Damn You, Steel Magnolias

First for an Omnipod update, I can't believe I've been shot free since September! Pods are sticking to me pretty well, bloodsugars are regulating for the most part, and Peter, my PDM, has been very nice to me for the last couple of weeks. I have been seriously slacking on reporting back to my pump manager, not because of shame and dread, as I'm used to, but genuinely because I have been so busy, and have always been sort of bad at time management.My diabetes goal for the week is to upload and get in touch with MJ, my manager.

What I really wanted to talk about is Steel Magnolias. I am betting that everyone has seen this movie, from the early 90's I believe, starring, among other famous actors, Sally Fields, Dolly Parton, Dylon McDermott, and playing the character of the young Southern newlywed, baby-craving diabetic is Julia Roberts. I don't know about everyone else, but this movie just gets under my skin. I don't remember ever seeing it before I was diagnosed, but I do remember seeing it for the first time after. I was distraught for weeks, maybe even months. I still merely have to think about this movie and I want to cry. My heart doesn't just break the way it does with other sad movies, but fear slams into every inch of my consciousness. Fear over trying to have kids that I don't even want, yet. Fear over how that might affect the type of family I don't have, yet. The first time I got a low bloodsugar while I was babysitting my, at the time, newborn nephew, I was almost paralyzed with visions of Shelby (Julia's character) passed out on the porch, the stove on, the fridge door open, and her baby on the floor just wailing. My mom already gave up a kidney for her sister, my aunt, but maybe my sister would give me a kidney one day if I needed it, and it would be pointless because I might just die a year later. I have nightmares about my mother trying to wake me up from a coma I'll never come out of, exercising my legs while I'm on a ventilator, having to pull the plug because I'll never wake up from this episode. This movie was one of those things that magnified some of my harshest diabetic fears, from which, among other things, I lived in a sort of depression for so many years. One of those things that supported my decade long case of the "F*** Its," symptoms of which are not managing d, not taking insulin, eating whatever I wanted, drinking too much, drugs...etc.. Like I have said before, not all of my problems had to do with being a diabetic, but many of my fears that led me to where I was, at my breaking point, came from not understanding and not managing my diabetes.

I hate Steel Magnolias. I hate that people die of diabetes. I hate that other diabetics, young diabetics, might watch this movie and experience this same fear. I know I shouldn't watch it, but I can't rip my eyes away from it sometimes. It's so scary. It's so sad. Many things have changed since the time when this movie was made, but it still scares me. Diabetics don't die just because they don't take care of themselves or because they want to have babies, sometimes they just go low and crash their car or go low in their sleep and don't wake up.

My oldest sister and I had this one year where we were addicted to the television show Lost. I remember saying to her once, "you know, if I was in a plane that crashed on an island, I wouldn't last very long," and she said,"you know, I actually thought about that already." It made me sad, but then I felt okay about it. I'm not in this alone, you know?

Anyways, I know it doesn't have anything to do with my Omnipod, but Steel Magnolias has been a constant source of fear in my diabetic life, so I'm glad I have somewhere to vent about this. I'm glad I have a community of people with whom I can share, who understand, and who help me to not feel alone in this. I guess I'll wipe my tear streaked cheeks, dab my puffy red eyes, blow my snotty, runny nose, and get on with my happy new life with my wonderful new pump.

Happy Thanksgiving

Even though Thanksgiving has always been a day of thanks for my family and I, I always have that carb-counting, "I shouldn't eat that" cognitive reaction to the table feast full of glorious carbohydrates. Over the last few year things that I am grateful for have definitely outweighed the headache that can become Thanksgiving dinner. The thought kind of just hit me the other day that this year one of the things that I am most grateful for is also gonna be the sweet relief to the normal stress of Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, I know, things are not so different when it comes to the carb-counting and the "I shouldn't eat that," but holidays such as the feast-filled Thanksgiving have always been one of those special days where I could eat the stuffing, the mashed potatoes and the apple pie without worrying about whether or not I should. My mom and my doctor when I was a kid made that deal with me, that I could have special days like this. It was a promise. But just because they say not to worry, but it's not that easy to turn off the d worry, even when momma says its okay. Its the little things about the Omnipod that will make this so much sweeter. If I bolus at 2, and decide I want more, I'll bonus again for my second plate. If I don't get it right the first time, I'll just hit a button, and fix it. It won't get sick of shooting up, and say "screw it" and just let myself get high, resulting in a headache and nausea for my day of thanks. My gratitude on Thanksgiving will be highlighted by my being able to willingly take care of myself and enjoy all of the festivities. Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

Here is a picture of my nephew checking out my pod for me, making sure its secure.

Sweet Halloween

Okay, so to all of the parents of babies with d, I hope all of the little ones (and you all) had a Happy Halloween. When I was younger Halloween used to fill me with dread. Post-diagnoses years really tainted the holiday which used to be one of my favorites, along with Christmas with it's cookies and Thanksgiving with it's carb-filled dinners and sweet pies. In my mind, due a lot to the many voices of ignorance, diabetes meant to me "no candy, no cookies, no pies, no cake"...etc. We all know that this is not the case, simply that moderation is key; however, I'm not sure if it was just the way things were back then or merely the way my baby brain processed direction, for a ten year old, hearing "no candy" on a day where they just give the stuff away was like a dagger to the heart! My parents and my granny used to help me cheat, candy in moderation and all that. Family, friends and neighbors would buy sugar free candy just for me, bless their hearts, and give me a whole bag sometimes when I came to their door shrieking "Trick or Treat!" Of course, I would rebel and abuse Halloween when unsupervised, making myself sick with candy binges. Naturally, that didn't last very long. But the lengths that people who cared about me would go to in an attempt to make sure I felt like just another regular kid on Halloween fills me with gratitude. I didn't see it then, but these days, when the holiday season comes around, I always feel this gratitude and appreciate the holidays in a very different sense. I know there isn't a thing most parents wouldn't do to ease the pain and make my little friends with d forget their disease any day, but especially on days like Halloween. So, I wanted to thank all of you wonderful parents for doing this for your kiddos, like I know you all did. I would love to hear some of your clever ideas for special Halloween treats for your kids, too.

My Halloween was special. I stopped caring so much about candy since I started noticing that my butt gets a little bigger a lot faster, so that's not really an issue for me anymore. I dressed up as a buccaneer and went to a party to listen to my good friend and some other talented Jacksonville musicians play some dang good music. I tapped my pirate boots all night long! After that, went to a costume contest at AJ's in Jax, I didn't place, but was in Top 5. Woo-Hoo! It was actually my first costume contest since I was a pre-teen, so I feel pretty good about it. Sunday night I took my handsome 22 month-old nephew to Jacksonville Zoo's Spooktacular. He was a buccaneer, too, but looked much better then I did. He was awesome in the Haunted House paths, didn't scream, jump or cry at all! It was recommended for ages 10 and up, so I was a little nervous, but he was a pro!

I feel good about these kinds of Holidays since growing up. Glad that I'm not still haunted by bitterness for these sweets-marketed celebrations, but instead graced with gratitude. I love that so many little d buddies have friends and family out there like mine, then and now, that do their best to help us not feel like outcasts because we can't rot our teeth and gain that seasonal 10 lbs this time of year without getting sick and stressing about numbers, going blind or losing limbs. I'm so happy that I got over those feelings I associated with these awesome holidays, and I pray that your kids do, too, or better yet, never have to feel that way at all. Keep on doing what you're doing, though, because even if my young d friends do feel like this (and I have a feeling it's a little natural) they will get over it, and have such warm, loving memories on which to look back.

Happy Halloween, y'all! Looking forward to Thanksgiving!

All Beginnings Can Feel Strangely Similar

It has now been a month and a few days since I activated my first insulin-filled pod. My bgs are finally beginning to regulate after, I don't know, a stinking decade! For the first few weeks a.p. (After Pod) they were seriously wacky, mostly high. But at the rate I am going now, I might even have a within-range A1C next time I get my blood work-up. Just to clarify, only once since being diagnosed have I had an average A1C, and that was a result of many menacing lows. Even when I felt like I was trying my very hardest, I still only got below an A1C of 8 once in the last 14 and 1/2 years. I can't wait to find out, I would like to go to Wal Mart and get one of those instant A1C checkers for $15, or however much they are (cheap), just for my own curiosity. I've never really been tempted to do that, since I always just assumed it would be higher then I wanted it to be, as usual, which would depress me. But now, I'm excited more then I am anxious. It's gotta be a little better!

In the last month I have gone through quite a few pods needlessly. What a waste, but I am still figuring out how to wear the darn things without my active and clumsy little self knocking them right off. I think it's kind of funny that the only actual painful part of the pod is the super water proof adhesive ripping off of my flesh. Nothing else hurts, except maybe if you forget to squeeze the fat up when it's inserted near a muscle. But that's a feeling I got used to a long time ago, seeing as how I'm a muscle machine...just kidding, but it does happen even when you're not a muscle machine.

