Special for “hump day”: I’m revisiting this post from 2007, which I’ve referred to often whenever I second-guess myself about how to talk to my kids about living with diabetes:


Oh, Glorious Middle!

I’ve shared this tidbit with some of you already: whenever my girls and I are having a bit of relaxed fun, laughing and taking things lightly, my feisty 7-year-old perks up with a sideways grin and says, “Mommy, are you in the middle?  You seem like you’re in the middle!”

This, I realized, is a result of my sharing the fact that “when mommy’s too low, she’s feeling pretty terrible — probably shaky and irritated and not at all right.”  And “when mommy’s too high, she has a headache and might be cranky and impatient, you know?”

So there you have it. Whenever things are good, mommy must be in The Middle. That glorious place she always strives to be (not illustrated perfectly by this gauge, but you get the idea).

And Hallelujah, of late, she’s been there quite a bit! 14-day average on the mobile meter (always along in my purse) = 138, and on the house meter (in the kitchen napkin drawer) = 115.  Yippee!

The perennial question: What have I done right? Well, for one thing there’s that food scale, which has certainly made carb-counting more precise.  Also, I’ve become a monitoring fiend, checking at every quiet moment throughout the day, and at least once every night during sleep hours.  I now correct at 2, 3, 4am — more strikes off the list of things I swore I’d never do.

Also, I’ve stopped fighting it. I try now to look at my BG levels not at as a constant battle to be won, but rather as a puzzle to be solved.  There’s always some small tweak you can make to improve your progress on the puzzle.  On this front, I’ve been inspired by the unflappable Phil Southerland, who led the first-ever team of Type 1 diabetic cyclists to victory in the 3,000-mile Race Across America last year. (I wrote a feature story on him for Close Concerns’ new diaTribe patient newsletter last month.)  This guy’s got the most unquestioning “just do it” attitude imaginable.  He never feels sorry for himself — or anyone else with diabetes, for that matter.  It’s just another of life’s inevitable hiccups.  You can do it.  Let’s go…

Anyway, I know this current perfect patch can’t last. They never do.  So onward to more glorious “Mommy in the Middle” days (hard work and all), I say!