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.