33 Years of Adjusting the Focus

 

The end of this month will mark my 33rd year with diabetes. Back in those early days, I didn't even consider that I'd make it to 20 years, which seemed to be the cutoff for many of my T1 relatives.

Yet here I am - still kickin', despite long periods of neglect. I have gratitude that I came to my senses while I still had a core of health to nuture. Seems somewhat miraculous, No?

A couple of years ago I won a great digital camera in an office contest. Tinkering with all of the settings makes me think of living with db - all the tiny little adjustments that need to be made to result in a good photo - light, shadow, focus - more of this, less of that. Just when I think I've got it down, I delve further into the instruction manual and discover something else to try.

I love the challenge of seeing how much detail I can capture with the macro mode, yet it prevents me from considering the bigger panorama. The details of db make it easy to forget that I am greater than the condition. I am a friend, neighbor, co-worker, daughter, sister, auntie, musician, craftsperson and OC member.

When I look at the top picture of the syringe, I see the endless drudgery it represents, along with the suffocting emotions of anger, shame and fear. But, if I move back a couple of inches, I see the lovely piece of embroidery that my Norwegian granny taught me to do.

 

Another step back and I see the candles I light that calm my mind and connect me to a larger sense of being.

 

We navigate the path of human-ness together. And, the journey is the reward. May everyone make wise choices and travel well.

Sometimes We Cry

This is for Penny and all the rest of us..................

Seven

Ok, Chrissie, I read your post this morning and had all day to think about it!

Seven Things to Do Before I Die
1. Stop worrying.
2. Live fully in the present moment.
3. Mend a fragmented friendship with H.
4. Talk to my family openly about diabetes
5. Find a doctor who I can be 100% honest with (right now I'm at about 90%).
6. Bike theGrand Rounds Scenic Byway in one day.
7. To walk around all three Minneapolis inner city lakes in one day.

Seven Things I Cannot Do
1. Stop worrying.
2. Say "no" to people at work who ask me for favors.
3. Stop craving chocolate
4. Stop hording yarn and beads.
5. Get my passion flower vine to bloom indoors.
6. Stand on my head.
7. Keep a tidy home.

Seven Things I Find Attractive in Others
1. Honesty
2. Integrity
3. A curiosity to try new things.
4. A fondness for Bob Dylan.
5. Respect for self and others.
6. Warmth.
7. Sense of humor.

Seven Things I've Been Known to Say
l. That number can't be right - it must be a lab error.
2. Oh, my goodness!
3. Oh, my stars in heaven!
4. Oh, for pity damn sake!
5. No, Denise, I'm not getting on the scale today. (Denise is the nurse at my clinic.)
6. It is what it is.
7. You're kidding.

Seven Books I Love
Fiction
1. The Secret Life of Bees
2. Prodigal Summer
3. Daughter of Fortune and Portrait in Sepia
4. Angela's Ashes, 'Tis, and Teacher Man
5. She's Come Undone
6. The Master Butcher's Singing Club
7. Running with Scissors
NonFiction
1. Life without Ed
2. Psyching Out Diabetes
3. Chronicles, Vol I
4. Undaunted Courage
5. Healing Into Life and Death
6. Dark Night of the Soul
7. The Empty Mirror

Seven Movies I Recommend
1. The Goodbye Girl
2. The Big Chill
3. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
4. Babbete's Feast
5. Tortilla Soup
6. Legends of the Fall
7. The Last Waltz

I tag everyone else who wants to participate. And, if you're a lurker, this would be a good way to dip your toe in the water and start blogging!

Splat.............

 

OK, so we've had some snow. The second round came today - about 9" in my neighborhood with as much as aanother 6-8 to go. Whopee.

The photo below is a snowbank I attempted to cross on my way home from work today. Since the temperature is pretty mild, I was not bundled up and had a little more agility in my step. I was carrying my purse, my TlDM enormous tote bag, two sacks of groceries, plus balancing an umbrella as the snow was heavy. I did not want to walk all the way to the end of the block where a tiny pedestrian path had been gouged, so thought I could just scale up the bank. I fell, fortunately forward, face down, splayed out like a scarecrow. First thought: OMG I hope nothing's broken. Second thought: Please don't let anyone I know drive by. Third thought: Did all those expensive tangerines stay in the bag? I really don't feel like pawing through the snow looking for them

 

All ok. Winter in Minnesota.

