The Thrifty Gene: Diabetes Was Once a Survival Advantage

Thrifty-GeneToday, I was reviewing a book on childhood obesity for work, and I came across an interesting passage on the “thrifty gene.” It sounded familiar, probably something I learned about back in high school biology, but for some reason, the idea was new for me. Geneticist James Neel proposed the hypothesis in 1962 in his attempts to understand how diabetes survived natural selection.

I agreed. How did Type 1 diabetes, an autoimmune disorder with obvious negative and previously fatal effects, often inflicting children pre-reproductive stage, survive? Neel proposed it was once a survival advantage to be able to fatten quickly and survive seasons of food scarcity. We’re talking hunter-gatherer societies. And because it was such a survival advantage, it continues to be passed down generation after generation.

The only difference is now we don’t have to worry about famines. We keep eating and eating, but our bodies never have to endure hunger and depend on the survival mechanism of diabetes to eat away at our stored fat without our blood sugar dropping and keep us alive. No, our blood sugar keeps rising and rising until our bodies drop dead or malfunction.  Continue reading

I Swing Alone: A Diabetic’s Confession

Photo credit: Sandy Hunt

Photo credit: Sandy Hunt

I swing alone. My feet now touch the ground. The figure eight chains are rusted. The black u-shaped seat is worn at the edges. I wonder for how long it will hold my weight. I am much bigger now, but I still love the feeling of when my feet leave the ground. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if they will ever return, and then gravity brings me back to reality. I swing alone. I do not belong here anymore, but I also do not want to leave.

The red and brown leaves fly across my shadow in the direction of the setting sun. I envy their journey, but I do not envy their withered state. They are at the end of their lives. I should be beginning mine, but ever since I turned twenty-two, I feel lost within this body. I feel like it’s slowly giving up on me. From a pancreas that doesn’t work to a series of infections to chronic pain to now an IT band that won’t let me run, I feel like it’s shutting down on me. It’s at the end of this journey, and although I know I have years left, I don’t know what quality that will be.

It will let me enjoy one last swing, but it will not let me enjoy the simple pleasures in life – the simple luxuries our physical beings allow. I cannot eat what I want; I cannot exercise how I want, and I cannot have a long-lasting sexual relationship. My mental state has never succumbed to my body – it’s only succumbed to itself, but how much more can my mind take? Can a mind be free with a useless body? Can a mind truly enjoy life with a body that’s slowly withering away? Continue reading

Diabulimia: A Personal Struggle With Body Image and Diabetes

Strawberry-Cream-PieAccording to the American Diabetes Association, diabetic women are nearly three times more likely to develop an eating disorder than non-diabetic women.

Diabulimia is one of the more prevalent eating disorders among Type 1 diabetic women, that is reducing the amount of insulin one takes to lose weight. Scary, right? It certainly is.

Because not only do eating disorders lead to their own series of problems (slow heart rate, low blood pressure, brittle bones, hair loss, severe dehydration, etc.), but when a Type 1 diabetic does not take the insulin he or she needs, this just adds to the complications which may lead to diabetic ketoacidosis, stroke, and even death.

Unfortunately, I was one of those Type 1 women, and still am, to a certain extent because I believe one never completely finishes the battle with body image. But my story started before I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in 2009. It started at 13 when I noticed I no longer fit into my clothes and asked the one irrevocable question: Am I fat? Continue reading

Happy Anniversary Sugarcoated!

According to my LinkedIn account, this month marks the one-year anniversary of this blog. I’m impressed I kept it going one month, much less a year. But here we are, more than a year since my short book of essays, Sugarcoated, was published, since I graduated with an MFA in writing and publishing, and now a year sharing my trials and tribulations online with you.

