So how about some detailed instructions or a road map to show me how to get there from here? There being decent control, enough to give me some freedom at least, and here being, the pit of denial I am treading water in. I hear, what you wonderful OC peeps are saying about baby steps, but how? When I think of baby steps I get caught up in just how many baby steps it will take to get there. Which one do I start with? What do I do when I stumble and fall taking those first steps? How do I get back up again?
Please don’t think I am looking for an easy answer. I also realize that I will have to create my own mix of ways to do this. It’s just that I have tired, time and time again to make a fresh start, to take those first steps and I always seem to fail; never seem to make it very far. In my mind, I am perpeptually the kid with the skinned knees, scabs & scars from all failed attempts. I have no shame in admitting that I need help and lots of it.
What should be my first goal or step? When the emotional part of me is screaming “NO,” how do I trick my mind into thinking like a diabetic?
PS – Thanks for all the advice thus far & the support I know I will continue to get from the OC :)
2/26/2007
2/23/2007
Confession and Revelation
Some days
Some days I am disgusted with myself. I work for an organization that is all about diabetes. The mission is to prevent and cure diabetes and to improve the lives of all people affected by diabetes. I am surrounded by the statistics the risk factors, I process donations made in memory of someone’s loved one who has died from complications associated to diabetes on a daily basis and I put together educational packets on diabetes. Both information on my disease and support too is right in front of me, yet….
Yet I still work very hard at ignoring my own diabetes. What the hell is the matter with me? Am I really that cocky that I think I can be the one to beat the odds? Am I just that lazy? What is my mental block? Days like today, I just think I am an idiot. I should ‘just do it’, just get over it. But for some messed up reason I can’t. I will sit there for hours with the nagging though that I should do a blood sugar, maybe bolus for that coffee and muffin (mind you, it’s a healthy muffin I made from a diabetes cookbook) I ate and the sickly sweet, sluggish feeling of a high coming over and yet I don’t. Instead, I have another cup of coffee, take some ibuprofen and get on with work.
Days like today, I am so fed up with being me. See, most days, as of late are like this in the aspect that I have done, maybe, a blood sugar a day, and bolused only after a meal and by guessing how much to give. To some this may scream ‘crisis’ but to me this is pretty much status quo.
Being this honest is hard; I’m not sure I will even post this. It’s not like I have hidden that I am not exactly a good diabetic, but I’m not sure I want to be this honest…with myself or with anyone else.
Later that same day…
The topic of fasting blood sugars came up with my co-worker who has gestational diabetes and she was shocked to hear that I almost never do a blood sugar (fasting or not) in the morning. I went on to tell her that in the past few weeks I have done hardly any blood sugars at all. She replied that she had seen me do some and admitted that those were probably the only ones I was doing. She says, “So you just don’t do blood sugars? Why?” I confessed that I didn’t really know why, that I would think about doing one then, just not do it…for hours. I told her about my theory of a mental block or a piece missing. I was able to just be totally honest with E and talk about how I simply don’t comply. I think I was ready to come clean.
Sheepishly I admitted that I had really been digging the Dixie Chicks song “Not Ready to Make Nice” lately. This is not my typical type of music but the lines:
"I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should"
These words have just really resonated with me lately and I have been playing the song over & over, singing at the top of my lungs inthe car. E told me I was in denial and I agreed, but countered with how can I have been in denial for nearly my whole adult life? Then she asked me a very pointed question: “Do you feel like that by not complying you are fighting diabetes and to comply would mean you were giving in?” I paused and told her that I know what I should say, but she wanted to know how I really felt. How I really feel (even though the logical part of me knows it’s crap and that by gaining control of my disease, I would really be setting myself free and fighting it), is that deep down I do believe that by being the good little diabetic I should be I am admitting defeat.
This is all still sinking in a day later but thanks to a wonderfully insightful co-worker, no, friend I think I am one step closer to understanding my twisted relationship I have with my diabetes.
Some days I am disgusted with myself. I work for an organization that is all about diabetes. The mission is to prevent and cure diabetes and to improve the lives of all people affected by diabetes. I am surrounded by the statistics the risk factors, I process donations made in memory of someone’s loved one who has died from complications associated to diabetes on a daily basis and I put together educational packets on diabetes. Both information on my disease and support too is right in front of me, yet….
Yet I still work very hard at ignoring my own diabetes. What the hell is the matter with me? Am I really that cocky that I think I can be the one to beat the odds? Am I just that lazy? What is my mental block? Days like today, I just think I am an idiot. I should ‘just do it’, just get over it. But for some messed up reason I can’t. I will sit there for hours with the nagging though that I should do a blood sugar, maybe bolus for that coffee and muffin (mind you, it’s a healthy muffin I made from a diabetes cookbook) I ate and the sickly sweet, sluggish feeling of a high coming over and yet I don’t. Instead, I have another cup of coffee, take some ibuprofen and get on with work.
Days like today, I am so fed up with being me. See, most days, as of late are like this in the aspect that I have done, maybe, a blood sugar a day, and bolused only after a meal and by guessing how much to give. To some this may scream ‘crisis’ but to me this is pretty much status quo.
Being this honest is hard; I’m not sure I will even post this. It’s not like I have hidden that I am not exactly a good diabetic, but I’m not sure I want to be this honest…with myself or with anyone else.
Later that same day…
The topic of fasting blood sugars came up with my co-worker who has gestational diabetes and she was shocked to hear that I almost never do a blood sugar (fasting or not) in the morning. I went on to tell her that in the past few weeks I have done hardly any blood sugars at all. She replied that she had seen me do some and admitted that those were probably the only ones I was doing. She says, “So you just don’t do blood sugars? Why?” I confessed that I didn’t really know why, that I would think about doing one then, just not do it…for hours. I told her about my theory of a mental block or a piece missing. I was able to just be totally honest with E and talk about how I simply don’t comply. I think I was ready to come clean.
Sheepishly I admitted that I had really been digging the Dixie Chicks song “Not Ready to Make Nice” lately. This is not my typical type of music but the lines:
"I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should"
These words have just really resonated with me lately and I have been playing the song over & over, singing at the top of my lungs inthe car. E told me I was in denial and I agreed, but countered with how can I have been in denial for nearly my whole adult life? Then she asked me a very pointed question: “Do you feel like that by not complying you are fighting diabetes and to comply would mean you were giving in?” I paused and told her that I know what I should say, but she wanted to know how I really felt. How I really feel (even though the logical part of me knows it’s crap and that by gaining control of my disease, I would really be setting myself free and fighting it), is that deep down I do believe that by being the good little diabetic I should be I am admitting defeat.
This is all still sinking in a day later but thanks to a wonderfully insightful co-worker, no, friend I think I am one step closer to understanding my twisted relationship I have with my diabetes.
2/07/2007
Perspective
Perspective
perspective noun a way of regarding situations or topics etc.; 2. the appearance of things relative to one another as determined by their distance from the viewer
Perspective is a funny thing. You see things one way, I see them in another. There is no right or wrong perspective necessarily, just different ones. A couple of things a newer friend (who I see daily since I also work with her) said to me got me thinking about my own perspective on things.
“Melissa you are too hard on yourself”
I smirk and say “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before…”
It makes me feel good to hear this yet I still don’t believe it. In my mind, if I really were that hard on myself I would be better in the many areas that I am lacking in. I would be a good diabetic, I wouldn’t be fat, I would exercise, I would eat better, I would have finished school etc. I would be me, just without all the big flaws, mostly the ones that seem to relate to diabetes and that at times seem to cripple me.
“Melissa, I never knew you felt this way, you don’t really talk about it,” this after she saw that I had a whole blog about diabetes and had read some of my posts. Her surprise was an eye opener to me because I see myself as a perso
n with a flashing neon sign on my forehead blinking: I have diabetes; I’m a mess. I mean, shit, this disease kicks my ass on a daily basis, so it is hard for me to imagine that someone who is around me all day does not see it.
When I broke down a few weeks ago and sobbed to my boss about how overwhelmed I was by the disease and how I was not in good control she said that she never knew; that I seemed so in control of it. Ha!
