Meme

SuperGeorge, also known as "skinny", has tagged me for the Six Word Meme.

I trust life (between the lines).

Since the rules have already been printed a b'zillion times, I'm going to skip them here.

I tag: Molly, Log Cabin Heidi, BetterCell, Lili, Zazzy

Mom (and Me) Update

Landileigh left a message on my last post wondering how everything was. I guess it's rather rude to describe an upset in one's life and then not keep everyone advised as to how things are going.

My mother made it back to our hometown and was placed in a skilled nursing facility. Three days later we got a call saying that she was retaining a lot of fluid and might have to be rehospitalized - another "wait and see" situation. It resolved with an increase in the diuretic pill. My sister, niece and I went to see her that weekend and I was shocked to see that she was in a wheelchair. I tried hard not to cry. I spoke with the charge nurse and she said "well, most of the residents here are in wheelchairs - we just don't have the time to get them walking".

Can you imagine how hard it was not to bop that woman upside the head? Mom had obviously weakened since she was in the hospital here in Minneapolis. That Monday, when the nursing supervisor was back on duty, I called and told her that we wanted her in physical therapy immediately. She asked if she was able to walk before the crisis and I told her yes, she walked quite well. I guess nobody had documented it and they assumed she couldn't.

So now they have determined that she can transfer to the "intermediate" facility, which are small studio apartments with your own furniture. She will eat all meals in the dining room, but can also have a microwave and little refrigerator in her room. We are planning to do that move weekend after next.

She wants to talk about her funeral. I was willing to do this, but my sister said "don't put her in the grave before she's dead!" and stormed out of the room.
Yup, emotions are running high between all of us. My sisters are twins, 7 years younger than me and we at times don't communicate very well. It takes tact and patience.

I still have the crud, plus a urinary tract infection, so have been on nonstop antibiotics for a month. The doc said the respiratory thing "has a tail on it" and I could expect to be coughing for several weeks. "Ordinary people illness" is double crummy on top of db.

Our branch audit by the New York Stock Exchange was a great success. Now it's just the stock market in general that's not doing so good.

I want to tell you ALL how very touched I was by your comments - wnat a beautifully supportive community. I had a session with the family therapist that I've been seeing since M became ill and told him about the OC and TuDiabetes. He said, "do you mind if I write those websites down? I have several patients that might benefit from something like that."

Of course, I gave him the addresses. Embrace the good and pass it on.

Happy St. Patrick's Day everybody.

The Many Layers of the Black Umbrella

The last couple of weeks have brought a lot of junk into my life - like a big black umbrella blocking out the sun.

Several days ago my sister phoned me to say that my 80 year old mother was being helicoptered to a major hospital in Minneapolis from her small town in central Minnesota. She has been struggling with both emphysema and heart failure and her condition was serious.

I raced over from work and found her on the cardiac floor, hooked up to tubes and machines but still smiling and saying she was glad to see me. I spent the night in a recliner in her room, getting up every so often to pace the halls because my restless leg syndrome was acting up. The next day the woman who helps her with housekeeping said she'd found 11 days worth of untaken meds shoved in a drawer. The doctors concluded that the episode was brought on by noncompliance with her diuretic, which helps control the buildup of fluid. I asked her about this and she said she was sure she'd taken all of her meds.

They got her through the physical crisis and suggested an evaluation for cognitive function. Even though I knew that she was failing mentally, I heard myself tellng the social worker that I didn't think it was necessary. (Yeah, Kathy, just refuse to face it and maybe it'll go away.)

The day of the evaluation I woke up with a raging sore throat and fever. I went to the Minute Clinic in Target and was given some Zithromax and told that I absolutely could not visit anyone in the hospital until my fever had been gone for 2 days.

As I laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I started to feel these great waves of fear and sadness - thinking about her death and also my death (maybe from diabetes) and what lay between. I microwaved a Lean Cuisine but forgot to take any insulin, and later in the day my bg was 470. I corrected, but really didn't care. I was sinking deep into the "life is hard and then gets harder" mindset.

My mom's evaluation determined that she has "moderate dementia" and cannot live alone primarily due to the possibility of medication error. She also will not be driving anymore. My other sister had driven to M's home and found a large array of unpaid bills strewn about, and a frig full of old food. Two more days and her utilities would have been shut off. She had fooled us, always saying everything was "ok".

