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For the past two weeks or so, my blood sugars have been running high. I had lowered my basals when I came back to school because I was having too many lows with my new schedule. I'm guessing that the basals need to be raised again since I've slowly adjusted to the schedule and I'm hitting exam times so my stress is increased.

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A number of you left comments on my post about leaving little clues about my diabetes diagnosis for my boss in an email. Several of you were pretty critical of my actions.

Long-time readers of my blog, though, will know that I’ve decided to take a different approach at my new job. When I was diagnosed, I was less than a year into a job I loved with people I loved and respected. I had no problem telling just about everyone about my diagnosis. In fact, I felt relieved knowing everyone knew.

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It was 18 years ago today that I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.

I was a senior in high school, had lots of friends, a steady girlfriend, was drum major of our band, and was always on the go. I had recently lost a bunch of weight which I attributed to my fast paced life of practices, dates, parties, and other stuff. I dropped 60 pounds with no effort at all. Since I had always been overweight I was pretty excited.

Night after night I would go to bed with a giant cup of water next to my bed that I would continue to drink all night as I woke up in between to go to the bathroom. I had to go to the bathroom all day long but that was only because I drank a lot. No biggie.

Well, now I can look back and see what my body was telling me.

One night at Drum rehearsal my band director asked me if I felt okay. I felt a little dizzy but had almost grown accustomed to it so I told him I felt fine. (READ MORE)

I made a note on my calendar to call Dr. S today about the bloodwork I had done last week. His nurse told me it may be a week or two before I got results and that I could call any time to see if they were in.

I got impatient (go figure!) and called yesterday. After going through automated phone Hell, I got to the voice mail of the nurse. Her mailbox said feel free to leave a message, but be aware that it may take me 72 hours to get back to you. *sigh*

So I left a message fully expecting NOT to hear from her any time soon. I considered calling again today, but even though I'm impatient I'm not a pest. Well, maybe sometimes.

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abcnews

In the summer of 1996 Susanne and I saw Semisonic perform live in a small, dank bar on the Jersey shore in support of their latest release, Great Divide. Two years later, the Minneapolis rock band's massive hit song "Closing Time" would explode across radio stations around the world.

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I was so shocked when I read a comment on my post about finding the right doctor for me that all I could think about was the first line to the response I would write. I just couldn't get past the shock.

The commenter suggested that, in short, I should consider therapy to address my anger issues regarding diabetes. You know what, that person is right. I am angry that I have diabetes. Damn angry. And I should be angry. This disease has the potential to consume my life, affects my family and invades nearly every activity I do. I have a right to be angry.

But this is not the kind of anger that requires therapy. This is the kind of anger that requires action. Finding the right doctor for me – especially in a new city – takes time and knowledge. Knowledge of my body, my condition, my desire for quality healthcare. (READ MORE)