Monday, January 31, 2011


Don't worry, this post is not about perfect blood sugars. Only people with fully functioning pancreases (pancreai?) can achieve this.

But sometimes, other things seem perfect.  Things that really seem rather silly.

Take, for example, my last set change.  I disconnect the pump, and pull out the Quick-set.  I go to throw the set away, when I stop in my tracks.

No, the cannula isn't kinked, nor is it filled with blood.  The cannula is clear, standing straight and tall.  It is, in fact, perfect.  I stand there, looking at the set, and think, "It's beautiful!"

So what do I do?  Grab the camera, of course.

I realize how silly it is to be this excited about a set.  But I'll take perfection, in any form, when I can get it.

Friday, January 28, 2011

My Hero

So the last couple days have really sucked.  If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen some of my posts about Poppa.

Poppa and me this past summer.

Poppa is my mom's dad.  And Wednesday morning, he had a stroke.  I'm driving to a doctor's appointment when I get a text from my mom (don't worry, I checked it at a stoplight- don't text and drive, kids).  So of course, I promptly call her, and she's crying, and I'm crying whilst trying to drive (not a good idea).  We don't really know anything, so I hang up before I totally can't see at all.  Did I mention my grandparents are four hours away?

The next few hours were not fun.  Not knowing how he was was the worst part.  Long story short, he had a pretty big stroke, and both his speech and some of his cognitive functions were affected.  He's still in the hospital, and should be moved to rehab next week.  It's a long road ahead.

My cousin and I sharing Pop's lap.
I'm amazed my blood sugars haven't been consisently sky high with all the stress and anxiety I'm feeling.  Ugh.  I guess it was fortuitous that I blogged about loss last week.

Because I feel loss and grief right now.  Yes, I am grateful that he's still with us, and that the stroke wasn't worse.  After all, the man is 92 years old, and he and my grandma have been fortunate to not have major health issues (up to this point) and still live on their own.  There is a lot to be grateful for.  But things are different now.  I find myself wishing that I'd cherished this last Christmas with my grandparents more, because I don't know if there'll be another one like that.

I kept bursting into tears at random moments yesterday.  What will he be like next time I see him?  How is Grandma going to cope with all of this?  We always spend Thanksgiving and Christmas at their house--what are we going to do now?
Isn't he handsome?

As you can probably tell, I'm very close to my grandparents.  They've been married for 60 years.  Poppa is a World War II vet.  He was a nose gunner in a B-29 bomber, but he is the kindest, most gentle man.  And yet, at the same time, the most stubborn and determined person you'll ever meet.

He is my hero.  Hang in there, Poppa.  I love you!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Music and Lyrics

I love music! Really, I do.  I'm one of those people that has to have music on all the time--while getting ready in the morning, in the car, etc.  Totally drives my husband crazy.

J has my dad to thank for all of this.  Dad's a big music buff.  I recieved quite the education from him growing up (listening to and identifying music, not playing it.  We're not musically inclined in that way-- we just appreciate it).  When we go out to eat, we can say, "Hey, Dad, what song is this?" and as long as it's pre-2000, he can identify it.  It's super-impressive.

Now, I'm not quite that advanced, but I did grow up listening to a wide variety of artists that most kids my age did not.  Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Robert Palmer, Los Lobos, Elvis Costello, Black Sabbath...well, you get the idea.

So, when I saw C's post and Scott's post both using song lyrics to express life with D, I decided to copy them (sorry guys) and write one too.

Here's the problem though--I can't decide what song to pick! There are so many! I spent a while going through my iTunes library, and I think I've narrowed it down to two.

Ok, so the band Needtobreathe is one of my new obsessions.  I absolutely ADORE them!  Their song Won't Turn Back has been an anthem for me lately (full lyrics here).  I find the chorus especially moving:

So tell me why I should run for cover
At the sound of the coming thunder
All I hear is the cry of my lover
So take your shot
I won't turn back

Ok, so I know it talks about a lover and such, but go with me here.  This song helps me keep going when I feel like giving up--both D and non-D related.  I may feel like running for cover when the thunder comes, whether that's being stuck on the glucoaster or being totally and completely stressed out at work, but I won't give up.  Bring it.  I won't turn back.

