So I've done pretty well so far on my 3 day-ish diet. I've managed to cut down on my calories, get in a good run or two the last couple of days, and today I even did yoga! Me, yoga! Tonight I prepared a meal of pork and steamed vegetables. The olive oil added more calories than we needed, but it was good. And then the doorbell rings.
Remember those chocolate chunk cookies you bought from that little girl selling them for her school? Well darned if she didn't show up at the worst possible time, right after a meal of lean protein and steamed vegetables. And then, right before me, were rows upon rows of perfectly portioned balls of chocolate chunk heaven. I opened the box and looked upon them like Rottweiler on a pet rabbit.
I closed up the box as best as I could and put them into the freezer for another time. I've got too far to go at this point to enjoy even one chocolate chunk cookie. Not CHIP, but CHUNK.
I have been enjoying the fantastic blood sugars that have come along with eating better and working out more. I don't think I've even gone over 200 mg/dl since Saturday, which for me is pretty good, especially lately. I'll never forget my new endo telling me that he wanted me to go to a diabetes education class. Me? Diabetes education?? I could only offer the feeble defense that I knew WHAT to do, I just wasn't doing it. I am looking forward to that day when I return and show him my sub-7 A1c.
As long as no more kids show up at my door with more cookies.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Apathy in New Braunfels
One of the things I really liked about Brenden's soccer team in Lubbock, the Comets, was how supportive (and VOCAL) the parents were. In a close game, you could really count on hearing their voices rise and cheer and coax their boys on toward victory. When we were behind (which didn't happen often) and not playing well, you could count on each of those parents letting their boys know how they felt about it.
I was tough on those boys, tougher than I probably should have been for their age, but I wasn't mean by any stretch. I wanted each one of those boys to play beyond what they ever thought possible, and play that way every single minute they were at practice and at games. In short, I taught them to WANT it more than the other team. We had some good players for sure, but the Comets won because they were disciplined, in superb physical condition, and they wanted to win more than their opponent did. They knew how and when to dig down and play that much harder. I didn't allow any goofing off or screwing around in practice. Getting out of line, or horsing around led quickly to a round of "drop-downs," which is a form of kid-torture disguised as a conditioning drill where the boys had to run about 200 yards or so and drop to their chest with the blow of every whistle. I was a bit of a dril seargeant, but I just wanted them to be the best, and the parents had my back.
The reasoning was simple, the best players would always be the best, and I wanted the less talented ones to be better than the other kids simply by being tough, aggressive, and in shape. I'll never forget little Tyler. He was by far the littlest kid on the team every year, but he very quickly earned the nickname "Scrapper." He was little, but he was tenacious and tough, and he was every bit as good as some of the best players on other teams because the Comets wouldn't let him be anything less.
Now fast-forward to soccer in New Braunfels. You'd think you were at a tennis match! The parents sit on the sidelines and quietly applaud at appropriate times, with an occassional outburst of outrage if someone dared to touch another player. Unbelievable. I've never seen a more uninspired bunch of players and parents in all of my life, and it's a serious drag on Brenden. Brenden likes discipline and order, and there is neither in practice or in games. I was sitting in for the coach this weekend and, I swear, I had a kid tell me "no" when I asked him to do something. There was not a single Comet that would have DARED to tell me or any of my assistant coaches "no." We haven't won a single game this year, and the prospects aren't looking good. The Comets would have beaten any of the teams we've played 10-0, and that's no exaggeration. I'm seriously considering forming my own team next season, and fill it in with parents and players that feel the same way I do. I'd be thrilled to take a team full of misfits, castoffs, and blue-collar players that WANT to be better, and WANT to win.
And I bet we would.
Thanks for tolerating this little bit of ranting. Having a great week, and oh by the way, I've ran a total of 2.5 miles this weekend, so we're getting there.
I was tough on those boys, tougher than I probably should have been for their age, but I wasn't mean by any stretch. I wanted each one of those boys to play beyond what they ever thought possible, and play that way every single minute they were at practice and at games. In short, I taught them to WANT it more than the other team. We had some good players for sure, but the Comets won because they were disciplined, in superb physical condition, and they wanted to win more than their opponent did. They knew how and when to dig down and play that much harder. I didn't allow any goofing off or screwing around in practice. Getting out of line, or horsing around led quickly to a round of "drop-downs," which is a form of kid-torture disguised as a conditioning drill where the boys had to run about 200 yards or so and drop to their chest with the blow of every whistle. I was a bit of a dril seargeant, but I just wanted them to be the best, and the parents had my back.
