Diabetes Will Not be Forgotten

Even during Easter Sunday worship diabetes rears its ugly head. In the Christian faith, Easter is a joyous time and I was in good spirits. My parents were in town and I had successfully guesstimated my carbs at dinner with them last night. No small feat given we ate a Mexican place, had appetizers in addition to the chips & salsa and I tried something new. Just as the sermon began there was a disruption as an older man was try8ing to carry his wife out of the church. She was collapsing & unable to stand. Many people rushed over to help, as people do in these situations. Even though she was on the floor in the aisle right next to the pew we were sitting in, I stayed put. That is until I heard the words low blood sugar and diabetes. I grabbed the juice box from my purse, ripped off the straw inserted it, and thrust the juice box it into the hands of a member of the congregation who was evidently a nurse. I heard “can’t swallow…and sugar packets” so I ran to get those. By this time the minister had stopped trying to preach, the EMS was on the way and everyone in the Sanctuary was trying to figure out what was happening. They were able to get maybe tow of the sugar packets in her mouth to dissolve and run down her throat when my brain clicked into gear & I grabbed my blood sugar machine, elbowed my way to a spot right next to her and did a blood sugar. She was 53; not great but not as low as I had thought it might be. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open and was not alert.

The Fire Squad, EMS, etc., poured in and took over. Her husband was apologetic for the disruption. He said that she must have taken too much insulin that morning. They gave her oxygen. In my head I was screaming, how about some sugar guys, she’s only 53? They took her out on a stretcher. The worship service continued. It was odd. There was a strange current rippling through the congregation. We were not used to this much excitement. It took a while for my heart beat to return to it’s normal rate. I thought I might be low but I was 263, just a bit shaken up.

After the service, people were saying things along the lines of me saving the day, or you really knew what to do or you went above and beyond. I heard low blood sugar and only did what is second nature for all of us who live with diabetes. As if I could just sit there with my juice box and blood sugar testing machine in my purse, with a woman barely conscious a few feet away from me and not jump into action. Mind boggling. This was not some great act or something to be applauded for. It was simply a human act.

I feel like there is some bigger message I am supposed to take away from this event since it happened during church on Easter Sunday but I can’t seem to figure it out. It reminded me of the importance to always be prepared with low supplies and that the ‘betes will not be forgotten. It will rear its ugly, Hypoglycemic head during the most inopportune times and you better be ready.

Beep, bop, beep

I was feeling good about this interview. I scored the interview through the reference of a friend. I was able to finagle it to come for the interview the same day they called. I was not nervous as I was for the last job I interviewed for since I was not sure this was even a job I would want.

The walk over to their office was miserable as it was cold and very windy and I had on heels for the interview. I made it there okay albeit a bit windblown, flushed and vowing never to wear heals if I needed to walk more than a block again. I was impressed by the fancy office complete with a great view of the lake

I nailed the first round of questions and was please with myself. The two women interviewing seemed to like my answers as well. Then things to a downward turn…

“Beep, bop, beep”

Shit, shit, shit. My pump is beeping! You have got to be kidding me. Nice timing.

They look to see where the sound is coming from and I try to pretend I heard nothing. Instinctively I reach for the pump on my hip and realize that I was wearing it on my bra since I was not wearing a belt. Is there any way I can possibly cancel the alarm through my clothing without looking like I am fiddling with my chest? Negative. Maybe it will not beep again.


“Beep, bop, beep”

I don’t want my interviewers to think it is my cell phone but I can’t tell them I have diabetes and wear an insulin pump in an interview. What to do? I pretend not to hear it and speak up when it chimes. They look at me quizzically but say nothing. We conclude the interview with the normal pleasantries and they say it will be at least a week before they contact me. I walk back to work cursing my pump & my choice of footwear.

Grateful

The memorial service was very nice; I was pretty much crying for the whole thing. Her children put together a slide show of pictures of their mom to be shown before and during the service. I volunteered to run this slideshow from the balcony of the church. I think the tears were in my eyes as soon as the somber organ music began, signifying the start of the service, but I really lost it when it was time for the personal comments on Gloria. The first two people to speak, vaguely alluded to the idea of ongoing health problems, but no specific reference to diabetes. The third person, the parish nurse for our congregation, got right to the point, as far as I was concerned. She said that Gloria suffered from almost every complication diabetes could cause. She spoke of her lifelong struggles with the disease and how well she dealt with them. I was sitting in church full of anger and frustration at Diabetes, at Life, even at God too. Tears stinging my cheeks and blinding my eyes I could not get the thought that this woman’s life was cut short by my disease. It was so unfair. I had never really equated diabetes to death before; now it was staring me right in the face.