Snow Day Project

 

We had our turn with the cold weather, and now we've got the snow. About a foot. Lovely.

People are just starting to shovel their sidewalks and many of the cars parked on the street are now enclosed in a big lip of snow that the plow left. Minnesota at its best.

I settled in and finished a lingering project - a beaded vessel. It is about 4' tall and each small seed bead is indivually stitched. Not of much use, but pleasant to contemplate once finished.

Sometimes it's hard for me to be alone with a long stretch of time in front of me - I start thinking about lingering problems, like diabetes; existing problems, like my mother who needs to transition to assisted living; and imagined problems, like future complications. Hobbies help. They help a lot. And, so does knowing that at present, right now, everything is just fine.

Hard to believe February is nearly over. Have a good week ahead.

Subzero Temps., Hypoglycemia, and the F Word

This past Tuesday was a grizzly cold day. I woke at 5 a.m. to the radio saying, "It's 10 below in the Twin Cities this morning, and the windchill is minus 35". I have been taking the bus to work for many years and know what to wear for the 7 block walk and the wait on the streetcorner - long underwear, down vest under my coat, assorted layers of mittens, hats and scarves. When it comes to dressing properly, I epitomize common sense (and look like a lumbering polar bear).

Just before lunchtime, an announcement was made on the PA - "L is going to make a Ho Fan (the nearby Chinese takeout) run - if anyone wants the lo mein special, let her know". I love having lunch personally delivered to my desk and immediately placed my order. Ho Fan's lo mein is a solid glob of noodles and soy sauce, with perhaps a half ounce of chicken and sprinkle of green onions. It's not within the realm of "moderate" as far as carbs go. My usual insulin dose to cover lunch is 3 units. For the lo mein, I decided to take 9.

That afternoon, as I was getting ready to leave, I tested at 115 - a perfect value for going home. That is, a perfect value if I'd had only 3 units for lunch. I still had at least 1-2 units on board. I'm pretty sensitive, and at that time of day one unit can lower me by about 80 points. I forgot.

I rode home, got off the bus, and had traveled no more than a block when I got the sensation of the sidewalk moving under me, like on a treadmill. My clearcut signal. I forgot. I kept on walking, and within just a few minutes I was really headed south - still four blocks away from my condo building and getting colder by the minute. I ducked into the security entrance of another building and decided to test (I should have immediately crammed some tabs, but I forgot.)
Take my meter out and it feels cold. Strips don't work when they're cold, but I forgot. Tried to lance my finger, but it was too cold, and no blood came out. Stood there, my mind totally blank, not having a clue what to do next. (Better put mittens back on).

In an agonizing step by step effort, I made it to my building. I forgot how to get my key ih the door and one of my neighbors helped me.

Rather than immediately eating, I decided to test with my nice warm at-home meter - 32. That seemed absurdly low so I searched for my spare meter to confirm, but the battery was dead. Still no eating. Eventually I got out a Juicy Juice box, but could not get the tiny straw in the teeny hole. Then thought of the maple syrup that came in the Xmas breakfast gift box. I opened the cute little jug and had several big swigs - in fact most of it. 2 hours later I was at 420, but, safe at home in my flannel pj's.

One act of forgetting the "insulin on board" concept caused me to go hypo which caused me to forget a lot of other things. People hvae done a lot of recent posting about hypos, and I agree that many times they come out of nowhere, and that's where the frustration lies. Yet, this one could have been prevented, so I'm not in such a tizzy. I'll just try to remember next time.

Have a good weekend everybody.