The reasoning was simple, the best players would always be the best, and I wanted the less talented ones to be better than the other kids simply by being tough, aggressive, and in shape. I'll never forget little Tyler. He was by far the littlest kid on the team every year, but he very quickly earned the nickname "Scrapper." He was little, but he was tenacious and tough, and he was every bit as good as some of the best players on other teams because the Comets wouldn't let him be anything less.
Now fast-forward to soccer in New Braunfels. You'd think you were at a tennis match! The parents sit on the sidelines and quietly applaud at appropriate times, with an occassional outburst of outrage if someone dared to touch another player. Unbelievable. I've never seen a more uninspired bunch of players and parents in all of my life, and it's a serious drag on Brenden. Brenden likes discipline and order, and there is neither in practice or in games. I was sitting in for the coach this weekend and, I swear, I had a kid tell me "no" when I asked him to do something. There was not a single Comet that would have DARED to tell me or any of my assistant coaches "no." We haven't won a single game this year, and the prospects aren't looking good. The Comets would have beaten any of the teams we've played 10-0, and that's no exaggeration. I'm seriously considering forming my own team next season, and fill it in with parents and players that feel the same way I do. I'd be thrilled to take a team full of misfits, castoffs, and blue-collar players that WANT to be better, and WANT to win.
And I bet we would.
Thanks for tolerating this little bit of ranting. Having a great week, and oh by the way, I've ran a total of 2.5 miles this weekend, so we're getting there.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Re-booting, part 2
I need a pedicure, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. And I need highlights in my hair. And I need to color the gray out of my goatee. And I need a tan.
I need lots of that stuff, but chances are I will only do....none of them. Pedicures aren't really recommended for us diabetic types, but I hear they're pretty awesome. As long as there's no coloring or painted flowers involved, it shouldn't be more of a challenge to my manhood than I could handle. But really it's all a part of my life re-boot. I mentioned yesterday that I needed to change a lot of things; the most important of those things being eating right, exercising more, and being in better general health.
The second part to starting again is having a better self-image. Right now I think I am a fat, sloppy pile of doo that loses his breath walking up the stairs and can hardly tie his shoes. That's really bad, and the problem is that it's reality. I've decided that rather than beginning with walking, I am going to go straight to running. Tomorrow after work, I'll get in the truck and measure a mile, and then two. A guy I work with used to be pretty heavy, and he started out by just running and going for it. And it worked! So tomorrow morning the weights begin, and tomorrow night the running begins.
My life reboot involves some other things, but let's see if I can't tackle these things first. Besides, I need you people coming back for more.
I need lots of that stuff, but chances are I will only do....none of them. Pedicures aren't really recommended for us diabetic types, but I hear they're pretty awesome. As long as there's no coloring or painted flowers involved, it shouldn't be more of a challenge to my manhood than I could handle. But really it's all a part of my life re-boot. I mentioned yesterday that I needed to change a lot of things; the most important of those things being eating right, exercising more, and being in better general health.
The second part to starting again is having a better self-image. Right now I think I am a fat, sloppy pile of doo that loses his breath walking up the stairs and can hardly tie his shoes. That's really bad, and the problem is that it's reality. I've decided that rather than beginning with walking, I am going to go straight to running. Tomorrow after work, I'll get in the truck and measure a mile, and then two. A guy I work with used to be pretty heavy, and he started out by just running and going for it. And it worked! So tomorrow morning the weights begin, and tomorrow night the running begins.
My life reboot involves some other things, but let's see if I can't tackle these things first. Besides, I need you people coming back for more.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Control-alt-delete
I need to reboot, and I need to reboot lots of stuff.
