D Blog Week/Post 2

Dear Dr. Steve,

You have been my primary care provider for over 12 years.

During that time, I was consumed by anger and fear. Just sitting in the exam room made me defensive and outraged. I felt as if you had no clue about living with diabetes.

There were many episodes of sobbing and wailing. Once I even told you to perform a biologically impossible feat and stomped out, slamming the door.

Yet you continued to treat me with respect and compassion. It was nothing short of a miracle that you were on your semi-annual week of hospital duty last August when I was admitted. You told the oncologist that you wanted to be the one who told me I probably had cancer. You asked the surgeon to page you so you could be there when I got out of the o.r. I remember you talling me that the surgery went very well and showing me how to use the patient controlled analgesia and give myself a bolus of morphine.

When I had my first office visit after getting out of rehab, your eyes lit up and said "Kathy, you look simply terrific".

At my last appointment, you were very impressed with the fancy graphs that I printed out with my new OneTouch software.

Steve, I haven't a clue what I did to have a long-term relationship with such a special physician.

My gratitude to you always,

KP

D Blog Week/Post 1

I used to be one of those people who thought that Type 1 and Type 2 were on opposite ends of the rope. Gee, what did someone who just had to pop a pill know about putting a needle in your belly?
I used to think that some of the pumpers were arrogant and looked down on those of us who take injections.
I used to think that people who were complication free wanted to "circle the wagons" and have nothing to do with those of us who were living with retinopathy, neuropathy and kidney disease.
But.....that's all changed. Yup, I guess it took nearly dying to bring me to my senses. I came home to such a rich outpouring of love and concern from across the web that still brings a tear to my eye. There no longer were any walls dividing us, but an unbounded community of people who were fighting for a greater cause. And it feels wonderful.

A Very Big Deal

Ever since I got out of rehab, my goal has been to walk 10000 steps a day. 10000 was an arbitrary number set by a clinic system who gave free pedometers to their patients. However, I seemed to get stuck at 8000.

Last Thursday I decided to walk partway home from the hospital where I go for carpal tunnel therapy. I was disrupted by a nasty low so took the bus the rest of the way. When I opened the pedometer, this is what it said:



I was dancing around the kitchen in delight.

The next day at dialysis I told the tech that I had to start taking the bus - that I took cabs because it was such a tough winter. She said, "oh, dialysis patients don't have enough energy to take the bus". Pfft.

Fortunately my kidney doc stopped by an hour later and I told him what she said. He replied, "well, I've got only one thing to say - YOU GO GIRL!"

Today I did a lot of window shopping and sitting on park benchs and came home to this:



Then I decided to walk up to the grocery store. While in the checkout line, I looked at it again and this tan, lean woman wearing running shorts and a sports bra said sneeringly "oh, how far did you go?" I proudly said I'd done over 11000 steps. She then asked how long it took and I replied that it was a total throughout the day. She said "don't you know that it doesn't count if you don't do it all at once?" No. I did not. Sigh.

I wish I had the emails of the two docs who said I'd never get out of a wheelchair.

Build on the victories....

The Word in Your Hand Quilt

A couple of years ago, Manny Hernandez and his wife Adrienne Davilla, founders of the Tu Diabetes community, started the Word in Your Hand project. Members were asked to write a word on their hand that represented living with diabetes, and to take a picture and send it over.

Here is a video of some of the hands. Mine is the fist on the opening frame with the word “fear” on it.



Last week, I heard from a TD friend,Marie B. Marie is a kind and wise lady who has weathered decades of living with diabetes. She is also a classic rock fan who doesn’t think I’m a freakazoid because I’m nuts about Dylan. Marie was co-recipient of the TD “Life Coach” award. She is also a master quilter.

Manny recently asked Marie to design a quilt with squares of some of the hands. She emailed me and asked if I wanted to participate. I thought “oh, for sure”. But then I looked back at my original submission. The fist represented anger and aggression. It was truly the way I felt back then. But I knew that things had changed. Why? Because I almost died and doctors continue to tell me that my survival was a miracle. Because one of my worst fears, kidney failure, has become a reality. And yet, here I am, fully participating in life. I told Marie I’d need a few days to come up with a new word, and as soon as I sent the reply, it came to me.
"Trust".

I spent some time contemplating this. Just what is it that I now trust?

I trust that:
- I did not die for a reason - there are some tasks that I still need to accomplish while among the living
- I will continue to have the strength to cope with the challenges that dialysis brings
- I will value my friendships, both in person and online
- the number of good people in this world outweigh the bad
- kind and compassionte doctors will continue to cross my path
when I need them
- my family growing closer as a result of my illness is a deep and precious gift
- no matter what lies ahead, I will be taken care of
- I can make someone's day by smiliong and saying hello
- life continues to impress me with wonderful surprises


Here is a preview of the quilt. I forgot to mention that each square has the person’s date of diagnosis. And, right next to my square is another dear sweet lady,
Robyn.