She transfered to a full care facility in her town this last Mondayand will remain there until an apartment becomes available in the assisited living wing. I did not get to see her because I am still not well. I went to my internist and he said "well, your lungs sound good - I guess you'll just have to wait it out". Last night I was coughing so hard my neighbor above me came down to see what was going on. After I shut the door I started crying, asking why everything has to happen all at once.

Now this afternoon I got an email that I have to be at work tomorrow because my company was visited with a surprise audit from the New York Stock Exchange, something which happens about every 10 years.

I am ready to blow a gasket. I am not good at dealing with multiple stressors. If anyone has any magic tips, do tell.

A Wonderful Sussy Came My Way!

Last night I came home from work and my sussy had arrived. The box felt very light and made no sound as I shook it. I also did not recognize the sender's name and could make no connection with the return address...................hmmmmmmm......

Of course, I opened it without taking my coat off. I had said my favorite color was vibrant blue and that I collected beads and yarn. I was impressed to open the box and see beautiful blue tissue paper. Inside the tissue was a lovely cloth bag, also in blue, with something soft and squishy in it.



At the ends of the drawstrings which closed the bag were two little blue beads wrapped in wire.



I opened the bag and it contained two skeins of luxurious yarn - Peruvian alpaca/wool by Cascade Yarns and kettle dyed merino yarn by Malabrigo. Mercy - this person must be a crafter herself, for she knows her stuff! (Aplaca is yarn made from llama fur; merino is from a particular kind of sheep, known for its softness.)



The gears in my head were already cranking with ideas for what I would make from it.

After taking off my coat, I folded the bag up neatly. But wait, there was something else in it. Beads. Blue beads. Beautiful blue beads.


>

My sussy is Amalas, over at Plastic Pancreas. We have not met, but I am hoping to have a very interesting and talented new friend. Thank you, Amalas, for the thoughtfully chosen sussy. I will be sure to put up a pic of whatever I decide to make with the yarn.

And super thanks to the soul-sisters,Amylia and Beth for organizing this very fun activity.

A Poorly Timed Vacation

I had my big annual bloodwork done at the beginning of December. Thankfully,, the numbers were all ok, and, as usual, I had been fretting about it for weeks before.

This was on a Thursday, and I decided that as a little reward, I would take a short "vacation" from diabetes - Friday through Sunday - three days. There would be no logging, no middle of the night testing, and no carb counting/dose calculating. I would of course continue with my insulin but lower my testing from 7 to 4 imes per day. BAD IDEA.....................

A month has now gone by and I am not back on the wagon yet. In fact, this slacking has taken on a momentum of its own and the longer it continues the more effort it will take to reverse it. I know that. Yet I continue.

I am now down to testing 2 times per day - at 5 am and 10 pm. I have not logged in over a month. This is my most major lapse in over 6 years and I feel terrible about it - shameful that I, as an adult, can't make the proper choices to support my health. Why am I acting like a fool? I blame it on holiday stress (well, sister, the holidays are now over), the greyness of winter, db burnout and a deeply set sense of apathy. And perhaps a "I am mad as hell and not gonna take this anymore" mindset. I am acting out my passive-aggressive anger toward diabetes by not acknowledging it as an overriding force in my body.

Sure, there are cycles to the depth of our self-care and coping. Some days are better than others.



Here is my grandmother tree, just standing patiently through the endless seige of grey and cold, trusting that the days will get longer and soon the tiny green buds will appear, ready to begin a new growing cycle.

But it is not in my best interest to wait, to keep thinking that I'll simply wake up one morning and be ready to resume "the grind", as Chrissie calls it.

I received a calendar for Christmas. This is the January page.



When I put the calendar up on New Year's Day, I thought this was a lovely phrase to focus on for the New Year. Yet, "dwell" also suggests to me a sense of being stuck - apathetic, complacent, unwilling to initiate movement. This isn't gonna work in my situation. Sure, I can recognize the possibility that a) I have successfully taken good care of the db for long periods of time and I can do it again; b) there is help available to me if I want it and c) I can shift my focus from deprivation to responsiblity. I can't afford to "dwell" anymore - gotta get going in the right direction.

I don't think db vacations are such a good idea for me. I should have gone and had a massage instead.