My perspective on my disease is very different from what those around me see. It is not nagging at their thoughts 24 hours a day. There is not the ever-present reminder of the disease in the pump attached to them all the time or the beeping of said pump at the most inopportune times. Yes, there view is quite different from my own but I’m hoping that with some more sharing on my part that they will gain more insight into the day-to-day protocol of this disease and that I will be able to see myself as so much more than my disease.
perspective noun a way of regarding situations or topics etc.; 2. the appearance of things relative to one another as determined by their distance from the viewer
Perspective is a funny thing. You see things one way, I see them in another. There is no right or wrong perspective necessarily, just different ones. A couple of things a newer friend (who I see daily since I also work with her) said to me got me thinking about my own perspective on things.
“Melissa you are too hard on yourself”
I smirk and say “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before…”
It makes me feel good to hear this yet I still don’t believe it. In my mind, if I really were that hard on myself I would be better in the many areas that I am lacking in. I would be a good diabetic, I wouldn’t be fat, I would exercise, I would eat better, I would have finished school etc. I would be me, just without all the big flaws, mostly the ones that seem to relate to diabetes and that at times seem to cripple me.
“Melissa, I never knew you felt this way, you don’t really talk about it,” this after she saw that I had a whole blog about diabetes and had read some of my posts. Her surprise was an eye opener to me because I see myself as a perso
n with a flashing neon sign on my forehead blinking: I have diabetes; I’m a mess. I mean, shit, this disease kicks my ass on a daily basis, so it is hard for me to imagine that someone who is around me all day does not see it.When I broke down a few weeks ago and sobbed to my boss about how overwhelmed I was by the disease and how I was not in good control she said that she never knew; that I seemed so in control of it. Ha!
My perspective on my disease is very different from what those around me see. It is not nagging at their thoughts 24 hours a day. There is not the ever-present reminder of the disease in the pump attached to them all the time or the beeping of said pump at the most inopportune times. Yes, there view is quite different from my own but I’m hoping that with some more sharing on my part that they will gain more insight into the day-to-day protocol of this disease and that I will be able to see myself as so much more than my disease.
2/01/2007
Shift, Game On, Crash, Broken Record
Shift
The holidays brought with them chaos, stress, tons of food and libations all around. In my world if felt like school, with its final exams and ten-page-papers due, were completed only minutes before Christmas. Diabetes care was an afterthought at best, but the guilt of noncompliance weighed heavily on my subconscious. There was simply too much going on, to much life to experience. I was not going to worry about this disease right then; I would do what I wanted, when I wanted.
Fast forward a few weeks. I was tired of feeling beaten down by this disease so I began a half-hearted effort at control. Two bad diabetes days in a row & I broke down. Day 1 highlights were a low in the middle of the night, then a rebound high accompanied by a viscous headache that Advil could not conquer, only 3 hours spent at work topped off by a blood sugar in the 500’s. I berated myself and promised that tomorrow I would do better. Day 2’s highlight was not having any insulin with me to fill my empty pump reservoir, ensuing in a nice long drive from and to work in which I got super-angry and frustrated at myself and diabetes too.
My little world was on a crash course to disaster and I needed to fix it NOW. I felt a shift in my thinking, really my whole state of mind. I turned my anger action. I even had a ‘talk’ (more like a collapse) with my boss about the trouble I was having dealing with my disease and I my concern that it was affecting my work and that I was on top of it. My boss was amazingly supportive and had no concerns about my performance. I was a guilty/lucky girl. Since said boss is wise in the ways of diabetes I opened myself up to some accountability on my part but I was ready for the challenge.
Game On.
First & foremost I needed to be able to see what the blood sugars I was doing looked like. Logging is not my forte and I don’t remember the last time I actually did it. I got the super-cool Excel logbook from Kevin and began. (Thank you Kevin!) I told myself that not matter what the numbers were I needed to log them. The first few days were brilliant: lots of tests and surprisingly decent blood sugars. The weekend was an a bit of an eye-opener in that I did not do as many tests as I thought, but that was okay, I could do more. I saw my therapist that Monday, and she was impressed with my efforts. I expressed to her my fear that it wouldn’t last and that I would be back to my old lazy ways soon. She gave me a pep talk about doing it for only me.
The next week I continued plugging in my numbers & watching the graphs, but slowly the novelty of the game of trying to watch the numbers and keep them in range was wearing off some but I was still in the game. I made an appt. with my Endo. for May and gotten blood work done. My A1C was better than I had expected, at 9.8. Not very good I know, but I was anticipating much worse. This was a workable number to bring down my May when I would get another done.
All in all, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. This time felt different. This time I would make some real, lasting changes.
Crash
The following week all my bets where off since I caught an awful cold that left me in bed for days. Later that same week, my husband’s grandfather died, the dog was sick, there arrangements to be made, wakes to attend, the dog to get to the vet, burying Grandpa, in the morning and then our dog in the afternoon and true to form I paid not attention to my disease.
The cold has turned into a sinus infection, I feel like crap and my blood sugars (the few I actually do) are crap and I’m back to my usual ways.
Broken Record
So I feel like a broken record, stuck in this endless cycle. This endless cycle of getting fed up with feeling like crap because I barely take care of my diabetes, vowing to do something about it, taking action, which invariably lasts only a short time, feeling like crap again, feeling guilty for all of this and then we are back to being fed up.
I find it really hard to blog about because who wants to hear about it all the time? I don’t feel as if I have the right to complain about a disease that (for the most part) I do the bare minimum to control. You get what you give, and I am giving little. Sometimes the desire to feel good, makes the finger sticks, the site changes, the logging and paying attention to it all seem possible. But more often than not it seems like I am just not able to deal with it on top of life itself. I am baffled by those of you who get frustrated about not blousing correctly for a meal or drink when I can’t manage to make myself even bolus for a meal? What piece am I missing? Am I just some crazy hypochondriac freak who makes herself sick (by not testing, blousing etc.) so she can be lazy and not accomplish more? I keep hoping for one of those “Eureka” moments during therapy where I am given the reason for my behavior but it hasn’t happened yet.
The holidays brought with them chaos, stress, tons of food and libations all around. In my world if felt like school, with its final exams and ten-page-papers due, were completed only minutes before Christmas. Diabetes care was an afterthought at best, but the guilt of noncompliance weighed heavily on my subconscious. There was simply too much going on, to much life to experience. I was not going to worry about this disease right then; I would do what I wanted, when I wanted.
Fast forward a few weeks. I was tired of feeling beaten down by this disease so I began a half-hearted effort at control. Two bad diabetes days in a row & I broke down. Day 1 highlights were a low in the middle of the night, then a rebound high accompanied by a viscous headache that Advil could not conquer, only 3 hours spent at work topped off by a blood sugar in the 500’s. I berated myself and promised that tomorrow I would do better. Day 2’s highlight was not having any insulin with me to fill my empty pump reservoir, ensuing in a nice long drive from and to work in which I got super-angry and frustrated at myself and diabetes too.
My little world was on a crash course to disaster and I needed to fix it NOW. I felt a shift in my thinking, really my whole state of mind. I turned my anger action. I even had a ‘talk’ (more like a collapse) with my boss about the trouble I was having dealing with my disease and I my concern that it was affecting my work and that I was on top of it. My boss was amazingly supportive and had no concerns about my performance. I was a guilty/lucky girl. Since said boss is wise in the ways of diabetes I opened myself up to some accountability on my part but I was ready for the challenge.
Game On.
First & foremost I needed to be able to see what the blood sugars I was doing looked like. Logging is not my forte and I don’t remember the last time I actually did it. I got the super-cool Excel logbook from Kevin and began. (Thank you Kevin!) I told myself that not matter what the numbers were I needed to log them. The first few days were brilliant: lots of tests and surprisingly decent blood sugars. The weekend was an a bit of an eye-opener in that I did not do as many tests as I thought, but that was okay, I could do more. I saw my therapist that Monday, and she was impressed with my efforts. I expressed to her my fear that it wouldn’t last and that I would be back to my old lazy ways soon. She gave me a pep talk about doing it for only me.
