Blame It On A Perfect Day

I forgot my shot that I’m supposed to take with lunch.  Even after 15 months of being back at this routine, sometimes it still slips my mind.  It isn’t often, but ithappens.  I had a very good 90-minute workout at the gym this morning. (Good diabetic!)

I came home, drank the high protein recovery shake to help feed thos muscles—arms and shoulders—that did all that work.  Then I checked e-mail.  Evidenlty it took longer than I thought, because when I checked the time, it was time for me to catch the bus so I could buy groceries.  I ate a granola bar so I wouldn’t get hungry.  My plan was to buy a couple of drumsticks of fried chicken at the grocery store deli.  I don’t eat much fried chicken, but there’s something about grocery store fried chicken I can’t resist.

They were ou t of drumsticks.  I guess I can resist grocery store friend chicken if it isn’t the cut I like best.

Then I came home, put away my groceries and got on with my afternoon.  When I checked my sugar before eating dinner it was an even 300.  (BAD diabetic!)  So, I ate and took a BIG shot.  At dusk I went for a walk around the neighborhood.  It is an amazingly cool August this year.

In fact, it was a flawless day, the kind that has everyone raving about it.  Maybe days like this make us want to believe that everything is as easy as it used to be.

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Posted in Excuses, Forgetfulness, Uncategorized

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I was a Type I from the age of 12 until I had a pancreas transplant when I was 33. It came with a new kidney. Diabetes took a toll on me. Being diagnosed at that age, I wasn’t always a model patient. It caused me to have kidney failure, lose part of my vision and parts of my feet are numb.
I loved being a “former diabetic” after the transplant. Or is the proper term “ex-diabetic”? It doesn’t matter. I felt the way a parolee from prison must feel. No more shots. No more blood tests. No more diet. No more strict sschedules. Well, I had to start taking anti-rejection meds—lots of ‘em—twice a day. Compared to the life I lived before, that was nothing.

After 14 years the pancreas stopped working, which means I'm back to being a Type 1 diabetic. This blog is about what it's like to go back to that world.

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Visit my web page JimFairbanks.net
My book about growing up diabetic and how I became a "former diabetic"

My book about growing up diabetic and how I became a "former diabetic"

Order it on Amazon

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