Thank you Marie. Thank you Manny. For making me contemplate a new word for my hand. It was healing and has made a difference.

Gracious a la vida que me ha dado tanto.

Please Leave Now With Your Jelly Bellys

During my recovery, I frequently went downtown Minneapolis to walk in the skyways. Skyways connect the second floors of the buildings via an enclosed bridge over the street. They are nice and warm and a great alternative to trekking on the icy sidewalks.



To date, there are over 10 miles of skyways.



A couple of Sundays ago I put a lot of steps on my pedometer and my blood sugar started to crash. I had changed purses and didn't have any glucose tabs with me. I went into Marshalls, thinking "please, please let there be somethibng to treat my hypo". I almost missed them, for they were on the bottom shelf - Jelly Bellys, Tropical Flavor. Yum. Perfect.


>
I left and paused in the entrance to the store, and tried to open the package. It was shrink wrapped and I fumbled and got frustrated. Then I started to gnaw at the corner of the box - no results. Then I noticed this sign:



In my hypo-crazed thinking I interpreted "asked to leave" to mean "be arrested". Who would come and bail me out? Would I have a criminal record? Downtown is pretty quiet on Sundays and there weren't many people around. Then I saw two young men approaching, with spiked dog collars and safety pins in their eyebrows. "Excuse me, I'm type 1 diabetic and my blood sugar is low and I desperately need someone to open this." One of the lads gave a quick twist and the box popped open. He said, "Oh, I think I've heard of that happening."

Thankfully, I made it home safely. And guess what I bought the next day?

Dr F

Last .Friday at dialysis was a bad day. Plain and simple.

Just as I got there they were carting someone off in an ambulance. Shortly after that, the lady next to me threatened to pull out her needles and walk away. (She is referred to as a "behavior problem".) A couple of the male staff had to hold her until she calmed down, but there was a lot of loud screaming in between.

I had forgotten my book and really didn't feel like watching another episode of Martha Stewart, or the pet channel talking about dwarf hamsters.

I kept thinking "is this what my life has crumbled down to"?

Dr. F happened to be there, making rounds of his patients. He is not my doctor, but I always thought he looked interesting - mid 60's, bald with a very twinkling smile. Each time he comes he has this Russian lady teach him a few words

The unit consists of a big square room with recliners around the perimeter and the nurses station in the center. I was in one of the corners, which is where I prefer to be.

I was surprised when Dr. F come over to me. "How are you today, Ms P?" I tried to hold back the tears and muttered something about having a bad day. He then said he sensed that things were not going well and wondered if there was anything he could do.

One of the technicians said "you better get out of her space - you done went and made her cry". He then said that I looked like a million dollars. I don't know how distorted his perception is, for my hair was sticking out at goofy angles and I had a big food stain on my shirt.........

This guy seems to be a very special person. There I was, not even his patient, tucked away in a corner, and yet he sensed I was having a bad day. What a gem.
Since my "episode" I have had a ton of kind and compassionate doctors cross my path, either for just a moment, or longer. And I cannot describe what a difference it has made.

Snow Day

A Whole Nother Set of Numbers

As a pwd for 37 years, I have struggled daily not to give "the numbers" more power than they deserve. The numbers simply tell us what to do next.
As a dialysis patient, there are at least four new numbers that need to be monitored - blood levels of calcium, phosphorous, protein and potassium. Too much or not enough of any of these can lead to significant health problems.
The values are printed out on a "report card" (boy do I hate that term) and given to the patient to be discussed with the nutritionist. Up until this month, my values have been good, and I silently sat there with a smug grin on my face as we went over the data.



This month, my phosphorous was out of whack.



I told Carol that nothing had changed in my diet - that I was avoiding all the things I should - cola, nuts, chocolate and whole grains. I started to get very upset and was crying quite dramatically. She seemed startled that I would get so upset about a little piece of information.
She patted my shoulder and walked away.

So, once again, the body responds in unpredictable ways. What's a person to do? I guess the best advice would be to chill out and take a nap.
Dialysis patients are supposed to eat 10 ounces of animal protein a day. There are some people at the unit who cannot afford to buy that amount of meat, and my heart breaks for them. Low levels of protein in the blood make one vulnerable to infections and an overall feeling of muscle weakness and fatigue.

I have not been testing my blood more that 1-2 times per day. But eating such large amounts of meat leaves little room for carbs. My last AlC, without even trying, came back at 6.3% - lowest ever. My primary said "oh, it's just like the Aitkins diet". I guess so. Go figure.

I once again would like to thank all of the many DOC'ers who expressed concern and emailed me well wishes. It sure makes the journey easier to know others are rooting for you. Thanks.