I have gotten miserably, unbearably, ridiculously, and unnecessarily....plump. I've watched as my pants size has grown from a comfortable 34 to a decidedly snug 38, and to reach 40 would be nothing short of tragic. And surprise, surprise, my BG control has suffered as well. It's not really that I am eating poorly, in fact I would argue that I am eating much better than I was when I worked at the car washes. Gone are the days of the Double Whopper with Cheese for lunch and the day-long snacking. I eat a decent breakfast, a healthy lunch (that The Scooter Store happily subsidizes), and just whatever for dinner. The difference is my activity level has dropped to nearly nothing. I've gone from being semi-active and working out regularly to sitting in a box all day. People's asses are like goldfish, they grow to fit to their environment. My ass is now the shape of a large leather chair.
So here's the plan, and it is just a plan so far.
Part 1:
I've bought a nice gas grill, and I've set an ambitious goal of planning meals for the week on Sunday, and buying all the ingredients to cook throughout the week. I'll continue to eat the healthy option at work for lunch, and breakfast will go down to a single breakfast burrito. Soft drinks are out. Only water or sugar-free lemonade.
Part 2:
Each morning will begin with a trip to the gym, without fail. Not only do I feel better after working out, but I'll look better too. I've always had great success losing fat when I lift weights, and muscle burns blood sugar much more efficiently.
Part 3:
Every evening after dinner will be walking time. Within a couple of weeks, my goal is to make the transition from walking to running. Ideally, I will be running 2 miles after dinner in about a month.
Counting pounds isn't really my goal. In fact, if I do it right, I may only lose about 10 pounds at most, and I may even maintain or gain a couple of pounds, but if it's muscle, then that's all good. Amy always says that it's not about how much you weigh, it's about how you look.
To recap, here are the goals:
1. Eat a small breakfast every day. Healthy lunch option. Pre-planned healthy dinners.
2. No more diet soda. Only water or sugar-free lemonade.
3. Lifting weights five days per week.
4. Daily walks that turn into daily 2 mile runs.
5. Size 32 pants. That's the big one.
Wish me luck!
I have gotten miserably, unbearably, ridiculously, and unnecessarily....plump. I've watched as my pants size has grown from a comfortable 34 to a decidedly snug 38, and to reach 40 would be nothing short of tragic. And surprise, surprise, my BG control has suffered as well. It's not really that I am eating poorly, in fact I would argue that I am eating much better than I was when I worked at the car washes. Gone are the days of the Double Whopper with Cheese for lunch and the day-long snacking. I eat a decent breakfast, a healthy lunch (that The Scooter Store happily subsidizes), and just whatever for dinner. The difference is my activity level has dropped to nearly nothing. I've gone from being semi-active and working out regularly to sitting in a box all day. People's asses are like goldfish, they grow to fit to their environment. My ass is now the shape of a large leather chair.
So here's the plan, and it is just a plan so far.
Part 1:
I've bought a nice gas grill, and I've set an ambitious goal of planning meals for the week on Sunday, and buying all the ingredients to cook throughout the week. I'll continue to eat the healthy option at work for lunch, and breakfast will go down to a single breakfast burrito. Soft drinks are out. Only water or sugar-free lemonade.
Part 2:
Each morning will begin with a trip to the gym, without fail. Not only do I feel better after working out, but I'll look better too. I've always had great success losing fat when I lift weights, and muscle burns blood sugar much more efficiently.
Part 3:
Every evening after dinner will be walking time. Within a couple of weeks, my goal is to make the transition from walking to running. Ideally, I will be running 2 miles after dinner in about a month.
Counting pounds isn't really my goal. In fact, if I do it right, I may only lose about 10 pounds at most, and I may even maintain or gain a couple of pounds, but if it's muscle, then that's all good. Amy always says that it's not about how much you weigh, it's about how you look.
To recap, here are the goals:
1. Eat a small breakfast every day. Healthy lunch option. Pre-planned healthy dinners.
2. No more diet soda. Only water or sugar-free lemonade.
3. Lifting weights five days per week.
4. Daily walks that turn into daily 2 mile runs.
5. Size 32 pants. That's the big one.
Wish me luck!
Monday, March 23, 2009
My Son, George Costanza
Fans of the television show "Seinfeld" will remember good old George Costanza. He was plump, balding, and unabashadly neurotic. He did have one particular gift though, he could in a moment's notice identify the nearest and best bathroom from any point in New York City. He was the Dewey Decimal system of urinals in Gotham. That's where my son, Brenden, comes in.