I hope everyone's New Year is off to a great start, and may it continue

Mystery Hypo (or Senior Moment).......

This is one of my many hypo stashes. I use the baby juices because each bottle has 14 gm cho, they taste ok, and they are not something seductive that I would be tempted to binge on. I only use them when I'm starting to get low. If I'm below 50 the plastic cap is hard to open and the inner safefy seal impossible.

Last night I tested at 1:30 am and was at 88 - a very good place to be. Then, two hours later, I woke up and knew I had crashed. Meter read 37. I treated, went back to sleep and woke up feeling a little drained and rebounding at 250.

When I got home this evening, I was startled to open the refrigerator door and see three empty juice bottles on the door shelf. WTF?


Obviously I had consumed them last night and not remembered it. This is sort of freaky.

After all, I remember the hypo. I even documented it on my logsheet.



But I do not recall retrieving the jars from the cupboard. How on earth did I open all three? And why did I put the empty ones in the frig? It is sort of funny, but it also makes me uneasy. I live alone. Have I been doing other things that I have no memory of?

I fret a lot about my db - sometimes over rational things and other times over irrational things. It's hard to know where to put this new little worry monster. Maybe I'll just leave it in the frig with those empty bottles.

Have a good weekend, everybody - colder than blazes here, with 10" of snow. If this is an indication of what winter's going to be like, consider me in hibernation.

Tagged

I've been tagged by Amylia, Chrissie, Drea and Heidi.

Seven Random Facts About Me:

1) My paternal granny always dreamt about losing her purse (a big old purse containing cloth hankies and horehound lozenges). About five years ago, I also started dreaming about losing my purse. But, I find them!

2) In high school I was treasurer of the Taxidermy Club. Yes, we were pretty bored during those long Minnesota winters. I had to collect the money so the adviser could order the glass eyes for the animals (mostly road kill). It was a very cool club to belong to. No, I'm not kidding.

3) My favorite romantic song is "Tupelo Honey" by Van Morrison.

4) In college I embroidered an elaborate tapestry of Bob Dylan's silhouette. I later found out that my mother had sold it at a garage sale for a dime.

5) I inherited a banjo from my uncle. I took lessons for 5 months. I have since done much better on other instruments.

6) I am attracted to Aires men - always, without fail.

7) My middle name is "Joy". My father always called me "Rose".

If there is anybody else out there who wants to participate, please consider yourself tagged.

Thanks, everybody. I really enjoyed reading all the posts. This was a very fun way to start the holiday.

Happy Thanksgiving.

D Blog Day

Oh mercy. I was fooling around trying to see how pictures would look for a knitting blog (not a good choice for those with time limitations) and put this one up instead of the one showing my hands at the computer keyboard. I guess I'll leave it, as I expect I have a weekend's worth of blogs to read.

A whole year as fled by since D Blog Day 2006. Not much has changed on the diabetes front for me. Yup, I still have it. Nope, it did not magically disappear. Thankfully, my health remains reasonable after 33 years of navigating the rocky-choppy db waters.

I often feel like I'm a big impostor - that I pretend that living with diabetes is easy and no big deal. I put on my smiley face and go through the motions of living as if nothing were bothering me. Who is asking me to do that? Nobody, really. It is a choice because sometimes the pretending is my only salvation.

I have many Type 1 relatives. One person died earlier
this year of multiple organ failute, and one was recently put on a kidney/pancreas transplant waiting list. This is reality - upfront and personal. The pretending is a necessary break from the choking burden of fear and apprehension.

But, there are other realities to my life besides diabetes.

I left home at 5:50 this morning, and, there it was - that indescribably, pre-sunrise shade of blue that fills the sky this time of year. I wanted to stand on the street and let it soak into my bones The contrast of yellow autumn leaves against that sky was stunning. One of my neighbors was also headed to the bus stop and we walked the last block together, debating whether that lone twinkle above us was Venus or not. Those 10 minutes were not pretend; they were not Pollyanna - they were real, true pleasure. As authentic as it gets. And I was able to accept this as the quintessential warm fuzzy starting my day.

Blogging about db has taught me that we each are as different as we are alike; that there are may ways to tackle a problem; that numbers are only information and don't need to be tizzed over; that transitioning to a pump is not particularly difficult; that challenging emotions don't last forever; and, that change is constant. I've learned that people of all ages have the strength and courage to adapt to new situations, such as this determined mother who is trailblazing new paths for her small children.