Ok, song number 2, also from one of my faves, Jars of Clay.  The song is called The Shelter, and this one's for you, my friends.  Both those in real life, and DOCers.  Yesterday was terrible (more on that later) and I could feel everyone's love and support--it means so much to me.  'Scuse me while I go get some tissues--this one gets me every time!

Holding onto hearts still wounding
For those who’ve yet to find it
The places near where love is moving

Cast off the robes you’re wearing
Set aside the names that you’ve been given
May this place of rest in the fold of your journey
Bind you to hope, you will never walk alone

In the shelter of each other, we will live, we will live
In the shelter of each other, we will live, we will live
Your arms are all around us

If our hearts have turned to stone
There is hope, we know the rocks will cry out
And the tears aren’t ours alone
Let them fall into the hands that hold us

Come away from where you’re hiding
Set aside the lies that you’ve been living
May this place of rest in the fold of your journey
Bind you to hope that we will never walk alone

If there is any peace, if there is any hope
We must all believe, our lives are not our own
We all belong
God has given us each other
And we will never walk alone.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011


Ahh, memories!
image credit here.
So I love my insulin pump!  I've been on one since I was 14.  Which will be 14 years in April.  Times flies and all that.

So, Medtronic is attempting to get my insurance to cover an early upgrade from my 522 to the Revel.  Fingers crossed!

I am absurdly excited about this.  Not only for the predictive alerts and all that awesome stuff that the 522 doesn't have.  But also about color.

As you may have noticed in previous posts, my current pump is blue.  I have always--starting with my MM 507C--always had a blue pump.  And the standard MM blue hasn't changed much over the years.

So this time, I am branching out.  Trying something new.  I am (hopefully) getting...

image credit here.
a purple pump!!!!!

And yes, I am way too excited about this. :)

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Note to Self!

Dear Self-

Hi, it's me.  So, I have a question for you.  You remember how when you and J were house hunting, how much you loved this house?  You know, the one you bought, the one you're sitting in?  Remember?

Ok, good.  Now, do you remember why you loved the kitchen so much?  How it was so open, light, and bright?  The white tile...the white cabinets?

Ahh, it's all coming back to you now, I see.  That's good.  So listen, self, I know you're not a morning person, and your brain doesn't really function without coffee, but seriously.  Please, please try to remember how much you love those beautiful white cabinets and wait for your finger to stop bleeding before you open them!!!

Thanks so much.  Now go drink your coffee!

Friday, January 21, 2011


So I'd planned on getting some blogging done on my snow day, but this isn't what I planned on writing about.

I was enjoying my snow day, doing some quality facebook stalking, when I saw in my news feed that a kid I went to college with lost his two-year-old daughter today.

My heart hurts for him and his wife.  I can't even begin to imagine what they're going through.  Now, I haven't spoken to this guy since graduation, and never got to meet his beautiful daughter, but still.  I've been in a funk all afternoon.

Loss.  Shocking, knock the wind out of you, loss.  And grief.  These words do not do the accompanying feelings justice.  Loss is one of the few truly universal human experiences.  It jumps up and surprises us when we least expect it.

I've not lost anyone lately (knock on wood) but I know plenty of people who have.  One of my students lost her grandma this week.  Holly over at Arnold and Me had me crying with her Dear Papa post last week.

I am unbelievably blessed to still have all four of my grandparents alive, and in relatively good health.  I can't even think about what I know will come one day.  My heart tightens and I feel like I can't breathe just thinking about it.

But I have experienced loss.  My freshman year of college, I was excited to go home for winter break and see my high school friends.  I was at my parent's house (thankfully) when I got the phone call.  It was one of my HS friends.  She was calling to tell me another friend, who we'll call Amy, had been in an accident on the way home for break.  It was a head-on collision with a truck, and she had been killed.

It's been almost 10 years, and I still get choked up thinking about it.  Amy was one of my best friends in HS.  We were in choir together, ate lunch in the same group, and hung out a lot on the weekends.  She was my ride everywhere, even though her parents didn't want her driving anyone around (hee, hee, teenagers).

I don't really remember the phone call.  I do remember crying harder than I ever had before in my life.  Thankfully, I had made some wonderful friends in my first semester of school, and I remember calling them.  They were wonderful, and listen and cried with me.