Brenden, you see, is a little quirky himself. He won't anything slimy or at all "smooshy." In fact, his Papa once remarked that he was the only kid he'd known that could stick a cracker with a fork. He insists on cleaning any kind of grime off himself immediately, and yet he'll throw his clothes into a pile wherever he has finished with them.
The other thing that Brenden does, no, that he is quite compelled to do, is to investigate every restroom of any facility that he visits. Race tracks, grocery stores, restaurants, gas stations, Starbucks, other peoples' houses, you name it. If it's got a potty, he's going to investigate it. Quite what he hopes to learn is beyond me. Like many parents of kids with diabetes, we feared he was going a lot, and that he might be afflicted with the disease. Fortunately, he just seems to be taken with the intracacies of all things procelain.
Is he secretly checking out each place to test its suitability as a tornado shelter?
Is he planning to write a bathroom book about bathrooms?
Does he like to compare flushing sounds? Each time comparing detailed notes about volume, quantity, and speed in case someone ever asks?
Is he starting a toilet trading card line?
Who knows? And I don't dare ask him. He'll kill me when his mom or Papa tells him about this.
He's a good kid. Straight A's, soccer stud, awesome big brother, and the handsomest little man I have ever seen in my life. In pictures, he's usually compared to Ben Affleck (the JLo version, not the newer, shaggy one) and to Elvis.
But for now, he's my little George Costanza, and I love him.
Brenden, you see, is a little quirky himself. He won't anything slimy or at all "smooshy." In fact, his Papa once remarked that he was the only kid he'd known that could stick a cracker with a fork. He insists on cleaning any kind of grime off himself immediately, and yet he'll throw his clothes into a pile wherever he has finished with them.
The other thing that Brenden does, no, that he is quite compelled to do, is to investigate every restroom of any facility that he visits. Race tracks, grocery stores, restaurants, gas stations, Starbucks, other peoples' houses, you name it. If it's got a potty, he's going to investigate it. Quite what he hopes to learn is beyond me. Like many parents of kids with diabetes, we feared he was going a lot, and that he might be afflicted with the disease. Fortunately, he just seems to be taken with the intracacies of all things procelain.
Is he secretly checking out each place to test its suitability as a tornado shelter?
Is he planning to write a bathroom book about bathrooms?
Does he like to compare flushing sounds? Each time comparing detailed notes about volume, quantity, and speed in case someone ever asks?
Is he starting a toilet trading card line?
Who knows? And I don't dare ask him. He'll kill me when his mom or Papa tells him about this.
He's a good kid. Straight A's, soccer stud, awesome big brother, and the handsomest little man I have ever seen in my life. In pictures, he's usually compared to Ben Affleck (the JLo version, not the newer, shaggy one) and to Elvis.
But for now, he's my little George Costanza, and I love him.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Just Like That
Today I was sitting in my non-descript cubicle at The Scooter Store, minding my own business, when I got an email from a former co-worker telling me a former employee of mine had died that morning from a heart attack. It seems she was pulling into her parking lot at her apartment complex when she had a massive heart attack. Her car crashed into another car with enough violence to prompt by-standers to see if she was OK. She was not OK, she was slumped over the steering wheel and was.....dead. The paramedics were called, and she was revived at the hospital just in time for her to have another massive heart attack, one from which she would not recover.
I don't remember exactly when Linda came to work for us at Crystal Falls, but it seems like forever ago. She didn't have a great phone voice, wasn't great with customers, and was apt to make errors on the job that were a little mind-boggling. But she was there every day she was scheduled, and she was sort of a mom to a lot of people at the car wash that didn't really have a "mom." I know that there were a lot of people that grew very close to her. She will really be missed by many. Even at 52 years old, she still tended to her grown daughter and grandchildren, freely sharing with them her meager resources. I often teased her about that, telling her she needed to let her daughter grow up. Every time I did that, I always ended by saying, "You know, that's easy for me to say. I'd probably do the same thing for my kids," and she'd just nod in a way that only someone that's seen it all can nod.
I lost four employees over the years at the car wash, including Linda, and I can still recall even the most minute details about each of them.
I remember how Lloyd White, well into his seventies, was the first employee at work every day. He continued to work when he didn't really need to because he wanted to put his grandchildren through college. Lloyd died of pancreatic cancer. He was dead within 2 months of his diagnosis.