Osteoporosis and the Flying Nun

Many years ago Sally Field starred in a cute little show called "The Flying Nun". Her nun's headiece had these extensions that looked like wings and she'd take off on the updrafts at unexpected moments.
This past week, during the 6 p.m. news, she was on a couple of times advertising a drug called Boniva, used to treat osteoporisis in post-menopausal women.
The commercial starts off with Sally lamenting about a friend who has to set aside time "once a week" to take her op pill, when Boniva only needs to be taken once a month. The first time I saw this, I was livid, thinking about how would these people cope with diabetes, which needs attention throughout each day - and here she is (or rather the script writers) attempting to appeal to consumers
with "once a month" versus "once a week". Give me a break.
This morning when I got up I was going to write a post about how once again we have evidence that those on the outside "just don't get it" blah blah blah. But instead, my heart suddenly started to swell with immense pride. Pride for all of us, - that we, in a noble, effective manner deal with the "daily grind" (as Chrissie puts it) of diabetes self-care. That, in itself, is a soaring victory.
I left to go shopping and my neighbor across the street said, "Hi Kathy, you look like you day's off to a good start". And it was, even when the cash machine ate my card.
Look for the good - it's out there.

"Please wait. This may take several minutes."

Well, I appear to have finally successfully installed my highspeed internet service. The man at the mall who sold it to me said it would take 20 minutes to accomplish - for me it took 3 days. Yikes. But, I'm looking forward to hearing the music and seeing the videos that some of you use to embellish your posts.

Thanks to all of you who sent good wishes on behalf of my mother. Please know that your comments truly made a difference in helping me stay calm. She had been home for a week and doing relatively well - getting back into her routine and using some of the services avalable to the elderly in my home town. On Monday I was looking through my emails at work and saw one from my sister that said "Mom's on her way to the hospital again." I thought it was in my deleted items folder, but, it was current. Her 5th visit, and the buffoons in my hometown have sent her to a different metro hospitals each time.

They decided to do an interventional radiology procedure, threading a catheter up through her leg all the way into her head and injecting a compound that would seal off the mail vessel to the side of her nose that was bleeding. There was a 5% risk of stroke and 5% risk of blindness, but she agreed. So off I went to a huge surgical waiting area where there seemed to be a lot of drama going on. I noticed a frail elderly lady in a corner, sobbing into her hankerchief. I went over and asked if I could help. She said her husband was having emergency bypass and that her son was flying in from out of town and wouldn't be there for several hours. She was very frightened and confused about what to do with the pager she'd been given. It was heartbreaking, but I stayed with her until my pager went off and got the report that M's procedure had gone well and she would be sedated for several hours. I then returned to see if Helen needed anything more. She was a lot calmer and wanted to pay me for my help. Of course, I didn't take the money but did accept a tentative invitation for dinner once the Mr. was recovered.

So, my mother went home on Thursday and we are once again keeping our fingers crossed.

I am trying to put this all in perspective. We have Monday off for MLK day and someone at work said "well, Kathy, got big plans for the long weekend"? I felt like saying "don't you remember my mother is ill - how can I have plans for the weekend when the phone could ring any minute with bad news"? I recently saw an article on a mental health website on being "Addicted to Drama" - people who are so used to living on the edge that they are uncomfortable when things settle down. Maybe that's part of my problem - lookng at this as a potential life or death situation when it's actually just a natural part of the cycle of things - people get old and health deteriorates.

I got home that day and felt a deep sense of peace, until talking to one of my sisters who said that if "anything happened" as a result of the procedure, it would be all my fault - she had not agreed to it, thinking the risk was too big.
The next day, however, she'd settled down and seemed to have forgiven me.

Yesterday, in the evening, I realized that I'd forgotten to take my handful of oral meds that morning. I felt ok, my bp was 128/71, so it probably wasn't an end of the word situation in this case either.

So, on it goes. I'm hoping for some nice, uneventful days ahead.

Waste Deep

My Christmas was very strange and chaotic - my mother is in the hospital.
A week ago Friday, I got a call that she was headed to Minneapolis (about 60 miles from her home) via ambulance. I immediately concluded that if it were a stroke or heart attack, they would send her by helicopter.

I raced over to the ER and was relieved to find that it was an uncontrolled nosebleed, and she was feisty as ever with the staff. They packed it and off we went to spend the night at my place. I noticed her breathing was a bit labored, but, she is 79 years old. I am not a tidy housekeeper and she immediately asked me where the dustcloths were.

