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.