I remember Barbara. Barbara and I HATED each other when I first came to work at Crystal Falls, but over the years she and I became very close. Once you got past that gruff exterior (that is, once she knew you could be trusted), you couldn't meet a kinder and wiser lady than Barbara. I remember when Barbara got her new car. A green Ford Taurus; it was the first new car she'd had that I knew of, and it wasn't really new, but it was vastly superior to her old car. I was so happy for her, and I insisted that it be regularly washed and waxed. Occassionally I would give Barbara a gift card so she could buy gas for that car. When Barbara, a devout Christian, learned she had stage 3 liver cancer, she was just fine with going home to her God as soon as she could.
I remember Ruben. Ruben was just a great guy. He was handy with his hands, had a sharp mind, worked his ass off, and had a bright future. While I never attended one, the parties out on his land were legendary. None of us will ever really know what happened that night between him and his wife. No one but her. Jeff, Jon, Pace, his wife, and I were in the room when his heart stopped beating.
And finally Linda. The thing I remember about her is that laugh of hers. It was a laugh no different than any other person that's chain-smoked their entire life. But what was different was that she laughed often, robustly, and even at stupid jokes. And she always set out the ads for everyone so they knew where the bargains were on food that week.
Each of them touched me and others in a different way, and they'll all be missed. What I hope to learn from it is this: how will people remember me?
How will they remember you?
I don't remember exactly when Linda came to work for us at Crystal Falls, but it seems like forever ago. She didn't have a great phone voice, wasn't great with customers, and was apt to make errors on the job that were a little mind-boggling. But she was there every day she was scheduled, and she was sort of a mom to a lot of people at the car wash that didn't really have a "mom." I know that there were a lot of people that grew very close to her. She will really be missed by many. Even at 52 years old, she still tended to her grown daughter and grandchildren, freely sharing with them her meager resources. I often teased her about that, telling her she needed to let her daughter grow up. Every time I did that, I always ended by saying, "You know, that's easy for me to say. I'd probably do the same thing for my kids," and she'd just nod in a way that only someone that's seen it all can nod.
I lost four employees over the years at the car wash, including Linda, and I can still recall even the most minute details about each of them.
I remember how Lloyd White, well into his seventies, was the first employee at work every day. He continued to work when he didn't really need to because he wanted to put his grandchildren through college. Lloyd died of pancreatic cancer. He was dead within 2 months of his diagnosis.
I remember Barbara. Barbara and I HATED each other when I first came to work at Crystal Falls, but over the years she and I became very close. Once you got past that gruff exterior (that is, once she knew you could be trusted), you couldn't meet a kinder and wiser lady than Barbara. I remember when Barbara got her new car. A green Ford Taurus; it was the first new car she'd had that I knew of, and it wasn't really new, but it was vastly superior to her old car. I was so happy for her, and I insisted that it be regularly washed and waxed. Occassionally I would give Barbara a gift card so she could buy gas for that car. When Barbara, a devout Christian, learned she had stage 3 liver cancer, she was just fine with going home to her God as soon as she could.
I remember Ruben. Ruben was just a great guy. He was handy with his hands, had a sharp mind, worked his ass off, and had a bright future. While I never attended one, the parties out on his land were legendary. None of us will ever really know what happened that night between him and his wife. No one but her. Jeff, Jon, Pace, his wife, and I were in the room when his heart stopped beating.
And finally Linda. The thing I remember about her is that laugh of hers. It was a laugh no different than any other person that's chain-smoked their entire life. But what was different was that she laughed often, robustly, and even at stupid jokes. And she always set out the ads for everyone so they knew where the bargains were on food that week.
Each of them touched me and others in a different way, and they'll all be missed. What I hope to learn from it is this: how will people remember me?
How will they remember you?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Pharmacies and Pharmacists - Key Players in Diabetes Health
Good evening all! I know it's been a while, so here I am back at it again. I promise to be a little more faithful about blogging. I've been very busy with the move, new job, soccer, etc.