Every person talked about her smile. The smile she always had & the inspiration she was to so many people in so many ways.

As I was walking out of the service, I was feeling more than a little bit self-conscious because of how upset I was (I mean I didn’t really know her that well & I was not family; what right did I have to be so upset?) I made my way over the parish nurse to tell what a great job she had done. She told me she was glad she had seen me because ever since Gloria’s death she had been worried about me. The weeping began again. She told me that she had been worried about how this would affect me. Talk about hitting the nail on the head.

“Melissa, I want you to know that you are going to be okay. You have done so well with your diabetes. She had all sorts of other problems. She had diabetes before, home blood testing, before insulin pumps…for 50 years. You are going to make it.”

She touched on the fear that I had not really spoken of to anyone: the fear for my own life. Even though I felt in part selfish for my relief at hearing I would be okay, doubt that this was true, anger at the ‘betes and great sadness about this world’s loss, overall she made me feel better. She told me things that I already knew but needed to hear. For that I am grateful.

Life is Good

I was looking back over my blog & it occurred to me that people reading may find my posts depressing or negative. The may wonder if I am just a cranky person. The answer is a resounding “NO!” In reality I am a fairly cheerful, happy person. I am not one of those people walking around with a huge grin on my face, but I am, for the most part a happy person. When I give myself a break & actually think about it – I have a great life:
· Wonderful, supportive husband
· A job with great benefits
· 2 adorable cats (and Beagle)
· A nice home with an awesome kitchen that my husband built for me
· Great encouraging & supportive family & friends
· Only 40 more credit hours of school & I will have a degree!
· New job prospects
· This amazing ‘family’ of d-bloggers for diabetes support & encouragement
· A ton of hard life lessons under my belt that I have learned from
· Choices

And most of all I have hope for a better future. I’ve hit a bad patch as of late but things will get better, I just know it.

As I commented over at Scott’s blog, I may actually try to Eat Well, Exercise & Pay Attention to My Diabetes for a whole week & see if I feel better (less depressed, lethargic & head-achey). We'll see!

I Hate Mondays

What a way to start the week. I woke up with enough time to gather all my paraphernalia for the day without having to race around like a chicken with its head cut off. No small feat for me. I had my usual cups of coffee, threw a granola bar & a piece of fruit in my bag & was on my way. I even made it work early. I never actually ate the breakfast that I remembered to bring so by about 9:30 my stomach was grumbling. Reaching for my trusty black kit, my arm brushed against my abdomen where my infusion set was and something didn’t feel right. I looked down and saw that I was not attached; as in no pump. My mind quickly did a recap of the morning & there it was…sitting on the hamper in the bathroom, at home, where I put it while I shower. Shit. I do my blood sugar and it is 341. Great, 341 & no insulin on board. Frantically I rummage through my emergency pump supplies looking for a syringe, trying to figure out how I could use my extra infusion set and reservoir to get insulin into my body. I give up on that idea, when I realize I would have no idea of how much insulin I was giving myself which would surely lead to an ugly low. Instead, I call my husband to lament. I really don’t know what I expected him to be able to do from across town at his office but I just wanted him to know. “How can you forget to put your pump on?” he asks, in a fretful tone. Not exactly the sympathy I was looking for but a very valid point.

How can I forget to put on my pump that provides my life-sustaining drug? Probably the same way I have forgotten my blood sugar machine or test strips (on more than one occasion). I just do. My mind is elsewhere. The day did not improve from there. I had to go home (25 miles) and get the forgotten pump and hurry back to work. By the time I got back it was time for lunch which coincided with a staff meeting on this particular day but my blood sugar was still too high to eat. Of course there were these mini-brownie-cupcake-things that were just about making me drool. The unfinished ones, I knew would be parked in my office (the reception area) for the remainder of the day. Great; I did not have the willpower for this today. I was cranky. Needless to say, I had a few.

I continued to feel ornery for the remainder of the day; so much so that I decided to play hooky from school. My self-destructive path persisted with the eating of Kraft Mac & Cheese, plus extra cheese for dinner and the taking of an extra-generous bolus for this meal in hopes of dropping low so I would have a good excuse to eat more chocolate. It worked and I dropped to 100, and felt like I was still dropping so I had chocolate covered pretzels and ice-cold milk. I did not bolus for this extra treat and went to bed glad that this bad day was over.