Loss connects us in ways nothing else can.  Because Amy died at Christmastime, I was able to go to her visitation and funeral.  At her visitation, I sat with a kid who was in choir with me and Amy.  He was a year behind us, and I'd not seen or spoken to him since May, but it didn't matter.  We sat together and linked arms, and cried together.  We listened to the priest talk about Amy and how hard it was to lose her.  And then we laughed together.  Amy's parents chose to play her favorite song at the visitation.  This song was Light My Candle from Rent (in case you've never heard it, it's full of references to some rather inappropriate extracurricular activities).

So, in the middle of this very serious Catholic visitation service was this song.  And oh did we laugh; we laughed till our sides hurt.  Because Amy would have loved it!

Her funeral was much the same, minus inappropriate songs from musicals.  The service was full of students and teachers from our high school whom I hadn't seen in a while, most of whom I haven't seen since.  But we mourned together, cried together, and helped each other through the service.

Losing Amy and all that accompanied it changed my life.  The grief of losing her made me feel broken in a way I never had been before.  And since we're going with full disclosure here, it really challenged my faith, and what I believed.  I'd gone to church my entire life, but working through all that grief forced me to really examine what I believed about life, death, and God.

This turned out to be a good thing.  One of the reasons I chose Theology as one of my majors I think is due to all I worked through after Amy's death.  There are no black and white answers in life.

Don't get me wrong, I would give anything to have Amy back.  I still think about her all the time, especially since we moved into our current home.  We're right down the street from the church where her funeral was held--I drive by it all the time.  But that's the thing about losing someone--they aren't coming back.  My student's grandma's not coming back.  My friend's child is not coming back.

I know we've all been there.  No one can escape loss.  So, my DOC friends, please keep my student and my friend in your thoughts and prayers.  Thanks.

Monday, January 17, 2011

What A Day...

You wouldn't believe the day I've had.  Really, you wouldn't.  Trust me.  It's ridiculous.

So, last night, my husband and I arrive home, only to discover that there is something very wrong with the garage door opener.  They are not supposed to make the sound that ours did.  Ok, no big deal, we'll call someone in the morning.

So I get up this morning, a lot earlier than usually (have to be at work super early), and walk into the kitchen to make coffee.  I think I see something out of the corner of my eye.  I walk back into the dining room just in time to see a mouse scurry across the floor into the kitchen.

And yes, I screamed.  A lot.  Woke up the hubs and scared him to death.  I did not, however, jump up on a chair.

So, after some banging around in the cabinets, no mouse.  Lovely.  Because of course my husband is flying out of town this morning for work.  Which leaves the mouse mess to me.  Super.

So, I go to work.  Only I forgot to leave a check for the garage door guy, so I have to turn around and head back so my dear brother (who is coming over so I don't have to miss work) can pay said repairman.

When my brother calls later in the afternoon, it's to tell me that our opener can't be fixed because it's so old they don't make parts for it anymore.  Yay for spending money--NOT.

Since we were closed today for training and got done early, I went to the gym.  I've really been trying to get back in the habit of going (my bgs seem to appreciate this).  I'm leaving the gym, all sweaty and proud, pull out my wallet, and see this:

My brand new, purchased with Christmas money Vera Bradley wallet, with a hole chewed in it!  Freakin' @#%&* mouse chewed a hole in my wallet!!! (Remember, teacher here, so no naughty words will be repeated).

It took all my self-control not to launch into a long string of profanities or burst into tears in the hallway full of families at the gym.  Of course, the hole means the mouse was in my purse, and of course I didn't notice until just now and have been using said purse and wallet all day.  Gross!!!

So now I'm REALLY angry at the mouse.  I head straight to Target and buy 8 mousetraps which are now baited with peanut butter and placed strategically around the house.

After setting the traps, I begin emptying the contents of my purse in order to wash them.  When I get to the bottom, I see this

At this point, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.  This, of course, is my new Vera Bradley purse my parents bought me for Christmas.  And it now has a gigantic mouse hole chewed in the bottom. 

So I transfer my stuff to another wallet and purse, and head to dinner with my parents.  When I got back home, with fingers crossed, I checked all the traps, hoping to see a dead mouse.  But no luck.  They're all  empty.  

Oh, I almost forgot.  I figured out why the mouse was in my purse.  I keep granola bars in my purse for lows, and yes, one of them had been chewed open (sorry, I was so disgusted I didn't get a picture of it).

All I know is, I'd better see a dead mouse when I get up in the morning.