She went back home and two days later was enroute again. This time they admitted her and said her "lungs looked funny". She was diagnosed with moderate emphysema and sent home with an inhaler, being told she could resume her normal activities. I was so relieved. We even decided to go ahead with our Christmas plans.

Last Friday, another call, on her way again. They said they could go in surgically and cauterize the offending vessel, but it was considered major surgery and not something they like to do. On Saturday, she was walking and became extremely short of breath, and and MRI revealed she has a blood clot in her lung - go figure, blood clotting in her lung and gushing from her nostrils.

They are giving her strong blood thinners for the clot, and right now, I don't have a clue what the ENT is planning because he won't call me back.

She is talking about going into assisted living, because she doesn't want to be alone with so much uncertainty. This is something we've discussed "around the edges" but never in detail. My sisters are freaking out. One feels we should take it "one step at a time", while the other is wondering where a copy of the will is.

I came home tonight and there was a message on my machine that I was afraid to play. My heart was racing and it was only FedEx, saying they'd left a package in the foyer - a gift box of nothing I care to eat - pancake mix, heavily sweetened blueberry syrup, vacuum sealed bacon with 1000 mg of sodium per two slices. I did, however, like the basket itself.

My blood sugar was over 350 twice today, but I fortunately chose not to stop at the grocery store after work because I knew I'd head home with Doritos, peanut butter, and Ding Dongs.

One thing that I have learned from similar crises is that if we just step back, a tiny bit, there is an underlying sequence to things - the right friend calls at the right time, help is offered when needed, and eventually, the dust will settle. I just don't like the wait.

I am also glad that I have "stress plan" for my blood pressure that I had discussed with my primary a couple of years ago. He agreed that if I tested it, not guessed, and if was in a certain range, I could take another dose of beta blocker. I took it a couple of times today and it was not off target - a relief.

I know I have to let go of the stress, and the outcome, but it's a big task.

Christmas Song Tag

I've been swamped at work and my home pc is not working, so it appears that I've missed a lot of happenings in the OC.
I have been tagged by Super George and these are my favorite Christmas song, among others:

1) Oh Come All Ye Faithful (by the Morman Tabernacle Choir)
2)Santa Claus is Coming to Town (by Bruce Springsteen)
3)I'll Be Home for Christmas (as done by Elvis)
4)Silver Bells (the first "grown up" Xmas song we got to do in gradeschool)
5)The Chipmunk Song (by the Chipmunks)

Me First!!!!!

I am 99% sure of the simple truth that if you don't take care of your diabetes, it's going to come crashing to the front of the line, screaming, "me first".
So, when I make a bunch of dumb-ass decisions that gain their own momentum, what am I thinking? That things have magically changed? (Guess not).

I have been very very high for two days, beginning yesterday with the birthday bagels a co-worker brought in. I'd already eaten my standard breakfast (brown rice and vegetables), but had an entire giant bagel with strawberry cream cheese. Then we had a staff lunch of lasagna and garlic bread, followed by a "few" Christmas cookies and later in the afternoon, some caramel corn somebody'd left in the lunch room. I was chasing the highs all day with Humalog but just kept eating. Then last night had to get up every two hours to be sure I wasn't crashing.

Woke this morning still high, probably from rebound. Then more treats at the office and off I was, soaring, and feeling absolutely awful. I had two completely unproductive days at work (we are very busy at year-end) and now am behind and will have to play catch-up next week.

So here I sit, Friday evening, with a ton of things that I'd intended to do but don't have the energy to - start Xmas cards, inventory my prescriptions and call in renewals, work on the sweater I'm knitting as a gift, cleaning, laundry, and watching part of the "Six Feet Under" third season that I got from the library. Instead, I'll lay around, go to bed early, and once again be up a few times to check for lows.

My Saturday will start poorly from lack of sleep and the general imbalance my body's been through. Seems like as I've gotten older, I don't recover as fast from the highs - the effects linger for several days.

