, have hope in the technology of tomorrow. In the summer of 2014, my daughter wore a closed-loop artificial pancreas called the Bionic Pancreas. She wore it for five days as part of a clinical trial, and it completely controlled her glucose levels — like, she didn’t count carbs, she didn’t correct highs, she didn’t deal with lows. It. did. eve.ry.thing. I’m not even making this up, people. I know it sounds very futuristic-scifi-the-stuff-that-movies-are-made-of…but it was real. She really wore it. You can read more about her experience with the Bionic Pancreas HERE.

Oh, and Encapsulation. You need to be excited about that too…it’s a little implanted device that would eliminate the need for insulin for up to 24 months.

Yeah. Read that again: “eliminate the need for insulin for up to 24 months”.

Good stuff is coming.

Get on board with technology.

6) Get involved. You cannot take a passive role in your child’s future. You have a very finite amount of time to shape tomorrow, thereby ultimately making a long-term impact on your child’s destiny.

One day your child will grow up to become an adult with type 1 diabetes. Their ability to carry health insurance, avoid discrimination in the workplace, access technology (as well as what that technology will be), and the ability live as normal a life for as long as possible will come about, because of  advocacy efforts that are happening TODAY.

There are organizations working very hard to secure a better future for your child, but it’s not just about tomorrow. Children today are able to access insulin pumps and CGMs because of advocacy organizations who have worked hard with the FDA and insurance organizations. Our children can go to school with protection under the American with Disabilities Act, complete with a 504 Plan (or IEP, depending on your child’s needs). Today’s children are benefiting because of yesterday’s hard work. It’s a circle effect.

You must become part of the momentum, because we need ALL HANDS ON DECK. Get involved. Start a walk team. Sign up to share your story with lawmakers. Offer to come to the office. DO SOMETHING…but whatever you do, don’t do nothing.

JDRF

ADA

Here’s a great article that highlights some others.

7) There are no bad numbers.  There are a lot of numbers. Many days are like a roller coaster…up, down, up, down…but there are no “bad numbers”. There are high numbers. Low numbers. And target numbers.

Let’s say a BG of 439 pops up on the meter. What do you do?

Frown? Scowl? Grumble?

Does your child think you’re frowning, scowling, and grumbling at them? Are they now worried that they’ve disappointed their parent because of something they have absolutely no control over? Their body doesn’t make insulin. Regardless of whether that number is the result of forgetting to cover something or not calculating correctly, the fact remains that…well…they’re 439 because their body doesn’t make insulin.

Listen…the last thing you want is for your child to tie that number to their self-worth. It’s a number. It’s a piece of data — that’s all. 439 simply means your child needs insulin. Period.

Fix the number, then objectively try to figure where it came from. Don’t lash out. Don’t hurl accusations. Don’t place blame. Just work together to problem solve.

Each number — whether high, low, or target — is merely a point of data on a graph. There are no bad numbers — just data. Use the data to make decisions about what to do next, but do not use the data to place any sort of value on your child.

Your child is so much more than a number.

{By the same token, remember these numbers are not a measure of your parenting either. Data! That is all.}

8) Doctors often don’t get it. You will be surprised how many times you encounter a doctor (or other healthcare professional, nurses included) who will ask you if your child uses insulin. Um, yes. TYPE 1 DIABETES infers the use of insulin, but it’s just not that simple. They will insist your child needs nutritional counseling or start an exercise program to “control their diabetes”. They don’t get it. THEY JUST DON’T GET IT!!!!! And you can educate them until you’re blue in the face, but they will probably just argue with you.

Truthfully, I didn’t really get it either. I was a nurse for 10 years before my daughter was diagnosed, and nothing in nursing school prepared me for this. I was SHOCKED when I learned what this life would consist of. I’m embarrassed to admit this…but I said that…and this patient taught me so much.

I don’t know how to fix the problem at large, but felt you should know so you wouldn’t be caught off guard. Most healthcare professionals have no clue about T1D, so don’t let them start making decisions about your child’s insulin until you’re confident they know what they’re doing.

{Further reading: No one should die because they are misdiagnosed or not diagnosed in time.}

9) Get on a 1st name basis with your school nurse. And your school’s custodian. And the cafeteria workers. And the front office staff. And the crossing guard. And anyone else who is willing to look out for your child during the school day. Love these people. You are on the same team. It takes a village, and they will be there when you aren’t. Everyone matters.

10) Your child was diagnosed, but everyone in the family is living with type 1 diabetes. This is going to be life-changing for everyone. Siblings will go through adjustments. Marriages go through adjustments. Family routines go through adjustments. In some ways, a bomb has just been dropped in the middle of your living room.  In other ways, the ultimate team challenge has just been presented to your family.