I still feel so much better since getting the pod. I felt good when I first heard about Omnipod. My journey towards getting approved for this tubeless, wireless insulin delivery system was tough, exciting, fretful and fulfilling all at the same time, and my feelings the day I activated my pod were joyous, but still unsure. It reminds me now of the feelings I had upon being diagnosed when I was ten years old. I didn't feel it to the same degree back then, what being diabetic meant for me, but I had an idea. Though I knew next to nothing about it, from the way people were acting around me and from some intuition deep inside of my gut, I knew when they told me I was diabetic that this was a big deal, that this was life-changing. Almost fifteen years later, after I put on this pod, though I knew that this was a life changer, I still didn't know what it would feel like. I still don't know fully. I'm experiencing this gradual enlightenment of the freedom that I now have without the burden of giving myself shots multiple times a day. One day I will look back and remember how I really had no idea how life changing that moment was, when I pushed the button on my PDM and activated my first pod. I will do so with the same sense of nostalgia I feel when I look back to that poor unknowing little girl trying to grasp what it meant to be diabetic, with no idea that how it feels to wake up for fifteen years knowing she would have to inject herself every time she ate so much as an apple if she wanted to be healthy. But this time I will look back with a sense of joy, at that hard working 24 y/o woman that, after years of feeling like she was walking a tightrope, had no idea what it would be like to wake up after fifteen years of life without insulin injections littered throughout her day. That day when I can look back the way I look back at diagnoses day now, except with a smile instead of tears...that will be the best part of all of this.

Seriously?

I had forgotten how clumsy I am until I became an Omnipod user. You know how when you have a painful scratch or bruise somewhere on your body, it seems like all of a sudden you're constantly bumping and jamming it on everything around you and in every single activity you participate in, from getting in the car to making dinner. Having a pod attached to your body, even in the most out of the way places, is kind of like that. It is frustrating. Not so much that I would think of quitting it, but still...I went camping this weekend at Roy's Hideaway in Collins, Ga., running around outdoors, playing with animals, setting up equipment on stage for my gfs band to play onsite and other fun camping stuff and didn't have any problems, but then lost a pod getting into the car the next day. Seriously? I have been trying different solutions on for size, such as patchy tape jobs and Skin Tac, but these pods are stubborn.

When I get to thinking too much (which happens often) I feel like the pods are self destructive, and just don't want a succesful working relationship with me and my d, like they just don't like me. Silly, I know. I've felt that way about my own body quite a bit over the years, that my body inside just doesn't like me. That's irrational, though. I've talked with some people, and many of them have had the same problems, and gave me some suggestions for sports sleeves for my arms and some special tape. One of these things should do the trick. My pods and I are still getting to know each other, though, and it might just take a while longer to adjust, I suppose. Hopefully, we will get along better soon.

'Tis the Season

I absolutely love the fall season. In Florida, this time of year is perfect weather, with it's still warm, loving sun blessed with cool breezes after a long hot summer. I love the colors of the leaves that I sweep into piles and jump and play in as they fall from the trees. I love being able to dress up in my jeans and cute brown and orange sweaters. It's a lovely season. The hardest part about this time of year is that fall seems to be my immune systems nemisis (that is, next to it's arch rival, the very body it exists inside of). It has been a hectic couple of weeks for my body, inside and out, my emotions and my d as I still work and learn how to be a succesful pump-user.

First off, this is the time of year I usually start getting sick. Every year, it seems that I catch some cold, flu or other virus that seems to stay with me all through the winter, in some form or other. This has been going on for many years, though I get a break every once in a while, and I've kind of gotten used to it. It still sucks when that time of year comes around, however. Two Fridays ago, I discovered that I had an abcess/ staff infection near to a "red zone" area that needed to be drained. If your not familiar with the red zone, just take a moment to imagine the place on your body it would suck the most to have an abcess...yeah, that one...mine was about four inches down on my leg from there. The lancing was awful, painful and disgusting. This is my third skin infection, the first being a large abcess on my hip after getting a tattoo, the second being on my ear after having the middle cartilage pierced, which concluded only after a piece of my right ear was removed. I still feel like Sloth from the Goonies sometimes. "Hey you guu-uuys...Baby Ruth..." I decided to give up on piercings after that. Not sure how this new one came about, really, but I'm also trying my best not to think about it. Needless to say, the weekend I had planned to spend with my new gf was kind of a bust. But that's ok. I had packing in for a few days, and was told to take it out myself at home in the shower. I took two loritabs before hand because I really hate pain. I got in the shower, and ran the water as hot as I could stand it. I was told to cough and pull out the packing. I didn't realize the packing stuffed in there was as long as my leg until I coughed, pulled, and there was still some inside of my leg. So it took a few more coughs for me to get it all out, and the prolonged forced coughing caused me to gag and regurgitate. Lovely, right? Anyways, double antibiotics and some steroid cream, and its already becoming just another diabetic scar.

However, a couple of days later, I found myself with the beginning of some kind of nasty sinus issue. I am prone to sinus infections, but I hope it hasn't gotten that far. Crazy congestion, ear aches, off-and-on again slight fever, chest-caving-in coughing and drainage...that kind of stuff. Every year! It's lame. But I'm staying hydrated, doing some breathing exercises, and trying not to think about it. I think it's getting better. Spent the weekend outside in fresh air at Jacksonville's River City Pride Festival playing roadie for my gf's band, and selling jewelry, which was awesome. I think fresh air definately helped.

Naturally, all of this yucky stuff has been affecting my bgs negatively. Running high, working to find a good sick day basal, overcorrecting, dangerous lows. Got the oppurtunity to show my gf and her roommates what a nasty low looks like, so embarassing! No matter how long I have to deal with this stuff, I still get so sick and kind of ashamed of having to tell people, "If this happens, I'm going to need help taking care of it." The behavior that comes along with a bad low is still so embarrasing: crying, making funny faces because my face and tongue go numb, shaking violently, sometimes acting defiant when people are trying to help me, while I'm in a drunk-like confused stupor. It's hard for someone like me to have to rely on people in the first place, for anything. I hate putting that kind of pressure on my family who have been with me since the beginning of this mess, so putting it on new friends feels like I'm being such a burden. In a new dating relationship it feels even worse. "I know we've only been dating a few months, but I just wanted to tell you, I might start crying, sticking my tongue out at you, then pass out at the weirdest, sometimes, most unprovoked moments and I expect you to learn and know how to inject a glucagon shot and save my life." I know that's extreme, but that's how it feels.

Oh, goodness, listen to me ramble! Quickly now, to the point. Despite being sick, I've been managing my sugars pretty well, checking a little more often. I'm getting tighter on my basal rate. Having trouble with pod placement still, clumsily knocking two off in the past two weeks. Discovered one pod that had a leak, thought I was experiencing illness-related highs until I gave a large bolus and smelled insulin. It all still feels very much worth it, though, so LIFE IS GOOD! I'll feel better as soon as I can get into those jeans and sweaters, and maybe even some boots. 'Tis the Season!

Stuck On You

I had the strangest sensation the other day. It was a pod change day, and I was trying to decide where to put it next. I went through the list of where I've had it before, weighing the pros and the cons of each. On the back of my arms I hit it often while driving, and walking close to walls and doors (I'm already a little clumsy), and on my stomach I always knock it around when I'm reaching for things in cabinets or doing dishes (which happens a lot, I'm only 4'11"). Because of my social calender this month (sort of on vacation from the hospital) certain placements would make it difficult to wear the clothes (tight) I would like to wear, like on my tummy (I look like I have a hernia) or my thighs. As I was going through my next pod placement, taking these things into consideration, like a static shock it hit me...
SERIOUSLY! These are my issues right now? How my pod placement affects my party wear? These are not the type of things I would have thought to worry about as a needle diabetic.
Of course, I still stress the bgs I haven't been able to get in range yet since starting Omnipod, but I'm not as stressed about it because I know it's coming as long as I keep working with my coach on it. I know this system works, where as I never had faith in trying to control it with the blanket sliding scale system I used with Novolog and flat rate Lantus injections. I can already see positive results reflected in all that Omnipod, and Insulet Corporation for that matter, has to offer.
Either way, I feel the need to point out, to myself more than anyone, that I know somewhat the nature of the d after nearly 15 years, and I know not to have the expectation of complete control. This stuff will always vary from day to day. I have days where stress alone raises my bgs. Things like where I choose to work out (outside or in), taking my nephew to daycare or keeping him home, a night spent emptying urinals and taking vitals versus a night of pre-op prep and turning patients at work or a day spent cleaning instead of a day of paying bills (or spent on the phone trying to avoid them, that is). Everything is a variable, and the numbers prove it. The only way to control this is to not let the swings (in moods and numbers) of one day affect the care and the hard work put into it the next day. To not let the confusion and discomfort caused by the d make you lose faith in all of the dedication put forth in order to achieve a long, happy, healthy and untormented life. Because that is what happens when you lose hope of a succesful diabetic lifestyle and let the d control you, you are tormented every day.