The next week I continued plugging in my numbers & watching the graphs, but slowly the novelty of the game of trying to watch the numbers and keep them in range was wearing off some but I was still in the game. I made an appt. with my Endo. for May and gotten blood work done. My A1C was better than I had expected, at 9.8. Not very good I know, but I was anticipating much worse. This was a workable number to bring down my May when I would get another done.
All in all, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. This time felt different. This time I would make some real, lasting changes.
Crash
The following week all my bets where off since I caught an awful cold that left me in bed for days. Later that same week, my husband’s grandfather died, the dog was sick, there arrangements to be made, wakes to attend, the dog to get to the vet, burying Grandpa, in the morning and then our dog in the afternoon and true to form I paid not attention to my disease.
The cold has turned into a sinus infection, I feel like crap and my blood sugars (the few I actually do) are crap and I’m back to my usual ways.
Broken Record
So I feel like a broken record, stuck in this endless cycle. This endless cycle of getting fed up with feeling like crap because I barely take care of my diabetes, vowing to do something about it, taking action, which invariably lasts only a short time, feeling like crap again, feeling guilty for all of this and then we are back to being fed up.
I find it really hard to blog about because who wants to hear about it all the time? I don’t feel as if I have the right to complain about a disease that (for the most part) I do the bare minimum to control. You get what you give, and I am giving little. Sometimes the desire to feel good, makes the finger sticks, the site changes, the logging and paying attention to it all seem possible. But more often than not it seems like I am just not able to deal with it on top of life itself. I am baffled by those of you who get frustrated about not blousing correctly for a meal or drink when I can’t manage to make myself even bolus for a meal? What piece am I missing? Am I just some crazy hypochondriac freak who makes herself sick (by not testing, blousing etc.) so she can be lazy and not accomplish more? I keep hoping for one of those “Eureka” moments during therapy where I am given the reason for my behavior but it hasn’t happened yet.
12/13/2006
June 27, 1985
Cleaning my desk today at home I came across my newspaper debut. Front page of the 2nd section. Human interest story, the topic you guessed it - diabetes. Though much of the articles (there were 2 versions) are in my memory I still read through them. Oh My God - how embarrassing. What a dork I was, but really what 11 year old wasn’t? I wish I had the kind of scanner that would let me scan the entire article legibly so you could see it but I don’t & I’m too lazy & short on time right now to re-type the whole thing. But 2 parts stick out:
"Having diabetes can be a pain....but it can be okay too especially when you get interviewed. Maybe I’ll get famous and make a lot of money." The tears start. What I wouldn’t give to have that naivety of childhood back, even for a day.
Not only is what I (apparently) said in this article but also how the author writes are both hilarious. " With that petite Melissa, who will be a sixth grader throws back her head and laughs. "Ha" she guffaws with a man-sized force that seems to come all the way up from her white tennis shoes and turned downed socks." Near the end the article reads: Children with diabetes must first accept the disease and take responsibility for it. Melissa seems to have done that well. Big drops falling from my eyes now. What the hell happened? Like it is really that easy? Step one: Accept. Step Two: Responsibility and you’ve got diabetes mastered. Yeah right. What happened to that girl who could simply take this disease in stride instead of fighting it every step of the way?
She had only shared her body with diabetes living a life of needles, blood sugars, food plans and urine testing for a little over 2 years. All with the help of incredible parents and an amazing health care team. She was young strong and full of hopes and dreams for the future with a disease that gave her a bit of uniqueness which was fine with her since she liked to stand out.
Would it be too weird to say that I miss that little girls so much? She was so strong, so confident and yes, so innocent.
This was before the seizures from extremely low blood sugars left her barely awake, vomitting for days and often included a late night trip to the ER, and once or twice a visit from the paramedics. This was before the novelty of being different and the not being able to do whatever she wanted when she wanted wore off. Before it wasn’t so cool to be different anymore. Before the 2 weeks out of the year that she went to camp were what she lived for and camp was where she felt most alive surrounded by others like her. Before the combination of diabetes and depression brought her life to a screeching halt (more than once) and led to some scary scenes, serious U-turns and not-so-subtle family interventions. Before she questioned her self every single day because she couldn’t seem to live amicably with this disease.
This was also before a ton of amazing things that she would not undo for anything happened. Pivotal learning experiences, good fortune, awe-inspiring moments, great friends, amazing family and true love that have all made her who she is today but there are parts she wishes she had held on tighter to. The strength, the courage, the faith, and the acceptance that she had as a little girl.
"Having diabetes can be a pain....but it can be okay too especially when you get interviewed. Maybe I’ll get famous and make a lot of money." The tears start. What I wouldn’t give to have that naivety of childhood back, even for a day.
Not only is what I (apparently) said in this article but also how the author writes are both hilarious. " With that petite Melissa, who will be a sixth grader throws back her head and laughs. "Ha" she guffaws with a man-sized force that seems to come all the way up from her white tennis shoes and turned downed socks." Near the end the article reads: Children with diabetes must first accept the disease and take responsibility for it. Melissa seems to have done that well. Big drops falling from my eyes now. What the hell happened? Like it is really that easy? Step one: Accept. Step Two: Responsibility and you’ve got diabetes mastered. Yeah right. What happened to that girl who could simply take this disease in stride instead of fighting it every step of the way?
She had only shared her body with diabetes living a life of needles, blood sugars, food plans and urine testing for a little over 2 years. All with the help of incredible parents and an amazing health care team. She was young strong and full of hopes and dreams for the future with a disease that gave her a bit of uniqueness which was fine with her since she liked to stand out.
Would it be too weird to say that I miss that little girls so much? She was so strong, so confident and yes, so innocent.
This was before the seizures from extremely low blood sugars left her barely awake, vomitting for days and often included a late night trip to the ER, and once or twice a visit from the paramedics. This was before the novelty of being different and the not being able to do whatever she wanted when she wanted wore off. Before it wasn’t so cool to be different anymore. Before the 2 weeks out of the year that she went to camp were what she lived for and camp was where she felt most alive surrounded by others like her. Before the combination of diabetes and depression brought her life to a screeching halt (more than once) and led to some scary scenes, serious U-turns and not-so-subtle family interventions. Before she questioned her self every single day because she couldn’t seem to live amicably with this disease.
This was also before a ton of amazing things that she would not undo for anything happened. Pivotal learning experiences, good fortune, awe-inspiring moments, great friends, amazing family and true love that have all made her who she is today but there are parts she wishes she had held on tighter to. The strength, the courage, the faith, and the acceptance that she had as a little girl.
12/01/2006
Addendum to "Dealing with it"
I left out a big part of what helped/helps me deal with all this: music
Music has always marked certain times and places in my life. The songs that meant something to me at that time are tightly tied to those memories. Sometimes it’s a line from the song, other times just the tune. It's a random mix some of it a bit cheesy but it's what touched me.
Here’s the playlist from the past few months:
- Leave It All Behind – Nya Jade (leave it all behind - the chaos and the fear)
- My Denial – Nya Jade ("here in my denial I stand trial for what I've done. Redemption..")
- Too Little Too Late – JoJo (This one brought tears to my eyes just about every time, not wanting to ever have to say I did too little, too late to figth diabetes)
- Don’t Look Back – Antigone Rising
- Lucky Denver Mint – Jimmy Eat World ("you're not bigger than this, not better, why can't you see...")
- All These Things That I’ve Done – The Killers (dealing withthe guilt)
- I Can’t Take It – Tegan and Sarah
- Live Again – Better Than Ezra (finding the strenght to really live not just get by)
- All at Once – the Fray ("sometimes the hardest thing & the rigth thing are the same")
- Let Go – Frou Frou (let go of all the anger at diabetes)
- Jumper – Third Eye Blind ("cut ties with all the lies you've been living in")
11/30/2006
Dealing with it.
Yes, I had a chronic illness but did I really have to feel so crappy, so often and beat myself up over it?
I made an appt. with my ‘shrink’ (now located literally across the street) to take a stab at figuring why I was letting this happen.
One visit consisted mostly of me crying and telling her how much I hated diabetes. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to deal with it. It was all my fault. I didn’t want to feel like crap. She let me get it all out, and then gently proposed the idea that I did in fact have a choice in all this. Decide you are not going to take care of yourself, and let what happens, happen and stop beating yourself up over it. Or do something. This blaming myself was not helping at all.