It wasn’t over yet…I woke up at 1:30 am, bladder near bursting, with a blood sugar of 475. Nice. Bolus 11.1 units in the middle of the night and pray that I would not crash and wake up low causing another bad day.

I woke up at a perfect 126, but still angry at myself for my previous days behavior. I don’t know why or how I can forget such simple, essential things such as my pump or my BG machine. Maybe it’s because I am trying to forget diabetes for a while. On the other hand I do know that I make choices about my diabetes care when I am hyperglycemic. The high blood sugar makes me feel cranky and too lethargic to care about my stupid diabetes. My mind is too clogged with the abundance of syrupy sugar in my blood stream for me to think clearly. Just when I need it most, the clear thinking and voice of reason abandon me. I know this happens, just not how to fix it. I am nowhere near the level of care where high blood sugars do not exist.

I've Got My Life to Live

Still thinking about the first person I ever knew who died from diabetes; from ‘my’ disease. She finally passed away Friday night. I feel so awful thinking about her family at her side, just waiting for the inevitable. My husband was waiting at home with dinner on the stove, a bottle of wine in the fridge and arms open wide to fold me in.

Damn, I was naïve. I never actually thought about people with diabetes dying. It’s a bit of a shock when reality rears its ugly head. Logically I knew it could happen, I’ve seen the stories of ‘other people’ but not someone I actually knew who lived with the disease. They were supposed to have a cure by now! They (top diabetes researchers from around the world) told me when I was 16 that there would be a cure within 10 years. Well, times up, what happened to the cure? This is a disease we manage, hate, rebel against, and live with not one we die from! That’s a cruel twist you don’t actually die from the disease Diabetes Mellitus. No, only from other horrible things like heart disease, heart attacks, kidney failure, etc. caused by the disease. But, surely there will be a cure before any of that can happen to me or to anyone I personally know, right? Right? When you told me, in your effort to scare some sense into me in my teens, about the horrible complications that could happen to me I thought you only meant to old people who didn’t manage their disease. This disease CANNOT cut my life short. I’ve got things to do! I want to be a mom and a grandma and finish school and go to Ireland and grow old and senile with my husband! I’ve got a niece on the way who I need to watch grow up! I’ve got to…..I’ve got my life to live!

Fight of My Life....

This morning as I was getting ready for my day I was jamming to O.A.R.’s “Heard the World….”. I especially like the line; “How you're caught up in the fight of your life.” Earlier today, singing that line in the shower it made me feel powerful and think that, yeah I do feel like I am caught up in the fight of my life with diabetes, but that’s okay, because I am strong. I was in such a good mood: it’s Friday & the weekend is just about here, I have some fun plans & I woke up happy.

Now I am fighting back tears, trying to keep my composure at work. Every cell in my body is aching to scream its hatred of diabetes. A friend from church who is only in her mid-fifties, and has had diabetes most of her life, is being taken off life support today at 10:00 a.m. Her family, close friends and the ministers will be by her side. That provides some comfort.

Since I work in a church, I get calls more often than most people about someone dying, but typically it is one of the older members whom I only recognize by name. This one hits close to home. I knew this woman. She had “my” disease. We compared pumps and other diabetes info. Last fall, at the annual hayride I talked to her & her husband about how the daily struggles of diabetes were for me and she really listened and best of all she knew where I was coming from. She gave me all sorts of information, one of which was telling me about Dlife, which led me to this world of diabetes blogs. She left information for me about support groups and articles she thought I might find useful. She always had a smile for you.

It’s now 10:10 a.m. I wonder if its over. God, why her? Why diabetes? Why?

“She didn’t die from diabetes, it was her heart,” a helpful co-worker explained. I replied that people don’t actually die of diabetes but rather from the complications caused by or worsened by diabetes. Don’t try to tell me this disease had nothing to do with it. She had diabetes for 50 years; before there was blood glucose testing at home, before the DCCT Trials, before insulin pumps and I find it hard to imagine that disease didn’t take a toll on her body. The same helpful co-worker offered that she didn’t take good care of herself citing that she would eat all sorts of pastries etc. at Coffee Hour on Sunday mornings. Some people just really don’t understand. I would be willing to bet that her HbA1c was much better than my own.