Good Morning Sunshine!

It's a BEAUTIFUL morning! Yes, bgs have begun to simmer down a bit, but the great p about it is that all of the fluctuations are, for the most part, explainable. Naturally, I still have to tweak my different rates and work with my pump coach on figuring out how to best do that. The lat week has been pretty exhausting because on top of the two hour checks, I've also been taking care of my sister who just had major ankle reconstruction and my 22-month old nephew who is, needless to say, quite a handful. So, in between feeding, handing out beverages, medicine, pillows and blankets, bath time, nap time and general support I am checking sugars, counting carbs and still learning my new tech; however, the stress is not overwhelming me(which is new to me) due to the great support I have from family and friends. People I would have never would have thought would have been interested in any of this are actually excited about it. It's a good feeling. I feel good about my pump. Better days are actively on their way, and I'm just enjoying the ride for today. I've been able to wake up every morning for the last week knowing that, barring an emergency, I do not have to take an injection, and I think to myself, "Good Morning Sunshine!"

I Love You, I Love You Not

This pump stuff is hard to get started! I was told to expect certain issues as we try to figure out what is right for me, like finding the correct basal rates. But for the last two days I've been running high, and it's just been getting higher. My pump coach told me that highs are natural because we're working with the rates, but I'm still very bummed about it. When my blood sugar hit 500 this evening, despite many correction boluses, MJ, my coach, told me to go ahead and change pods. And also to take an injection just to get some insulin on board. I don't think it was completely defective, I would have been a whole heck of a lot higher, but hopefully it was something to do with the pod or the site, maybe. As I deactivated my pod and peeled it off of the back of my arm something inside of me felt like I had failed. I've experienced this type of feeling before with highs and lows. When you try so hard at something, and it seems not to matter at all. It's extremely frustrating. I'm sure anyone can relate to the feeling.
Anyways, I'm checking every two hours for now, and it's coming down, slowly but surely. Many times in the past I would've shot up an absurd amount of insulin to make myself go lower as fast as possible. As you can imagine, that rarely ended well. Another advantage of being on a pump is that that's less likely to occur. I feel good about this new site, though. On my back this time. I just keep visualizing the time, not far from now, after we have all my rates and bgs under tighter control, when life will be so much sweeter.

How's It Gonna Be Now?

So, today was the day. My pod/ pump day. Its been weird. I woke up early to clean the house a bit since my pump trainer, MJ, was going to come to my mom's house to help me activate my first insulin pod. Bubbling with excitement, I tied my do rag on and cleaned half the house before my phone buzzed and MJ's name popped up on the screen. Instantly I was a little worried. MJ was sick with a stomach virus, didn't think she could make it to the house. She hated calling me to tell me this, she knew that I would be bummed. I told her it was ok, I was sorry she didn't feel well, get better. I tried to sound reassuring. Of course, after I hung up I threw my phone across the room and stomped off to pout. After a few minutes my mom came in asked what happened. Mom wondered out loud if MJ would let us program the basal rate and activate the pod ourselves, working with us over the phone. Because I was feeling pretty negative about the whole thing, I thought it was an awful idea. But she's the boss, and when she told me to ring MJ up again, I obeyed.
Mom took the phone and began chatting her up with that confident, assuaging tone of voice that I envy in her and try to emulate myself when dealing with a difficult situation. Let me first tell you that since mom is an extremely talented RN, and when we met MJ the two of them hit it off, bonding over the whole nursing deal. It didn't even take five minutes before mom said thank you, hung up the phone, and told me to get my stuff ready, MJ was gonna call back and talk me through it. MJ told me there was no way she would've allowed this if my mother wasn't an experienced, knowledgeable health care professional. Everything about my momma is awesome!
So I am now sporting an active insulin pod. It's so sudden, I now do not have to shoot insulin. Lunch was my first pod bolus. As I was entering my carbs I teared up a little. This is it, all I have to do to stay alive is check my bloodsugar, count my carbs and push a few buttons! I feel like I'm cheating, like I'm not doing enough, like any minute I'm going to get sick, go into DKA and have to rush to the ER. I still have some nervous energy I guess. It's harder then I thought to let go of the needle, something that's been conditioned into everything I've had to do over the last 14 years (and 6 months).
I can't stop cheesing. I'm so happy. So nervous. So unsure of what to do with myself now. I can't believe that I'm gonna wake up tomorrow morning and not have to take a shot. It's just so weird to me. How am I gonna handle it when a cure is discovered?

I had internet issues and this post was meant to be set up Saturday. Pictures to come as soon as I find my USB cord.

Bye Bye to the Trial Run, Here Comes the Real Thing

Today I took off my last trial run pod, and threw it away. I keep forgetting to take a picture of it. It was a little sad for me to not be able to put another one on. My mom tried to talk me into going ahead and filling one with insulin and starting without the go-ahead from MJ, my pump trainer. Remember, she's just as excited about this whole process as I am. It was so tempting! I decided to decline when she said, "what's the worst that could happen," which is one of my trigger phrases: when someone says this I know that there's a lot that could happen that I might not even be able to think of, and that this could easily turn out badly. So, I'll wait for MJ's next training session at my house on Saturday before I apply an insulin pod. These next few days are going to drag on filled with excrutiating excitement and buzzing anxiety. It feels kind of like leaving my parents home for the first time. I'm saying good-bye to needles that have taken care of me, kept me alive and with whom I've fought for many years, and I'm saying hello to the freedom of the Omnipod. A part of me is gonna miss these things on which I have depended for so long. They have been a reliable and consistent part of my life for over half of my life. I won't miss stabbing myself 4-6 times a day, but i will miss what they stood for and what they gave me: life. I'm very excited about the Omnipod, and I've wanted a pump for a long time; however, it's new to me, and that's always a little scary. My diabetes and my life will soon be dependent on a handheld wireless device and its signal to a small piece of plastic. I never imagined I would feel this way so close to my switch day, my pump day, but I do. Its not overwhelming, and there's nothing that could scare me from putting on the pod. I wish it was Saturday.

Pod # 2

Under the Boardwalk

Just got back from my fun-filled trip to Daytona, it was awesome! I spent plenty of time on the beach, my favorite place in the world, playing in the ocean and riding three wheeler bikes up and down the surf's edge. The entire time I had my new trusty pod attached with a little extra adhesive added, and even though I fretted about it obsessively, it held tight to my skin like it was a part of me. While I was there I got very comfortable with working my PDM, treating it as if it was already my little artificial pancreas. I also changed my first pod by myself, which also went very well. Again, I was a little nervous, but it went without a hitch. Good times. I did get a few stares on the beach, but nothing too distracting. I'm sure most people just haven't seen a pump like this, and it does look a little funny. It's nice that I had the chance to test it out at the beach and also that I got to test out my skills on the PDM before I quit the shots for good.
Saturday I make the big switch from needles to the insulin filled Omnipod Pump. I'm so excited! No more shots! No more shots! It's gonna be so wonderfully weird.

Rockin' this Pump

All that worry for nothing! Met my pump educator face to face today, and she was incredible! MJ, a highly qualified and experienced diabetes educator, told me that she was good at this (pump/ diabetes education) thing, and assured me that she would make me into an Omnipod success story. I told her that I thought I might just love working with her. MJ gave me credit for having my bloodsugars, coverage and food/ carb. logs prepared. I told her that was because I want this, and I would do whatever she deemed neccesary. We dived right into bloodsugar patterns throughout my typical day, carbohydrate counting, sensitivity ratio, pump terminology and a basic explanation of how the pump flows. It took two hours that felt like eight, and fell just short of completely overwhelming me with information. It always surprises me how even after almost 15 years of experience and practice, I can consistently learn such new and fascinating aspects of d if I just maintain an open mind throughout my adventures. So I refreshed on previous knowledge and learned many new things. I was getting tired and my attention was beginning to drift when...
M.J. told me to retrieve my brand new PDM. I turned it on for the first time and felt a rush. She helped me program my adjusted basal and bolus rates. Each button I pushed and setting I ran through got me closer to what I really wanted. Finally, she took out the dummy pod. I hung on every single movement and direction she gave me. I didn't just see and hear, though. I imbibed.
Then, I got my pod out. With a little awkward positioning and second guessing, I filled my pod with normal saline (insulin comes next week, this is my warm up week) and hit all of the corresponding buttons; then, the time had come to hook up. I applied my first pod on the back of my right arm, so it would be easy to show all of my family and friends. After sticking it on really good I waited for the click of the cannula insertion, and even though I expected it, I still jumped when it connected. But I cheesed like mac the whole time.
Since then my arm has gone a little numb from holding it up to show people and stare at it in the mirror. I feel like I'm not happy enough for this turning point. Its only normal saline for the next week, but the day is so close. The day without syringes. No more shots! I don't even know how I feel anymore, its surreal. What will it be like to wake up one day next week and not have to take shots anymore. Its like waking up and not having to open your eyes, just seeing. Maybe...I don't know if that fits. I feel like my whole identity it going to shift. Anyways, my first night was uneventful, even though I kept waking up to make sure it was still there. I'm going to Daytona this week to test howit works on the beach. Wish me luck because if it doesn't do well I might have to figur something out. I'm a beach nut. Thank you all, couldn't have done it without you.