Over the next few weeks she reminded me of things I already knew, yet needed to hear. Diabetes was not going anywhere so deal with it. That it’s okay to be angry but don’t take it out on myself. Life is all about choices. I realized I was not okay with letting my health be left completely up to fate. Slowly my desire to feel good, see better numbers and not feel guilty won out over the anger and my attitude shifted. I also can to realize that this whole process of getting fed up with diabetes, getting angry, then fighting back, is an ongoing one. It will happen again. What changes is my ability to deal with it not hurt myself as much the next time I fall. Fall, I will, I’m sure of it. This is a disease that pushes its way into every nook & cranny of my life and sometimes the good care & control is just too much on top of life happening all around me and that’s okay, I’m getting better & better at picking myself up.
I can honestly say that I am doing better. Better but not perfect or great. I don’t think diabetes care will ever be easy or second nature to me but I think it can be something I can make work for me.
I made an appt. with my ‘shrink’ (now located literally across the street) to take a stab at figuring why I was letting this happen.
One visit consisted mostly of me crying and telling her how much I hated diabetes. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to deal with it. It was all my fault. I didn’t want to feel like crap. She let me get it all out, and then gently proposed the idea that I did in fact have a choice in all this. Decide you are not going to take care of yourself, and let what happens, happen and stop beating yourself up over it. Or do something. This blaming myself was not helping at all.
Over the next few weeks she reminded me of things I already knew, yet needed to hear. Diabetes was not going anywhere so deal with it. That it’s okay to be angry but don’t take it out on myself. Life is all about choices. I realized I was not okay with letting my health be left completely up to fate. Slowly my desire to feel good, see better numbers and not feel guilty won out over the anger and my attitude shifted. I also can to realize that this whole process of getting fed up with diabetes, getting angry, then fighting back, is an ongoing one. It will happen again. What changes is my ability to deal with it not hurt myself as much the next time I fall. Fall, I will, I’m sure of it. This is a disease that pushes its way into every nook & cranny of my life and sometimes the good care & control is just too much on top of life happening all around me and that’s okay, I’m getting better & better at picking myself up.
I can honestly say that I am doing better. Better but not perfect or great. I don’t think diabetes care will ever be easy or second nature to me but I think it can be something I can make work for me.
11/19/2006
Diabetes Immersion Therapy
I think part of the reason I thought a job with ADA would be a perfect fit for me is because I thought that if I was immersed in diabetes than I would really have to get my shit together. Surrounded by diabetes information, advocates and those familiar with my plight, all working towards the same goal there was no way I could be the same slacker. My idyllic plan of diabetes care being all of the sudden easy didn’t’ pan out exactly as I had envisioned.
First of all, the whole job changing/new job thing was a bit stressful and much hard work. I started right before it got crazy busy and then it was full speed ahead. I am now trying to catch up on all the things that are regularly part of my job but got pushed to the side while Walk season was in full swing. This took a toll on my blood sugars and there were some pretty ugly roller-coaster days.
Secondly, just because the people I now worked with got diabetes didn’t mean that they instantly got me or how the disease affects me. I had to show and they had to learn what happens to me when I’m low, how highs make me feel and bottom line they are not my diabetes police. It is wonderful to work every day amidst those who understand diabetes better than most and have a much better idea of what diabetes care entails but each person’s diabetes is so personal and they got that too, so I had to lead the way.
Thirdly, I was embarrassed at my lack of control. A couple of my co-workers seemed pretty excited to have some one board who "got it"; someone who worked hard, lived with diabetes every day and had done something right to stave off the complications. Me? Hell no. I honestly believe that I have made it this far by pure luck. I wanted to be that person they saw me as, but knew I wasn’t even close.
First of all, the whole job changing/new job thing was a bit stressful and much hard work. I started right before it got crazy busy and then it was full speed ahead. I am now trying to catch up on all the things that are regularly part of my job but got pushed to the side while Walk season was in full swing. This took a toll on my blood sugars and there were some pretty ugly roller-coaster days.
Secondly, just because the people I now worked with got diabetes didn’t mean that they instantly got me or how the disease affects me. I had to show and they had to learn what happens to me when I’m low, how highs make me feel and bottom line they are not my diabetes police. It is wonderful to work every day amidst those who understand diabetes better than most and have a much better idea of what diabetes care entails but each person’s diabetes is so personal and they got that too, so I had to lead the way.
Thirdly, I was embarrassed at my lack of control. A couple of my co-workers seemed pretty excited to have some one board who "got it"; someone who worked hard, lived with diabetes every day and had done something right to stave off the complications. Me? Hell no. I honestly believe that I have made it this far by pure luck. I wanted to be that person they saw me as, but knew I wasn’t even close.
I heard about and saw firsthand those who had not been as lucky as me:
- A woman my age who had gotten a kidney from her sister in order to live.
- A name I recognized as someone I went to camp with was blind.
- Someone’s mother-in-law who was a double amputee.
- A volunteer who was on a liquid diet and near kidney-failure.
- A phone call from an old camp friend who had a double bypass (kidney & pancreas) last year and had news of all those MY AGE who were blind, had suffered strokes, kidney failure and amputations.
It was all too much. I took no better care of myself than these people (well except for the never drinking regular pop, even I couldn’t do that) and look at what happened to them. What the hell differnce did it make if I took better of myself? The complications were inevitable. At least I was doing my part by working at a diabetes organization; the rest didn’t matter. This defeatist attitude lasted for a while and then I began getting really sick of feeling sick all the time.
continued in the next post
11/16/2006
ER & Other Details of The Worst Phone Call Ever...
“Thank you for calling the American Diabetes Association. This is Melissa how my I help you?”
“Is this Melissa Sutton?”
“Yes, it is” I say distractedly, wondering what new task this phone call will entail. It’s Friday afternoon and I’m so ready for the weekend.
“Mrs. Sutton, your husband asked me to call you. I am a social worker with Akron General Medical Center in the ER.” She has my full attention now.
“Your husband is awake and alert but you need to get down here quickly but safely.”
I lose all feeling in my limbs and my heart plummets. Oh. My. God.
Luckily a co-worker from the Akron office (I was in Cleveland) was seated at the computer right by desk and when I asked her if she could tell me how to get to the hospital she said that she would take me there. So I told my boss my husband had been in a car accident and that I needed to leave and followed my co-worker to the parking lot. She made sure I had her cell phone number in case I got lost and then led the way. Not before asking if I needed her to actually go into the ER with me. I had only met her once before, this was not here problem, the woman had said “awake & alert”, he would be fine I told her no thank you.
On the way down I think I made some phone calls but it is all pretty sketchy. I know I did get a call from one of the other guys (who was in the car with Rich, en route to the cabin for camping) wives and even though she sounded quite panicked she really didn’t know much so I cranked the music & tried stay calm. The next call was from one of the Revs I used to work with at the church and she was definitely panicked & insisted that I not go to the ER alone. Shit. Shit. Shit. She had gotten news of the accident because initially my husband was so disoriented that he couldn’t remember that I had a new job or how to reach me. She said it did not sound good. I called my co-worker and asked her if she would mind coming in with me, explained why & she said no problem.
We got there, I felt low but was actually super high, but opted to not bolus for it since I had no idea what I was about to see or hear. After making sure that I was okay with some blood the social worker took me back to the trauma room where the first thing my dear husband said to me was that he was sorry. Sorry for getting in the accident and more so for not telling me that he loved he me when I left for work that morning. It was like a scene from "ER" with one doctor stitching up his hand and arm while another worked on his head. There were several large 'pads' on the floor beneath his head, stained pink from his blood. At first glance I thought there was no way they would be able to close the gashes on his elbow or head, but they did. Somehow I was able to stay in the room while they stitched him up; I found a strength I never knew I had. The suturing as they call it took hours and totaled about 50 stitches.