I can’t push the thoughts away; the thoughts that this is what the end of my own life will look like. That the same comments will be exchanged by those who knew me. These lyrics will not stop running through my head;
“How you're caught up in the fight of your life.
Nothing's gonna save me.
I'm hanging from the nearest tree.
Nothing's gonna save me.”

They have taken on a different meaning than this morning. I have never personally known a person who had diabetes and then died. This is a disturbing and depressing first. Don’t worry, dear reader, I am not on the brink. This is just one of those times when life’s cruel, hard truths are thrown right in your face and it makes you think about the fragility of life and, in this case, makes me hate the disease that taints our lives.

I am, we all are, survivors and will endure. When you come across this please say a little prayer (or whatever it is you do) for my friend who managed to survive for more than 50 years with diabetes and then smile at how far we’ve come because I think she would like that.

This is the Way My Mind Works

I had a crazy morning. Got to sleep in a bit since I had an appointment with my therapist at 11:00 a.m. and would not be going into work until after that. Well, I slept in a little too much and in my rush to leave the house I forgot my blood sugar machine. This, I did not notice, until after the appointment when I got to work & was starving. I am going to meet a friend for coffee after work and was thinking I should have a game plan of what to get to drink, choose something not too awful and check the carbs before I get there. Before I could type in the web address I thought well, why bother with all that when I will have no idea what my blood sugar is anyway so why bother with all that. I’ll just guesstimate. This is the way my mind works.

There are days when my blood sugar has been all over the place and instead of playing it safe and eating something healthy, I instead look at it as an opportunity to splurge since my blood sugar is already not perfect. That’s my justification. I don’t know why I think this way. I was telling my therapist today that I seem to make bad decisions and she pointed out that they were choices. I agreed with her, but asked her “what do I do when I am in the moment, with a choice and I am leaning towards the bad choice?” She told me that at that point I should stop and figure out what emotions I am feeling before making that choice. Is that really possible? For these many (millions) of little diabetes decisions we have to make every day?

So I guess my best choice about the coffee and the carbs is to make a reasonable selection, know how many carbs that particular choice has and bolus for that amount then deal with the blood sugar testing when I get home. It is not the end of the world & I am not perfect.

Blarney

I know that St. Paddy's Day is over but I've been busy.

I love the word blarney. It's one of those goofy words that are often difficult to fit into everyday conversation but I just like the way it sounds and the meaning, too.

"Blarney" has come to mean nonsense or smooth flattering talk in almost any language. (The Scots have a similar term in "blether".) Tradition says that if you pay a visit to Blarney Castle in Co. Cork and kiss the Blarney stone that you'll be receive the gift of eloquence and powers of persuasion, a true master of the "gift of gab." It's ironic that an English queen is credited with the origin of the word.

My husband wonders how I got the "gift of gab" as I have never been to kiss the Blarney Stone.

No New Job

Well, after a hellish week waiting…I found out I did not get the job. That news, coupled with my-not-always-remembering- to-take-my-Prozac, left me wallowing in the depths of my old friend Depression. I took the news really hard. This new job was perfect me. It would be just the change I needed. I had ‘wowed’ them at my interviews. Or so I thought.

This whole experience was good for me in the end. It has been a long time since I have put myself out there and I really have had almost no experience with a real interview process. It made me remember some of my old passion. Also brought into focus for me was the fact that this whole job thing is what I will be doing for like the next 30 plus years so I better find something I like to do. I am working towards figuring that out but I tend to lose sight of that in this business of living. I am going to school part-time to obtain my bachelor’s degree. The end seems so far away when you can only take 2 maybe 3 classes a semester, slowly, but surely I am getting there though.

I Want a Job That I am Passionate About

I have a decent job which provides good health insurance and for the most part I work with kind, caring people, but I am burned out. I sort of fell into this job about 6 years ago and at the time it was just what I needed in many ways. I desperately need a job, I needed health insurance, I needed to learn how to use a computer and I needed some caring guidance, all of which I got. I work at a church. Something I never would have imagined myself doing what with my rebellious nature, lack of church attendance and 12 years of attending Catholic schools as a non-Catholic. Don’t me wrong, I got an excellent well rounded education, healthy respect for authority, and confidence that I wouldn’t trade for anything; it’s just that the whole Catholic school thing tends to leave one with a somewhat jaded view on organized religion.