Like the First Day of School...

Its near 3a.m on a Friday morning and I'm sitting on the bed staring at the Omnipod start-up kit in my table. Just sitting and anxiously waiting for my endo appointment/ training session with the pump trainer. I've done all of what's been asked of me: I check my bloodsugar at least four times a day, I've been keeping a carb counting food log, I've read my literature and did my pre-training homework. I'm still so nervous. I can barely believe I will finally be on the pump.Some girls grow up dreaming of weddings, cars, houses and children. I've dreamt of this.
I've got a major case of the "what ifs," though. What if I go in there and they say I'm still not ready, haven't put forth enough effort, haven't been a good diabetic? They have many reasons, I'm sure, to send me home without the ok to pump up.
As I sit here staring at a pod in it's wrapper, I imagine it attached to my skin. I picture myself walking into a party with it hidden on my back, instead of walking in with a bag full of supplies. I can see myself showing my friends, seeing their amazement, instead pulling out my bag of needles and insulin bottles in the middle of a conversation. I've never been so close that I can feel the pod on me already.
At the same time, my anxiety projects the emotions of failure in my body as it coldly courses through me. I feel the shame of walking out of the door and telling my mom its not happening today. I feel the depression that would occupy my life as I would close myself off from the hope that's been driving me towards this goal. It hasn't happened, and God willing it will not, but I already feel inconsolable for this imaginary me that was rejected and denied her dream.
I don't know why I'm so sick with nerves. I have done everything expected of me in order to obtain my pump, so I'm sure I will get what I deserve. This anxiety has just gotten me rattled, but I will remain positive. 11 more hours.

Soon I Will Be Able To...

1. Spend the night with a friend on a whim, without having to worry if I have enough syringes and my different insulins.

2. Have dinner out of the house without having to risk inquiring stares, offending a needle-phobe, or excusing myself from the table to go to the bathroom to stab myself each time that I need to.

3. Not having to worry about my nephew growing, me unaware, just enough to be able to reach my needles or insulin and play with them like they are toys.

4. Have the meals and snacks that I love, and, with the carb ratio stored into a memory bank along with many common foods, only have to do the math one time. From then on out it will be at the push of a button.

5. Not have to tell everyone in the world my business by pulling out a needle and a bottle of insulin in front of them. If it's one of those days on which I don't feel like sharing or being the unofficial diabetes educator that comes along with the territory (which happens every once in a while), I don't have to. I'll just hit my buttons on my little machine and go about my business.

These are just a few things that I realized in the course of my day yesterday. I went to a BBQ for a friend's birthday, and after being invited to stay the night instead of the 40 minute ride home, had to go and buy a pack of syringes to make it through the next day. I had to ask if anyone around me would be bothered by the sight of needles( I've had that experience), and after hearing a yes, excused myself to the restroom for my shot and each subsequent poke. My sister called and told me that I needed to find a new spot for my needles at her house because my 20 month old nephew could now reach them. He could have so easily hurt himself. The food at the party was delicious, but some of it I had no idea of the carbohydrates, so I tried to look most of it up by the ingredients, but would have no idea how to retain that information should I encounter it again at another party. It would be nice to not have to look things up every time I want to eat or run into a great meal that I have already looked up before. At every public/ social event, once my diabetes has become known for any reason, there is going to be at least one person with a couple of questions and/ or statements of ignorance. Most of the time I don't mind, and it feels like my responsibility to spread the truth to those who don't know or want to know more about this disease, but sometimes I really just don't feel like it!
My experience as a diabetic will soon change in ways I probably have not even imagined. Not to mention the real benefit: tighter control. Things such as the aforementioned would not have really depressed me, but they would have affected me on any other day. Yesterday, they made me smile because I knew this change was coming, and could not help but enjoy the moment.

Just When I Get Up, I Get So Down

Maybe its the mood disorder talking, but my joy over the pump that's already in the mail is beginning to recede. Because of the mothers of children with diabetes out there that I have been in contact with recently, I was hesitant about expressing these particular feelings; however, I am a writer, and I cannot help the flow. Maybe this will prove helpful to someone, instead of fretful. Many of the feelings of shame I felt growing up as a type 1 were accompanied by feelings of being a burden: a burden because of the attention I received over my sisters, a burden because of the lifestyle changes a whole family had to accept because of my issues and, more than ever since becoming a "legal" adult, the financial burden of being a diabetic.

I mentioned how my mother has been right beside me in pursuing my new positive, healthy lifestyle, and working towards my diabetes goals. The other day she paid out of pocket for an expensive piece of pump. I know that she will pay annually whatever the cost for the supplies needed to maintain the pump. I cannot afford to take care of my own disease. My mother says I've worked hard for these things, that she's happy to pay for a little ease and comfort for me (of which I am assured) and that she knows that soon I will be in a situation where I can afford to take care of myself. She is happy to do these things for me. Still, I don't want her or anyone to have to spend a dime on me. I am an adult, and it was my own life choices that put me in the situation where I cannot afford the things that I would like to have.

Its too late to tell her I don't want it, not that she would listen, the money's been paid. Can't go back now, especially because I don't want her to lose on the investment. On Monday she wants to order a Dexcom CGM (out of pocket)that the doc prescribed for me. I want it so bad I get emotional just thinking about what it would be like to have and to use. I don't think I could say no to it.

I try my best to stay positive, and lately have been able to succeed in that. Its odd that I get most down after hearing some of the best news. I am just so sick of feeling bad because of d.

APPROVED

Finally, I have found the approval I have been seeking. When I was a newly diagnosed diabetic, from 1996 until 2000, my endocronologists all told me that they were weary of presribing insulin pumps to children. In my teenage years I struggled with acceptance and rebelled as a diabetic, often becoming very ill and labled non-compliant. A pump was out of the question during this time. At 22 I began to try and get my chaotic life on track, starting with small things and working on myself one day at a time. Last April, after my 24th birthday, my mom decided to ask her endocronologist (whom she sees for her thyroid, she's not a diabetic) how I would go about getting a pump. For as long as I've had diabetes, though I only recently realized this, her dreams have been the same as mine when it comes to my disease. This is when we were introduced to the Omnipod Insulin Pump. This doctor gave us an information package, told me to check four times a day and scheduled an appointment for a few months later. I did what I was told, kept my appointment, did what I was told some more, and finally, a couple of days ago, I found out that this dream has come true. My mother put in the order for my start-up package and my first box of pods yesterday. I made an appointment with an Omnipod educator, so I can learn how to live my new life with a pump. By next week I will know how to hook up and medicate myself with the Omnipod. Before the end of the month I will no longer have to shoot myself up 5-6 times a day, I will be a pump user. I will be a pod person. Thank you, mom. Thank you to my sisters, for helping me, supporting me and cheering me on despite my insane moods. Thanks to my whole family, and all of my wonderful supporters. This might not seem like a big deal to many people, but this is the coming true of a dream I've had for longer than any other in my life.

What To Do, What To DO?