I was back & forth to the waiting room of the ER to make phone calls and give updates to the friends who had been in the car with him, my sister who came to be with me and the minister who came to lend support. None of the other 3 guys who were in the car with Rich were seriously hurt. Thank God. I couldn’t imagine having to tell him that his childhood friend was in worse shape than he was. They all had blood on their clothing which I later found out was from Rich. This assembled crew would not leave until they had seen Rich and were assured that he was okay, relatively speaking.Finally around 10 pm we were taken up to a room. He was in so much pain and bandaged up like a mummy. After making sure he was settled I headed for home because he was so worried about critters there. I was in a sort of fog and got lost on the way home. The animals were happy to see me but the house felt so incredibly empty.
The next 3 days were a bit stressful. No broken bones or serious concussion, just some gruesome lacerations, soreness and serious pain. He was lucky it hadn't been worse. Over the next few weeks I would hear this phrase repeated often. "He was lucky." While part of me knew he was very lucky, another part of me kept thinking that luck would have meant none of this happening. Saturday was the worst. Several family and friends had said that would come visit him that day so I didn't call anyone to come be with me at the hospital while I was with Rich. It was a very long day since no one came until that evening. The pain meds were making Rich nauseous and there was an awful projectile vomiting incident that scared me. My mom had offered to come just to be with me, and at first I declined, telling her there was no need for her to drive 3.5 hours, but after this I asked her to come. She said she was planning on coming even though I said I would be okay.
It was such a relief when I saw my parents walk into the hospital room the next morning. This was all so foreign and scary to me. They stayed the day and with her background as an RN my mom made sure I asked the right questions and knew what was going on. My dad watched some game with Rich, keeping his mind off the pain.
Finally on Monday he was released and we went home. We both exhausted as hospitals are not very conducive for sleep for patients and sleep was elusive for me as you might imagine. Rich did not go to work the rest of the week, but I had to since it was days before Cleveland America's Walk for Diabetes and there was tons to do. Family & friends pitched in with food, support, dog walking and visiting Rich while I was at work. Cards and wishes of speedy recovery poured in from friends, family & the church family. Diabetes was basically ignored but in turn was quite vocal about it with skyrocketing blood sugars and quite a few lows at the hospital.
The healing has slowly but surely happened. We took the last stitch out last Sunday and there are almost no scabs now. He will have some decent scars on his head, I'm sure. The real magnitude of the whole thing hit me more in bits & pieces. Terrifying thoughts that I could have lost my husband, my life would come out of nowhere. Tears spilling down my cheeks on the way to work for no good reason and break-downs over nothing in particular.
A not so subtle reminder of how precious life is and how kind humans have the capacity to be.
“Is this Melissa Sutton?”
“Yes, it is” I say distractedly, wondering what new task this phone call will entail. It’s Friday afternoon and I’m so ready for the weekend.
“Mrs. Sutton, your husband asked me to call you. I am a social worker with Akron General Medical Center in the ER.” She has my full attention now.
“Your husband is awake and alert but you need to get down here quickly but safely.”
I lose all feeling in my limbs and my heart plummets. Oh. My. God.
Luckily a co-worker from the Akron office (I was in Cleveland) was seated at the computer right by desk and when I asked her if she could tell me how to get to the hospital she said that she would take me there. So I told my boss my husband had been in a car accident and that I needed to leave and followed my co-worker to the parking lot. She made sure I had her cell phone number in case I got lost and then led the way. Not before asking if I needed her to actually go into the ER with me. I had only met her once before, this was not here problem, the woman had said “awake & alert”, he would be fine I told her no thank you.
On the way down I think I made some phone calls but it is all pretty sketchy. I know I did get a call from one of the other guys (who was in the car with Rich, en route to the cabin for camping) wives and even though she sounded quite panicked she really didn’t know much so I cranked the music & tried stay calm. The next call was from one of the Revs I used to work with at the church and she was definitely panicked & insisted that I not go to the ER alone. Shit. Shit. Shit. She had gotten news of the accident because initially my husband was so disoriented that he couldn’t remember that I had a new job or how to reach me. She said it did not sound good. I called my co-worker and asked her if she would mind coming in with me, explained why & she said no problem.
We got there, I felt low but was actually super high, but opted to not bolus for it since I had no idea what I was about to see or hear. After making sure that I was okay with some blood the social worker took me back to the trauma room where the first thing my dear husband said to me was that he was sorry. Sorry for getting in the accident and more so for not telling me that he loved he me when I left for work that morning. It was like a scene from "ER" with one doctor stitching up his hand and arm while another worked on his head. There were several large 'pads' on the floor beneath his head, stained pink from his blood. At first glance I thought there was no way they would be able to close the gashes on his elbow or head, but they did. Somehow I was able to stay in the room while they stitched him up; I found a strength I never knew I had. The suturing as they call it took hours and totaled about 50 stitches.
I was back & forth to the waiting room of the ER to make phone calls and give updates to the friends who had been in the car with him, my sister who came to be with me and the minister who came to lend support. None of the other 3 guys who were in the car with Rich were seriously hurt. Thank God. I couldn’t imagine having to tell him that his childhood friend was in worse shape than he was. They all had blood on their clothing which I later found out was from Rich. This assembled crew would not leave until they had seen Rich and were assured that he was okay, relatively speaking.Finally around 10 pm we were taken up to a room. He was in so much pain and bandaged up like a mummy. After making sure he was settled I headed for home because he was so worried about critters there. I was in a sort of fog and got lost on the way home. The animals were happy to see me but the house felt so incredibly empty.
The next 3 days were a bit stressful. No broken bones or serious concussion, just some gruesome lacerations, soreness and serious pain. He was lucky it hadn't been worse. Over the next few weeks I would hear this phrase repeated often. "He was lucky." While part of me knew he was very lucky, another part of me kept thinking that luck would have meant none of this happening. Saturday was the worst. Several family and friends had said that would come visit him that day so I didn't call anyone to come be with me at the hospital while I was with Rich. It was a very long day since no one came until that evening. The pain meds were making Rich nauseous and there was an awful projectile vomiting incident that scared me. My mom had offered to come just to be with me, and at first I declined, telling her there was no need for her to drive 3.5 hours, but after this I asked her to come. She said she was planning on coming even though I said I would be okay.
It was such a relief when I saw my parents walk into the hospital room the next morning. This was all so foreign and scary to me. They stayed the day and with her background as an RN my mom made sure I asked the right questions and knew what was going on. My dad watched some game with Rich, keeping his mind off the pain.
Finally on Monday he was released and we went home. We both exhausted as hospitals are not very conducive for sleep for patients and sleep was elusive for me as you might imagine. Rich did not go to work the rest of the week, but I had to since it was days before Cleveland America's Walk for Diabetes and there was tons to do. Family & friends pitched in with food, support, dog walking and visiting Rich while I was at work. Cards and wishes of speedy recovery poured in from friends, family & the church family. Diabetes was basically ignored but in turn was quite vocal about it with skyrocketing blood sugars and quite a few lows at the hospital.
The healing has slowly but surely happened. We took the last stitch out last Sunday and there are almost no scabs now. He will have some decent scars on his head, I'm sure. The real magnitude of the whole thing hit me more in bits & pieces. Terrifying thoughts that I could have lost my husband, my life would come out of nowhere. Tears spilling down my cheeks on the way to work for no good reason and break-downs over nothing in particular.
A not so subtle reminder of how precious life is and how kind humans have the capacity to be.
Hello, Old Friends....
It has been WAY TOO LONG since I have made an appearance here in the blog-o-sphere. What can I say? Life has been full over here. Here’s an abbreviated list of what has been happening:
Got a new job which does not allow for ‘blog time’ at work as the old one did.- Started new job just in time for “Walk” one of the biggest events of the year so I worked and worked and worked and worked. I am not complaining - working for something you are passionate about, surrounded by others who are passionate about the cause as well is amazing.
- School started – class 2 nights a week plus homework.
- My husband was in a horrendous car accident and in the hospital for 3 days. I got a terrifying phone call from a social worker from the Trauma dept. of a local hospital that I hope to never get again. I was reminded of the kindness of friends and strangers and was able to witness “ER” like scenes firsthand without becoming ill.
- I crashed a burned a few times after all the stress but have managed to crawl back up to normalcy (or as close to it as is possible for me).