I have been saying for quite some time that I need to look for something else; a job that t is more challenging for me and one that pays more. True to form, I have not done anything. There never seems to be the time and I’ll admit I’m scared of not getting the same level of health insurance I currently have. I am also leery of having to pussy-foot around the whole diabetes issue.

A few weeks ago I saw a posting for a job with a diabetes organization in my area that I am totally qualified for. Before I had time to overanalyze it I applied. This job interview process and my meeting of an un-educated person with diabetes awoke in me my passion for wanting to help people particularly those living with diabetes. When I was a kid the only thing I ever wanted to be when I grew up was someone who ran a camp for kids with diabetes in the summer and then diabetes educator in the winter, “to you know help kids with diabetes,” was what I told anyone who asked. Through my own personal struggles with and denial of diabetes I had almost completely lost sight of that passion and those goals.

Now after interview number two, I want this job more than I have wanted anything in a long time. I just know that I would be really great in this position and have a lot to offer and addition to just really having a good feeling about it. Sometimes you can’t necessarily reason something, you just simply have this feeling that a situation or opportunity is the path your life is meant to take and that it is time for a change.

I’ve done all I can and it’s down to me and 2 other candidates so let’s hope this feeling I have is right and that I have shown them what I’m made of. As added security please keep you fingers crossed for me until early next week when I should hear the verdict – Thanks!

Rant

On our second date my husband took me with him to help out at a program he volunteers for. Due to confidentiality I can’t get into specifics, but the program helps homeless families by housing them with the help of various churches. When out church’s turn comes up, and our schedules permit, we still volunteer there and last week was our turn. I met a man who had some very bad luck but was not bitter. Dinner was pizza followed by ice-cream sundaes. I excused myself and took extra insulin. As the sundaes were being made I heard the man ask if there was sugar-free ice cream so of course that caught my attention. I asked him a few questions and found out that he has Type 2 and we got to talking. I was horrified at how little he seemed to know about his disease. Now I will admit, I don’t know much about what medical advice he ahs gotten or even what the standard is for a person with Type 2 but it angered me that eating not sugar had been drilled into him so much that even when he wakes up, dizzy, clammy and weak he only has one piece of candy! He takes Lantus so I would have thought that he might have some education on how to treat a low. He was also under the impression that he could eat as much as he wanted as long as it wasn’t sugar. He knew nothing about reading labels or portions only that he should drink water or diet pop and not things like juice that have high sugar content.

I suggested that if he was feeling dizzy, clammy & weak when he woke that he should probably have more than one piece of candy & that he should tell his doctor this. I also encouraged him to ask doctor about seeing a dietician and in the meantime I gave him some suggestions for portion control (such as using you fist as a guide for a serving), to watch the fat content in foods he is eating and the basics of how to read a label. He wanted to know how long I had had diabetes and was impressed by how much I knew. I was thinking, it only seems like a lot compared to how little you know. I showed him my pump and explained how it worked. He was fascinated. I wanted to run home & gather up some of the oodles of information I have on diabetes and give it to him. I wish I could follow-up with him but the program is run in such a way that it isn’t really possible to do so.

It made me realize how lucky I am to have good health insurance and access to all the information I could possibly want on diabetes. This man was so eager learn anything he could from me about his diabetes. I was reluctant to offer too much information because I am not CDE, RN or DR, but IO was dumfounded that someone who appeared to me to be starving for information. Why did he not get this information from a healthcare provider and instead a chance encounter? Is it because he has poor insurance coverage? An under-educated physician, perhaps? Or simply our screwed up health care system in this country at work again? In my mind and from my very limited point of view it is inexcusable no matter the reason when nearly 16 million Americans have diabetes and most of those are Type 2.

It is hard enough to deal with this disease when you are armed with information and resources let alone when you have little information and few resources and it is so not fair. I only hope I helped him enough to get him pointed in the right direction.

Just One Day

Beep, beep, beep! Hit snooze, pry eyes open, and glance at the alarm clock. It’s only 6:00 a.m. so I pull the kitty close for a snuggle; I’ve got time. By 6:30 a.m. I am actually out of bed, as in two feet on the floor, eyes fully open, and on my way to test my blood sugar. Now, if you know about me and mornings you know that this no small feat. I usually hit the snooze button for more than an hour and wait until the last possible second to drag myself out of bed. It is just so comfy and cozy before the day has really begun and if I don’t get out of bed, then I don’t have to go to work, right?