WHY do I do this? I am putting this sequence of events in writing so it will be imprinted on my brain - there are consequences for every action that I choose and the
I can't believe I ate the whole thing scenario led to two completely ruined days and will spill over into the weekend.

You'd think I'd get it by now. Does anybody out there have problems with binging. If so, how do you stop it before it takes on a life of its own? If I'd stopped at the bagel yesterday, I could have dealt with it and by early evening would have been back on track.

Fortunately, this doesn't happen often, and, tomorrow's a new day with hopefully, a better outcome.

Hope you all are enjoying the pleasures of the season.

She's Here!!

Hey all - that awe-inspiring Chrissie has put up her very first post. How cool is that?

Our Essential Wholeness - The Silent Victory

It's 60 degrees here today in Minnesota, with more warm weather in store for tomorrow - no blizzards, no freezing rain, no single digit windchills. Very nice.

I'm staying in town for the holiday. My family is gathering at my sister's in northern Minnesota, and my restless leg syndrome is on the rampage and I can only sit for 20 minutes at a time, and a three hour car trip is not an option.

So, I'm helping deliver Meals on Wheels, a program that provides hot meals to people who are housebound. Since it's a special day, the volunteers are allowed to take extra time and spend a few minutes visiting. In the evening I'll go to my friend E's, for an enormous potluck with about 40 people meandering through (there is bound to be at least one unsavory green bean casserole).

I often find myself using the term "essential wholeness" and have been contemplating it all day. I think it's the first thing I think of at Thanksgiving.

Our essential wholeness is that part of us that always remains - the core of our soul - that which nothing, not even diabetes, can destroy. Nor can it be depleted by difficult emotions such as fear, shame and anger (that often come along with us for the ride.)

It surfaces in the tiniest acts of faith and kindness - faith that each of our lives has a purpose and will make a difference to our friends, family, co-workers and woman behind us at the grocery store with a screaming toddler in tow.

It is nurtured by looking for beauty in the mundane. On my morning walk to the bus stop, there is a huge old oak tree at the top of the hill. This morning, with bare branches, it looked like a loving grandmother with her arms outstretched, ready to give me a big hug. (And now I'm crying, thinking of my departed grandmas and their big holiday tables, with the chairs that are now emptied and replaced in the cycle of life).

And, it grows to full bloom when we let other people do something nice for us and then pass it on.

Tomorrow, Thanksgiving, be extra kind to someone - including yourself, and then, build on that victory.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

-Kathy

D Blog Day (Chaotic Ramblings)

I'd like to thank Sandra Miller for pointing out that today is D Blog Day. I had no idea, but, heck, until 6 months ago I did not know what a blog was either.

To preface this, I will say that I have not yet read anybody's posts today - it was slow at work and really hard to keep my paws off the Web - and I'm sure there will be some overlap. Second, I am not going to censor any of my thoughts. Most of the time I try to focus on being optimistic and positive, but tonight, anything that comes flying out of my fingers will stay.

I hate living with diabetes. And my friend J hates living with metastatic breast cancer. And my co-worker D hates living with rheumatoid arthritis. And my departed brother D hated living with AIDS.

My two distinct memories of my diagnosis (1974) were: 1) my hospital bed was right outside the nurse's station and they were having donuts and coffee late in the evening. One said to the other "Did you get bed 2's test tape (a dip strip used to measure sugar in uring)" and she replied, "Oh gawd, is she one too? These diabetics are more trouble than they're worth". 2) When I got home from the hospital, I turned on my favorite television show, Marcus Welby, M.D. - about this kind, fatherly GP and his handsome, hunky associate. It started out showing a girl eating ice cream and she immediately went into a diabetic coma. The next week she was suddenly blind due to retinal hemorrhaging - obviously caused by the dietary indiscretion.. But, Dr. Welby contacted a colleague who was involved in a new, experimental procedure - a vitrectomy and said it coule probably give her some vision back. "Not reading vision", he cautioned. I felt that cold chill of fear wrap around me, and have felt it many times since. Oh, incidently, I have hadtwo vitrectomys and I can read just fine. Ahem.