My Journey to The Edge

On August lst I was admitted to Methodist Hospital for what was thought to be a bad case of intestinal flu. They did an ultrasound that night. The next morning I awoke to a man peering over me, with the word “oncology” on his lab coat. Gulp. He said they had seen what appeared to be an ovarian tumor, and that they would operate that afternoon. The tumor was cancerous. A couple of days later he waltzed in the room with a huge smile on his face, saying “Kathy, I’ve got the best news. The tumor was stage one, grade one and you won’t need chemo. I have every reason to expect a full recovery.” I rejoiced in the good news and thought there’d be smooth sailing ahead.

A week later, I had a heart attack. There was a blood clot in my lung. Two days later, I had another. I then sank into acute respiratory failure, and was put on a ventilator. This was a very dire situation. (My primary doc now tells me that there was doubt that I’d come out of this.)

But, I hung in there. I was still on nasal oxygen and there was little hope that I’d be able to be free of it. I was transferred to a smaller hospital, Regency, in Golden Valley. By then I was more aware of things. Although I could not move due to weakness., I insisted that they turn the oxygen level down each week. And, finally, I was free of it and my levels have been great ever since.

At the same time, however, another challenge presented itself - my kidneys crashed. I have been on dialysis 3x per week for kidney failure.

I was transferred to the Walker Methodist center about 6 weeks ago for final rehab. At first I could walk no more than a couple of steps. I could not hold my head up or turn over in bed. I had lost my swallow reflex and had to be fed through a tube in my nose and could take nothing by mouth. My tongue bled from the dryness. But, once again, I recovered, and the first sip of water was another victory to enjoy.

Once I regained strength, the physical therapists became like drill sergeants and pushed me to the limit. I would return to my room after a 30 minute session exhausted.

Finally, the day came for me to go home. The biggest challenge has been not to overdo things and pace myself accordingly. It was great to sleep in my own bed and not on a pillow with a plastic case.

Due to the dialysis schedule - 3.5 hours/3x per week, I will not be returning to work. It is very sad for me to refer to people as “a former co-worker”, for I enjoyed everyone I worked with.

In a fit of insanity, I got all of my hair chopped off. The quintessential bad haircut. But, what can I say, except “it will grow back.”

I have much to be thankful for - my insurance, which covered a whopping big hospital bill; my friend Elaine, who picked up my mail; my sister Joan and husband Merle who ran errands; my sister Jane who brought Esther to see me on Halloween Weekend in her jellyfish costume; everyone who sent cards and well wishes’; my oncologist, Peter A, who is a prince of a man and a stellar physician; my primary care doc, Steve B, who calmed me during several meltdowns.

I can’t wait until the sidewalks are clear so that I can walk outside. Alas, I guess it will be awhile.

Greet each day with joy. Do something nice for someone else. Pray for peace.

Bring Your Child To Work Day

Last week we had “Bring Your Child to Work Day” at the office. I have been through many over the years and some are fun. Some are not.

I am logging onto my computer and I feel two pair of eyes on me. Their dad, let’s call him “Adam”, came over and said “these are my daughters, ‘manda and Meghan. I told them you’d help them if they needed anything - I’m going to be out of the office for an hour”. Well, ‘manda and Meghan were the cutest little girls, ages 7 and 9, all dressed up for their visit. They had moved to Minnesota a year ago from Nashville and had the most charming southern accents. Their dad set them up in an ampty office near me and told them he’d go get their “treats”.

Dad comes back with two frosted PopTarts and two cans of Mountain Dew.
He leaves. ‘manda promptly burns her mouth on the PopTart and starts screaming. But soon they were both engaged in a video they’d brought..

Half hour later - “Miss Kathy, can you help us open another treat?” Gummy Bears. I asked if they were allowed to have this and both explained that their dad doesn’t get to see them too often (mom has custody) and he wants them to have as “much fun as possible” so of course it was okay.

Adam finally comes back and says let’s look in the minifridge in his office, where he has a supply of pudding snacks. The girls squeal with delight and start shoveling the pudding. Then they got thirsty and had more soda.

But it was only 10 a.m. I was actually waiting for one of them to vomit.

Things calmed down after the kids found another girl to play with and went to investigate how the paper shredder worked. Then dad took them out for a special lunch.

They came back from lunch with a big shopping bag from Candyland, an old fashioned type confection store, and dumped its contents onto a file cabinet - jawbreakers, licorice, gumdrops. Where on earth did they have room for this huge volume of food?

One of my co-workers had been emailing all morning, asking what Adam was doing stuffing his kids with sweets. I could tell she was getting ready to confront him, and she at last stepped up to the plate.
Why are you feeding the girls all this sugar? Surely you know that eating too much sugar will give you diabetes, just like it did Kathy.By then, a couple other employees were taking in the conversation, and both looked at me and nodded solemnly. Within a second, the conversation had rotated from a dad trying to win his kid’s affection with candy, to me giving myself the db by pigging out on tootsie rolls.

I said “you know, I think I’m gonna call it a day” and left.

The next morning as I put my hand on the mouse it felt all sticky and crusty. There was a little trail of half eaten Jelly Bellys leading to the edge of my desk.