Diabetes aside, because I blog I have learned about henna body art, I now know what a curly coated retrievor is ("woof" to Skye), and how smart and perceptive service dogs are ("woof" to Ms. Dixie). I have received personal instructions on how to properly prepare acorn squash, and a kind offer of a bodyguard should I get the urge to scrounge the riverbottom for driftwood.

I don't like living with diabetes. I don't feel it's made me a better person. I continue to work toward acceptance and balance and use my What Helps?
list on days when coping seems impossible.

But, still, I allowed my heart to open when I read about the arrival of Baby L, Pepito, Izzie, Ian and Eleanor, and the forthcoming Baby Bonilla. These dear sweet babies are the fullfilment of the promise - that life is essentialy good, that hope is real, and that we will continue.

Happy D. Blog Day!

Hands

The
Tu Diabetes Word in Your Hand project struck me with a lot to comtemplate. After all, my hands are very important to me - my handcrafts and music are a mainstay in my life. My practice of tai chi introduced me to a greater awareness of my hands and the way energy moves through the body. And, many years ago, in what seems like another lifetime, I was trained as a massage therapist.

And then, of course, we have multiple contacts with our hands each day as we lance our fingers to get information which is vital to our health.

I spent the first two decades of my life with db paralyzed by fear. I made few decisions, refused to plan for the future and did not participate in basic "life navigating" because I thought I'd soon be dead.

When we sit back in a dark corner with our hand in a fist, we are angry and defensive - prepared to battle imaginary demons. A closed hand represents stagnation and being unreceptive to people, opportunities and kindness.




The simple act of opening our hand indicates that we are ready to receive - warmth, healing, understanding, and support. To walk through our days with hands outstretched means that we trust that the right things will come to us at the right moment, that we can handle whatver the future brings, and that we are ready to grab those fleeting bits of joy that float through our life, one by one.




Let's all put our hands together and give ourselves a big round of applause - for we are capable, determined, intelligent and wise. For we live with diabetes.

More Fame

A couple of months ago I posted about articles in Diabetes Self-Management by Allison
and Kassie.
Well, a new issue arrived yesterday, and yet another blogger, Michko, had contributed an article - "Plannng Ahead for Sick Days" (page 16).
Check it out. I get a big kick out of seeing someone I know on the printed page. The power of the blogsphere.
Have a good week ahead, everybody.

The Talking Stick

Last night I had a very fun time in the Tu Diabetes chat room with some delightful people.

We were talking about art and my beadwork and Beth asked if I’d ever done any beading on wood. I said yes, I had made a talking stick.

Several years ago I worked at a center for troubled youth, many of which were Native Americans. We decided to adopt some traditional rituals and use them as tools for healing. One of them was the talking stick.

Any type of group of people can use a talking stick - whether you are discussing a topic, trying to come to a decision, sharing victories and defeats, offering support - the list is endless. The one rule is that the person holding the stick is the only one speaking - no interruptions. When he is finished, he passes it to the next person. It was a great tool for shy people (of which I still am). Somehow, just holding the stick gives one the courage to speak their mind. It was empowering.

I have been blogging for over a year now, and feel that both the Diabetes OC and Tu Diabetes have given me the courage to put my thoughts down on paper. I was really “stopped up” for many years - just kept stuffing things as deep as I could get them. This certainly was not healthy.

Things are different now. I have friends who understand me. I have people across the country (and the world) that I care about. We are bound by the fact that we have diabetes, but also connected in our vision to take care of our health, keep up on new developments, nurture a positive attitude, problem solve, and live a vibrant and fulfilling existence. This has had a big impact on my life, and I say “thank you”. (sniffle, sniffle).

Anyway, about the stick - I love the Mississippi. I could sit on the shore for hours and watch the clouds go by and think of how the settlers came upstream by riverboat and how Minneapolis was once called The Mill City because all the big barges of grain came up the river to be processed. Cool.

The wood for the stick was found along the river’s edge. It had been polished by the current (somewhat like driftwood). I have stopped going down to the spot where the driftwood accumulates because it is isolated and I am no longer young enough to outrun someone with harmful intentions.

But, the wood still reminds me of the grounded stability of the river and the current that keeps moving forward, as it has for centuries.

