Grappling with food on the road and a sunny Christmas in Sydney

opera house

I can’t complain about a vacation that’s taking me from Queenstown, New Zealand, to Sydney, where we are now, to Singapore, Tokyo and San Francisco before I arrive home. Yet one thing that’s tough, beside the jet lag and time zone changes and more frequent blood sugar testing, is eating almost all your meals at restaurants where you can’t control your food, let alone half the time knowing what it is–well that will come in Singapore. 

Then real life comes flying in to the idyllic lull. Just today a friend back home sent me this article from theNew York Times about how low GI foods (non-starchy, non-sweet foods that raise blood sugar less and more slowly) are better for diabetics than the highly touted whole grain diet. In other words, your blood sugar will rise less and more gradually if you trade in your whole grain bread for nuts, beans and certain high-fiber crackers. 

I’ve known this for quite some time having tested my blood sugar about a zillion times to see my reaction to different foods. So, for me, every day (when I’m not traveling around the world) begins with slow-cooking steel cut oatmeal, to which I add ground flax seeds, cinnamon, low fat yogurt and peanut butter. If I eat bread or ordinary cereal my blood sugar goes off the charts. 

Luckily here in Sydney we’re staying with friends so I’ve stocked the larder with my healthy foods and gotten the expected grimace when I offer to share my yogurt and peanut butter combo. I still don’t know why Danon hasn’t produced such a flavor but no one seems to share my enthusiasm for it. So yesterday my day began with my usual oatmeal and then I had a salad with toasted almonds some raw broccoli, a few slices of ham and a spoonful of hummous for lunch and most nights here it’s fish and greens, since my friends are healthy eaters too, and there’s nothing Bruce can’t sear on the Barbie and make delicious. Of course, Singapore and Tokyo will prove to be problematic again because most dishes are rice-based. And so I will need to stick to grilled meats, miso soup and sashimi. God knows when I first lived in Tokyo 20 years ago the rice was always my menace.

But, back to Sydney. Soon we’re off to the ferry for a 15 minute ride over to the city to buy some Christmas gifts. Still having a little trouble reconciling Christmas carols with bright sunshine and 80 F temps. Guess I’ll just have to force myself to get used to it. 


The diabetes connection in down under Queenstown


Two stories to wrap up New Zealand as our stay here has ended and we’re on to Sydney.

1. The wool story: After days of walking in and out of shops that sell fine Merino wool, a native staple, I was in yet another shop eyeing these beautiful sweaters, gloves and hats with envy for, alas, I am allergic to one thing in the world– wool. Yet, I could not help admiring these products’ beauty. And so I said, plaintively, to the saleswoman, “It’s funny, I feel like a diabetic in a candy store, I am surrounded by these beautiful wool products and I am allergic to wool.” She looked at me curiously and said, “Really, diabetics are allergic to wool?” Of course that was not at all how I meant it. When I recounted this story to the husband, we laughed and agreed I now had a new myth for the sequel to my soon-to-be-published 50 Diabetes Myths book, “Diabetics can’t wear wool.” 

2. The unexpected encounter: Midway during our stay in Queenstown we switched from a business hotel to a Bed and Breakfast. Over breakfast our first day I heard an American accent. Steve from Rochester, Minnesota was sharing how his rental cell phone went off at 5 A. M. that morning and it was a wrong number! That’s all the ice breaker I needed to begin the usual, “Where are you from?” “How long will you be in NZ?” As the conversation wound down from sightseeing, politics and the global economic meltdown, I mention that I just finished writing a book on diabetes myths. Steve’s wife’s face, Julie, lights up. She tells us that she has type 2 diabetes. Well, that is not all that surprising for a middle aged, slightly overweight American woman, but what is surprising, and stirs an engaging conversation, is that she is working with the famed Mayo Clinic as part of a research focus group on behavioral methods for helping patients manage their diabetes. 

She begins to talk about what I have learned through the more than 100 patients I’ve interviewed: you need to understand the context of patients’ lives to help them change behavior. She recants a wonderful story of one elderly patient who tells his doctor that he wants to be put on Byetta. His doctor who would never have thought this man would chose an injectible drug (and so wouldn’t have offered it), asks his patient why he wants Byetta. His patient tells him he is soon going into an assisted living home and he wants to lose a few pounds because he hears there are a lot of available women there! [Byetta helps most patients lose weight as well as control their blood sugar.] We laughed, and we understood what few doctors do: all our choices are embedded in the context of our lives.