Then I heard someone say that Adam had was not coming in because both girls were sick with a weird 24 hour virus. He hoped they hadn’t been exposed to anything by coming to the office……….tough world, ain’t it?

Goodbye, Mother

My mother died on Feb 16. Today I feel like I'm sitting in a maze of emptiness, with no concept of time or location.

She was 82 years old, enjoyed good health for most of her life until about 3 years ago when she was diagnosed with end-stage lung disease. She'd had breathing problems for several years, and was always tested for cardiac pathology. We'd celebrate when the angiograms came out clear, having no idea that pulmonary scar tissue was already forming in her lungs.

So, she declined, ever so gradually, but always remembered to call me on Thursday mornings, saying "hi, my girl". Then she started forgetting. One week. Then two weeks in a row. Then the numerous hospital visits started. She lived in a town 70 miles west of Minneapolis, so got to ride in a helicopter more than once. And, finally, the transition to assisted living. She'd say, "I know this is where I need to be" and the tears would roll down her face.

Two weeks ago, the staff suggested she be placed under hospice care. Throughout that day, I wandered around with my stomach in a knot, thinking "this can't be happening". My sister, niece and I had visited her on President's Day, the 15. She was very weak, but asked me to hand her the Valentines she'd gotten in the mail. She loved Valentines - the bigger and more glittery, the better. I remember my niece hugging her goodbye. I remember giving her a kiss on the forehead. I remember silently telling myself that she was just fine.

On Tue, after not having gotten out of bed in several days, she had a surge of energy and wanted to be taken to the game room to play bingo. She stayed for the entire evening. They wheeled her back to her room and she simply stopped breathing.
I got the call and spent the rest of the night sitting on the edge of the bed, staring. My dad has been gone 20 years. And yes, his death was different. At that time I was frightened because I didn't know if I could tolerate the pain of losing him. I guess I thought M's death would be easier. I am indeed glad she is no longer struggling. I'm also glad for myself - not having to jump every time the phone rings. But I still want her to call on Thur morning, telling me how busy she'd been, volunteering at the blood bank and library. Telling me that this was aboslutely the last year she was going to have a garden (well, maybe just a few extra potatoes).

The two of us never talked much about the db. I was in my late teens when diagnosed, and her only reference point was several of my young relatives had died from or were currently suffering from complications. She didn't know how to help me. I don't know what I needed. She'd ask if my testape was still negative and I'd scream back at her. My 20's were very stormy, and I think tne entire family wrote me off as a nutcase. So the silence remained until I required emergency surgery for a detatched retina. She hated the TwinCities - said it made her nervous to be here. When I called and asked if she would come and stay with me, she said "of course." For the entire 7 days that I had to lay on my face to recover, she cleaned. Tidiness is not my forte, but neither am I too slovenly. I was on heavy pain meds and would wake every so often to hear a brush tackling some new surface. "What are you doing, Mom?" ..."Oh, nothing much - do you have an owner's manual for the vacuum cleaner?"

Tonight I will be removing her picture from my family collage frame and putting it on a little table that I have for the ancestors that have passeed - my dad, uncle, and brother. The picture was taken on her 75th birthday, at a little party we had. I got her a corsage, which my sister said was stupid, but M loved it. She said she even wore it to church the next Sunday....."it was a little wilted, but I wanted them to know I got it from you".

Mom, I miss you already. I know you are in a better place. My favorite recent memory will be this past Christmas, when you had on your bright red sweater and were smiling because you family was all together. Rest in peace.

Over the Top (..or over the hill?)

My friend Colleen has nominated me for the
Over the Top blog award. Colleen and I first became acquainted a couple of years ago when she was talking about the pink lady slipper. I replied back that it is the Minnesota State Flower, and we've been friends ever since. We also both wear Mary Poppins hats, although in recent days, with our below-zero weather, I've taken to
my Elmer Fudd version with the earflaps.
Colleen was also very helpful to me when my mother transitioned to assisted living. Her dad was in a nursing home and we emailed a lot about dealing with aging parents. Thanks Colleen.

Here are my responses to the survey

1. Where is your cell phone? I don't own one.

2. Your hair? Wild Oat with Carmel highlights.

3. Your mother? In assisted living.

4. Your father? Deceased for 22 years.

5. Your favorite food? Pasta salad with tuna, celery, onions, and Hellmann's real full fat mayo.

6. Your dream last night? Don't recall.

7. Your favorite drink? Ice cold Diet Pepsi with lemon.

8. Your dream/goal? Peace of mind.

9. What room are you in? Drafty bedroom.

10. Your hobby? Knitting and beadwork.

11. Your fear? Becoming disabled from db and being a burden to someone.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Maintaining my health and aging gracefully.

13. Where were you last night? Home.

14. Something you aren't? Skinny.

15. Muffins? Blueberry

16. Wish list item? Car.

17. Where did you grow up? A small charming prairie town in central Minnesota. Free band concerts every Friday night in the park. Quiet, tree-lined streets. Neighbors helping one another.