Life transports us onward, whether we are willing or not. I spent many years paddling upstream. It was exhausting and got me nowhere. By being a part of two blogging communities, I have given myself permission to flow with the bitter and the sweet, and stay upright in the process.

This is good.

A Change in Perspective

Here is my Grandmother Tree, in her summer finery, overseeing the neighborhood last week.


And, here she is this weekend. Yes, that's a mini donut stand at her base.



My neighborhood has once again been invaded by the Uptown Art Fair, a gathering right outside my window (and extending for several blocks). It takes place the first weekend of August and lasts three days. We have to have our cars moved (mine is 8 blocks away) by Thursday night and I won't retrieve mine until after work tomorrow. People sit on the lawn right outside my window and eat corndogs and yell at their kids. I feel sort of trapped and claustrophobic and can't wait for it to be over. I love to complain about it.

But, as most of you know, we had a tragic event here last week, with the bridge collapsing. I really want to express by deepest thanks to all my online friends
for their messages of concern. I was very moved by the sincerity and compassion.

Yesterday we also had a small party for my mother's 80th birthday. Her health continues to decline and it was a very poignant gathering. She and my youngest niece were looking at photo albums and I was reminded that the wheel of life keeps turning for each of us.

So, upon returning home last night, I began to think that having my tranquility disrupted every summer by the Art Fair really wasn't such a big deal. In fact, it was nothing at all but a celebraton of summer, families, talent, and community festivities. If I tried hard enough, I might even find something to like about it.

So, this morning, the last day, I headed out early and chatted with some of the artists, wish them a good show, flowed with the crowd, and sat on the grass and people-watched.................and, concluded that I would miss it if it didn't take place.

We pick our own battles. And I believe this one has been crossed off my list

This weekend I went to visit a co-worker who was recovering from knee surgery. He was in the rehab wing of the hospital. We were chatting and looking at cards when a nurse brought his roommate in - a 24 year-old man who'd had a major stroke.
I was very uncomfortable with this, representing so much devastation to such a young person.
Then the nurse came back and said to him, "ok honey, let's check your blood sugar". My friend lowered his voice and said, "he's got real bad diabetes - that's what caused it".
I felt like I was going to burst into tears. Why, when I was having such a good day, did I have to be reminded of the devastation that db can cause? It just wasn't fair.
I calmed down and traveled through the rest of the weekend with the image of that man hanging around the edges of my mind, as I tried to stuff it away in a back file.
This morning on the bus I thought about my What Helps? list, but didn't feel very enthusiastic. One of the items was "be nice to someone". Well, that opportunity probably wasn't gonna happen at work. We are all covering for people who are on vacation and everyone is in a general state of crabbiness.
The day ended and I was browsing through the grocery store. I saw that raspberries were at a low price - 2 6 ounce trays for $4. That's about as cheap as they'll get, so I put two trays in my basket.
As I was leaving te store, a rumpled street person said, "ma'am, can you spare some change?". I told him no, but he might like some raspberries and handed him one of the boxes. He carefully opened it and said "have they been washed?" Well, no, I didn't think they had as I'd just bought them. I said "let's go into Starbucks and get some water". He told me that water cost a quarter and he had already asked them for some.
I went in and got a big glass of water (yes, for a quarter) and we sat down at a wire table and carefully poured it over the berries. I left him seated with a big craggy grin on his face, popping them in his mouth one by one.

I got home with one carton, and that was certainly enough for me.



And, by then, I'd forgotten about the bothersome chatter in my head.


PS - This post was going to be titled, Giving the Raspberries but Blooger wouldn't let me type in a title.

Trigger Finger

I had a visit to the ortho clinic today. For the last year, I've had a
trigger finger. This is a painful inflammatory condition where the tendons at the base of the finger swell and get caught in a little tunnel of ligament called a "pulley". When you flex and extend the finger, it can get caught in a bent position. This condition is more common in people with hypothyroidism and diabetes (I have both). It also doesn't help that I'm a craftsperson and do a lot of knitting and beadwork.

I had one cortisone shot a year ago, which did nothing. I decided to go back for another before having surgery.

The hand specialist had retired so I saw his PA. He is a big, strapping, football player looking guy. We discussed symptoms and options and he went to get the cortisone.

