I am thankful for UPS. They delivered my insulin today. Ice packs still frozen solid. They’ve also been the ones to deliver my requests for FBI CBCs and apostilles. In timely fashion at a reasonable price with a tracking system that allows me to keep tabs on where my goodies are. One wonders why the USPS hasn’t caught up. Unless it’s because of the US part. Bureauocracy is the parasite of govern…that is government, I guess.
I am thankful for mirrors. I have a long handled mirror with which I can see the bottoms of my feet & toes. Very handy when monitoring the healing of said digits. Plastic & mylar reflective surfaces. One side is “normal” and one magnifying. Very helpful.
When I actually use it. Which I have. Lately.
I am thankful that I was able to sit for my entire shift today in an effort to keep the damage to my blistered toe to a minimum while still getting things done. The difference in the pain levels in my leg (stress & “displaced pain”) today and Sunday are amazing.
My only concern is: how long will I need to do that till my toe heals up?
I am thankful for the marvels of modern medicine, without which I would be long in the grave. How many untold millions of children never reach(ed) age 5 because of childhood diseases against which I was vaccinated as a child? How many more as an adult? To say nothing of diabetes and insulin. So I won’t.
I had a blister form and tear on one of my toes while at work yesterday. Because of diabetically induced nerve damage, I didn’t feel any pain per se, although I did feel it in the form of increased fatigue, swollen ankle (which had been an issue for a couple of days, so I didn’t think too much more of it)–it was a bit more than the usual end-of-a-long-day-spent-on-your-feet kind of thing.
With today’s modern medical miracles, I can deal with this at home quite well. A bit of hydrogen peroxide to clean it out, some triple antibiotic ointment to keep the cooties out, and an easily applied bandage: all available from the local convenience store, supermarket, FITB. No prescription necessary. Oh, I notified my primary care team. I’m not a complete idiot.
I am thankful for gluten intolerance. No, really! Since I learned I get to enjoy working through this particular challenge, I have learned even more about nutrition than I did since learning that I also get the diabetes challenge. Part of said challenge is that you can ask 10 different “experts” (nutritionists, dietitians, endocrinologists, certified diabetes trainers, whatever) what the best diet is for someone with these challenges might be, and you get at least 25 different answers, some of which are mutually exclusive.
I am not only thankful for the opportunity to learn so much about food, but also for the greater degree of control I have. I am not one to take the word of an “expert” at face value, precisely because of the confusion I’ve encountered. Learning more allows me to experiment and find what works best for me.
I am also thankful for the fact that since I quit eating wheat, I’ve lost 25+ pounds and gone from a 44 to a 41 for pants. Still a ways to go, but every little bit helps.
And that’s all I have to say about that.
I am thankful for medical technology: specifically the toys and goodies that make life with diabetes livable. Without a gloucometer and insulin, it would be pretty short.
I am also thankful for the Veteran’s Administration, through which I receive my most excellent medical care. I hear all manner of horror stories about VA medical care–and that’s all they are to me; stories. No more believable than any other campfire tale. The care I have received has been excellent.
Your tax dollars at work, and I “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
I am thankful for Tide To Go® pens. As an insulin dependent diabetic, there is always a drop or three of blood during the day (given how many times I stick my fingers to check my glucose levels or take insulin) and inevitably some gets on my clothes.
The instant stain remover is usually super at taking out the problem before it really becomes a problem. Unless I miss it and then it’s a problem.
I usually inject the insulin right through my shirts.
It beats the goat cheese out of hiding in the back room or rest room or some where.
Any little bit to make life that much easier/closer to whatever “normal” is.