UPDATE Tuesday 8:20am

Guess who has a dead mouse this morning?  Success!!! Don't worry, I'm not going to take a picture.  It's a little sad how excited I was to see a dead mouse...

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Why I Love Snow Days

So, if you follow me on Twitter, you might have seen this picture I shared yesterday:

I was so excited, I was, quite literally, jumping up and down.  It's hard to tell, since Medtronic CGM doesn't have numbers on their display, but that was my 24 hour graph yesterday afternoon. 

Why, yes, yes, it does show that the highest I had been was in the 150s, and the lowest 68.  Holy amazing blood sugars, Batman! I couln't believe it!

Unfortunately, my bliss was shortlived.  Here's my 24 hour graph this afternoon.

And yes, that one does show that I spent AN HOUR in the 50s last night, and consumed way too many Lemon Heads trying to get back up.  Yes, my pump woke me up at 5am with a high alarm.  Stick confirms bg 339.  Sigh.  Oh, and look, before lunch, I was 68.  Awesome!  And after treating that (low bg + chasing around small children at work = trouble), I now have double up arrows. REALLY!!?!?!?!

So what does this all mean?  Well, I had 2 snow days this week.  Stayed home Monday and Tuesday and my bgs were amazing!  Go back to work, and it all goes to crap.

So, apparently, I should just quit my job and stay home all the time, no? ;)

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Thanks, Mom and Dad

I love my mom and dad.  I realize that this in and of itself isn't anything all that amazing or remarkable.  But it is when you think about everything they did for me, and all I put them through.

Mom, me, brother, and Dad on college graduation day.

Both my parents were involved in my D care, but truth be told, it was more so my mom.  She's my best friend, and actually, I think D gets to take part of the credit for that.  I think of her when I read these D-mom blogs (see blog list at right for some of them).  D-moms (and dads) are super-fierce when it comes to caring for their kiddos.  I know my mom was.  

She has been with me every step of the way.   And so has my father. As I mentioned before, I am a lot like him, so he was always super-loving and understanding.

Some of the D-moms seems to really be struggling a lot lately, so I felt like I needed to share this.  Basically, I realized one afternoon that I never thanked my parents for all they sacrificed for my D care.    Here's the post I made on Juvenation a few months ago:

To all the parents out there-

Father-daughter dance.  I love my daddy!
Today, I went shopping with my mom.  We had a great time, bought some Christmas gifts, and of course, chatted a good bit.  I was telling her all about Juve (since I've only recently discovered it) and how much it's helping me. And then it hit me- have I ever thanked her? Or my dad?

For sleeping on the horrible "reclining" chairs at the hospital?  For letting me shoot them with a shot of saline to practice?  For sometimes being able to tell my BS was off even before I could?  For holding my hair back while I threw up when I had ketones?  For putting up with terrible high mood swings?  For calling 911 and holding me while I had two seizures in the middle of the night?  For getting me up for two years at 3am and making me eat so I wouldn't have another one?  For taking on the financial burdens and shielding me from that stress?  For being the ones I still call when I'm high and have ketones and feel like crap?

So I thanked my mom.  Today.  In the car.  Though nothing I could say would ever be enough.  And thanks to all you parents out there.  Your T1 kids may not recognize your sacrifices now, but one day they will.  And they will be so grateful.  Don't worry, it's not guilt I feel.  The D is in no way my fault.  I just so appreciate everything my parents did for me.  They enabled me to be successful in tackling D on my own as an adult.  You all are doing the same thing every day. 

Tomorrow, I'm talking to my dad.

So thanks, Mom and Dad.  Thank you.

Before I go, I'd like to add a few more thank-yous to my list.  Thank you for fighting tooth and nail with insurance companies.  For shuttling me back and forth to all those doctor appointments.  For making sure I got whatever I needed, when I needed it.  For shouting "DRINK" every five minutes at the top of your lungs when my bs was high, despite my snarky remarks.  When I got food poisoning, you hollered and yelled at that intern till he got a phlebotomist to get blood out of my super-dehydrated body.  And never once, while I've been suffering from this burnout and apathy, have you judged me in any way.  You have been nothing but supportive--always.  And thanks for embracing the DOC and my new support system, though they will never replace the two of you.