Julie shares about herself that after being in denial for some time after her diagnosis, she took some diabetes classes and lost weight and significantly lowered her A1c. My husband asks what her A1c is and she lights up again and tells us, “5.7!” The husband says, “You must be very proud” whereupon Julie says with both elation and sadness, “Yes, I am and I want to tell people but who would understand?!” My belief that you can experience pride because of how you live with diabetes and it can motivate you to continue to do well is confirmed, and the husband whisks upstairs and returns with two of my books, The ABCs of Loving Yourself with Diabetes, in hand for Julie. We witness a smile quickly spread across her face as she skims through the book and she volunteers that as soon as she’s home one of these books will be at the Mayo clinic. It is like an angel named Julie has sat at my breakfast table in Queenstown.

I keep saying (to anyone who will listen) the universe is continually supporting my work by throwing gems at my feet, but that morning it was Steve who said, “This is so amazing. We weren’t intending to stay here but our travel agent “stuck” us here for three days, and look what’s happened.” 

I agree Steve. And so we fly out of Queenstown taking with us the beautiful scenery, rich new memories and new bonds that were woven that morning.


Diabetes + My Response = My Life

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If you’ve rambled around this site a bit and read some of my posts you know my work aims to help you look for whatever good you can in having diabetes, since after all, you have it. And let the bad roll over you as best you can. And, to push the envelope so far that you create an exceptional life, not despite having diabetes, but because of it.

Granted, that’s easier said than done, and you have to be in the right place in your life and your head, and there will be days you’ll feel, “yea, I got it, whoo hoo, and days you’ll think, “I can’t bear another moment of this, another fxxckin’ high blood sugar, another low, another muffin calculation….! Well, you get the point. Still, I believe, looking for the good in life is a more worthwhile way to live.

So it struck me while reading Amy Tenderich’s blog, DiabetesMine, last week, that while Amy focuses as an experienced journalist on sharing what’s going on in diabetes research, technology and pharmaceuticals, and I know she has a whip-smart cynical sense of humor, that at the end of one of her posts she wrote, “Living well and being happy with diabetes is a delicate construct that is tested every day with fluctuating BGs, imposing tasks, and endless responsibility…  Better to appreciate the life I’m living than pine for the one I can’t have.” 

I can hardly put it better myself. Each one of us confronts the challenge of diabetes on a daily basis and how you respond to it, as how you respond to anything in life, is what creates the quality of your life. If you’re doing really well with this, or really poorly, I’d love to hear from you.

Open the door on diabetes and smell the fresh air

Loading my syringe and surprising my friend


Surprise transforms into curiosity, admiration, knowlege and understanding


 While in Burlington Airport a few weeks ago I saw a man feeding himself through a tube he was holding in mid air connected to his chest…and you’re embarrassed to take a shot or test your blood sugar in public? Get over yourself!

Scroll back: Last month I delivered three diabetes presentations, the last one in Randolph, Vermont, a sleepy little hamlet 60 miles from Burlington where more than 70 people came for the hospital’s Diabetes Day. I was the key-note speaker.

I love addressing patients no matter where in the country–one minute I am a stranger and one hour later I am a “best friend” and “confidant” for  their diabetes-life issues. I relish the momentary bond and treasure the invested trust.

But this is only in part a story about “we” diabetics. Leaving Burlington, I was socked into the airport for a three and a half hour delay due to fog and planes backed up at LaGuardia airport. I read a little, paced a little and finally on my way to board, I passed a gentleman, about 40 years old, who with his flannel shirt fully unbuttoned and his chest fully exposed, was feeding himself through a six inch tube entering his chest and curving upward in mid air. The tube had a funnel like opening into which he was pouring a liquid.

I had two reactions. The first was, wow, look at that, I’ve never seen that before. The second was, wow, he has no embarrassment about doing this and exposing himself in this wayHe is not leaning over a toilet in a dimly lit bathroom stall, he is completely out in the open managing a necessary part of his condition.

This made me think about all the people who hide their diabetes care. Do you take an injection covertly or skulk off to the restroom to do it where you can barely see? Do you not test your blood sugar while out because you’re embarrassed if someone sees you? Do you harbor feelings of shame, guilt, or worry for other’s comfort based on your behaviors managing your diabetes?