18. Last thing you did? Ate a Lean Cuisine and two perfectly ripe clementines.

19. What are you wearing? An unbecoming fuzzy purple bathrobe and big clunky clogs my cousin brought me from Norway.

20. Your tv? Too small.

21. Your pets? None. But I'd like a miniature Schnauzer. I'd put bows in its hair.

22. Your friends? Precious beyond gold.

23. Your life? Chaotic.

24. Your mood? Anxious.

25. MIssing someone? Yes. My friend, Andrea, who died last March.

26. Vehicle? None. I gave up my car over a year ago in order to have more $ to pay diabetes expenses. However, I am very partial to Honda Civics.

27. Something you're not wearing? Medical i.d. bracelet.

28. Your favorite store? Knitpicks Online Knitting Store

29. Your favorite color? Sapphire blue.

30. When was the last time you laughed? This morning.

31. Cried? At 3 p.m. at work. My middle nephew fainted during basketball and was being evaluated for cardiac problems over the last two days. They found he has unstable blood pressure, which runs in his dad's family. It can be controlled with medication. When my sis emailed me and told me he was going to be okay, I cried, because I love him dearly.

32. Your best friend? E.

33.One place that I go over and over? Fort Snelling State Park - I call it my "hidden jewel" because it's right here in town and few people know about it. And I certainly don't go blabbing it around. It has trails for hiking and biking, a swimming beach and picnic areas. There are two picnic shelters for use in winter, with big stone fireplaces. Very peaceful on a summer afternoon, sitting under one of the big cottonwood trees......

34. One person who emails me regularly? JT, a lawyer from my company's NY headquarters. I have to check in with him, so it's not voluntary.

35. Favorite place to eat? The Bombay Bistro. Yum times ten.

And here are 3 sisters that I pass the torch to:



Zazzy, also known as my vindaloo sister. Zaz is not afraid to delve into deep emotions and has a lot o f wisdom and insight. (And two very cool kitties). She is extremely honest with her life and determined to improve it. She also has a cookiong site, Chicken and Eggs which always makes me hungry.

Next we have Molly, at
Dam Diabetes. Molly , who lives in my neck of the woods, blogs about her super-pooch, Dixie. (I think Dixie is from anoter planet.) Dixie helps Molly to safely live an active life as a schoolteacher, despite having hypo unawareness. In the summer then go canoeing at
Boundary Waters Canoe Area in northern Minnesota. This wilderness is populated by big mean bears, mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds, and, of course Bigfoot.

And Heidi, over at

The D Log Cabin, who writes creative poetry. Heidi is a very smart lady and knowledgeable about science, medicine and db. Heidi is also an EMT, and if I were in need of medical assistance, I'd like her to be the one to help me.

Wow. That was a lot of linking. And my 'puter ain't in a linking mood. But it was fun to get reconnected again after not posting since November.

Happy and Healthy New Year to all! xoxoxoxoxox

WDD Eve

World Diabetes Day. My first thought, as through most of my post-diagnosis days, is “this isn’t fair”. Why is diabetes affecting the lives of so many across the globe that we have to have a day for it? No fair whatsoever.

I am no longer in denial of my diabetes. And blogging has helped to nurture a positive attitude, but it also brings me close and up-front to the struggles that a lot of fine people go through. As I come to know more people and consider them my friends, I get mad as a hornet knowing what db does to us, on all levels of our existence. The want to strangle the monster until it disappears in a mist of vapor.

I have many days when I’m filled with optimism - and rightly so. Research and technology are advancing exponentially and I expect many more improvements yet to come in my lifetime. But I don’t expect a cure. And so here I am, stuck in the foreverland of being a person with diabetes.

I don’t know if it’s the stage of life that I’m in, or the fact that my mother is on the home stretch, or my job insecurity, but lately I’ve been feeling very nostalgic and thinking about growing up and times gone by. Some surprisingly poignant and lovely memories have crept out of the shadows, like berry picking on my g’ma’s farm, and ice fishing with my dad, and sneaking away to go shopping in a “big town” with my high school girlfriends.

Tonight on the eve of WDD, I remember my relatives who have died from TiDM.

The first person (that we know of) was diagnosed in 1945. Age 9. She died 7 years later. And several more died after that.

These people who shared my bloodline

- had to boil their glass syringes (as one of my TD friends put it, “the needles always develoved barbs on them so they hurt coming out as well as going in”
- had to put urine and a fizzy tablet in a test tube
- had to adhere to a ridgid exchange system, where there was no room for a pancake or brownie
- did not have ACE inhibitors to protect their kidneys
- did not have statins to control blood lipids
- faced across the board job descrimination
- had no publications, support groups and Online Communities to help with the difficult emotions.

There should probably be a whole other day of remembrance for those who died before the discovery of insulin.