Me and my best friend!
No one, except maybe my husband, will ever be as close to understanding what it's like to live with t1 as my parents are, especially my mom.  The two of us have been to hell and back, and we have the battle scars to prove it.  We have laughed, cried, screamed, cursed, sprinted, crawled our way over the years with D.  And we're both still standing.

So thanks, Mom and Dad.  I love you, and am forever grateful.

Love, Your Daughter,


Monday, January 10, 2011

Digging My Way Out

Buckle up, kids, this could be a long one.

Ok, so you should probably know that I'm a bibliophile and overall english nerd.  If I'd had time, I would have loved to add an English major in college (as if I didn't do enough writing with my psychology and theology majors).  I worked in the writing lab, and am a total word nerd.  I get it from my dad--the human dictionary.  Back in college, I used to call him when writing a paper and say, "Dad, I'm thinking of another word for ________," and he would rattle off a list of synonyms.  I even called him on behalf of a few of my roommates.

I also seem to be developing this (sometimes annoying) habit.  I love words, so I'm going to bore you with some definitions now (thanks  Apathy means absence or suppression of passion, emotion, or excitement; also freedom from emotion of any kind.

Burnout (also means fatigue, frustration, or apathy resulting from prolonged stress, overwork, or intense activity.

Huh, wow, I didn't even realize apathy was in the definition of burnout.  Guess that means I'm on the right track.

So, now you know what I'm talking about.  Apathy and burnout.  Welcome to my life for the last few years.  I know I'm not alone in this.  A number of people have blogged about their burnout (Kelly did and also posted some burnout links here).  And Kerri mentioned apathy in her post.

I am well acquainted with these terms.  As my bio says, I was diagnosed with D at age 10, less than 2 weeks before the start of 4th grade.  I'll spare you my life story (for now), but all in all, I don't even remember life before D.

My D care has been ok over the years.  We all know how hard it is to balance the bgs of a kiddo, but thanks to a lot of work on my mom's part, mine weren't too bad.  And college brings a host of it's own challenges.  Still, my A1Cs have remained consistently in the 7s.  At my last endo appointment, it was 8.0, the highest it's been in my adult life.  Which amazes me.  It really does.  When my endo read the number, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  I had been expecting much worse.

I'm not sure when the burnout started, but it was sometime after I got married.  Not that this has anything to do with my wonderful husband--far from it.  I love him more than anything in the world!  He's always so supportive and encouraging, and strives to understand as much as any Type 3 (non-D loved ones) can.

So who knows why?  But I had it--both apathy and burnout--hardcore.  I still went through all the motions like a good little D patient.  Still checked my sugars at least 4 times a day.  Bolused for my food, changed my sets out when I should have, went to the endo.

But I didn't care.  Not about any of it.  Not that my A1C was slowly rising.  Not that I was constantly running in the 200-300s.  Not that I only counted carbs when I ate something out of a box with a nutrition label.  Everything else was SWAGing.

I should have been upset.  Looking back, I'm horrified that I did that to myself.  Also not helping my sugars was my emotional eating.  That's something I've struggled with for a long time.  Stuffing my face with empty carbs and calories, SWAG bolusing, and not even knowing why.

Not that I cared why.  Looking at my wedding pictures made me sick.  Good grief, was I ever that thin?  All my emotional eating led to me gaining a good bit of weight, and go through A LOT of insulin.  And then the guilt sets in.  You need to lose weight.  Don't eat that.  You need to get your bs under control.
But I just couldn't.  It was easier to stuff my face and not care what the number on the meter said.  It was easier than dealing with it.

But dealing with what?  I didn't know.  I love my husband.  I live close to my family, who are all nothing but supportive.  I have wonderful friends (even if most of them live out of state).  And I love my job, not that it doesn't stress me out sometimes.  So what was wrong?

Now, I can see it.  All the emotional eating and D apathy were symptoms of a severe case of D burnout. Serious, hardcore, deep burnout.

Fast forward to November 2010.  I was at the end of my rope.  My endo appointment was coming up.  I'd already cancelled it twice because I was afraid of what my A1C would be.  I knew I needed to go, but I was terrified.  What would the number be?  What would my endo say?

On a whim, I decided to join Juvenation, an online community for t1s and their families.  Juvenation has been my saving grace.  I didn't even realize how alone I felt until I started poking around the site and reading some of the threads, posts, and blogs.  I had an epiphany.