First of all, I wanted thank everyone, especially my new friends here, for the support and the communication. I wanted to use this post to answer what I feel is one of the most important questions anyone has ever asked me. Reyna, a parent of a 7 year-old diabetic son named Joe, asked me what can be done to help him grow up without measuring his self worth in terms of his diabetes. I marinated on this question all day, and even asked my mother how she felt about it. My mother has had more impact on me as a diabetic and as a person then anyone else in my life, so she seemed like a good authority to approach about this.
For one thing, the support I recieved from my family and friends was always felt, but not always appreciated. It's hard to seperate yourself from the "you don't know what I'm going through, so you don't understand" attitude. Especially during my teenage years, through which I rebelled in dramatic and dangerous ways as a diabetic, I would shout this at the people who cared about me most and tried to encourage me to take care of myself. But I always knew I had that support, and I know that is the main reason I made it alive through those tumultuous years. So, though I doubt you need to hear it from me, just always be there for him, even if it seems he doesn't want you to be.
Second of all, it is always significant for me to come in contact with someone who does "get it." When I started this endeaver, I felt like I was just writing a diary, not expecting anyone to read this. But after hearing that other people not only read, but actually identify, I immeadiately felt like this was what was gonna keep me positive and on track with my progress. Communication in sharing our experiences with each other is SOOOO important. We (all people) must have an outlet for all of the emotional stress that our different experiences and situations create in our lives in order to learn how to cope. I highly stress trying to develop a situation in which, as Joe grows up, he can learn to effectively share and communicate, as well as have a little fun, with other diabetics that understand the things that he goes through. It's amazing how much lighter you feel when, after a bad day of unexpected lows (or something like that), you can go out to eat with a buddy with diabetes and just say, "UGHHH!" And they get it. I have to say, my first real experience with this was the year after I was diagnosed when my mother dropped me off at a diabetes camp for kids. It was so wonderful. I had so much fun in a safe environment in which I was surrounded by other kids and counselors that all understood. That is something I would definately suggest for a young diabetic.
I hope this helped answer your question. I also want to say that, if you aren't already aware of this, there's a website called tudiabetes.org that has a special group for parents of diabetics. I believe that this group would definately be able to help you with the struggles you might encounter being the mother of a young diabetic.

Diabetic Shame

I am ashamed. The motivation I have been so high off of since April has slacked considerably over the last week or two. To be quite honest, I have had no desire to take care of myself lately. The "to be expected" answer I recieved from the doctor about the pump must have affected me more than I realized because I no longer feel excited about my future as a diabetic. I don't check regularly. I don't take my insulin as directed. I stopped counting carbs and reverted back to guessing and estimating. I feel like I've lost faith. I feel like I've lost. I know this couldn't be further from the truth, but still, that's how I feel. I hate how much I attribute my worth as a person to my behavior and status as a diabetic. Tomorrow is a new day. As long as I can focus on progress I can overcome these small setbacks and reversions to old habits. At least I haven't fallen so far from the diabetic I want to be that I can't come back quick, in one day even. One day at a time!

"To Be Expected" Still Sucks

Finally, the day has come and went where I was able to see what I will from now on refer to as the "pump doc." It many ways this visit could be considered a great success. I have gotten further in the last few months than I have in the last 15 years of wanting Insulin Pump Therapy. Here's how it went: Walk in at 11a.m. after being at work at the VA since 7p.m. the evening before. After 16 hrs awake, the doctor prances in and gives me a pop quiz on carb counting and my two week old sliding scale, what I now know is called my basal rate. Good to know. I got the answers correct, but apparently I did not "seem as comfortable" with it as he would've liked. We discussed the advantages and the challenges of the Omnipod, though I could've mentioned that I had been drooling over the information package and the website since I heard about it in April. Next, we discussed why I wanted to be on the pump, and I gave him my short list, respectfully, even though all I wanted to say was "Duh." I know its not going to solve all of my problems, but the majority of the advantages are kind of obvious. Then, he brought in a model pump, which is where I got really excited. Just seeing the tiny little pod, and the cell phone-like PDA and thinking about how that could be what I need to finally feel the freedom that I've been craving for so long. My heart certainly was a-pitter-pattering. Finally, the pump doc's decision. He will call the Omnipod Manager for the area, give her my name. I will then call her and work with her for however long it shall take until I am ready and comfortable with basal and bolus rates and all the other pump lingo that I am oblivious of. Until then, the doc will also work with me to gain tighter control of my A1C, which he commended me on, but still would like to see me at a 7 instead of a 9. Then I left with the phone number I needed to get the ball rolling.
So, you can see how this doctor's visit is a success. This is within my grasp now, I know I can do what it takes to achieve this goal. On the other hand, when I stepped out the door of the doc's office, all I felt was another rejection. I knew I wasn't going to walk in empty handed and walk out with a pod on my belly, ready to dump all my needles in the trash (or medical waste sharps box), but something inside of me made me feel like that's what should've happened. I think sometimes a person may know not to expect certain things from other people or from life in general, but people just can't help the expectation that builds up inside of them over so many years of deep and personal longing. In the end, I can snap out of this needless sense of loss because my support is still ever-present, and, as I said, the goal is still obtainable. I made the call today and left a message. I hope to hear from this woman soon, so I can start again on a task that will lead me to what I want. Gotta keep busy or I might forget that I can do this.

After too many years I have finally been to see an endocronologist. For the first time in nearly ten years, I have visited a doctor having tried my best to be a healthy diabetic. Good news, my A1C has gone from 13 to 9. To me that is significant, though many people may still gasp at the number. This upsets me. The doctor was pleased with my progress, my family is excited with me, but, unfortunately, it is other diabetics that judge me the most. It is a daily struggle for me to comply, though it does get easier; however, I do it because I have a goal, and even if I don't succeed in my goal, it doesn't matter because it helps me progress with my compliance. I'm so happy that I am finally getting a little better at this diabetes thing. It hurts me when I try to share this with other diabetics (particularly on tudiabetes.org), and I get cut down. So, I just want to get this off of my chest: just because you are a diabetic does not mean you know everything about it. People are different, therefore diabetics are different. Duh. I am guilty of this sometimes, but I am able to stop and remind myself that I am not one to judge. And I truly hate a diabetic with an A1C of 5, who says they are normal because of this, and that the only reason others are not is because they're not being compliant with all of the things that worked for the 5. If that makes sense. I am so brittle, I truly believe that I would achieve such a "normal" number only with a CGM (constant glucose monitoring system) and a pump. All of which an Omnipod can ensure. I share my experiences with other diabetics so that they can maybe relate to and learn from, not so that they can compare. It won't really help to compare. "You are different from me," I want to tell some people, "and what works for you may not work for you." I hate to say this, but especially type 2's. This seems like a very universal concept, applying to life in general and many aspects of it, so, as in many other cases, I don't understand how everybody doesn't get it.
Otherwise, I feel like I am on track with things, thanks for your support! Pump endocronologist on Monday, I am very nervous, wish me luck.

Normal's A Setting On the Washing Machine

Sometimes it still just really blows my mind how difficult it is to even try to be in control of my diabetes. Often I feel like I'm just not cut out for this, or I get hung up on the things I cannot have (or choose not to have for the sake of better control). I also get embarrassed (irrationally so) when I have to explain why I'm doing something or why I can't have something. I've been fortunate that the kind of people I typically surround myself with these days know a lot about diabetes, and I have not found it necessary to explain everything about that part of my life (but if I do, they usually have a base of knowledge). However, this week, when I went out and made some new friends (in a rare burst of feeling sociable), and my diabetes slipped its way into conversation, I once again felt like the odd little duck. I'm sure that lots of people (if not everybody) feel that way every once in a while, and its nothing to get a complex about, but I do get sick of being different, you know? As the day of the endocrinologist gets closer and closer (August already!), I can't help but think that the Omnipod could change so many things for me, from the physical (my control) to the mental aspect. This is my hope, though I'm not holding out for some profound sense of normalcy, "normal's just a setting on the washing machine," but all of the work and the lifestyle adjustments will result in a change for the better, of that I am sure. I wonder if, given some time, feeling diabetic will mean the same as it does to feel diabetic right now. Once again, time will tell, and I will let y'all know.

"Those Who Cannot Do Teach"

For as long as I can remember, since being diagnosed, my momma has suggested that I try to work becoming a diabetes educator into my future. It's almost like it's on her calendar, like once a year she randomly (because most conversations with momma will be random) brings it up, "you should be a diabetes educator, you would be great at that." I would always roll my eyes, and tell her that I was most likely the worst controlled, most non-compliant type one diabetic in the world. How could I behave so dreadful with this disease, and get a degree, dress up and go to an office everyday and tell other struggling diabetics about all of the things they're doing wrong, and how to fix it so that they are doing things right? I know that all people are merely human, and that no one person is perfect. It's okay for a doctor to smoke a pack a day and tell a patient that they should quit, or for a doc that looks like a 300 lbs. walking heart attack to tell a patient that they should lower their cholesterol and take up daily walks. Somebody has to inform the population how to live healthy, and it can't always be a poster-boy doctor or nurse. But I do think you cross a line when you're telling someone they should quit smoking through a hole in your throat with a pack of hand-rolled, non-filtered smokes peeking out of your shirt pocket. It's not right, I don't think. It's a joke, and the sad thing is I'm sure things like that have happened (but maybe not so dramatically).
Lately, I have been thinking, therefore talking, about my future quite a bit (like all the time). Seeing as how my momma is basically my best friend, naturally the whole diabetes educator future has popped up in conversation often. But suddenly this potential occupation I dismissed so easy in the past has become more and more a serious possibility. This path I am on, that I haven't quit even though I still feel doubtful sometimes, makes me feel like a success, and that I have the right to help people now. I get even more inspired about pursuing diabetes education when I talk to some of the vets at the VA, many of whom are newly diagnosed type 2's, still nervous and unsure about this challenging lifestyle in front of them. I love the idea that by just sharing my experiences with them they might feel better about being diabetic, more confident and willing to make the changes necessary to live with this disorder. I could really do this, and I might even be able to make a small difference in other diabetics' and their families' lives.