I decided to test my blood, and was doing so when he came back. Just to be sure he'd read my entire chart, I said "oh, you saw that I have type one diabetes, didn't you?". He replied, "Yes. I have it too - since I was 10".

To my amazement, I blurted out,
"but you don't look diabetic". Where on earth did that come from? How is my head defining how a person with diabetes should look? Why did I say that?

I apologized and we then went on to chat about various aspects of the condition.

He gave me the injection, which felt like hot oil traveling up my finger, and wished me luck.

I've been thinking about this all afternoon and conclude that my image of a pwd goes back to my cousins, and growing up among a number of them whose health was in various states of unraveling. Am I defining myself like that also? It certainly can't contribute to a sense of well-being. I think I better reframe this.

Take a look at the members on Tu Diabetes, A Social Network for People Touched By Diabetes. Look at all the smiling, vibrant faces. Of course, I know that most everyone with the disease goes through struggles and endures great moments of rage, sorrow, and despair, but the joy of life still shines through on these faces. This is what pwds look like. I'll try to keep it in mind.

Happy first day of summer, everyone!

FAME

Last night I was sorting through my week's mail and saw that the May/June issue of Diabetes Self-Management had arrived. I've gotten this magazine ever since its inception and really like it - lots of information.

On page 39, there was an article on diabetes blogs, written by none other than Allison.

I started reading and soon there was a reference to Super George. Hey, this was getting really exciting. My friend, SuperGeorge, in a national magazine. How cool is that?

There were also great references to Amy, Kerry, Penny and Rachel.

I was so pleased to see this. I quickly scanned the rest of the magazine, and here was an article by Kassie, "Talking to Your Children About Your Diabetes" and George again is on the printed page (page 68).

What can I say - good job everybody. What a nice surprise.

Ungrounded

I had an appointment this week with the "health psychologist" at a diabetes center here in town. He has T2 and we usually start out the session bantering back and forth about him thinking there's little difference and me thinking there's a major difference between T2 and T1.
I scheduled the appointment because another one of my T1 relatives is seriously ill. Actually, close to death with multiple organ failutre. I told him I felt very
ungrounded. He thought I was referring to "grounding" as the punishment my nephew gets when he uses too many of his cell phone minutes.

I think that in a way, me spacng out is a protective mechanism - if I'm in lala land, I don't have to be so close to the pain, the loss and the fear that I'll be next. However, being a fuzzball does not bode well for one's concentration and focus - the stuff that I need to perform my job, pay my bills, and managed my db.




One of the ways I try to deal with ungroundedness is to be outside as much as possible. And, without 4 feet of snow on the ground, it is much simpler. The above is a picture of the path I take each morning when I walk to the bus. It is wonderfaul - very peaceful at 6 a.m., with a few of the neighbor dogs who stop to say hi while on their walks. The trees and grass are calming and in a sense, protective. Nature's healing at its best.


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And this, is my Grandmother Tree. Can you see her, standing with arms outstretched?
As I walk, I see her up ahead, those loving arms ready to enfold me. I always feel such a stunning sense of belonging and connectedness when I look at her. She is a great reminder that I have a purpose for being, even with diabetes.

My ideal home would be a rustic cabin on a lake in the northern Minnesota pine forest, where I would roam in the woods daily.

But, in the meantime, the beauty right outside my door abounds. I am thankful.

This weekend, spend some time outdoors, wherever that might be, and return home with a renewed sense of wellness.

Unhappy Today

Yesterday I had my AlC appointment, one that I'd moved out a few weeks because I knew my numbers had been high.

I blamed this on my mother being seriously ill since November, resulting in a lot of stress and poor eating patterns (oh yeah, we can throw in Xmas, Valentine's Day and Easter too).

I had a very sleepless night and thought that it would be nice if the clinic went back to their old ways of mailing you the results vs. getting them while you're there. That way I wouldn't have to explain myself to the doc.

Mean nurse comes in and puts the bp cuff on the same arm they'd drawn 5 tubes of blood out of. I suggest using the other arm, and she's already inflating it. A big arc of blood shoots out, onto the floor, the desk, my t-shirt and hair.

Doc comes in and asks what the hell happened and I started sobbing - since I take brain meds, I rarely cry, and this startled me. After things were cleaned up, he asks how I am and I start crying again, saying my mother's been sick and I'm having a hard time dealing with it-
and oh, by the way, my sugars have been very high.