Well today, not only did I get up on time I also exercised before coming to work. Yes! I did it! It was just one day of getting up in enough time to exercise but for me it was an accomplishment. Seriously, I have been trying for weeks to exercise in the morning. My latest ‘excuse’ was that my blood sugar was too high the times I did actually wake up on time but my CDE suggested giving a unit or 2 and exercising anyway so there goes that reason.

On the way to work I felt so good, so energized with all those endorphins in my bloodstream. My blood sugars have also been creeping lower which helps, I’m sure. Days like this I feel like nothing can stop me. I just feel so good, so happy, so strong. I wonder how long it will last and cross my fingers that it is more than just one day.

Tangled

Every now & again this whole diabetes thing gives me a good laugh. Not
often, but once in great while. The other day on my way to work I was
doing what I often do: multi-tasking. In this case it meant I wasn't
quite ready to leave the house when I actually had to leave the house to
make it to work on time. What this usually means is that I am doing my
blood sugar, bolusing and having breakfast as I commute. I did the
glucose test fine (only one noticable swerve) and moved onto bolusing. This is a bitmore tricky since I live in Cleveland where the winters are cold and it is necessary to bundle up, and I also had my seatbelt securely fastened. My pump is hooked to my belt on my right side, under my coat, under my thick sweater, all strapped under my safety belt. In the interest of safety, I did not unbuckle before digging out my pump to bolus. Somehow I managed to find my pump and pull it up to where I could I see the screen and use my Bolus Wizard to set an amount, all the while trying desperately to not let any bare skin be exposed as it was COLD.

The reattaching of my pumpwas what got messy. I got the pump totally tangled through not only both parts of the seatbelt but also my belt. With no slack left in the tubing, the pump dangling somewhere near my lap and after I was reasonably sure that I was still in fact attached to the pump, to avoid any further annoyance I left it to deal with once I arrived at work and concentrated on driving.

Reaching my destination I went to reach for my bag on the passenger seat I simultaneously remembered that I was completely tangled up in my pump and looked down and saw the tubing tangled around the seatbelt & I simply laughed. I laughed out loud, all by myself, in my car. Not just a small giggle of amusement, but more a huge, stomach-clenching, tears in my eyes laugh. To this day, I still do not quite know how I got my tubing as
tangled as I did but it still makes me smile.

Note: I had to disconnect and pull the pump out of its clip before I could unwind it form the seatbelt and then actually take off my seatbelt.
Miraculously the tubing was not damaged.

Irony

I feel jittery, hyper, like my heart is beating too fast and I can’t stop fidgeting. Did I drink too much coffee? Have too much caffeine? I don’t think so. Plus, too much caffeine usually leaves me feeling more headachy and sick to my stomach. I’d better test my blood sugar.

My reading is a perfect 90 – that explains it. My in-target blood sugar is making me feel this way. It’s making me feel as if my pupils are dilated and there is too much light in the room. It is so hard to hold onto a thought. I feel so excited and energized, like I might burst.

My poor body is not used to blood sugars like this. It doesn’t know what to do; anything below 120 & I start to feel like this or I feel low. I know it’s because my body is all out of sync and that the lower my readings stay, the better I will feel, but this sucks. At 180 or even 200-I feel so much better, so normal. It’s ironic that my good blood sugar is making me feel bad; that’s diabetes for you.

irony a (1) : incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result (2) : an event or result marked by such incongruity

"Mel Time"

Some comments about my Fruit Loops & Ice Cream post got me thinking about how truly supportive my parents were & not just my sisters. It was my mom’s goal from the very beginning that I think of myself as a person who happened to have diabetes and not a diabetic. She, especially, was adamant that I learn about my disease in order to be as independent as possible. From the very beginning my parents helped but did not do it all for me. I gave most of my own shots; with some help pinching enough skin in a tricky spot like the upper arm, and from what I recall, I did most of my own urine, then blood sugar testing.