No one was gathered around this man, no one stopped to gawk and there were no huddled groups whispering about what he was doing. I dare say most people didn’t even notice. It may be hard to admit, but the truth about most of us is we’re so absorbed with ourselves that we don’t notice much what others are doing unless our attention is called there. 

One reason to come out of the dark managing your diabetes is you’ll do the things you should be doing more often and more frequently, like taking your meds and testing more, which will give you better control. Also, the burden you shoulder may not feel quite so heavy when it hits the light. The second reason is to educate the general public so diabetes gets the funding it needs and you get the respect you deserve. How’s anyone going to understand that diabetes is not a “piece of cake,” yes pun fully intended, or just a matter of avoiding sweets unless they see what we deal with? 

If you didn’t contribute last month during “Diabetes Month” to making someone more aware of diabetes, take your management out of the closet and into the restaurant, library, airport and school so others can understand what diabetes truly is and what your life is like managing it. Please note, I don’t mean you should be an exhibitionist or not respect the environment you’re in. I don’t hesitate to do what I need to do in front of friends, but I’m more discreet for instance in a business setting where such behavior is not the norm.

The long and short of it is if anyone notices what you’re doing at all, I’ll just bet they’re more likely to be surprised, sympathetic and supportive, as my dining companion Paul was above, than judgmental and irritated, and with that we all win. 



My hat’s off to the diabetes sales reps I meet


This post comes late in the day on what is today World Diabetes Day, the one day during the year the whole world tries to raise awareness about diabetes. I have just returned from giving an educational diabetes presentation in Burlington VT. 

I often think I gain more than I give–I receive the heartfelt appreciation of patients whom I speak to and equal appreciation from the true soldiers in the field, the diabetes educators and  nurse practitioners. Perhaps it will surprise you to know I also receive great appreciation from the pharmaceutical sales reps of Sanofi-Aventis, the sponsor of the A1C Champions program I deliver and the manufacturer of Lantus and Apidra insulins. 

It is one of the reps job’s to sell the program to their accounts, the doctors, nurses and educators they service, and it is a win/win. Patients learn how to better care for their diabetes, get inspired and motivated by hearing about it from a fellow patient who knows the experience of living with diabetes, and when they begin to take better care of themselves it can involve using insulin, which benefits Sanofi-Aventis.  But all the reps I have met are incredibly caring people who want to help patients.

So, it seems appropriate this day to share with you an email sent to the organization I do this program through from a Sanofi-Aventis rep about the program I delivered Tuesday in Jersey City, NJ. 

Dear Management Team,

…Today we had an A1C Champion presentation by Riva Greenberg a Type 1 diabetic patient. Riva talked to more than 30 patients and shared with them how easy it is for her to manage her diabetes despite the fact that she takes multiple shots a day, more than 7 (including testing) and yet she has a very fulfilling live. 

We witnessed the increased interest in patients from the last time we supported a similar event by the overwhelming number of patients at today’s presentation, as well as the amount of patients who had one-on-one questions for Riva after her presentation. 

It was very inspiring to me to hear some of the comments she made to encourage patients to take better control of their illness. She also shared with me that ATTITUDE is so important when a patient is diagnosed with diabetes. She added that it becomes a whole different issue when a patient realizes that it is only in “their hands” whether they’ll be present in their children’s future or avoid complications. She said that the change in attitude can come from a simple way of seeing things, switching from a “have to do it” to a “choose to do it” mind frame about their diabetes tasks.  Thanks Riva for all the changes you inspired TODAY!!

Best regards,

Priscila Alvarez, Sanofi-aventis

So today I speak for those much maligned pharma reps whom most people think are only in it for the money. Most I have met are in it because someone close to them had diabetes. Today on World Diabetes Day, I applaud them.

Baboons, diabetes and the power of a tribe to thrive

I watched a National Geographic special last month about baboons and thought about diabetes. Hmm…I don’t mean we are baboons, or do I?

A researcher had been studying a tribe of baboons for 30 years in the wilds of Africa. After 10 years he noted that they acted like a pretty typical tribe with all kinds of aggressive behaviors, male dominance and female submission– no, that’s not why I’m comparing us to baboons!  

Several of the more aggressive male baboons unknowingly ate toxic garbage one night and died leaving the tribe 2/3 female and the males that remained were the kinder, more socialized, go-along types. Obviously they were preparing dinner while the aggressive males were out stealing food.