Diabetes sometimes makes me feel like a freak. After my father's funeral in 1986, we were having a gathering in the church reception hall and offering refreshments. A big tray of cake was being passed down the table and when it got to me, a woman on the other side of the room stood up and screamed , "Don't let her have any - she's diabetic!". Dead silence ensued and the flush rose up into my face. I hate the way that woman made me feel.

The burden and struggles of diabetes wax and wane, just like anything else bothersome in life. I frequently feel like I'm that mythical character that pushes the boulder up the hill, only to have it roll back down to the starting place. Mary Tyler Moore once described the effects of diabetes like "termites" - they are doing slow, consistent damage to the innards of the house while everything looks fine on the outside.

I have had DB for nearly 3/4 or my life. It is a part of me, a companion, that sometimes quietly walks beside me, and other times is a hissy-fit, tantrum-throwing brat that demands attentionat the most inconvenient times. And occasionally it is a fire-breathing demon that threatens to rob every last ounce of strength from me.

Living with DB reminds me of the words of this Motown classic -

So take a good look at my face
You'll see my smile looks out of place
If you look closer, it's easy to trace
The tracks of my tears..........


Oh, baby, I suddenly want to put on Aretha and find a dancing partner!

Tagged

Perfect timing - I had nothing to write about and now I've been tagged.

Five little known facts about me:

1. I play conga drums in an Afro/Caribbean percussion ensemble. People are
usually surprised because I am conservative, quiet, and could easily fade
into any midwestern crowd. It is a deep pleasure and we perform at
neighborhood festivals, Earth Day, birthday parties and such.

2. The only type of car I've ever owned has been used Honda Civics. They
all had names - Agnes, Cindy, Ignatius, Phoebe and Pablo. Both Ignatius
and Cindy were stolen, off the street, in broad daylight.

3. I once did a summer internship at a school for troubled youth, and
participated in several Native American sweatlodges. It was during the time
when my sugar was always high so I dd not have to worry about having
a hypo and toppling over onto hot rocks. (I would probably not participate
now, and that's okay.)

4. My favorite thing to do when I'm bored is watch old reruns of the tv
series "Kung Fu" - yeah, I know that many of you were not even born when
it was on, and would have no idea who grasshopper was, but I
love it. I have my private collection of all three years.

5. ......................and.....I still sometimes inject through clothing.
Really easy to just zip it through the skirt under my desk.

This was fun. If interested, I tag

MileMaster Sarah
Vic,aka cHoCo @ My.Diabetic.Life
Jane@ It's My Life, People
Heidi@The D Lon Cabin
Robert @ S.I.C.K.I.E.S

Fact #6 - I did not "do" links until I started blogging.

PS. If anyone knows why my alternate sentences have short margins, let me know before I go nuts.

Right Now

I just got home from having a meal with my nephew, L, who is a sophomore at the U of Minnesota. He grew up 300 miles from here, so it’s nice to have him nearby.

I remember distinctly the day he was born, 20 years ago. I had had db for 12, and wasn’t sure if I’d make it much further. Back then, it didn’t seem like people lived much past the 20 year mark, and none of my cousins (my only reference point) had. I held him and cried, thinking that I wouldn’t see him finish elementary school.

Living for one’s death is very unproductive and sad and even possibly a convenient excuse, at times. I was always on the outside, looking through the glass at those people who enjoyed the gift of health. I wasted a lot of years paralyzed by fear of complications. It’s very easy to get angry, but no one was to blame - not me, not diabetes, not the people around me who didn’t know how to lift my outlook.

Yet, here I was, this afternoon - waiting in front of Applebee‘s, among the diverse college crowd, seeing him saunter down the street on this beautiful fall day - incredibly smart, kind, and handsome. (The baseball cap on backwards is another issue.) I feel like I held back from getting to know him because I was “on the way out”.

But, I’ve quickly made up for it. Sure, my life may be shortened, even by something other than diabetes, but the”here and now” is full of lots of pleasures, big and small. Many of the members of the OC are living vibrantly, embracing life, and pursuing dreams and I love to read about the victories.

