Tag: diabetic

It needs more bacon

On By Linda M AuLeave a comment


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I’m still learning how to adapt some of my favorite dishes into a low-carb or keto version. But I don’t think the words “cooking” and “creative” should be allowed in the same sentence. I hate cooking. I hate learning new things about cooking. I’ve been an adult for 37 years, and I’m still not used to the fact that I’m expected to concoct meals for the people in my family every single day. So, adding the criteria that my meals need to be low carb has been vexing, to say the least.

Tonight, for instance, I tried to adapt a favorite easy meal from when my kids were younger. We called it cheeseburger pie. The Bisquick box always called it something like Impossible Cheeseburger Pie, though I immediately changed a few aspects of the recipe. (Otherwise, the word “impossible” would describe my efforts to get them to eat it.) So, the sliced tomatoes on top were replaced with a thin coating of spaghetti sauce.

But that regular Bisquick baking mix had to go. Way too many carbs in that stuff for a diabetic. Last month I purchased a box of Carbquik through Amazon and successfully made pancakes with it. It uses a strange version of a wheat-based flour, so it’s not strictly keto, but it’s lower carb because it’s so high fiber.

Anyway, the Carbquik has an odd aroma to it. You wouldn’t think a baking mix would smell like anything, but this stuff does. The closest I can think of is that it smells like a box of Bisquick that you forgot about for a year in the back of the pantry. Old. Expired. Stale. It smells more like the box it comes in. (It’s not expired, by the way. I checked.)

For some reason, I forged ahead and made those pancakes when the box first arrived. And perhaps I was so desperate for pancakes that I enjoyed them anyway. Perhaps it was the sugar-free syrup I slathered all over those pancakes. And the butter. And the blueberries I tossed into the batter at the last minute. Whatever. I enjoyed the pancakes. A lot.

Tonight’s cheeseburger pie, though? Not so much. Of course, the recipe also calls for milk, and I had to substitute coconut milk for regular milk. So maybe that was the culprit, though I sniffed the coconut milk and found it had no odor at all. But, did it affect the flavor of the pie? Unsure. And I’m not in a hurry to find out by making this dish again soon.

But when I do, I’ll be sure to throw in some crumbled bacon. After all, a bacon cheeseburger is a real thing, so a bacon cheeseburger pie should also be a thing.

This, by the way, is why I shop at the Archie McPhee website every year for holiday gift giving. They have an entire page full of bacon-related gifts. Who doesn’t want bacon-flavored dental floss?

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Because everything is better with bacon. And, the more bacon, the better. I just wish I’d thought of adding bacon to that cheeseburger pie a few hours ago. Lesson learned: always add bacon.

Diabetes: The journey begins

On By Linda M Au2 Comments
health medical medicine diet
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It was January 2010. I wasn’t having a good winter. Things in my personal life were more than a little wonky. So, when someone from my doctor’s office called to give me the results of my boring, routine blood work, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear that I was now a Type-2 diabetic.

I was sitting in my home office upstairs when the call came in. I’d been expecting the phone call with the lab results … just not what was actually said during that phone call.

The stunned silence from my end of the phone must have softened the heart of that office assistant who’d called me. She immediately pulled back from her stark announcement and assured me I could still eat sweets and that all was not lost. (I think back on that part of the conversation now and cringe. I understand why she said it, but it’s probably not the best thing to say right after telling someone she’s diabetic.)

Strangely, though, not much more was said that day. I was told to get a blood glucose meter and that I’d be insurance-approved for 30 strips per month. (I’d soon find out that number wasn’t exactly generous. A newly diagnosed diabetic should be testing like crazy in those early weeks—before and after each meal or snack to get information on how all sorts of foods affect blood sugar.) I felt like one of those astronauts you see in space movies—the ones who are walking in space outside the ship and whose tethers break or come loose, and who start slowly floating away from safety. Yeah, that’s exactly how I felt the rest of that day … and the rest of that month, really.

I vividly recall the first time I used a blood glucose meter. I read the instruction sheet (which, thank God, came with illustrations) over and over, leaving it spread out on my desk. I loaded the lancet with a new needle and held it hovering over my shaking fingertip for what seemed an eternity. I don’t know what I expected—probably that it would feel like being cut in two with a dull sword—but it was surprisingly painless and quick. Seeing the drop of blood well up wasn’t my favorite thing that day, but I felt empowered. This little plastic meter and these little strips were going to give me information, knowledge—things I would need in order to keep this diagnosis from ruining or shortening my life.

And I learned that the internet can be your best friend if you let it. If you’re smart. If you’re cautious. I found a forum of fellow diabetics and joined immediately. I lurked a lot. And I asked a lot of stupid newbie questions. I figured I was already shamed and embarrassed by my diagnosis, so a little more shame on the intrawebs wasn’t gonna kill me. I deflected my ignorance and stupid questions with humor. (That usually works in most situations, by the way. You’re welcome.)

And I made some amazing internet friends. A handful of the women there took me under their wings and added me to an email loop. They called themselves Diabetic Divas … and I immediately felt safe and welcome. And I learned a lot. And they’re still important, good friends.

These women were owning their diagnoses. They were beating the odds by sharing what was working for them. And many of them were routinely seeing A1C numbers in the normal ranges again. Turns out a little diligence and a lot of support go a long way. And in some small way, I kinda owe them my life. I learned to test constantly in the beginning. I learned how a post-prandial high blood glucose reading could be swiftly turned around by grabbing my shoes and taking a brisk walk around the block. (In those early months, I once lowered a post-meal number from 170 to 107 with a literal five-minute walk around the block … in February during a snowstorm. Where there’s a will—and a heavy winter coat—there’s a way.)

Those first months post-diagnosis were tough. I won’t sugar-coat that part with humor. (Technically, I shouldn’t be sugar-coating anything anymore.) I cried a lot. Feelings of failure and fear washed over me every single day. Looking at food scared me. Grocery shopping now took twice as long because I was reading every label in sight.

But, in the years that have passed since that fateful day in January 2010, I can tell you with certainty that the diagnosis snapped me back to reality faster than a few creeping pounds or even a high cholesterol count would have.

Hearing “You’re diabetic” over the phone doesn’t have to be the end of life as you know it. It means you’ll be forced to pay attention to what you eat, when you eat, and how you move. For anybody, these are good habits to learn. For a diabetic, they’re crucial.

The biggest thing I learned back then? I’m not alone. And neither are you.

Linda