Everyone’s experience counts. No one is less important, and there’s most certainly a job for everyone. Youngers can help keep track of juice boxes, and Olders can help learn how to give injections. From learning how to check glucose levels to learning how to count carbs to learning how to weigh and measure food, there’s something for everyone.

All of that being said, sometimes it won’t be so hunky dory. Sometimes siblings grow tired of the extra attention your child with diabetes (CWD) is getting. Sometimes your CWD may grow tired of it too.

After ten years, I wish I could end this post by telling you that it gets easier, but it doesn’t. Sometimes it feels like we’re living life one number at a time, just waiting for the next result so we can make a decision about what happens next.

The insurance hassles, prescription battles, and BG rollercoasters never seem far away. There’s always a challege lurking around the corner. Just when you think you’ve found the perfect insulin dosages, your child grows — or has a test — or exercises — or whatever. There are birthday parties, and sleepovers, and swimming pools, and bounce houses…and nothing is predictable.

It’s never easy…but you will look back and see how far you’ve come…at 2 weeks, then 4…then 3 months, 6…then before you know it, at 1 year, 5…10… You will stand amazed at what you, your child, and your family has overcome. You will look around, simultaneously shocked at how fast the time has flown, and how slow it has crept by at the same time.

No…it doesn’t get any easier.

YOU, my friend, get BETTER!

Dr. Frederick Banting: In His Own Words

Today is November 14, 2014.

World Diabetes Day

I’ve spent the day taking care of routine stuff.

A dentist appointment. A trip to Costco. Dishes.

I’ve also periodically checked Sugar’s Nightscout screen to keep tabs on the basal changes I’ve been tweaking over the last couple of days.

(Sidebar: Haven’t heard of Nightscout? You should really check it out.)

Today I’ve thought a lot about Frederick Banting, and how thankful I am that he was born on November 14, 1891. Afterall, he discovered the miracle treatment that keeps my daughter alive today: Insulin.

Over the years, I’ve read many articles about Dr. Banting and the discovery of insulin, but I haven’t encountered very many direct quotes from the man himself. I know it’s silly, but sometimes I ponder what it would have been like to attend a conference with Dr. Banting headlining as the keynote speaker. Can you imagine the tweets, hashtags, and Facebook updates that would start trending from such an event???

#bantingisdabomb

So much has changed since that first injection of insulin was given to Leonard Thompson on January 11, 1922. Syringes have evolved from reusable to disposable. Today there are insulin pumps and continuous glucose monitors. The Bionic Pancreas and encapsulation sit on the horizon.

Yet so much has remained the same.

I read Dr. Banting’s Nobel Lecture for the first time today, and found myself awestruck at the similarities between life as we know it right now, and life as it existed when he delivered his address on September 15, 1925.

I’ll leave you with some of the profound excerpts of his words:

banting 1 banting 2

banting 3 banting 4

banting 5 banting 6

banting 7 banting 8

banting 9 banting 10

Untitled

A Bionic Friendship: Introducing Addy and Ally

1

Addy was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes on July 25, 2005.

Ally was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes on February 10, 2009.

They live several states apart, and their paths probably wouldn’t have ever crossed if their mothers, Wendy and Misty, hadn’t been active bloggers in the Diabetes Online Community. Before Facebook and Twitter began defining the landscape of social media, Wendy and Misty were seeking online support by sharing their personal journeys of raising a child with diabetes through their online journals.

2

In 2010, Ally sent Addy a special little book she made about her “diabetes friends”…

3

Since then, the girls have kept in touch, supporting each other via e-mail…

4

And Skype…

5

And, most recently, text messaging (YIKES!)…

6

Addy and Ally (and their families) met for the first time in person at the 2012 CWD Friends for Life Conference

7

Then again in 2013

8

So, perhaps this IS a story about two girls…but it’s also a story about two families…

9

Two families who have three little girls each, the oldest of whom has Type 1 Diabetes.

Two families who long for the day their girls — and every person with T1D — will experience life without the constant “basal thinking” that is necessary to survive from one glucose check to the next.

Two families who are bonded through this journey, and whose lives have been forever changed because of Type 1 Diabetes.

10
This post is part of a series of updates documenting Addy and Ally’s experiences as part of a clinical trial for the Bionic Pancreas in the Summer of 2014.
Postscsript – I don’t generally use my daughter’s real name here, on the ol’ bloggy blog.
Each of my girls actually have their own cutsie nicknames, but I’m making an exception today, because putting the names “Addy and Ally” together is too sweet {pun intended} not to!
I know.
Stop laughing.
I’m really not that sappy all the time.

Going Bionic

July 25, 2014 will mark the 9th anniversary of Sugar’s diagnosis with Type 1 Diabetes.