My dad often helped me get my bedtime snack: just about always nachos (Tostitos with cheese, melted in the microwave) and sugar-free chocolate milk. To this day, that is still comfort food to me. Much of my childhood and even into my teens my bedtime snack was a ritual never to be missed. During that time I was also having a problem of dropping low in the middle of the night and had quite of few hypoglycemic seizures as well. Glucagon to bring me back and Phenergan suppositories to help with the vomiting that always followed, were staples in our house. All administered by my parents. How scary it must have been to have to give a shot to your convulsing kid, wait for her to awake groggy and disoriented, and asking “did I have another one?” Then try to get her to drink some regular pop or eat something as she’s asking for something, anything to throw up in. They did it. Sometimes we had to go the ER for an IV if I couldn’t keep anything down and my blood sugar wasn’t coming up. They did all this and yet somehow kept their calm, didn’t let me know just how scary or awful it was, and let me feel like it wasn’t such a big deal.

My parents were my biggest fans and supporters in the annual Bike-A-Thon to raise money for the diabetes youth group run by the team at my doctors’ office. Dad borrowed a truck, the kind with the lift on the back, from his work each year and gave all us kids rides which was always a hit. Today they are still among my biggest supporters in the annual ADA walk. They tried to treat me the same as my sisters, but isn’t that nearly impossible when I had a chronic illness such as diabetes? At Halloween I would go trick-or-treating with all the other kids then turn in my candy to my mom in exchange for a toy or later a jean jacket I just had to have. At Easter I usually got a toy or something too; after we figured out that the sugar-free candy caused stomach problems. Not such a bad deal.

Aside from a strong aversion to actually writing down my blood sugars, one which I still have, by the time I graduated from high school I was an independent, comparatively responsible 18 year old heading off to college 10 hours away from home. That is when my diabetes control became my sole responsibility & I started screwing it all up. I don’t want to reminisce about the self-destructive path I was on for quite some time (at least not now). I am finding strength in remembering the sacrifices my parents made for me, the knowledge to care for myself and my disease that the bestowed in me, and all the love and support they gave and still give to this day. I am drawing on that strength and thinking I CAN DO THIS. I really can find a way to live in harmony with diabetes and be happy and healthy.

As with most things, I will do it in my own slow, sweet, “Mel Time” as my mom calls it.

Happy Valentine's Day!

live.

love.

be in the moment.

each one is given for a reason.

What is Your Blood Sugar?

As far back as I can remember, me saying, “I don’t feel good” is always followed by someone saying some variation of, “What is your blood sugar?” When I am especially grumpy or really sad, or just not all there, it is almost always blamed on my blood sugar. Argh!!! Why can’t it just be that I don’t feel well or that I am having a bad day? Why can’t it just be a normal ailment that a regular, non-diabetic person gets? Why can’t it just be me? As if my numbers are not already constantly on my mind, and right in front of my face.

Every illness or stress I have can and often does affect my blood sugar and more often than not, it is my out-of-whack blood sugar making me feel like crap. I know this, yet the question still bothers me when I know it shouldn’t. People only ask out of concern, yet it still does. A lot. If it wasn’t my blood sugar that was causing me to feel off in the first place, an out of range number is sure to follow. It’s a vicious cycle: moods, stress, illness and life in general affect blood sugar and, in turn, blood sugar affects moods, can cause stress, makes you feel ill and disrupts your life. It is an endless merry-go-round that is not very merry.

If it is not in fact my blood sugar that is contributing to my moodiness, then the next question my husband and close friends will ask is “Have you been taking your medicine?” By medicine, they mean my pal Prozac. I have tried not taking it daily and sometimes still have lapses where I seem to think I will be okay without; the result is not pretty. I have been taking Prozac on and off for close to 6 years now, so with the help of my doctor I am resigned to the fact that this is what I need. I am well aware of the multitude of controversies surrounding Prozac and other ‘mood-enhancing’ drugs, but I also know that, for me, it makes my life livable. When I get lulled into the idea that I feel great, with no extreme bouts of depression or dark days, I start to think that I don’t need this help anymore; I am brought back to reality in a couple weeks’ time. I hate that the question of whether or not I have been taking Prozac has to even be asked. I wish I could be okay without it, but I have learned from experience that I am not.

I feel bad that when I yell at my husband about something totally stupid like our grocery shopping, he has to wonder if it is my blood sugar or if I have not been taking my meds. The man is a saint and lets me get through my yelling at him for no good reason followed by my subsequent hour long nonsensical sobbing before gently asking me what my blood sugar is and if I have been taking my medicine.

Medicine injected into me through a tiny cannula attached to a pump on my belt and medicine swallowed each night to allow me to function as a normal human being – ain’t life grand?