I hugged him goodbye and a piece of paper fell out of his hand. I asked him what it was and he replied, “oh, one of the waitresses gave me her phone number” as he carefully folded it and placed it in his backpack. Is that what girls do now?

Have a good weekend everybody. Seize the day!

Notorious

A couple of years ago, I was in my psychiatrist's office for my brain-med appointment. I told him I'd just come from the ortho clinic downstairs and was told that my broken ankle was healing well because I was doing everything I was supposed to - rest, ice and elevation. Dr. Shrink replied, "well, that's good - diabetics are notorious for not taking care of themselves". I then had a small meltdown, wailing about how people don't understand the unending daily challenges we face. When I read the clinic notes a few days later, Dr. Shrink had written, "patient had an unprovoked episode of significant rage". Fortunately, we have since discussed this a couple of times and I think Dr. S. has learned a great deal about living with db.

I was reminded of this today when I was on theTake Control of Your Diabetes site. TCOYD was started by Dr. Steve Edelman, a California endocrinologist who has been type 1 for more than 30 years. Take a look at his "Making the Connection" article. Paragraph 3, describing how a resident physician generalized that the diabetic patient was "noncompliant" is enough to make me go and pound someone's head. Also see the last paragraph, and I think you'll know that this guy gets it.

Walking the Walk

I keep a gratitude journal. I meditate on the beauty of life. I read motivational quotes every morning. And I'm very proud of the way I've handled some past health challenges, emerging with my essential wholeness intact. But it's such a fragile balancing act - you could knock me off the tighrope with a feather.

My mother, who is 80 years old and lives in a small prairie town 100 miles1 west of here, chats with me every Thursday morning. When she calls at an unscheduled time, I know that something's up.

She phoned early Saturday morning and told me that one of my relatives, also type 1, had had a fatal stroke. My paternal grandmother had 12 brothers and sisters, and each of them had several children. Now the generation of the grandkid's of the 12 has been afflicted with over 30 type 1's, most of them diagnosed at age 9-13. A few are deceased, a few more dealing with serious complications, and the rest of us circling the wagons with the "it's not gonna happen to me" attitude.

Sure, I'm glad that my retinopathy was successfully treated. I'm also glad that my kidney function returned to normal after starting on Avapro. But why am I the lucky one? I was immersed in self-destructive chaos for 20+ years and statistically I should not have made it this far unscathed. What gives? I am feeling guilty that it wasn't me. I am fearful that I will be next(I am approaching the top of the list of those having db the longest.)

I tried to ignore the news all weekend and tonight it got to me, big time. It's cold here today in Minnesota and we may have some snow by mid-week. I don't like the approaching darkness and the time of year when you can't easily busy yourself and run away from difficult emotions.

The person who died did not take care of himself (neither did I). He had already been db for nearly 30 years when the DCCT results were published. I know he had a meter but I think considered the test strips expensive. And I know he did not deserve this. No one does.

I feel that I am deficient in personal integrity. I can talk the talk and even (for a few seconds) convince myself that I value the developments over the years and the access I have to excellent medical care. I can strut around, full of self-pride because I consider myself to have a "good attitude" about living well with chronic illness. But after talking to my mother on Saturday morning, I felt like ramming my fist through a plate glass window, and will probably be crying into the night.

Yet tomorrow I'll get up and go to work, and know that some delightful, unexpected twist in the road will put me back on track. Those are my deepest pleasures. What one waits for, will come.

Meme

This meme has been winding its way through the OC for the last couple of days. It will be fun to see if we can get a big participation.

1. Do you still have tonsils?
Yes - I was of the generation where it was fashionable to have them yanked
out.

2. Would you bungee jump?
Maybe, but not until I've lost a bunch of weight so I could be sure the cord
would not break.

3. If you could do anything in the world for a living, what would you do?
Landscape architect.

4. How many tattoos do you have?
One, a purple iris on my belly.

5. Your favorite fictional animal?
Dumbo.

6. One person that never fails to make you laugh?
My niece Emily.

7. Do you consider yourself organized?
Yes, very much so for diabetes logging, health records, prescription
renewals. No, not at all for the other areas of my life.