R.I.P. Little Lab Mice, Thank You for Your Sacrifice

So this is pretty big. Since I'm still researching, trying to understand it all, I can't fully explain what is happening or how it all works, but here is the source of my excitement: on April 4th a group of Swiss scientists, Pedro Herrara the senior author, published a paper in a journal called Nature that expressed their research concerning beta cells and alpha cells. Their study, to my understanding, consisted of destroying the beta cells in their lab mice (essentially making them artificial type one diabetics), and then observing them for a matter of time. After observing these mice, the scientists discovered that Alpha cells, which I never really even heard of because it was thought that they had no purpose concerning diabetes, could actually transform into Beta cells and take the place of those that were destroyed.
WHAT!? This is the stuff of science fiction, it is truly radical. I can't hardly believe it. What if this could work in humans? What if when people, diabetics, ran out of their supply of beta cells and their body just told the other guy to stand in, like "We're outta Beta already? Hey Alpha, do you mind taking over? Thanks!" I don't know, it sounds too good to be true, it sounds unreal, but this feels to me like the beginning of the solution.
Here are the issues for scientists to tackle next: for one, mice aren't human, and I guess that sometimes mice-related studies don't always translate well into human studies. O.K., I get that. Number two, there is a second component to being a type one diabetic, and this is the biggie: my body hates me. That's a little simple and self-piteous, but that's what it is. A type one's immune system attacks itself, or I should say, it is the immune system that actually destroys the beta cells; consequently, making it impossible for the pancreas to transform consumed glucose into insulin, and starving the body of it's necessary nutrients. This famine of all of the body's cells causes it to start feasting on fat, muscle and organs. As we all know, it is fatal. Without our insulin injections we will die in a matter of days. It is a disgusting and painful death, as I know, because I have attempted to kill myself, getting very, very close, several times. This is nothing new. Most of you have been there and seen it, smelled it. So the immune system is like my enemy as well as my friend in need. Scientists must find a way to make it cooperate, so that we can live a more fulfilling life.
What does this mean to me? This could be it. I held on to this life, changed nearly everything about my lifestyle in order to do so, and it was just in time. I would already be dead if I hadn't have changed when I did. I have no doubts. I would be dead. I never would have imagined something like this could be possible, but it just might be. This could be the day I remember as the day the miracle was revealed to me. A CURE! A cure I never even dream about anymore, not for a long, long time. My hopes are higher than a hippie at Woodstock. It may be a long time from now, but I am sure it will be in my lifetime. I just know it.
I would like to thank Victoria Summerfield Cavener, an old friend, who works on an American research team for diabetes and cell functions, who is a part of this discovery, and who thought of me enough to message me and explain it to me so I could grasp ahold of my basic understanding. She works with her father, a brilliant man, and I would like to thank him also. As well as, of course, Herrara and his Swiss team. And I could never forget all of the brave little mice who were harmed so that this wonderful discovery could be achieved. Thank you, little mice.
Read more about the study on this link http://health.msn.com/health-topics/diabetes/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100256592

Really? You Think So?

I'll start off by saying that, with the exception of one accident where I got my insulin bottles/ doses mixed up due to exhaustion and distraction, my blood sugars have been quite decent. I'm pleased with what I'm doing, everything I'm doing, and outlook appears good, as the eight ball says, or something like that.
A few nights ago at the VA, during an especially slow stretch of the night, I found myself hanging out with one of the nurses that I don't get to talk to often. She's one of the few there who's conversation I enjoy because she's intelligent, down to earth and can give and take a good joke. Like I said, there are not many that fit that description, anywhere, and they are probably the only people I say more than a few words to at the hospital. But once this girl starts going, it's ike she'll never stop. Usually an annoying trait, yet when it's an interesting person I could talk, or listen, for hours. So, diabetes popped up because I was showing her the OmnniPod website. I was surpried to hear this medical professional say that she thought that diabetes was the most difficult disease to have. More than surprised. When it comes to diabetes, statements like "It's not that bad," "It could be worse," and "Plenty of people live normal lives with diabetes" are more typical. Of course, it's all kind of true, I believe them myself, for the most part. This exceptional critical care nurse went on to explain, with several examples from professional experiences, that she feels this way because not many diseases affect your ENTIRE system, every little bit. We agreed that this thought is extremely overwhelming, paralyzing many into a self destructive stagnancy, and that the mental fray, like most stuggles in life, is the most fretful aspect of the disease. People that make those statements, about how it's not so bad, may not realize that, to me, it feels like they are inadvertantly trivializing the piece of me that weighs down my soul like a sack of rocks tied around my waist in the middle of the ocean. I drowned in my disease for years. It's still difficult to breathe some days.
Now that I am more confident in my ability to overcome and succeed, my perception and cognition must be clearer because I hear these kinds of comments more and more. Maybe, since coming to the VA, I just find myself surounded by a few more understanding people when it comes to this sort of thing. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The point is, I feel the way I feel sometimes, and all I can do about it is accept it and deal with it. But that it's possibe I'm not just obsessed with self pity and drama, that these feelings are justified, actually makes them significanly easier to get over. Just goes to show you how a little effort and understanding can really lighten the load. Every once in awhile, it can be life-saving.

Thank You for Serving

I missed the VA! Never have I felt so secure in my belonging then I do volunteering on the night shift at the VAMC. Since I don't find much opportunity to socialize in my regular life (still trying to figure out how it's done without going to a bar) some of the people I work with I have come to consider my favorite friends. Of course, momma has always been my best friend, so nothing new there. I loved how people actually missed me being there. How they listened with interest about my vacation. More than anything, my friends at the VA all displayed genuine interest in this journey I am taking towards procuring the OmniPod. As professional health care workers, RNs and NCTs, they all have an understanding about diabetes, and for the most part they can recognize certain challenges I face. I love when I am explaining my difficulty with regulation and someone just looks me in the eye and says, "that sucks." They get it. They care. And they're interested and excited about what I'm doing, about what I'm trying to make happen. I'm always a little surprised when people, especially people I consider to be successful, intelligent professionals, relate to me about certain things. When people like me. Maybe I do have a little self-esteem deficiency, and I didn't realize it. I finally feel apart of, and it doesn't concern substance abuse or psych. disorders. Imagine that.
I also enjoy being on the other side, helping people to get better when they are unwell instead of my laying in the hospital bed hooked to IV bags and having somebody else measure my urine output every time I go to the bathroom. Now I get to measure other people's output! I know, that's a little weird, but it's nice to know that because I've experienced being a patient so many times, it's easier for me to empathize and connect with some of these vets that I do my best to help feel better. And often I am happy to say I do make a difference. I have been told so by the mouths of the patients themselves. That I helped them, that they feel better. I am so happy and grateful that I get to experience the act of volunteering, being rewarded with gratitude and hope instead of a paycheck. Don't get me wrong, I would love to get paid, but I get to focus on something greater for the time being without having to worry about meals or shelter. Thanks, momma! More than anything, I greatly appreciate this new awareness of balance and seeking control with my diabetes because I get to share with other diabetic vets who struggle with the disease, of whom there are several. I know I always felt better about my diabetes after I could share with another person that really gets it, so I hope that I am providing that for others. I love it at the VA, and I know this is something I want to do for the rest of my life (and nurses seem to work for their WHOLE life).
As for my diabetes, my first couple of shifts I struggled with my night shift schedule, as predicted, but I believe I got the hang of it. It might take a little longer to get it right, but I have plenty of help and support at the VA. I'm not worried.