Fruit Loops & Ice Cream

I don’t have many specific memories of my childhood before diabetes. Poking oranges with syringes to practice giving shots, the playroom in the hospital where I got to make all sorts of cool crafts, and the exact outfit I had on when I left the hospital the day before my 9th birthday; those things I remember in detail. I loved being in the hospital. I was not sick, sick, but rather there to learn all about this new disease I had. I was looking forward to being in the hospital for my birthday, as that would obviously mean a ton more presents. It hadn’t occurred to me that perhaps shopping for my birthday presents was not number one on my mom’s agenda, given that her youngest was in the hospital having just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. She knew firsthand where the disease could lead since she was a R.N. who made home visits. Then, I just saw it as a way that I was unique and special. No big deal. The day before my birthday came around I was cleared to go home. I put on my pale yellow oxford shirt, railroad striped OshKosh B’Gosh overalls, tied my maroon with silver swish Nikes and pinned on my Garfield pin. I was ready to go.

It never occurred to me until much later that maybe my family wasn’t as ready as I was. My mom pretty much made my two older sisters and I eat healthy even before my diagnosis, so I’m not sure things changed all that much. She was what we now affectionately call “a hippie mom.” You know; made her own granola, made pizza at home, colored on meat trays… For the couple of years before diabetes, my sisters and I had all gone to camp together for a week or so in the summer, but now that I had been diagnosed with the disease I was going to Camp Ho Mita Koda (the name means welcome, my friend) instead. I loved Camp Ho. I cried endlessly when it was time to go home and back to the real world. Camp was a sort of vacation for me because almost everyone there had diabetes. We all waited in line to test our blood sugars then walked up to the dispensary for our shots. The meals and snacks as well as the exchanges were all figured out for you. Looking back now, I’m sure it was a vacation of sorts for my family as well. Their diets were not restricted and they didn’t have to worry about me while I was at camp.

Long after I had stopped going to camp my sisters confessed to me that after the family dropped me off, they got ice cream at a place down the street from camp. Then, once closer to home, they picked up Fruit Loops, Honeycomb and other ‘fun’ cereal at the grocery store to enjoy while I was away. The fact that for all those years they did this without telling did not make me jealous or angry but rather made realize just how much they, too, had to give up. It made me realize just how much they loved me.

Loved me then and still do now. I truly have the best big sisters in the whole world. Each would do anything for me and I for them. Sara & Krista, thank you for all the sacrifices you made on my behalf and for only getting to enjoy Fruit Loops and ice cream while I was at camp.

I'm back...

So...I took a little break. The break from blogging was not deliberate, per say. The holidays came around, work got really busy...and well, life happened. After the holidays I had plenty of time, but by then I was questioning whether I had anything original to say (more on my longing to be different, yet the same later) in this huge world of d-bloggers. So I procrastinated some more. I'm really good at the whole procrastination thing, by the way. By then I had started slipping into, well probably more like crashing into my old ways of not dealing with the diabetes, and was obviously not in the mood to conjure up something witty about the disease for the entire world to see. Diabetes was tucked way back in the far recesses of my conscience and only accessed when completely necessary to do so. My body was nowhere near to being the Ritz Carlton of places for diabetes to stay; more like some seedy roadside motel that offers rooms by the hour.

I had given myself permission to be a slacker because I knew I would be going back on the pump soon and that then I would have to be good. I would be using the (new to me) Paradigm 715 pump with the Paradigm Link blood glucose meter that sends the readings right to the pump and has the Bolus Wizard to figure out your insulin dose for you and then all the information could be uploaded to your computer and combined to give you reports etc. on all your information. No more trying to combine information from several places or having to write it all down on my own. It would take care of some of the annoying little details that I absolutely hate doing such as calculating, correction, and carb doses and then not having one place that stored all of my results, as well as providing useful reports. I was very excited. I even wanted to blog about it.

But by then it felt like it had been too long since I had written to just throw another blog out there. It’s not like anyone would notice or care. I’m not some profound writer. In fact, I am only able to post my entries after an awesome friend who makes them look better has proofread them. I haven’t conquered my diabetes demons so I don’t have great advice to offer others. I’m just a girl with this disease called diabetes that has been my nemesis for as long as I can remember trying to figure out how to live in harmony with it. I have sorted through my complicated feelings about writing this blog for other people; worrying about what they think, or if it is witty enough. I have remembered that I am doing this for me.

Well, ok, not so little a break, but I’m back!!!