Stay with me a little longer. Traditionally, baboons leave their mother after six months of life and roam looking for a tribe to join; the ones that joined this tribe after it lost its aggressive males, the researcher noted on subsequent trips back to Africa, took on the tribe’s new characteristics: the new baboons became interdependent, cooperative, highly socialized and relatively relaxed. The baboons individually, and the tribe, began to “thrive.”

Researchers then correlated the characteristics of the tribe: control, high sociability and low stress with workers in London (it was their call not mine) and discovered when employees felt that they had control in their jobs and were highly social, they experienced much less stress. I began to wonder could we put this equation to diabetes: 

Does Control + High Sociability = lower stress managing diabetes?

Examining this equation against my personal life I mused: I have control over my diabetes because:

1. I have knowledge how to manage my blood sugar and my disease 

2. I have the medicine, supplies and equipment I need to treat it

3. I have control over my emotions realizing they will go up and down, come and go and the best thing to do is learn from my “mistakes” and not berate myself.

I have sociability because I am connected to others with diabetes through participating in a support group and at health events. I can share my woes, diabetes and non, with family members, friends and health providers. I have friends and family to enjoy life with beyond my diabetes life. With control and sociability I feel confident, supported and capable which empowers me to commit to my care.

As my business management husband says this is famed professor and sociologist, Aaron Antonovsky’s famed theory: people do well despite adverse circumstances if they comprehend what is going on, have a sense they can manage it, and they feel it is worth it to do so, which comes from “belonging” to a caring tribe.

So are we baboons? I don’t know, but the principles seem worth paying attention to regarding your diabetes management. Just don’t eat too many bananas, you know they’re full of carbs!

Reach out and test someone

What could be better than during diabetes awareness month diagnosing someone? I’m kidding – sort of.

If you have an older family member and a glucometer help them test their fasting blood sugar (over 126 is classified as diabetes; between 100 and 125, pre-diabetes) or do a random blood sugar test. If their blood sugar is 200 or higher they may well have diabetes, 140-199, pre-diabetes. 

Most people left to live to a very ripe age eventually develop diabetes because beta (insulin-producing) cell function becomes compromised. These cells just don’t work as efficiently after years of food insults–refined carbs and junk food. After all, we don’t work as efficiently eating these foods. 

Feel free to get other family members involved, test your spouse, your brother, your sister, aunt, uncle, and children. One third of the 24 million Americans with diabetes don’t know they have it. Most of the 57 million Americans with pre-diabetes don’t know they have it or don’t think it’s anything to bother about. 

This month, you may just save someone from living with undiagnosed diabetes just by asking someone to stick out their finger. If they discover they have diabetes, they may want to give you the finger, that is until they realize the service you just did them.



Can you imagine you may die today taking your insulin injection?

How our brains work faced with a disaster situation

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The other morning I heard on the Today show someone with type 1 diabetes say, “Any moment I could die,” referring to a low from taking too much insulin. Yes, it’s possible, but how many times do you ever think it could really happen to you? Ten times a week? Once a day? Ever? Never? People die of diabetes every day, but usually due to something that’s been brewing for years, like heart disease, stroke or kidney disease. Yet anyone using insulin can die any minute, any day, by erring with their dose.

So how is it that we can get up every day, go about our business, take our medicine and never think about this? I was musing about this because of a book I’m now reading, The Unthinkable: Who Survives When Disaster Strikes – and Why by Amanda Riply. It’s about how our brains work when we’re in dire circumstances: a fire, plane crash, kidnapping, 9/11. People don’t react and respond at all the way we expect. Our brain shuts down and it both heightens and blocks certain senses. People become temporarily blind or deaf, unable to see or hear–obviously blocking the horror of the event. Time appears to slow down for most, while it speeds up for some. People freeze, they literally go limp and lifeless, probably an adaptation of how we escaped predatory animals eons ago. We move into a space of denial and disassociation during the event.

Is this denial and disassociation at work when you take insulin, a life-giving and life-threatening medicine? I go far to protect myself living with diabetes: I’m enormously educated about diabetes, how it works, how to care for myself, I know how to prevent hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) and how to treat it if it should occur. Yet in 31 years of using insulin I’ve never had a Glucagon kit (injectible glucose if you lose consciousness) in the house and when I take my injection three to seven times a day I never fear or panic. In fact, I’m more likely to take a little too much insulin rather than a little too little, preferring to tolerate a low rather than long-term complications. I see insulin only as protecting me against complications, not the damage it can do.  