It seems fitting to focus on the numbers. I leave their meaning up to you.

of three million Type 1 diabetics (T1D) in the U.S.

times per week that I plan to spend writing for this blog

seizures as a result of hypoglycemia or low blood sugar

times per week I think my body may be curing itself, and I no longer have to live with T1D

17 times I change my continuous glucose monitoring (CGM) system site per year (this does not count the number of times I re-tape the transmitter so the wire stays beneath my skin)

20 units of insulin I use every day Continue reading

Blood Sugar Woes

“Is everything okay?” my former colleague and friend asked the young woman standing across from me, a rack of beach towels and bathing suits between us.

It was my first visit to Ocean City. My friend, who I hardly saw anymore since I left the restaurant business, had invited me along with her roommate on this girls’ weekend, fourth of July beach trip. We had just arrived when the roommate realized she didn’t bring a beach towel.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I just need to eat; my blood sugar is low.” I looked up from the myriad of snow globes clustered on one shelf. I particularly liked the juxtaposition of Disney characters in bathing suits basking in the snow.

“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” she added and then discards the wave towel she was looking at.

“Really? Do you want some juice?” I asked. She shook her head.

“I have some glucose tablets, too. If you’re blood sugar is really low, you should get it up quickly.” My friend and I exchange mocking looks. The roommate declined again, and I sighed. I held my tongue because I knew in bringing up the glucose tablets, I had embarrassed her. After all, I knew the full repercussions of a low blood sugar as a Type 1 diabetic.

But I didn’t mention the two seizures or attempt to unmask the real reason behind her irritability. It’s very likely she did need to eat, but unlike my body, her body knew when enough insulin was enough. It may drop to a certain point (unless she was hypoglycemic), but as long as she ate, it would self-manage.

Mine wouldn’t. If my blood sugar was dropping, I had to take care of it right away, less I risk having another seizure or going into a coma because my body couldn’t stabilize itself without external help.

As we left the store, still beach towel-less (due to the prices), and stopped at the nearest food depot and I watched the roommate’s mood improve significantly with food, I realized I was once just like her. Even before I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, I, too, became irritable and moody when I was hungry. Just like my mom, sometimes I would feel shaky if I hadn’t eaten in awhile.

Continue reading

Show Me Your Pump

I’ve been a Type 1 diabetic for five years and an insulin pump wearer for two, but I still struggle with putting “Gizmo” out there. Recently, Sierra Sandison’s #showmeyourpump campaign has been trending on Twitter and among diabetes communities. I have to admit I am in awe. For one, I don’t usually wear my insulin pump with my bathing suit because it’s not waterproof, and two, I don’t want the stares and questions.

But now that I have Cosmo, my continuous glucose monitoring system, I’ve had to reconsider. This is something I can’t unplug at a moment’s notice (although as often as the tape stops adhering to my skin, I almost want to). Yesterday, I decided to “be brave,” so to speak, and wear my insulin pump on the outside of my pencil skirt. Not only did it make for easier access, but it reminded my coworkers and myself that yes, diabetes is a part of me, but it doesn’t control me.

In the end, no one commented on it. Maybe they stared, but I didn’t notice. Or maybe they’ve just gotten used to me being a vibrating machine because between Gizmo and Cosmo and my phone, even my boyfriend never knows which medical device is calling me.

‘The Fault In Our Stars’: Diabetes Edition

Diabetes is hard, but I won’t die from it. At least, not right away. I believe that I will eventually die of a heart attack. With the constant ups and downs of my blood sugar levels, I am sure even if I was given a decent heart, it would not be able to last years with this kind of stress. But at least it didn’t have to endure it for the first 22 years of my life.

It’s possible I may die from something else entirely, unrelated to my health, like a car accident, an injury sustained from rock climbing, food poisoning, etc. Okay, I’m being dramatic, but it doesn’t make sense to spend my days thinking about death, something I learned while reading The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. I love the title, by the way, but when I saw previews for the movie, it looked kind of cheesy and unrealistic, one of those “feel-good cancer movies,” if there can even be such a thing.