Don't Pee On Today

I walk around with quite a bit of anxiety to weigh me down. It is the middle of summer and my mind is months away. I can be enjoying a beautiful day, doing not much in particular besides cleaning the house, walking around the neighborhood and swimming in my mom's pool; then, it starts with one little worry and suddenly my chest hurts and my limbs feel so heavy. Today I was enjoying my day exactly as aforementioned and I realize that I have to email the Board of Nursing because my application to be a Certified Nursing Assistant hasn't been approved yet (I passed my test in February). As this is my immeadiate occupational goal, I am extremely stressed out about the Board denying me. I get depressed just thinking about it. Next, I worry about not having a job, not being able to get a job. No money.No car. No place of my own to live. No health insurance. Of course, I soon begin to freak out about my endocronologist appointment that my mom is paying for out of pocket. It's coming up soon (not soon enough), just a couple of months. What if I can't get approved by the doctor? My diabetes has been a train wreck in the past and my lack of compliance leaves no reason for any doctor to believe in me. What if I do get it, but I can't get a job, can't get health insurance and I can't cover the cost of supplies and upkeep? What if my mom has to pay for it all and I do someting to disapoint her? Like getting so depressed about not being able to take care of myself that I go out and get trashed, start doing dope again, attempt suicide and end up back in a psych. ward or a jail cell. Or worse, what if I attempt suicide and succeed, and my whole family suffers more than I ever have. Now, in the minutes I went from enjoying my day to thinking about what would happen if I killed myself, I can't take full breaths and I'm shaky, so I need to check my bloodsugar and take some anti-anxiety medication because I am seriously spazzing. Somebody once told me that if I have one foot on yesterday and one foot on tomorrow, I'm pissing on today. With that far-from-lovely image assosiated with dwelling on the past and dreading the future, these days I am able to cut myself off before I sabotage all of the wonderful adventures I am pursuing in my life. Just keep swimming, and all that. The Serenity Prayer helps, too. It's hard not to feel better after the Serenity Prayer.

To Live or Not to Die

Home sweet home, right? Yes, it is sweet to be back home with Momma and Kellan (and of course a swimming pool and a big bed). I do already miss the beach bum atmosphere, but the structure here more resembles real life (though not completely) with my VA volunteer work schedule and the pace with which I act when it comes to creating a better future. The path that I am on has a lot more bumps and roadblocks when I don't have the option of laying on the beach, listening to the ocean and forgetting to fret. With my momma by my side I am able to balance things much better: I take care of what needs taken care of (instead of blowing them off) without overloading and breaking down. This balance is difficult to find in life.
Balance is also extremely important for people with diabetes who are trying to manage. Since everything affects my bloodsugar, every challenge requires action in order to prevent complication. Also because everything affects my diabetes, I know to anticipate challenges nearly every single day. Challenges range from the expected, such as diet, exercise and illness, to other things that I don't recall anyone mentioning in a diabetes education class: my menstrual cycle, emotions, stress and even being in the sun for a prolonged period of time. Just like in life, it takes time to figure out what does and does not work for me and my diabetes. It's a very personal journey of discovery during which a person realizes how to develop a successful relationship with life. Even non compliant diabetics come to realize that balance is necessary, though there's a distinct difference between figuring out how to live and figuring out how not to die (too fast). When I struggled as a diabetic with drug and alcohol dependency I found myself constantly experimenting with which substances, which delivery methods and just how trashed I could get without killing myself in one night. I had a system, a ritual really, that I used to convince myself I was managing my diabetes while I imbibed hard liquor and consumed hard dope. Of course, that was only in the beginning because after awhile I didn't care about anything and would have been happy if I overdosed and died. My, my, how life does change.
Now that I know how difficult yet vital balance is for a bipolar diabetic's survival, I also know that all of these changes and actions I have begun to take every day will make for a rock to grasp hold of while life pelts me with boulders and pebbles. After a decade (if not two) of being considered as well as feeling unbalanced, all that has flipped a bit. I think that my diabetes may be the most important balance I must find in my life, and that the OmniPod will be the best method of success. I worry that I won't be able to get the OmniPod, and I won't want to find this balance any other way. I feel like there is no other way, that this is it. I guess I shouldn't get too far ahead of myself.

Strapped for Strips No More

My Strapped for Strips crisis has met with solution; finally, my mail order testing strips have arrived. True to my personal goal of avoiding self-destruction, as soon as I discovered the package in the mailbox I went inside and checked my bloodsugar. My limbs moved slow and were heavy on the way to the table where my machine had awaited for nearly a week. As usual, I was surprised by my response to the irrational fear I harbor of investing time and hope into changing my lifestyle in a manner in which success will never be a guarantee. These voices float around in my head, antagonizing and haunting, dark with doubt and desperation, my own dark side voicing it's opinion over my lack of worth. From what I've come to understand of most people I have grown to know, we all possess this arch nemisis, though some stronger than others. I did it, though. As I have been discovering a little bit every day since I embraced change and better goals, I am shocked with pride and acceptance at how positive life can become if you simply let it be.
Fortunately, my strips found their way into Elaina's mailbox one day shy of my departure from the beach. Tomorrow I part with the beauty of the bay and the gulf, before the devil's oil regurgitation ruins this content and peaceful place, and return to the security of Momma's house.
The security of Momma's house, my current home, scares me as well (what doesn't scare me?) by opposing some of the character advantages of a more independent lifestyle. Over the course of life, children consistently follow a cycle of leaving and then returning "home." Home being more than merely a physical place, but also a person (like momma) or even an idea. However, if you haven't noticed, it seems that kids (like me) returning home physically happens more than ever. At least in my circles that's true. One of the (very few) downsides that runs concurrent with the security I feel at momma's house is that the risk is very low. If I don't risk it, I can't win it. Baby steps, though. Personal risk is the greatest risk of all, and if one has the conviction to do so, then they can risk such things no matter where they are. I am severely committed to this, by the way.

Still Swimming, but Slowly Slipping

So, I'm here swimming in this choppy, polluted ocean of chaos as I am still in my Strapped for Strips crisis. They should be in the mail on their way here now, maybe tomorrow. Only two things really actively stress me in times like this: when as soon as I'm finally in a motivated routine of checking my bloodsugar, I secretly sabatoge myself into "thoughtlessly" letting some supply error slip. I slip. And I trip. Of course, I'm always forgetting stuff, all kinds of stuff, not just diabetes stuff.
First, I worry about my number. I think I feel low, but I could just be decreasing from a high to not-so-high. I don't want to overcompensate and gorge my face with fructose, glucose, protein and carbohydrates. I panic when I'm low and don't know the number, so I take a little bit of everything. I worry about wether or not I can cover my meals correctly if I don't know at which point to base my sliding scale. Why try and fix it if I don't know the damage? After all, one can only begin to handle a situation if and when they can acknowledge how it affects them. Hell, if that's the truth, nobody is safe, we're all hopeless. That can't be right.
I only fret over this briefly before my extraordinary power of negativity flexes, and the big picture issue invades. Can I do this again? Can I really start all over again after stopping so abruptly? It's easy to deal with the stress of my numbers when I've been ignoring that particular problems for about a decade. This type of freedom drips with sweet sorrow; suprisingly, it is easier to forget how to stay alive than one might think. I struggle with the two polar ends of my personality just about every day in a long-waged fray of self ( did I mention I was bipolar?). Doubt, hopelessness, shame...these are all symptoms of this war, but I believe that all diabetics, if not all people, suffer these sorrows. This is life, what connects us.
Never have I been in such a positive state in my whole life, though. As soon as I have those strips in hand I will check my suga, suga. Then, I will follow up by responding accordingly with my sliding scale. It will be a smooth slide back into pace with the schedule I expect of myslef. No problem. I got this.
The final thread of worry weaves it's way into my consciousness on the backs of those lesser worries: How will this affect my ultimate goal of getting a doc to sign off on my ultimate goal of achieving the OmniPod insulin delivery system?

Just Keep Swimming

There has been a confirmed crisis here at Camp Easy, where my days by the sea have been lovely and fret free. It is now Day Three of my personal Strapped for Strips disaster. I have been unable to check my bloodsugar levels since Friday night because my lack of time management left me stripless; consequently, I was forced into action in order to overcome this obstacle before I fell victim to panic and negativity. In these times of anxiety and self-doubt, I find myself quietly urged on by a popular blissfully forgetful blue fish named Dorie in a story about a lost little clown fish called Finding Nemo. Dorie's popular lyrical phrase, "Just keep swimming," has stuck with me and motivated me more than any other I have heard.
So for the last three days I have tried to cover myself to the best of my ability based mainly on the way I feel. This is the method of management I have been using for the last ten years, but these days I am more concerned thorughout the day about my bloodsugar than I ever used to be. I used to just shoot up some units and then I would try my best to forget about my disorder. That's how I would try to manage nearly all of my life. Talk about disorder. Though I may be worried, my status is still quite positive. Today I will update my log book, formulate a new schedule for when I switch to working nights at the VA (coming up soon), and just keep doing what feels like the next right thing, with my diabetes, and as always, with my life in general. Sometimes it's easy to forget what this disease really affects: everything. It's a lifestyle disease, I believe that it affects every single aspect of my life, and that if I can just accept it, just keep swimming, then I can really live with it.
The good news is, I know that when I get my strips I can pick up and check without a problem. My strips are in the mail and I should get them today or tomorrow, most likely. It should be all good.