But tomorrow, please don’t forget the people who bravely faced life in the early days of insulin. Let the strength of their collective spirit carry you forward when you face challenging times.

All of us, old/young; type 1/type 2; pumpers/pokers; newly diagnosed/veterans are in this together. The ocean refuses no river. Do something nice for somebody tomorrow. Trust life. Press on to a better future, for all of us.


Click here for lyrics to the song below. You won't be disappointed.

Stranger to My Kin

Last weekend I went with my sister F and niece E to a family reunion in my home town. I agreed to go because F is close to a couple of second cousins who were visiting from out of state and I agreed to stick pretty close to my mom, in case she became disoriented.

TIDM is prevalent in my extended family. My g’ma had 11 siblings and my dad had 78 cousins. It was the generation of the children of the 78 cousins that developed db - no cases outside of that (yes, I still get anxious if my nephews ask for a refill on their pop).

So, there have been 34 of us diagnosed - the first in 1949 and the last in 1995. 19 are dead, with the rest of us in various states of health. Many of them live on the west coast so only myself and another man represented the db contingent of the family at the gathering. I have never spoken with any of these people about living with db. I don’t care to.

We were also celebrating my M’s 82nd birthday and had brought a big cake to share. F was cutting it and E and I passing out pieces.

My great-aunt L was there with her identical twin sister, B. B is obnoxious and outspoken and rude. She has never been a favorite of mine.

L has a grandson with T1, now 35 years old, in a nursing home. He had some major strokes a few years. ago and is essentially unresponsive.

So, I line the little paper plates up my forearm and head over to where L and B are sitting. The conversation went like this:

L: Now, who are you?
K: I’m H’s daughter, Kathy.
L whispers to B: She takes those shots too.
B: How awful. I can’t think of anything worse to have.
L: Neither can I. Terrible. Just terrible.
B: Why are you carrying that cake? You can’t have cake.
K: It’s my mom’s birthday cake.
B: But you can’t have any.
K: (smiles and contemplates smashing the cake in B’s face)
L: No, she can’t have any.
L: Did you know that they had to cut off part of G’s foot before he died? It was from the sugar.
B: Why, most people who have it are just skin and bones. You don’t look like you’ve missed many meals.
K: Yes, I am thankful that I have enough to eat when so many are starving across the globe.
B: Do you get those terrible pains in your legs like W’s kid?
K: No, I don’t.
B: It’s horrible. Just horrible. And to think you can’t have your mother’s b’day cake. Why are they making you serve cake you can’t have?

By then the conversation was starting to pierce my armor, like a knife twisting its way around my heart. I was feeling vulnerable.I I was close to tears and wanted to yell, “yes, I have diabetes but I’m not a freak”. Then it seemed to me that everyone in the room was staring at me, commenting to themselves that over there is one of “the diabetics in the family.”

No, I did not feel like sitting down and calmly talking about my treatment routine. B just wouldn’t get it. It would have been wasted effort. And I also didn’t want L to start talking about her grandson - do you think I need to be reminded about what db can do to a person?

But I wasn’t seeing the entire picture. B is a bitter lady, being very envious that her twin had a relatively comfortable life and B hadn’t enough to make ends meet. That sort of history can make your attitude spiteful and distorted. Maybe it validates one’s misery to focus on all the hardship in the world.

B: (pointing to my niece) Who is that girl? How did she get invited when she’s not one of the relatives?
K: That’s F’s daughter, E. She became a member of our family 5 years ago when F brought her home from China.
B: Well, I’ve heard those Korean orphans are all the daughters of prostitutes.
K. Maybe so, but she is very precious to us and we love her a lot.
B: Did they check her for worms when she got here?
K: (you’ve got to be kidding).

Well, by that time I sure didn’t want any cake, nor the variety of casseroles (made with condensed soup and attractively garnished with pimento) that were served later.

I said to F, “I need to get out of here”. and she agreed. So we took M back to the residence and I got in the backseat with E to work on old Beatle songs, which we practice in the car. She has tired of “Good Day Sunshine” and moved on to “Yellow Submarine”. Then she reminded me how much she dislikes the White Album.

F suggested we stop at Red Lobster, since we both were famished. We split a big platter of shrimp and crab, and the events of the day were blamed on small town living, old age, and the cake that “I couldn’t have”.

Phantom Carbs?

I was in Target today, without a shopping list, and magically my cart became full. Who would have guessed that I needed that much stuff?

Right by the checkout stand was a big display of this:



SoBe Lifewater - "vitamin enhanced water beverage". See that big "0 Calories" at the top of the label? Cool. Sounds yummy. And on sale for $1. I took a bottle of the mango melon flavor.

I got home and was unpacking my stuff, and started to read the back label to see what vitamins it was enhanced with. Yes, I frequently make unwise choices with regard to self-care, but I always read labels. Maybe I'm just curious.