I.  Am.  Not.  Alone.  I found support.  I found a name for what I was struggling with--burnout.  Naming my struggle gave me power over it.  I knew I was going to be ok when I read this post by my now-friend C (thanks for that one, by the way).

Through Juvenation, I was introduced to the DOC (Diabetic Online Community).  I started reading every d-blog I could find.  I got a Twitter account.  I am engaged and involved in my life again--the apathy is gone.

This is the part where I thank all my fellow DOCers.  Without all of you, I know I would still be entrenched in that burnout.  You are helping me dig my way out, one day at a time.  I owe you all so much.  More than words can say.

That's why I started this blog.  If the hell I have been through can help just one person, then it all will have been worth it.  I know it sounds cheesy and corny, but it's true.  I know how you feel.  I have been there.  And thanks to my family, friends, new CGM, and the DOC, I am digging my way out.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

CGM Love Affair

I have a new love in my life!  And yes, my husband's only slightly jealous!

It's my new CGM, whom I've yet to name (Kim, maybe you can help me out with that).  It's not even been a month yet, but I am totally, completely in love.  How did I ever live without it?

Don't worry, I wasn't really 61.
77. The CGM hadn't quite caught
up from my low yet.

Ok, so maybe I'm being a little overdramatic, but oh well.  As my bio says, it's become a tumultuous yet rewarding affair.  Rewarding, because being able to track trends in my blood sugar (bs) is amazing!  My last A1C was 8.0 (not stellar) and I KNOW the next one is going to be better, thanks to my CGM and the fact that I actually care what my bs is now (more on my struggles with apathy and burnout later).

So, yes, when all's working well, it's rewarding.  I thought it would bother me to have another robot part attached 24/7, but it doesn't.  Though I've heard glowing reports from Dexcom users, I decided to stick with the Medtronic CGM so it would link with my pump.  And overall, I'm pleased.  More than pleased, I'm thrilled, even if the bugger does look like a seashell.

Sally sells seashells by the seashore...
On to the tumultuous part.  As much as I love CGM, it doesn't always cooperate.  Or do want I want.  Or hold up it's end of the deal.  And no, I'm not talking about when we fight about the number on the screen.  You know, when I look down and see double up or down arrows (never good) and I scream and curse at it.  No, I mean like what happened this afternoon.

Got the new sensor in in spite of the enormous needle: check.  MiniLink transmitter charged: check.  Flashing green light when I insert the tester: check.  Flashing green light when I hook it up to the sensor: check!  Ok then, time to tape the crap out of it.

So we're good to go?  Nope.  Ten minutes in, and the signal is lost.  A few choice words and a few tries at the "find lost sensor" option and nada.  No luck.  Grrrrr!

I'm about ready to rip the whole thing out, but I don't, because those sensors are EXPENSIVE!  Not to mention all the IV3000 tape piled on top.

But before I do anything drastic, I call Minimed.  They have me try a few things, and after hitting "start new sensor" a few times-- Hallelujah, a signal!  Oh, so now you feel cooperative, do you?  Uh-huh, go ahead, be like that.  See if I care.

A whole lotta drama for such a little piece of equipment.  Like I said, rewarding, yet tumultuous.  After all, life would be no fun without a few love/hate relationships, right? ;)

Thursday, January 6, 2011

The Best of Intentions...

So, this is not how I pictured my first D blog post going.  I had grand visions of how I was going to wow everyone with my wit and charm.  I've never blogged before, so I was more than a little nervous.  But it was going pretty well so far.  Got the account created, thought up a name (not an easy task, let me tell you), and was working on the layout, when I happened to look down at my good old CGM (more on my CGM love affair later).

And what was there to greet me?  264 with double up arrows.  Sigh.  There goes all my peacefulness and zen.

So it's out with the old (set) and in with the new.  Inspired by some of my new friends on Juvenation,  I've recently tried the butt set.  In my twelve years of pumping, I had never put a set in my butt until 4 days ago.

And I may never again.  This was my second butt set, and both have crapped out on me on day 2.  So I went back to my trusty back--fat, that is.  Good thing I have plenty of squish, as my friend C says.

So here I sit, on the couch, CGM says 219 with a single down arrow, finishing this post.

Not exactly what I had in mind for my first post, but oh well.  That's the way it is with me and D.  Thanks for listening!