- I have made some peace with Diabetes and remembered what an invaluable source of strength this world of diabetes blogs is.
So here I am, full of all sorts thoughts, frustrations, feelings, emotions, observations and general nonesense to share with you.
8/08/2006
I Got It!
Remember that job that I didn’t get that I thought would be perfect for me?
Well.... 5 months later I did get it. (Can’t help breaking into a stupid grin here)
I have known for almost a week now but it didn’t seem real yet and I guess I was a bit superstitious in that I thought if I blogged about it, it might not come to fruition. My notice has been put in at my current-boring-job (that-I-sort of-fell-until-where-the-benefits-are-good- and-the-people-are-really-nice-but-it’s-time-to-move-on) and my last day there is this Friday. In a word YIPPEE!!! The announcement has been mad to the whole church and a good-bye lunch is planned for this Wednesday. Most of the family & friends know. I have a start date at the new place. I am super excited. I guess it really is happening.
You are probably wondering where and what this job is. I will be the Coordinator for the Cleveland area chapter of the American Diabetes Association! I have met at least some of the people in the office over the years through my involvement with the annual walk and am excited to work with these fun, positive people. Of course I will still be doing some office work and administrative duties but it will for a cause that I am passionate and knowledgeable about. I will also get to do more hands-on type stuff.
This job just feels so right. When I was a kid the only thing I ever wanted to do as far as a career was to help kids with diabetes or run a camp for kids with diabetes. Well this job is not either of those exactly but it sure is closer than what I have been doing and I can’t wait.
Well.... 5 months later I did get it. (Can’t help breaking into a stupid grin here)
I have known for almost a week now but it didn’t seem real yet and I guess I was a bit superstitious in that I thought if I blogged about it, it might not come to fruition. My notice has been put in at my current-boring-job (that-I-sort of-fell-until-where-the-benefits-are-good- and-the-people-are-really-nice-but-it’s-time-to-move-on) and my last day there is this Friday. In a word YIPPEE!!! The announcement has been mad to the whole church and a good-bye lunch is planned for this Wednesday. Most of the family & friends know. I have a start date at the new place. I am super excited. I guess it really is happening.
You are probably wondering where and what this job is. I will be the Coordinator for the Cleveland area chapter of the American Diabetes Association! I have met at least some of the people in the office over the years through my involvement with the annual walk and am excited to work with these fun, positive people. Of course I will still be doing some office work and administrative duties but it will for a cause that I am passionate and knowledgeable about. I will also get to do more hands-on type stuff.
This job just feels so right. When I was a kid the only thing I ever wanted to do as far as a career was to help kids with diabetes or run a camp for kids with diabetes. Well this job is not either of those exactly but it sure is closer than what I have been doing and I can’t wait.
7/31/2006
diabetes scares me
With my normally calm, cool, collected and slightly humorous disposition it came as a bit of a shock when I realized that diabetes scares the shit out of me. For the most part I am able to roll with the punches, take what comes my way. I am not a worry wart. I am trusting and laid back. Diabetes and what my future may hold scare me.
When will the first complications show up? It’s been 23 years, so they must be lurking there right below the surface. I have by no means been the poster child for good, tight diabetes control so after this long the complications must be near. That diabetes is something that often kicks my ass scares me too. At times it leaves my body feeling used and broken not to mention my spirit. I am trying to turn the fear into strength rather than let it eat me up inside.
The first big step was realizing that diabetes scares me. I had the image of myself at age 11, when diabetes was new and cool, uncomplicated, something that made me different, whose problems I could handle since I was, invincible, stuck in my head for so long. I hung onto the idea that diabetes was no big deal long after I realized it was a huge deal. If it wasn’t a big deal then it couldn’t hurt me.
The problem being, that if you let diabetes control you rather than controlling it, it does hurt you. My first challenge is to do at least 6 blood sugars a day. I keep telling myself, that the actual number is not as important as simple doing the blood sugars and acting on the results right now. I can’t let myself be afraid of those numbers-they are simply tools. I know that soon I will need to work on getting them in range but I have to be consistently doing the actual tests before I can fine tune things.
The next or rather concurrent challenge is to log. In a word – YUCK! I hate to log. Even when I was young and really didn’t mind having diabetes that much I did not log willingly. My mom had to bribe me to get in the habit of logging before going off to college with a pair of Birkenstocks if I wrote down all my sugars for 3 months. I got the Birks, but not so much the lasting lesson. Although for 3 months I did write down my sugars because I really wanted those sandals. Maybe I should try a less costly reward plan.
If I can face my fear and turn it into positive action there just might be some hope for a decent hbA1C and in turn less fear.
When will the first complications show up? It’s been 23 years, so they must be lurking there right below the surface. I have by no means been the poster child for good, tight diabetes control so after this long the complications must be near. That diabetes is something that often kicks my ass scares me too. At times it leaves my body feeling used and broken not to mention my spirit. I am trying to turn the fear into strength rather than let it eat me up inside.
The first big step was realizing that diabetes scares me. I had the image of myself at age 11, when diabetes was new and cool, uncomplicated, something that made me different, whose problems I could handle since I was, invincible, stuck in my head for so long. I hung onto the idea that diabetes was no big deal long after I realized it was a huge deal. If it wasn’t a big deal then it couldn’t hurt me.
The problem being, that if you let diabetes control you rather than controlling it, it does hurt you. My first challenge is to do at least 6 blood sugars a day. I keep telling myself, that the actual number is not as important as simple doing the blood sugars and acting on the results right now. I can’t let myself be afraid of those numbers-they are simply tools. I know that soon I will need to work on getting them in range but I have to be consistently doing the actual tests before I can fine tune things.
The next or rather concurrent challenge is to log. In a word – YUCK! I hate to log. Even when I was young and really didn’t mind having diabetes that much I did not log willingly. My mom had to bribe me to get in the habit of logging before going off to college with a pair of Birkenstocks if I wrote down all my sugars for 3 months. I got the Birks, but not so much the lasting lesson. Although for 3 months I did write down my sugars because I really wanted those sandals. Maybe I should try a less costly reward plan.
If I can face my fear and turn it into positive action there just might be some hope for a decent hbA1C and in turn less fear.
7/14/2006
Frustration/Ranting
Admittedly, I am pretty blasé about my numbers. Anything under 120 and I usually feel low. Hovering around 200 I feel great. Strange, but true. But 429 on a day when I actually tested before breakfast and again after and made the necessary correction is way high even for me! I woke up with a splitting headache, checked my blood sugar: 165, and guzzled some water and ibuprofen, waited for that to kick in then onto coffee. By the time I left the house the pain was mostly gone. After about 30 minutes at work it was back & by lunchtime had reached epic proportions. I took more ibuprofen with water and went to lie down (one of the few perks of my job is ‘Ladies Lounge’ with a comfy couch in a dimly lit room). Shit, I know I should test. 429 – WTF? I corrected earlier for my 285 and have not eaten anything since. This awful headache, maybe I am really getting sick – damn!
My infusion set came out and I didn’t even notice it. Could’ve been the particular pair of pants that I am wearing, linen drawstring ones that rest dangerously close to the site. Four hours and close to 15 units later, and I am down to 200 and starving! My husband, after making sure I am okay and that it is coming down, tells me that I have to be more careful. I know this is true but I absolutely hate it. My thoughts are so clogged with other things there just doesn’t seem to be the space to worry about this too.
I will probably crash later. I hate having to worry about this hate feeling like this. I am so not cut out for the role of diabetic. ARGH!!!!
My infusion set came out and I didn’t even notice it. Could’ve been the particular pair of pants that I am wearing, linen drawstring ones that rest dangerously close to the site. Four hours and close to 15 units later, and I am down to 200 and starving! My husband, after making sure I am okay and that it is coming down, tells me that I have to be more careful. I know this is true but I absolutely hate it. My thoughts are so clogged with other things there just doesn’t seem to be the space to worry about this too.
I will probably crash later. I hate having to worry about this hate feeling like this. I am so not cut out for the role of diabetic. ARGH!!!!