2.5 servings per bottle. 6 gm carbohydrate per serving. SAY WHAT? How can something have carbs but no calories. Carbs and proteins have 4.5 calories per gram; and fats have 9 calories per gram. If I drank the entire bottle, that would be 15 carbs - enough to certifiably treat a hypo.

What is it that I'm not getting here? Someone please explain, or else I'm going to have to call the 800# on Monday morning.

CVS To The Rescue

I got to work on Friday morning and was going to have some shredded wheat for breakfast. I opened my purse, and, no insulin. Rarely does this happen.

We have no pharmacies within walking distance of my office. It's an hour bus ride to get back home. I needed all the time possible to prepare for a lunch meeting with some people from our corporate headquarters so could not afford to leave the office even for a few minutes.

I get good coverage from my basal insulin, and could easily do without breakfast. And probably lunch, also, for that matter. But, I did not want to draw attention to the db and sit there not eating anything and having to explain that not only do I have a medical condition, but I forgot my insulin.

Called a Walgreens a couple of miles away. No they do not deliver. No, they knew of no pharmacies that did.

Called a couple of independent pharmacies. Same story.

Called CVS and was immediately talking to the pharmacist. "Are you okay at the moment?" I told her I was fine and needed the insulin in about 3 hours for prandial coverage. "Well, normally, if an order is called in prior to 11 a.m., we'll guarantee delivery by 5 that afternoon. But this is a special case and I'll see what I can do and call you back."

Bless her heart. This dear woman phoned back in about 10 minutes and said she had contacted a private courier service that would get the insulin to me. I explaned that I knew Humalog was a prescription item but I was willing to go with Humalin, which is not. I gave her my credit card number and 30 minutes later the courier delivered the little paper sack. Our receptionist called me and said "Kathy, some man brought you something from the drugstore and he said to be sure you knew it had to be refrigerated right away".

So, the day was happily saved by the professional kindness of a stranger. And, there was no additional charge for the courier. On Monday I am going to call the CVS corporate headquarters and see just who should get the letter commending the people for good work.

I guess an obvious question would be why didn't I have the Humalog script transferred to the CVS pharmacy? Well, I had left a message at my pcp's office first thing. They returned it at 2 that afternoon, after the meeting was over. I know them well enough not to expect a time-sensitive response. Aaarrrrgggghhhh!

We work with the facts of the situation. And sometimes are pleasantly surprised.

Time Thief

Last Monday, I had the pleasure of celebrating my oldest nephew's graduation from the University of Minnesota.



(Isn't he just impossibly cute?) Yes, his mother cried. Yes, I cried. I had such a big jumble of emotions inside me, I had to sit down on a bench for a couple of minutes.

Never, ever, did I expect to still be living on this day. And yet here I am, with 35 years of db under my belt. I work and support myself. I am a valued friend and family member, and contribute to my community. At present I have nothing to be p-ssed off about. Except the years that db stole from me. Or, were they the years I willingly gave away?

I remember the day that L was born. My sister called me at work, and after I hung up the phone I went into the supply room and cried among the sticky notes and rubber bands. Not tears of joy, but tears of rage because I mostly likely wouldn't be around to see this little boy enter first grade.

Their family lived about 4 hours north of here, so I saw L maybe 3 times a year. Sure, I sent birthday cards and Xmas gifts, but, I kept my distance because I didn't want him to know and love an auntie who dropped dead in her 30's. (Yeah, I know. Makes no sense to me now).

It wasn't until he came to Minneapolis to start college that I let down my defenses. I invited him to lunch. He had initially intended on becoming a pharmacist so it was no problem for me to test my blood in front of him. Each time we got together, our visits became more intimate and all the years of distance dropped away. I know that he and I talked about things that he was not willing to discuss with his parents. And I'm thankful he felt confident to share these issues with me.

So, off he is going to his first job as an actuary at the State Farm Insurance headuarters in Bloomington Illinois. And, I'm full expecting to be around to dance at his wedding. Yes, it's a strange feeling. But I'm okay with that.

Heck, why not really tempt fate and fully expect to be around to dance at this little gal's wedding?



No her mother did not forget to wash her face. E had been to a birthday party with a lady bug theme. Hence and red and black dots.



John Lennon said that "life is what happens when you're making other plans". Well, I guess I was planning to die. And now I'm planning to live. Don't know for how long. Let's just leave that open.

Ipod Shuffle

My favorite fun thing, the Ipod Shuffle, is once again circulating on the OC. I consider music to be a primary healing force in my life. So, then, why couldn't I find my Ipod? I have no idea where it is, but I did find what I think is the charger.........I took these 20 off my ITunes shuffle (and now that i've gotten going, will be playing tunes for the rest of the evening).