Just like any thought of the “unthinkable,” who ever thinks something awful will happen to them? There’s almost a kind of arrogance in this thinking. “Hubris” as a dear friend and I used to say, using the word often just because we loved how it sounded.  If the brain blocks us from thinking something horrible can happen to us ordinarily, maybe it’s doing the same every day when it comes to taking insulin. I guess it’s a good thing or we’d run screaming every time we had to pick up that syringe or press buttons on our pump. 

The Unthinkable is a fascinating read. You won’t find anything about diabetes in it, but then again, you might just get something about diabetes out of it. 

Life not despite diabetes, but because of it

Screen Shot 2015-02-08 at 2.24.26 PMIs this what 55 looks like?

It was my birthday this week, September 2 to be exact. My husband told me when we got married 7 years ago that, although I was amazing then, when I was 55 I’d be utterly amazing. I’m thinking he was pretty accurate.

Here’s what 55 looks like so far: This week I flew to Bangor Maine to deliver a diabetes presentation to a roomful of patients at the local diabetes clinic and I gave the diabetes educator there my book,The ABCs Of Loving Yourself With Diabetes. She couldn’t stop telling me how much she loved it. 

Later that day a young man drove me in the hotel van downtown to have a walk and some dinner riverside. He was wearing a medic alert bracelet and it turned out it was for diabetes. When I asked how long, he said since July. When I told him I’ve had it 36 years he couldn’t ask enough questions and I couldn’t enjoy more sharing my golden wisdom. 

When I got home I had two emails from Australian diabetes organizations wanting to meet me when I’m in Sydney this December and would I agree to be a lunchtime speaker? Well, one has to eat. 

Today I had a conversation with Fran Carpentier, senior editor of Parade magazine. She’s lived with type 1 diabetes for 39 years and is quite an advocate. I’ve long had her on my list of people I want to interview but it would have been a cold contact. As it turned out one of my dear friends bumped into her last week at her hairdressers, mentioned me, and Fran said, “I’d love to talk to riva, I know very well who she is.” I thought my friend was joking and I told her so, she wasn’t.

I’ve hit the 3/4 mark on the book I’m writing this year debunking diabetes myths due out next spring, and for one, my van driver in Bangor promises to buy a copy. 

I adore my husband, my friends, my family and my life. Not a day goes by I wonder what to do with myself, although to be honest some days I think I wish I did. Three days into 55, things are looking pretty amazing. Wonder what a whole year will look like? Better hold onto that psychic husband.

Diabetes bio: The many people diabetes has made me

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I’ve been thinking recently about where I am in life and how I got here. How it’s so different than where I expected to be, and, that diabetes is at the helm. So I thought I’d trace my trajectory and spend some time in reverie.

Early days – on the boardwalk in Brooklyn with the folks. Guess I was a little toughie from the start looking at that expression: Diabetes in store? Sure, I’ll show you! Of course, not first without some trying decades of denial, distress and dullheadedness.

18 – Life takes a dramatic turn: surrounded by grey cubbyhole lockers and a woman who has numbers on her arm lying in the next bed. The hospital is so understaffed I run to get her meds from the nurse when she’s in pain, she’s already seen enough pain, it dwarfs my own, almost. What will happen to me? Boxes of vials and syringes go back to college with me, yet little understanding.

25 – First job in NYC, party with friends, diabetes not a subject for mixed company–me and anyone else. No meters yet or knowledge how important tight blood sugar control is. Only thing I remember from that first doctor in the hospital was all the awful things that diabetes will do to me–too much, can’t think about it. Much more plagued by what I’m going to be when I grow up.

35 – Living and working in Japan. After years conflicted about being an advertising writer with all its b_llsh_t, I love that it takes me to Tokyo. Didn’t love that first day in the company clinic when handed a giant bottle of alcohol (only big thing in Japan) and bag of cotton puff balls, “What, no alcohol swabs?” I asked. That’s when I stopped using alcohol altogether. Other news:  ate far too much rice, but who knew?