Then I read a review of the book and thought I might like it. After all, even though I’ve only been to one funeral in my life, I think about death a lot. I used to worry about receiving a call in the middle of the day that one of my grandparents or siblings had passed. I used to worry my friends would be one of those statistics for teenagers killed by drunk driving. When I wrote stories, one of my characters always, inevitably died (many times the main character because I’m that author). Continue reading

Lying to My Endocrinologist

This week, I’m responding to a blog post on lying to your endocrinologist from Kerri Sparling at Six Until Me. Sadly, the truth is I almost always lie to my endocrinologist. Every few months, I cringe when the nurse brings in the downloaded blood sugar readings from my glucometer (even more so now that I have a CGM and cannot pretend to hide those unexplained highs or lows). But every few months, my doctor looks at my readings and says, “These look good.”

I’m surprised, relieved, and jumping up for joy on the inside. I succeeded! I DID NOT FAIL in the eyes of my doctor! But then, I feel immediately guilty because I know I’m not telling her the whole truth. I don’t tell her about the late-night peanut butter ice cream binges or the fact that I haven’t regularly exercised in the past five months (mostly due to my commute and the awful winter weather we had this year, which made me want to crawl under my bed sheets and hibernate until spring). Instead, I say, “Well, that’s good,” with a slight smile. Play it casual, like I’ve got it under control.

But as Sparling pointed out in her blog post, my doctor knows it’s not me that’s “noncompliant.” It’s my pancreas that doesn’t work like it should, and I’m just trying to deal. But I’m a perfectionist. I admit this much to my doctor. She’s concerned about the lows; she’s always concerned about the lows. But this last visit, she surprised me. She said research now says that regular low blood sugar levels can lead to worse long-term complications than highs. Really?  Continue reading

Diabetes Breakdown

Not every day is easy with diabetes. Not that it should be. My pancreas doesn’t work so technically I can’t properly digest food so technically, five years after my diagnosis, I shouldn’t be alive.

I should be thankful for technology, thankful that even though these medical supplies cost me a ridiculous copay, they keep me alive – they help me maintain an overall good quality of life.

I should be thankful, but there are days when I come home from my two-hour commute from DC and I stand in my walk-in closet debating what outfit I should wear tomorrow and then I lose it. I just sink to the dilapidated hardwood floor and start sobbing.

Okay maybe there’s more to it than that? Maybe it’s been a rough day? Maybe I’ve been having highs all day for no apparent reason other than my hormones started going crazy? Or maybe I’ve spent half the day going back and forth from the insurance company to the pharmacy to the doctor’s office trying to get my 90-day supply of test strips covered? Continue reading

Say Hello To Cosmo, My New CGM

The vibrating wakes me up for the third time this night. It’s 3 a.m., and my new continuous glucose monitoring system (CGM) says my blood sugar reads 55. I know it’s a lie. I recently checked my blood sugar, and it was stable at 93. I have no active insulin in my system, but I just started this CGM, which I have decided to call “Cosmo,” and the nurse said it may take a few days to reflect my actual blood sugar. It’s a shame, but in the few weeks that I’ve had Cosmo, I still won’t give it up.

In the almost five years that I’ve had Type 1 diabetes, I’ve thought about investing in a CGM, which uses a sensor to monitor my blood sugar 24/7, but there can be a 20-minute delay since it’s reading my glucose levels from the interstitial fluid (a thin layer of fluid that surrounds the body’s cells), as opposed to a glucometer that reads it from a blood sample. I’ve always erred on the hypoglycemic side – two seizures in my short history as a result.

But in addition to the added expense of a CGM (my health insurance history has not been very consistent), I didn’t know if I wanted a 24/7 reminder of my diabetes. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know how much two pieces of bread or pasta or ice cream affected my blood sugar in the three hours I didn’t check it with my glucometer. Even though by the time that three-hour period had passed, my blood sugar returned to a normal state of 80-120, it didn’t mean that in that time, it hadn’t spiked to 300 and come back down. Did I really want to know that? Continue reading