1) Purple Rain - Prince
2) Farther On - Jackson Browne
3) Midnight Rider - Willie Nelson
4) The Very Thought of You- Natalie Cole
5) Amelia - Joni Mitchell
6) Life in the Fast Lane - The Eagles
7) Tenderness - Stppenwolf
8) Fortune Teller - Robert Plant and Allison Krauss
9) How Can One Woman Be So Mean - Buddy Guy and Junior Wells
10) Smile - Tony Bennett
11) Carnival Town - Norah Jones
12) Travelin' Band - Creedence Clearwater Revival
13) I Want to Satisfy You - Leon Russell
14) Harvest - Neil Young
15) Brownsville Girl - Bob Dylan
16) Crazy Love - Cassandra Wilson
17) Sweet Baby James - James Taylor
18) Raining in My Soul - Guy Davis
19) A Case of You - Diane Krall
20) Somewhere Down the Crazy River - Robbie Robertson

Ok, so I'm old.

As far as rock videos go, I always watch this when I'm feeling low on energy - watch these guys rock the blazes out of an old hit

Sprouting in the Dark

Last Christmas I received a flower bulb kit from one of my nephews.



I forgot about it until a couple of weeks ago when I was thinking about spring clothes and discovered it in the corner of my closet. I thought that the bulb was perhaps dead from not being tended to. I had to look twice when I opened the box, for there it was, sprouting and with green shoots coming out the top - in the dark! Mercy.



I put it into soil and the perfect spot on my windowsill. And here is what we have today.





Gosh, neglected, discarded and still the potential to bloom. I know, of course, that bulbs represent the dormant/resting stage of a plant. But still, this seemed like a miracle.

In March I passed over the 35 year mark of having diabetes. It still floors me. I took it for granted that I wouldn't make it much past 20 and was absolutely certain that I'd be dead before I reached the 25 year anniversary. ..........sigh.........and here I remain today. Since I started blogging, I wonder if things would have been different in the early years had I had an online community to talk with. After all, the only examples of pwd's were my relatives, most of them suffering from debilitating complications. I didn't know anybody who was living well with db. I only knew that at family gatherings the conversation would stop when one "of us" walked into the room. And then there'd be the hushed commentat that she "takes those shots too". My small town family practitioner knew nothing, and that was not his fault. When I was in the hospital he just kept increasing my single dose of NPH until the fasting glucose the next morning was within range. Sheesh - how did any of us survive?

I believe it is because life, all living things, have within them the greatest of potential for survival, just like the bulb in my closet. I believe that it's never too late for good control, and I believe that the possibility for renewal and healing are always close at hand. Sure, I gave up on myself many many times. But by grace or fate or fortune, was always able to rise back to the surface.

Spring has arrived here in Minnesota. The snow is gone, the sidewalks are dry and the trees will soon be showing new growth. Tomorrow I will wake up to a handful of oral meds, needles, lancets and the certain assurance that I'm still happy to be here.

Test Strips MIA

I sure hope I don't have to write too many more posts about the mail order pharmacy. This is getting irksome.....

In mid-January I had my primary fax them a prescription for test strips - 8 per day. I checked my account online that evening and it said "processing order". A week later it was still processing, and a week later as well. I called and the woman said she'd have to do some research. 3 days later I found out that under my new plan, the max that are covered are 6 per day, and since mine was for 8, they had "put it aside". Put it aside? Give me a break.

I squawked a bit and a supervisor said that since it was their error, they would overnight me the supply. I explained that there would be no one home to sign for it, but standard mail would be just fine. No problem.

Two weeks later, still no strips. I had a great day off for President's Day, and upon coming home in the afternoon noticed a cardboard box laying on the sidewalk near the door to my building. I picked it up to take to the trash, and, guess who it was addressed to? Why me!

Yes indeed, inside were 6 boxes of One Touch Strips, along with a large bottle of what turned out to be anti-seizure medication (which I've never taken).

Fortunately it was a warm day - about 30 degrees. I made a quick call to One Touch and they said it was okay if the strips had sat outside for a couple hours. Just don't use them until they've warmed up.

I was telling my neighbor about this and he said "great - you can say you never got the order and then have a bunch extra for free"

Why not? I sort of liked the idea and scrambled to come up with moral and rational reasons to do this:

1) I have had db for 35 years and deserve a break
2) Express Scripts is a huge profitable company and can esaily absorb the loss
3) I didn't ask for this to happen. It's UPS' fault
4) Had the timing been different, somebody else would have come along, opened the box and then tossed it
5) It would be really nice to have an extra suppply as a cushion - for sick days and such
6) Because I had not signed for the pacakage, it would be impossible to prove that I'd received it

I was still pondering the swhen a couple of distractions put it aside. The next day at work, ES called to see if I'd gotten the package. I reluctantly said yes, and added, for drama, that it was laying in the street. The woman said "well, once it's been turned over to UPS, it's out of our hands". Gee, lady. Thanks a lot.

I am not a model citizen. I smuggle pop into the movies. I have gone fishing without a license and exceeded the speed limit. I have stolen driftwood from a state park.

If the same think happens again, there is every chance that I'd respond differently. But sometimes it's just easier to tell the truth.