39 – Return from Japan. Early mid life crisis looking for my life partner, who’d guess I already knew him? Begin telling extended circle of friends that I have diabetes. Took a long time to get over that feeling of being “damaged goods.” Living in Asia six years helps you get over most things, or is it that I’m approaching 40?

47 – Lose my job a week before I’m having diabetic frozen shoulder surgery. Go to a diabetes educator for the first time…hmmm…could this be my new career I wonder? Now in full-blown mid-life crisis. O.K., so a little late.

48 – Marry my partner in life – and in diabetes! Overwhelming for someone going it alone for so long. And, to my surprise, I turn embarrassingly shockingly anxious if a “bad” number comes up on the meter in front of him. Don’t worry, I’m over it. For those in doubt that someone is waiting for you diabetes and all, read this.

49 – Daily walks around my local park for exercise and clarity, still pondering what do I want to be when I grow up? An unsuccessful, half-hearted job search causes me to really search what I want to do with the second half of my life. OK, I’m being generous here …maybe

50 – The husband suggests I write a book about having diabetes. Puleeze, who would read it? Then suggests, “Interview other people with diabetes and tell their story.” Brilliant idea and don’t you know it begins to form my network of fellow diabeteers and diabetes professionals.

51 – First visit with an endo in I don’t know how long. He says I’m doing great, finally (hmm…after 32 years?)  A1Cs in the 5’s, due to daily power walking, eating less and vacuuming carbs out of my diet. Yet, complications from first dozen years of uncontrolled sugars still knock me for a loop when they come: partial hearing loss which brings with it unnerving tinnitus, slow-growing cataract–first time eye doctor doesn’t praise my incredibly disease-free eyes–on Synthroid for thyroid deficiency, but my neuropathy’s hardly there anymore, my diabetes teaching has launched a new career and I’m pretty sure if I maintain this health regimen and purpose of heart I’m going to be one of those long-lifers. If a crazy person doesn’t get me in the subway first.

52 – Decide career as a cde is not for me, my interest is more emotional than medical. Go back to school for six years to be a diabetes shrink, hmmm…I don’t think so. Instead I get trained to deliver A1C Champion presentations inspiring other patients to take better care of themselves, and hit the road. 

54 – On a roll living the life of an overworked executive without the office, salary, secretary or bonus. Instead fitting doing the laundry, food shopping, cooking and housecleaning into my overly-busy, lovely life: My self-published book, The ABCs of Loving Yourself with Diabetes is out there. I’m currently writing a book debunking diabetes myths to be published fall 09, I’m thick as thieves with an extremely generous network of diabetes specialists–well, c’mon, they return my phone calls–and in my spare moments I’m wondering how I got here: from that boardwalk in Brooklyn through the years of ignoring my diabetes, feeling like “damaged goods,” letting it into my life to making it my life, oh yes, with jobs come and gone, boyfriends come and gone, self-worth high and low, tearful chats with friends when diabetes scared me, the last one outside the train station in Paris, and extended work stays in Tokyo, Hong Kong and Sydney. How did I get to here, to the bench I sit on now also in Brooklyn with my husband drawing up mind maps and future plans amid my coaching others, chatting with my book agent and speaking at health fairs around the country. How have the puzzle pieces fallen together to answer the constant questioning, “Why am I here?” “What am I supposed to be doing?” “How can I help others?” My husband keeps reminding me it wasn’t pure luck that has brought me here as I have a tendency to say but work, determination and tenacity. I suppose it’s a bit of both.

By time you’re this age you learn life is a process. The husband also says you can’t connect the dots until you’re in front of them. Like the fact that in my twenties I left advertising to pursue my heart’s desire and wrote and illustrated  inspirational greeting cards. Twenty-five years later the progression of those writings and drawings became my The ABCs Of Loving Yourself With Diabetesbook. Like the fact that I spent three years participating in personal development seminars including working for the company and now I draw on much of what I learned and teach it to others. As the expression goes, “luck is when opportunity meets preparedness.”

Diabetes, like life, is a process too. You pull the strings that speed and slow the process. Keep seeking, keep reaching, keep looking, keep learning, keep doing and chances are one day your life will surprise you. Life can be good with diabetes, don’t stop searching for how. Signing off now, another myth to draft, another expert to call, another day to marvel at the fact that my blog just got picked up by a web site that’s all diabetes news, all the time, and woo hoo, there’s little ol’ meway down at the bottom.