He swings the computer screen around and says, "yes, you're AlC is higher than last time - it's up to 7.5".

7.5 - WTF - I was expecting at least 9%. This must be a lab error - wrong patient, wrong day, something is screwed up.

"No, Kathy - that's you on the screen. Now let's just take a look at your records. Hmmmmm. The numbers do seem pretty high at times."

He asks if I have any other issues to address, and leaves. I drift out, feeling like diabetes is always trying to play games - show me that I'm not as smart as I think I am.......I hate it. This was just as bad as someone who expects a lower readng and it comes back high. The unexpected. Unpredictable. Major suckage.

I then go back to the counter and ask to speak to the doc again.

"Maybe I have anemia."
"No, Kathy, you don't have anemia. We did a full blood count."
"Maybe I have some other problem with my red blood cells - something life-threatening."
"That's highly unlikely."

Mean nurse, who is leafing through a Crate & Barrel catalog, looks at me like I'm a crazywoman. At that point, I sure felt like it.

I have the right to expect some consistency - this is the first A1C that I've been way off at guessing, and I feel stupid and inadequate. Diabetes does not have a right to do this to me. That big old troll needs to stay under the bridge.

For Vivian........

Oh my, did the post over at Aiming For Grace get me thinking about classic rock of 30+ years ago. Great times, Great music.

This one is for Vivian, who I fear was a wee tyke when the original hit the charts, but who I also know trusts in the healing power of music.

And, with a special thanks to George, who got me so curious about YouTube that I had to dive in myself.

National Poetry Month

It's about 30 degrees here today, with bits of snow dancing in the air. I couldn't resist the "half-off" bin of Easter treats at the grocery store this afternoon, and bought a hollow chocolate bunny, ate just the ears, and gave the rest to my neighbor. Pleasantly satisfied, with just the ears...............

TerriLynn,Julia and Zazzy have all mentioned that April is National Poetry Month.

In honor of living fully in the present moment, and the promise of good things yet to come, here is my all-time favorite poem.

So Much Happiness
........by Naomi Shihab Nye

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
A wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
Something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn't need you to hold it down.
It doesn't need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
And disappears when it want to.
You are happy either way.

Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful treehouse
And now live over a quarry of noise and dust
Cannot make you unhappy.

Everything has a life of its own.
It too could wake up filled with possiblities
Of coffeecake and ripe peaches,
And love even the floor which needs to be swept,
And soiled linens and scratched records.

Since there is no place large enough
To contain so much happiness,
You shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
Into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
For the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
And in that way, be known.

Five Questions

These questions were graciously provided by my neighbor up the interstate and supermom extraordinaire, Milemaster Sarah.

1.What purpose does blogging serve in your life?
Blogging validates all of the feelings I have about diabetes - the fear, anger, frustration as well as the celebratory emotions of pride, accomplishment, and victory. I am amazed at the depth of closeness I feel to people that I haven't met in person. It is comforting and my sense of isolation has vanished.
Also, I hadn't done much in the realm of self-expression except journal writing, and now I have joined a story telling group and a poetry group.

2.Choose one tree in your past that has touched your life and explain to us why.
It is huge maple tree that I have looked at every morning for the last 20 years as I walk to the bus stop. She affirms the cycle of life with her snow covered branches, with the spring buds that are just now beginning to show, with the bountiful green leaves that provide shade all through the summer, and the crimson colors that signal a time of approaching rest. When I look at her at the top of the hill, her branches look like outstretched arms, like a loving Grandmother who tells me that I matter, that I have a right to be here, and that I am safe.

3. What food is most akin to you? Explain why.
The first thing that came to mind was beef stew with baby carrots and new potatoes. Simple, nourishing, and sturdy. ............hmmm.............maybe I said that because that's what I'm hungry for right now.

4. If you had the power to heal, only yourself, and only one cndition, what would it be, and why?
Yes, it would be the db, because of its all-encompassing effect on daily living and its system-wide effects on the body.

5. What is your most redeeming character trait? Your least? and Your Favorite?
Most redeeming - my sense of empathy and compassion for others; least - my compulsive perfectionism; favorite - my delight and joy in the simple things.

These were great questions, Sarah. Thank you.