6/23/2006
this & that
It was time for my bi-monthly check-in with MMDA again and I put it off until the last day. Given what happened last time I called (see Maybe It Was Me post from April) I was not looking forward to it. I am happy to report though that the person I spoke to this time was very nice and very professional and offered no judgments about my diabetes care. Phew!
Now maybe I will actually answer the phone when they call in August instead of having to call them back before they discontinue my free supplies.
The exercising is going really well. We are going consistently and this morning I was given the last pieces of my Full Body Workout by the lovely trainer and now I will be spending close to 2.25 hours at the gym in the morning (warm-up, 45 minutes cardio, abs, strength (arms 3 days, legs 2 days), stretching then showering and getting ready for work - Whoo Hoo! Snark-asm aside, I feel good when I am actually working out and feel better about myself. It’s the only the beginning so I am not yet obsessed with seeing results, and I know that takes time. I am sleeping better (but that could be the Requip) but I am still very sleepy most of the day at work. Yesterday I actually fell asleep at my desk for about 10 minutes. Frustrating because I thought this whole exercise thing was supposed to make you less tired?!?
Now the diabetes care on the other hand is in maintenance mode. Not fabulous, not horrible. It feels like I can only concentrate on so many things at once and the whole exercise thing and 6 week summer class have taken up my allotment. The exercise should be a habit now & the summer class is over this Tuesday so after that it’s time to concentrate on those blood sugars.
Now maybe I will actually answer the phone when they call in August instead of having to call them back before they discontinue my free supplies.
The exercising is going really well. We are going consistently and this morning I was given the last pieces of my Full Body Workout by the lovely trainer and now I will be spending close to 2.25 hours at the gym in the morning (warm-up, 45 minutes cardio, abs, strength (arms 3 days, legs 2 days), stretching then showering and getting ready for work - Whoo Hoo! Snark-asm aside, I feel good when I am actually working out and feel better about myself. It’s the only the beginning so I am not yet obsessed with seeing results, and I know that takes time. I am sleeping better (but that could be the Requip) but I am still very sleepy most of the day at work. Yesterday I actually fell asleep at my desk for about 10 minutes. Frustrating because I thought this whole exercise thing was supposed to make you less tired?!?
Now the diabetes care on the other hand is in maintenance mode. Not fabulous, not horrible. It feels like I can only concentrate on so many things at once and the whole exercise thing and 6 week summer class have taken up my allotment. The exercise should be a habit now & the summer class is over this Tuesday so after that it’s time to concentrate on those blood sugars.
6/19/2006
Wedded Bliss
When people say to me “your husband…” or call me “Mrs. …” it is sometimes like “are they talking to me?” We’ve been married for 1 year today (yesterday 6/18/06) but it still makes me smile to hear my new name or to hear R referred to as my husband. Our wedding day was absolutely perfect. Truly. That was pre-pump so I didn’t even have that to worry about and my only wedding memory that has diabetes in it is when I was getting nervous before the ceremony and my mom suggested that I test; I did and it was around 250 but I didn’t want to drop low during the ceremony so I left it. I was especially worried about dropping low on the walk down the wooded path, and up the slight hill to the rock ledge that we would be standing on for the actual “I do’s.” We wrote our own vows so I definitely wanted to be able to read them; knowing that there was little chance I would actually remember the words I had so carefully chosen to say. There were so many other feelings that day that I was not even thinking about how I felt diabetes-wise.
To be honest, I am not sure that I even tested again that day. Thankfully I didn’t have any real problems that day. I am quite sure that my blood sugars were crazy. What with the nervousness, utter joy, excitement, awesome meal, dancing like a fool with my sisters, nieces and friends, and yes, of course the libations. I’m pretty sure that I remembered to take my Lantus at some point before going to sleep because I don’t remember feeling like crap the next day, but I really don’t remember. For that one day, I didn’t feel like a person with diabetes. I just felt like me. Melissa: girl about to become his wife and, it was wonderful.
I hope I can have other days like that; ones where diabetes just fades into the background, becoming practically invisible, but if not, at least I have the memory of that perfect day.
Happy Anniversary, R! You are my window….
6/16/2006
She's Here!
June 15, 2006
7 lbs 2 oz.
Welcome the the world, Baby Maddy! We are all so excited that you finally made your appearance. Just so you know, your mommy (my sister) and daddy are two of the most amazing people around and are going to be wonderful, wonderful parents to you. Your dad will probably be more of a pushover and your mom can be tough but she has the biggest heart so don't worry. The rest of you family is pretty fantastic too. Grandma and Grandpa L. will be there in the next couple of days to see you so I am sending tons of hugs & kisses with them. You are the first grandchild from their 3 daugthers so they are likely to be beside themselves with excitement.
I can't wait to meet you, Maddy!
Love your Aunt Melissa
6/13/2006
What are you so afraid of?
Remember that fear always lurks behind perfectionism. Confronting your fears and allowing yourself the right to be human can, paradoxically, make you a far happier and more productive person.
Dr. David M. Burns
Fear (or the fear of failure.) Could that be a big part of why I am so resistant to really paying attention to diabetes? The concept that I am a bit of a perfectionist is foreign to me. If I were in fact a perfectionist than I would do better at so many of the things I am not that good at, is the reasoning in my jumbled head. To an objective person this may not make sense but in my mind it makes perfect sense. If I were such a perfectionist I would actually be trying to be perfect all the time, right? I wouldn’t let my diabetes management fall to the wayside. But then it clicks: if you don’t even try you can’t have failed. Ah HA!
But now that I have discovered a small to piece to the method of my madness, how do I figure out why I am so damn afraid of failing? I am no stranger to screwing things up royally, alienating my family, pissing people off, giving up, or failing in general, so why this? Why now?
Some of the images of ourselves or identities we labeled with from when we were children just seem to stick with us. I was the baby of the family, the spoiled one, generally agreeable, not much of an athlete, a dork at school, creative, polite and good at diabetes. I was eager to learn all I could to take care of myself, thought the shots were cool not gross, liked being different, loved all the diabetes camps & trips I got to go on and was a favorite among my health care team for being a fairly compliant patient despite my ‘brittle’ diabetes. I was on the front page of the newspaper and in a local commercial, all because of diabetes. There are many things I am not much good at but this; this was something I was good at.
Except that I wasn’t always and the older I got, the worse I was but ingrained in me was my identity as a good diabetic. And not it seems I am afraid of not being such a good diabetic after all. I am afraid of failing. Rightly so, I suppose, since the stakes are pretty high – retinopathy, neuropathy, kidney failure and many other big, scary words. I’ve got to deal with that fear.
Dr. David M. Burns
Fear (or the fear of failure.) Could that be a big part of why I am so resistant to really paying attention to diabetes? The concept that I am a bit of a perfectionist is foreign to me. If I were in fact a perfectionist than I would do better at so many of the things I am not that good at, is the reasoning in my jumbled head. To an objective person this may not make sense but in my mind it makes perfect sense. If I were such a perfectionist I would actually be trying to be perfect all the time, right? I wouldn’t let my diabetes management fall to the wayside. But then it clicks: if you don’t even try you can’t have failed. Ah HA!
But now that I have discovered a small to piece to the method of my madness, how do I figure out why I am so damn afraid of failing? I am no stranger to screwing things up royally, alienating my family, pissing people off, giving up, or failing in general, so why this? Why now?
Some of the images of ourselves or identities we labeled with from when we were children just seem to stick with us. I was the baby of the family, the spoiled one, generally agreeable, not much of an athlete, a dork at school, creative, polite and good at diabetes. I was eager to learn all I could to take care of myself, thought the shots were cool not gross, liked being different, loved all the diabetes camps & trips I got to go on and was a favorite among my health care team for being a fairly compliant patient despite my ‘brittle’ diabetes. I was on the front page of the newspaper and in a local commercial, all because of diabetes. There are many things I am not much good at but this; this was something I was good at.
Except that I wasn’t always and the older I got, the worse I was but ingrained in me was my identity as a good diabetic. And not it seems I am afraid of not being such a good diabetic after all. I am afraid of failing. Rightly so, I suppose, since the stakes are pretty high – retinopathy, neuropathy, kidney failure and many other big, scary words. I’ve got to deal with that fear.