As you may remember, our family recently relocated to New Braunfels, Texas, a small city of about 40,000 people nestled between Austin and San Antonio in the Texas Hill Country. Part of the reason we moved here was because we thought being in a metropolian area would mean we would be closer to better health care for Emma. In a sense that is true, but it's still quite a trip into San Antonio, and Emma's doctors are still in Dallas; although I suspect we'll end up moving her care either to SA or Houston. Houston is closer than Dallas, and we have family there that Amy and Emma can stay with when she has appointments.
Today's topic however, has more to do with a critical, but often underappreciated part of a diabetics healthcare team: his or her pharmacist. Diabetics spend a lot of time in doctors' offices, and the last thing we want is a chaotic pharmacy. We were VERY lucky and VERY spoiled when we lived in Lubbock. When we moved to our new house in Lubbock, I decided to pop into the CVS down the street because I just didn't like the feel of the Walgreens close to our house. Amy was hesitant because it didn't have a drive through; I thought that would be an advantage. What I noticed was that the pharmacists knew, and addressed, their customers by name. Soon we were hooked, and Tyson Cromeens, Mason West, and their crew (too many to remember) became like an extended family to us. They always...ALWAYS took care of us, and every other customer they had. As Emma was snaking her way through from one diagnosis to another, it was Tyson and Mason we turned to for advice. When Emma needed a new compounded medication, Tyson and Mason (well, Tyson anyway) readily agreed to compound the medication for her (even though, as I learned later, that isn't really what chain pharmacies "do.")
When I moved to New Braunfels, one of the first things I did was to scout out the pharmacies in town to see which pharmacy would be right for us. I didn't care about location, appearance, if it had a drive-through, etc. I cared about the people that worked there. Would they take a personal interest in us? Allow me a moment to recap what I have experienced in New Braunfels so far. In order.
1. First stop was, of course, CVS. I called in a refill at 8 am, and told them I would come by at about 6pm to pick it up. I dutifully arrived at 6pm, and the clerk looked at me with a look that said "Oh shit. I didn't think you'd actually WANT this!" She said it would be just a few more minutes because they were "busy, and a little behind." So being busy just happened to delay my prescription that I called in 10 hours earlier by 15 or 20 minutes? They must be slow-minded here and therefore think that because I live here that I must be as well. So I went across the street. A very busy street, had some dinner and browsed the movie selection at Hollywood video, and returned at about 7:30 for my insulin. It's ready, she says, and hands me insulin. One. Vial. Of. Insulin. When the script clearly calls for 8. I was not happy, which evidently showed because the pharmacist literally ran and hid. Clearly a pharmacy that cannot count vials of insulin cannot be trusted to fill our prescriptions. I told them to transfer the script to the Walgreens by my office. NOW.
2. Walgreens was then the next stop, and they were nice enough, but they were delayed by the fact that CVS hadn't cancelled the order and therefore my insurance denied the prescription. Yeah, I'm pretty much boiling by now. Sometime thereafter, we asked them to compound Emma's medication just like Tyson and Mason had routinely done (to call it compunding would be like calling pushing a Hot Wheel driving. It's really just mixing. I think I could do it with Emma's toy mixer.) They emphatically stated that they would not do it.
3. Next was Target. We actually like Target. It's not very busy, but it's across town, and I wonder if they would agree to do the compounding operation.
4. Back to CVS. Amy talked them into compounding, but with a lot of arm-twisting. Still the same indifferent service.
5. Today I dared to try HEB. Oh my sweet Lord. Typical grocery store pharmacy, I think. The pharmacists were safely hidden behind plexiglass safe from the huddled masses yearning to breathe free (or get an antibiotic for that sudden, unexplained rash many of them seemed to be suffering from). I waited in line for about 20 minutes to get Brenden's antibiotic (strep throat), and wondered why exactly I was there and promising myself I would NEVER, EVER return.
So I pondered writing a letter to each of the pharmacies' managers practically BEGGING one of them to stand out and actually want our business. I'm actually really hoping that Target will agree to do the compounding, but if they don't, that's probably where we'll end up anyway.
Long story short, we miss Tyson, Mason, and everyone at the CVS at 82nd and Indiana in Lubbock. If you have a good pharmacy, be grateful, and be sure that their company knows how much you appreciate them. Pharmacies aggressively market to diabetic customers, but few actually back it up.