8. Any addictions?
Substances: milk chocolate, Diet Pepsi, Dairy Queen onion rings
Activities: knitting and beadwork
Authors: anything by Joyce Carol Oates

9 From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news?
My fellow commuters at the bus stop.

10. Would you rather go to a carnival or circus?
Carnival - it's much more interactive and I love the lights after dark.

11. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you
grew up?
A nurse.

12. Best movie you've seen this year?
"Junebug"

13. Favorite alcoholic drink.
champagne cocktail (I have one about every five years)

14. What is the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?
Plug in my electric hair rollers.

15. Siblings?
One older brother and two younger sisters (that are twins to each other).

16. What is the best thing about your job?
The health benefits - seriously.

17. Have you ever gone to therapy?
Yes, for years. Also currently.

18. If you could have one super power, what would it be?
To relive my 20's and 30's without being paralyzed by the fear of
diabetes complications - note that I did not say without diabetes.

19. Do you own any furniture from Ikea?
Yes, a lamp. I went the opening weekend and stood in line 90
minutes to pay for it.

20. Have you ever gone camping?
Lots, and still do. Up until a couple of years ago I also used to take one
solo camping trip per summer - sort of a mini contemplative retreat.

21. Gas prices - first thought
"What's this world coming to?"

22. Your favorite cartoon character?
Lucy

23. What was your first car?
A Honda civic with 200,000 miles on it. I cannot remember the
color (so long ago).

24. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual?
No.

25. The Cosby Show or The Simpsons?
Cosby Show

26. Do you go to church?
No, but a couple of times a month I go to the Quaker meeting house
and sit with the community and listen for that "still small voice
within".

27. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
Bob Dylan, of course.

28. What errand/chore do you despise?
Cleaning my mini-blinds.

29. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?
"Yipee, it's Friday."

30 Last time you puked from drinking?
Never.

31. What is your heritage?
Norweigan

32. Favorite flower?
Purple iris

33. Disney or Warner Bros?
Disney

34. What is your best childhood memory?
Going to my grandma's farm in the summer and trekking into the
woods to pick blackberries. The mosquitoes were very thick and
once we did some makeshift mosquito netting from old lace
curtains.

35. Your favorite potato chip?
Baked Lays sour cream 'n' onion.

36. What is your favorite candy?
Milky Way caramels, Milk Duds and Twizzlers Red Licorice Bites

37. Do you burn or tan?
Burn, like any self-righteous Scandinavian would.

38. Astrological sign?
Cancer

39. Do you own a gun?
No, but I have 40+ pairs of very sharp knitting needles and an
equally threatening pruning shears.

40. What do you think of hot dogs?
The best way to cook them is on a campfire, sticking them directly
into the flames until they're all black.

Have a good weekend.

Uncertainty

I just got done yelling (in all cap letters)online at my nephew, "E", in Duluth because he "forgot" to tell me that his mother had an emergency appendectomy on Monday (she is fine). He and I talk several times a week and he thought I knew.

Well, it wasn't E's fault that I had a meltdown It's because it reminded me of all the sudden things that can be thrown our way, that we don't know are coming, that can shatter our world in a second.

And that's what illness is sometimes about - uncertainty - we hope the treatment will work, but we don't know for sure; this rarely happens, but, in your case...........; our "best guess" would be .....; past experience indicates..........." -- blah blah blah. And with uncertainty comes fear. Fear that I won't be okay, fear that I won't be able to cope with what comes next, fear that my life will be shortened in some dreadful way before I get everything done.

Now we've all heard of the person who gets a clean bill of health at the doc's office and has a fatal heart attack leaving the building, or the individual who gets run over by the bus while innocently crossing the street. Yes, we are all vulnerable, but diabetes makes us more aware of this.

So instead of letting the "fear cauldron" boil over, I'm going to send E an animated e-mail wink and apologize, call my sister and tell her I love her, and make some jewelry with these beautiful glass beads I've been hoarding. Scrubbin the bathtub and other assorted chores on my list for tonight can wait until tomorrow. Diabetes has taught me not to forget what's important.