Pump It

Last Sunday I had a really cool time with my sister and some friends, and I was surprised and kind of excited to be seated right across from another type 1 diabetic at dinner. Something like that doesn't happen every day, as you might be aware. It's nice to have positive exchanges and experiences on which to reflect. After a decent afternoon wading on the sandbar with Elaina and Matt in Panama City Beach, we all went with some friends to see a reggae band (that I loved) called Heritage. I only knew a few of the people in attendance of our party, but I love meeting people and havig new conversations with people. Needless to say, I'm pretty good at it. So when I discovered this guy had a pump I started asking all kinds of questions about it, about how it makes daily living and control more convenient. I believe his pump was a NovoPump or something like that. It had the regular old hook up, with the wire. Then, suddenly I couldn't stop promoting the OmniPod to him. He was older and had been diabetic for about 20 years, but he had never heard of OmniPod. I explained as much about it as I could, gave him the website, but I neglected to tell him about my blog. My first real attempt to network in a place and situation where I was meeting new people, and I didn't get as much as the name of my blog out of my mouth. Oh well, I achieved one of my goals which is spreading the good word. A regular life goal for me at all times concerning all things (but not all subjects in all social situations, mind you). Maybe I get a little insecure. It was nice to mingle with people and see a new potential audience (if I can get over myself), and meet another type one with whom to discuss our differences and similarities concerning all that has affected us. The night was chill and happy, I felt good, and the band could "be heard on the other side of this town." My blood sugars have been behaving themselves (it's a miracle!) and I think my ringworm is even getting better.

Early Bird Gets the Worm

I have a common skin infection known as ringworm. On your foot ringwirm is known as Athlete's Foot, on a dude's groin it is called Jock Itch. I've got Athlete's Foot on my hip and Jock Itch on my side-boob. Dangit. It is more than usual afflicted on children and babies, which is where it started, with Kellan, my lovely nephew. He had scalp ringworm that went away with oral meds, gave it to my sister, Victoria, who's went away with tanactin, and then she gave it to me. Mine has broken out and spread all down my right side. I feel like a leper. I believe it is affecting my bloodsugar negatively, causing them to elevate. As you might know any kind of infection or ailment can sabotage your diabetes. I'm not positive because I don't have a primary care physician to check this out with me. My dad does have an HMO in Colorado that I'm covered under, which is the only way that I get supplies, but all I can do from Florida is email my doctor or go to an emergency room. The first option will most likely prove to be unhelpful without a physical check-up, though I will do it anyways, and the second option seems a little extreme, don't you think? Oh well, I'll just continue to be extra hygenic and rub on some tanactin twice a day. I'll also continue to act accordingly if this little pest of a condition is affecting my diabetes any. All we can do, right? When the punches keep on coming? Roll with 'em.

Number Nuts

Many times a day I am reminded about why it is I hate doing these things soooo much. In some parts of the day it is easy to forget, usually when talking to someone who doesn't get it, can't really empathize. They'll say something along the lines of "it's not so bad" or "at least it's not cancer." Stuff like that. And I totally agree, it's not so bad, thank frickin God it's not cancer. For sure. But then I have these moments when I feel completely powerless over this disease, or disorder, and it's like, Yeah, It is that bad. It makes me not wanna live sometimes. I checked a couple of days ago and for a reason I still haven't figured out it was over 500. When I tell someone, like my sisters, they're like, wow, that sucks. But what I am feeling is overwhelming self loathing. I hate my body, inside, deep down into my cells. I woke up early this morning drenched in sweat and my bloodsugar was 28. I had smores last night with Elaina and Matt, and I guess I covered too much. It wasn't an insane amount, but I guess it was to my system. 28! That's death to mny diabetics. My mom said she's seen diabetics go into a coma in the forties. So I want some smores, so I cover what I think is appropriate, eat some smores, and go to bed. What if that low killed me? What if I ate some smores, went to bed happy and full of gooey chocolate marshmallows and never woke up again? Because I wanted smores! It's frustrating and infuriating, but I have to get over it or I most definitely won't be able to continue with the (relative) success I'm having so far. I can't improve myself if I hate myself, you know?

Just Get It Already

It's a lonely feeling when the people you want to get "it" the most just don't get it. They might not feel the need to explore how others feel or they are just ignorant, I don't know. Maybe they are incapable. What I'm doing feels so unimportant when my dad's eyes glaze over as he ignores these changes I'm so excited to share with him, make him apart. I am, too. I can barely contain myself when I look back at my numbers and see that I am finally taking the actions I've been dreading and avoiding. This is the most important metamorphasis in my life (as of yet). I mean, this could be the difference between life and death one day, if not everyday. My dad not exhibiting some sort of excitement about this momentous event to me feels like he doesn't give a poo if I choose living with diabetes as opposed to living the way I was before, which would essentially be the same as offing myself. I know I'm a tres sensitive silly person, that I am a little dramatic; basically, my heart breaks like a windshield spiderwebs with the tiniest tink from a flying pebble. So be it, I've almost become used to it. My whole family loves me, I know this, I'm grateful. I won't let someone else's lack of enthusiasm curb my own. Besides, I have so much support from others for which to attribute nothing but gratitude. For instance, the small but great following of three I have for this blog. Thanks. I know dad cares about me, loves me. Is it so bad, though, to want more people to appreciate this? Maybe other people just pale in comparison to the overwhelming support of others. That's probably it. It all comes down to expectations.

A Good Sunday's Pace

Some days are just set at such a perfect pace that I don't want to interupt the flow by fighting against all the things that I don't want to do but I know I must. Just like all of the more important things in life. For the last few days I've been waking at the pace of a busy bee, today was no exception. However today was more about focusing on the stuff I wanted to accomplish for myself instead of trying to earn some cash or handle obligations. So, while I was busy painting my sister's new patio table (which looks great) and enjoying my mani/pedi, checking my bloodsugar wasn't at the forefront of my thoughts. I didn't forget, I checked as I should have, but I didn't worry about it, or get upset about it or even think about it outside of when was absolutely necessary. I just did it, shot up, and went about my easy Sunday. It was nice, but my numbers more reflected neglected control. That could also be due to a lack of control of my diet today. I ate well today. All You Can Eat sushi and popcorn and candy to munch on during the movie we rented. Yeah, it was a good day. I'll make it up to myself later.

Some Time

I know for a fact that anyone who is trying to change anything about themselves would just love to see results immeadiately, but they never feel like their lives are changing enough. At one point in time I kept a journal for a therapist who liked to read the way I expressed myself on paper. I wrote an entry once that compared the way I lived with diabetes to the way a desolate, depressed drug addict might live. She was impressed, and I think she said something like, "I get it now." Ironically I had the misfortune of shortly later experiencing living as an addict. Guess what? I was right. I was doing the same thing essentially with both. I was poisoning my body, killing myself. I was sick.
The cool thing about what I am trying to do now, is that I have experience with this whole changing my life, changing my future deal. I know to limit my expectations, to keep it simple, take one day (or drop) at a time, I know that it takes Time. I dread the word, Time, but if that's what it takes, you have to be willing to give it. With this knowledge, I'm prepared for the bumps ahead and the frustration that ensues. It still gets to me sometimes though, my lack of desired results these last couple of days. But I'm determined. I'll give it some Time.

When Did I Become a Morning Person?

My only problem right now, with my bloodsugar, is my "bedtime" check. I consider myself a morning person, so for the most part I am able to roll out of bed and attack the day. I might not eat after that for a couple of hours, but I check it and get it out of the way. I'll take my insulin when I am ready. Luch is easy because I'm ready to check shortly after I eat breakfast. I'm all about getting some numbers on the board, you know. My schedule is not regular enough (especially having no job) to do everything in it's proper time slot, I do what I can until I can do what I want. Dinner is where I go wrong I think. My goal is to check with sun set. I typically eat not much later than that, so it's a good goal. But I forget some, and lately I've been eating super late. So I'm not checking until like 10 at night. I'm not staying up much past midnight any night.
You see the times don't really match up. And I get so tired the thought barely registers before I deadfall into bed. I'm sick of it by the end of the day. I'm not interested at the moment, you know? I need to stop thinking about it and make it just as regular as all the other stuff. Unlike in the morning, when I wake up knowing I'm gonna roll over and check, at night I've had all day of doing stuff, and I can't imagine adding anything to that list, like "it's ten at night, I'm dead tired, but I need to get up in a few and check my bloodsugar." Yippee Skippee! That's what needs to be done, though, so that's today's goal I guess. I can't wait til the confusion I'll experience switching back to my night shift schedule. I better get this stuff in the bag before I go back to that chaos.