Nine years of finger pokes, shots, pump sites, and managing insulin for every speck of carbohydrate she eats or drinks. Nine years of carefree childhood balanced with the burden of chronic disease. Nine years of trying to learn everything there is to know about an all-consuming diagnosis, while simultaneously fostering independence in constant preparation for the day she takes control of her own care. Nine years of overnight glucose checks, A1c’s, lab draws, quarterly office visits, 504 meetings, school training, and advocacy.

If you had told me, on July 25, 2005, that nine years later, the child fighting for her life in that PICU bed would embark on an experience to radically alter the course of managing Type 1 Diabetes forever…well, I would have just stared at you, blinking confused as if you were speaking a foreign language to me. Then I would have started crying (again).

But it’s happening.

Sugar has officially been placed as one of 2 eleven-year-old girls who will wear the Bionic Pancreas for five days as part of a clinical study at diabetes camp. Even better, the other eleven-year-old girl is one of her diaBFF’s, Ally! (Stay tuned — I’ll be sharing the story of their friendship coming up next!)

What is a Bionic Pancreas, you ask?

Engineers from Boston University have developed a closed-loop bionic pancreas system that uses continuous glucose monitoring along with subcutaneous delivery of both rapid-acting insulin (to lower blood glucose) and glucagon (to raise blood glucose) as directed by a computer algorithm. The bionic pancreas automatically makes a new decision about insulin and glucagon dosing every five minutes.

a and a going bionic

It’s five days of not having to think about how to respond to her blood sugar. It’s five days of running carelessly with the wind without the fear of hypoglycemia. It’s five days of enjoying food without calculating the number of carbohydrates on her plate. It’s five days of being surrounded by other children who face the same challenges, and five days of  feeling “normal”. It’s five days of going to sleep without anxiety about the “what ifs“, and five days of waking up with a glucose level in range, ready to start a new day.

It’s five days of a life Sugar doesn’t remember, and five days of a glimpse inside her future at the same time.

(P.S. I’ll be documenting our journey as much as I can, so be sure to stop by again soon! Here’s the Candy Hearts Blog Facebook Page, where I’ll be posting links for regular updates.)

Dear Tameka,

Ho.ly. Shizzzzz.

The past two years have been full of heartache in your world.

First, you lost your son, Kile, in 2012 after a he was hit by a jet ski while tubing behind a boat on Lake Lanier. Then you nearly lost another son, Usher Raymond V, last summer to pool drain entrapment when his arm got stuck while trying to retrieve a toy.

Now one of your boys has been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. (You’ve probably heard by now that Usher mentioned your son’s Type 1 diagnosis on the Today Show yesterday.)

Really, Universe?

REALLY?????

Enough already.

My heart resonates with yours, because I’m also the mother of a child with Type 1 Diabetes. Not only that, I lost my older brother to suspected pool drain entrapment when I was a little girl. He was 9, and I was 5.

It’s nowhere near the same…yet very much the same.

Even though I haven’t lost a child of my own, I saw my mother’s struggle with grief as she tried to move forward, creating a sense of “normal” in the wake of my brother’s death. I fully understand the hole left in the family, where a child’s smile and laughter used to dwell…the emptiness that never goes away.

I also understand the moment you stand in shock as someone tells you that your child will die without receiving life-sustaining insulin by injection multiple times a day or via an insulin pump 24/7/365 for the rest. of. their. life. The moment you witness your child having a low blood sugar. Trying to figure out how to count every carbohydrate they eat or drink. The thud in your chest when they cry because they don’t want to be poked again. The seemingly endless pile of manuals attempting to outline how to raise a healthy child with Type 1 Diabetes.

It’s overwhelming.

Added to grief and healing over previous tragedies, it must feel downright mind-boggling at times.

I want you to know that there are many people living very fulfilling lives with T1D, along with parents who are raising children with T1D out there, and they’re happy to support you as you navigate the journey ahead. If/when you need a friend, please reach out. (Sidenote: That goes for Usher too!)

Here are some ways you can get connected:

First and foremost, check out the You Can Do This Project. Because you can. (Also, here’s my video.)

You’ll also want to check out the website www.ChildrenWithDiabetes.com and perhaps even consider making plans to attend the most amazing T1D conference experience EVER – Friends For Life 2014.

There’s a Tweet Chat every Wednesday night from 9-10 pm EST. Just hop on Twitter and look for the hashtag #DSMA (Diabetes Social Media Advocacy). You’ll find a blend of people with all sorts of connections to diabetes (Type 1, Type 2, LADA, and a few others) who share unique insights using a prompt from the moderator.

There are also DSMA live chats, where you can listen to a topic of conversation, submit commentary, and even call in to add your two cents.

There’s a slew of Diabetes Blogs out there, many that talk about life specifically with Type 1. You might be surprised at how connected you feel after reading some of their stories.

Diabetes Art Day is also a popular event in the Diabetes Online Community (DOC).

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone. There’s a lot of people rooting for you, Usher, and your family.

Welcome to Type 1.

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