As you may remember, our family recently relocated to New Braunfels, Texas, a small city of about 40,000 people nestled between Austin and San Antonio in the Texas Hill Country. Part of the reason we moved here was because we thought being in a metropolian area would mean we would be closer to better health care for Emma. In a sense that is true, but it's still quite a trip into San Antonio, and Emma's doctors are still in Dallas; although I suspect we'll end up moving her care either to SA or Houston. Houston is closer than Dallas, and we have family there that Amy and Emma can stay with when she has appointments.
Today's topic however, has more to do with a critical, but often underappreciated part of a diabetics healthcare team: his or her pharmacist. Diabetics spend a lot of time in doctors' offices, and the last thing we want is a chaotic pharmacy. We were VERY lucky and VERY spoiled when we lived in Lubbock. When we moved to our new house in Lubbock, I decided to pop into the CVS down the street because I just didn't like the feel of the Walgreens close to our house. Amy was hesitant because it didn't have a drive through; I thought that would be an advantage. What I noticed was that the pharmacists knew, and addressed, their customers by name. Soon we were hooked, and Tyson Cromeens, Mason West, and their crew (too many to remember) became like an extended family to us. They always...ALWAYS took care of us, and every other customer they had. As Emma was snaking her way through from one diagnosis to another, it was Tyson and Mason we turned to for advice. When Emma needed a new compounded medication, Tyson and Mason (well, Tyson anyway) readily agreed to compound the medication for her (even though, as I learned later, that isn't really what chain pharmacies "do.")
When I moved to New Braunfels, one of the first things I did was to scout out the pharmacies in town to see which pharmacy would be right for us. I didn't care about location, appearance, if it had a drive-through, etc. I cared about the people that worked there. Would they take a personal interest in us? Allow me a moment to recap what I have experienced in New Braunfels so far. In order.
1. First stop was, of course, CVS. I called in a refill at 8 am, and told them I would come by at about 6pm to pick it up. I dutifully arrived at 6pm, and the clerk looked at me with a look that said "Oh shit. I didn't think you'd actually WANT this!" She said it would be just a few more minutes because they were "busy, and a little behind." So being busy just happened to delay my prescription that I called in 10 hours earlier by 15 or 20 minutes? They must be slow-minded here and therefore think that because I live here that I must be as well. So I went across the street. A very busy street, had some dinner and browsed the movie selection at Hollywood video, and returned at about 7:30 for my insulin. It's ready, she says, and hands me insulin. One. Vial. Of. Insulin. When the script clearly calls for 8. I was not happy, which evidently showed because the pharmacist literally ran and hid. Clearly a pharmacy that cannot count vials of insulin cannot be trusted to fill our prescriptions. I told them to transfer the script to the Walgreens by my office. NOW.
2. Walgreens was then the next stop, and they were nice enough, but they were delayed by the fact that CVS hadn't cancelled the order and therefore my insurance denied the prescription. Yeah, I'm pretty much boiling by now. Sometime thereafter, we asked them to compound Emma's medication just like Tyson and Mason had routinely done (to call it compunding would be like calling pushing a Hot Wheel driving. It's really just mixing. I think I could do it with Emma's toy mixer.) They emphatically stated that they would not do it.
3. Next was Target. We actually like Target. It's not very busy, but it's across town, and I wonder if they would agree to do the compounding operation.
4. Back to CVS. Amy talked them into compounding, but with a lot of arm-twisting. Still the same indifferent service.
5. Today I dared to try HEB. Oh my sweet Lord. Typical grocery store pharmacy, I think. The pharmacists were safely hidden behind plexiglass safe from the huddled masses yearning to breathe free (or get an antibiotic for that sudden, unexplained rash many of them seemed to be suffering from). I waited in line for about 20 minutes to get Brenden's antibiotic (strep throat), and wondered why exactly I was there and promising myself I would NEVER, EVER return.
So I pondered writing a letter to each of the pharmacies' managers practically BEGGING one of them to stand out and actually want our business. I'm actually really hoping that Target will agree to do the compounding, but if they don't, that's probably where we'll end up anyway.
Long story short, we miss Tyson, Mason, and everyone at the CVS at 82nd and Indiana in Lubbock. If you have a good pharmacy, be grateful, and be sure that their company knows how much you appreciate them. Pharmacies aggressively market to diabetic customers, but few actually back it up.
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