6/12/2006
The bottom line...pride?
Within the span of 15 minutes, I shamefully eat a candy bar (sans testing, sans bolusing), show the Professor ads on blood glucose machines for an assignment, (which leads to a mini-discussion on the advances in diabetes) and say “I wear an insulin pump.”
Notice that I did not say “I have diabetes” or “I am diabetic.” No ownership of this disease that, like or not, is mine. I will however talk about, educate about it or use it as my trump card when it is useful to me.
As soon as the conversation with the Professor ended I wondered whether or not anyone had seen what I ate and then heard what I had said. Paranoid, maybe?
It was this strange sort of awakening in how I deal with diabetes. The bottom line is that I don’t want it. Don’t want to share my body with it, don’t want the lows, the highs, the restrictions, the complication or the guilt it brings. I don’t want any of it…unless, of course, it will benefit me in some way. I have made no real commitment to this disease.
I look at myself and wonder how I can still have such a twisted, complicated relationship with diabetes after over20 years. Have I really learned so little along the way? Why can’t I "just put on my big girl panties and deal with it"? How do all you other PWD’s accept it? From my very limited viewpoint it seems like there are people who have done a much better job of the acceptance and commitment to taking the best care possible of themselves than me.
Yeah, sure, none of us asked for this. Not one of us honestly likes having diabetes, although some are much better at finding the silver lining than I. It seems to me though that in order to effectively manage diabetes and live with it you need to take some ownership of the disease. How do establish some sense of pride about something you loathe? I’m not thinking the kind of pride where you tell every single person you meet about the disease or have it painted on you forehead (although isn’t wearing a trusty medical id bracelet pretty close?) but more along the lines of enough pride that makes you (me) want to the best job possible in managing diabetes*.
I’m not sure where I got it from but I have a picture in my head of a grandpa type saying something along the lines of whatever you do, do it well and do it with pride. That is sentiment that for the most part I believe in. But how do I have pride in and do the best at something I simply don’t want?
*side note: as I was typing this, the spelling correction I was given for my spelling of managing that came up was: mismanaging – hmmm?
Notice that I did not say “I have diabetes” or “I am diabetic.” No ownership of this disease that, like or not, is mine. I will however talk about, educate about it or use it as my trump card when it is useful to me.
As soon as the conversation with the Professor ended I wondered whether or not anyone had seen what I ate and then heard what I had said. Paranoid, maybe?
It was this strange sort of awakening in how I deal with diabetes. The bottom line is that I don’t want it. Don’t want to share my body with it, don’t want the lows, the highs, the restrictions, the complication or the guilt it brings. I don’t want any of it…unless, of course, it will benefit me in some way. I have made no real commitment to this disease.
I look at myself and wonder how I can still have such a twisted, complicated relationship with diabetes after over20 years. Have I really learned so little along the way? Why can’t I "just put on my big girl panties and deal with it"? How do all you other PWD’s accept it? From my very limited viewpoint it seems like there are people who have done a much better job of the acceptance and commitment to taking the best care possible of themselves than me.
Yeah, sure, none of us asked for this. Not one of us honestly likes having diabetes, although some are much better at finding the silver lining than I. It seems to me though that in order to effectively manage diabetes and live with it you need to take some ownership of the disease. How do establish some sense of pride about something you loathe? I’m not thinking the kind of pride where you tell every single person you meet about the disease or have it painted on you forehead (although isn’t wearing a trusty medical id bracelet pretty close?) but more along the lines of enough pride that makes you (me) want to the best job possible in managing diabetes*.
I’m not sure where I got it from but I have a picture in my head of a grandpa type saying something along the lines of whatever you do, do it well and do it with pride. That is sentiment that for the most part I believe in. But how do I have pride in and do the best at something I simply don’t want?
*side note: as I was typing this, the spelling correction I was given for my spelling of managing that came up was: mismanaging – hmmm?
6/02/2006
Catch Up
I feel like I haven’t written anything in a while. Diabetes sometimes just gets lost in the crazy web of life. Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say that when life gets busy I tend to ignore the ‘betes more. Life is happening, I am living it and I just don’t want to deal with diabetes. For more on that check out Scott’s post. Here’s what’s happening in my neck of the woods:
1. I have been busy with school. I am taking a 6 week summer class so it’s a ton of work but very interesting.
2. Yard work – not very exciting but the yard looks good thanks mostly to my husband.
3. Work has been busy which is uncharacteristic for my job. Lots of “not quite right” people stopping, calling and generally making shake my head in wonder.
4. My most recent obsession of making my blog’s appearance reflect who I am has taken up quite a bit of time. I like what you see here better than the green but I am not done.
5. Getting up at 5 a.m. four days this week to go the gym!!!! Yes, my sister (otherwise known as ‘Anonymous’ on this blog) and I have been getting up early, doing the elliptical, trying not to injure ourselves on the machines, then showering, dressing etc. and heading to work. We are quite pleased with ourselves and plan to continue our morning routine.
So, true to my crazy way of rationalizing things, I figured that since I was getting all this exercise so it was okay to not test that much and slack off even more than usual on the diabetes front. My blood sugar mid-morning today proved me wrong: 512! That is way high even for me. Surprisingly, I did not feel as awful as I would have that. That number is really not going to help to lower my A1c at all.
This weekend I am going to Toledo for the annual OWE Festival (historic house tours, art fair, junk food, neighborhood wide garage sales, people watching and porch sitting) so paying attention to diabetes will not be easy but I am going to give it the old college try!
1. I have been busy with school. I am taking a 6 week summer class so it’s a ton of work but very interesting.
2. Yard work – not very exciting but the yard looks good thanks mostly to my husband.
3. Work has been busy which is uncharacteristic for my job. Lots of “not quite right” people stopping, calling and generally making shake my head in wonder.
4. My most recent obsession of making my blog’s appearance reflect who I am has taken up quite a bit of time. I like what you see here better than the green but I am not done.
5. Getting up at 5 a.m. four days this week to go the gym!!!! Yes, my sister (otherwise known as ‘Anonymous’ on this blog) and I have been getting up early, doing the elliptical, trying not to injure ourselves on the machines, then showering, dressing etc. and heading to work. We are quite pleased with ourselves and plan to continue our morning routine.
So, true to my crazy way of rationalizing things, I figured that since I was getting all this exercise so it was okay to not test that much and slack off even more than usual on the diabetes front. My blood sugar mid-morning today proved me wrong: 512! That is way high even for me. Surprisingly, I did not feel as awful as I would have that. That number is really not going to help to lower my A1c at all.
This weekend I am going to Toledo for the annual OWE Festival (historic house tours, art fair, junk food, neighborhood wide garage sales, people watching and porch sitting) so paying attention to diabetes will not be easy but I am going to give it the old college try!
5/24/2006
A Touch of Diabetes
Watching the news the other night with my husband there was someone being interviewed about some health issue and this is what we heard:
“My mother had some trouble with diabetes and I think I may have a touch of diabetes too. Yeah, just a little bit of diabetes.”
I turned to my husband, R, and he had a knowing look in his eye and a smirk on his face, knowing that I was about to pull out my soap box.
Outrage in my voice, I say, “A touch of diabetes?”
The volume rising I ask, “So if he has just a little bit of diabetes does that mean that I have a whole bunch?”
The smirk on R’s face is more like a smile now. He knows so well how the lack of education about diabetes pisses me off. We both break out into laughter but not before I get in my dig about the lack of education about diabetes for the average American. And then I put my soap box away and just enjoyed laughing with my husband.
“My mother had some trouble with diabetes and I think I may have a touch of diabetes too. Yeah, just a little bit of diabetes.”
I turned to my husband, R, and he had a knowing look in his eye and a smirk on his face, knowing that I was about to pull out my soap box.
Outrage in my voice, I say, “A touch of diabetes?”
The volume rising I ask, “So if he has just a little bit of diabetes does that mean that I have a whole bunch?”
The smirk on R’s face is more like a smile now. He knows so well how the lack of education about diabetes pisses me off. We both break out into laughter but not before I get in my dig about the lack of education about diabetes for the average American. And then I put my soap box away and just enjoyed laughing with my husband.
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