The Lowest Low

I like to think that I have already had my lowest low. The low so low that you never want to be low again. That's how low your lowest low is. In case you didn't catch it....it's pretty low.

When I was diagnosed, my first night in the hospital, I experienced my very first  hypoglycemic episode. My head was spinning. My brain slowed down. My body didn't cooperate. Nearly passing out, my entire body tingled. I did a very dangerous thing that night.

I waited.

Not knowing what was going on or what to do, the whole concept of hypoglycemia as a life-threatening event being completely new to me, I waited. The nurses were doing regular checks each hour and I figured that she would come eventually. Rookie mistake. 

I have quickly learned that hypoglycemia is not something that you wait to treat. The longer you wait, the shittier you feel and more dangerous it becomes. I think this is in part to the "slow down," where my brain slows to the point where stringing together a coherent sentence becomes increasingly difficult as though I am a recovering stroke victim. My only diabetic friend says that she knows she's in trouble when she finds herself staring at the same box of cereal for an uncertain amount of time.

Occasionally, I read blogs written by other diabetics. Some of these bloggers talk about lows so low that other people might need to intervene to help them treat their hypoglycemia. Posts like that make me nervous.  I felt pretty cocky content that I haven't needed help to treat a low. That was until I realized that I was lying to myself.

This realization happened the other night. Jerry and I had been out drinking, which is always tricky at the end of the night since alcohol may initially cause a high blood sugar but drop my levels later on. I'm not sure which happened first, Jerry getting out of bed to use the bathroom or my waking up sweaty and shaking.

When Jerry got back from the bathroom, I asked him to get my tester from the living room. Through bleary, sleepy eyes, I held my shaking finger to the test strip. Before I had even heard the familiar beep of my meter announcing my low, Jerry was standing there with an apple sauce packet in his hands.

Could I have gotten up and retrieved my tester myself? Yes. Did it help that he was there? Certainly.

It definitely doesn't reach the level of not being able to get out of bed and needing someone there to guide my arm to my mouth, but it counts as an intervention, as help.

Hi, I'm Bonnie and I'm a Diabetic.....

On the first day of yoga teacher training, we were paired off as an icebreaker to get to know one another. The person you were paired with was the one was going to introduce you to the rest of the group and then vice versa. Because of the odd number of students, we had three in our group. 

As we went around asking each other where we were from and what we did as our day jobs, I wondered if I should share that I am type 1 diabetic. Do I introduce myself as though I'm at an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting? Hi, I'm Bonnie and I'm a diabetic? Would a purpose be served in sharing this information? 

I am really of two minds about it. One mind feels like this is private information that a room full of strangers don't necessarily need to know. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed. Hell, I don't even mind questions, but no one else seems to announce any of their preexisting health conditions. Right? 

The other mind says that it could be useful information in this setting. It's a safety issue, really. Any person involved in the teaching and training of others in a physical way should be aware of these health conditions, what issues might come up in class, and why it's good to know. I will be telling all the instructors so they know why I walk away from my mat in the middle of a Sun Salutation to eat applesauce. Another reason to share is that I like being an advocate for diabetes awareness, especially type 1, since so few seem to have accurate information about it. 

As time ticked down on our ice-breaker in class, the decision needed to be made on whether or not to share. I decided against it. I figured it would all come out in time. After all, I wear my pump during class, keep honey packets by my mat, and frequently check my blood sugar. Some smartypants will put it together.   At some point, when I actually know all these people's names, it will be a no-brainer. 

Until then....hi, I'm Bonnie and I like yoga. 

Doctors, Diabetes, and Diagnosis

On my third day back to work, I came down with the longest lasting stomach flu ever. EVER.

The first day of this flu was pretty terrible. I had a fever, full body aches and chills all the while crapping my brains out for what seemed like every hour on the hour. The second day, I felt better, but couldn't be more then 25 feet from the bathroom. By the third day, I should have swallowed my stubbornness and gone to the doctor. But I didn't.

Which is why I found myself at the Urgent Care Clinic on Saturday morning, complete with headache, chills, and body aches. Oh, and that whole bathroom thing.

I recited all my symptoms to the Nursing Assistant and then included, "Oh, and I'm a type 1 diabetic." Little reaction.

The doctor comes in for a repeat of all symptoms, to which he suggested that I start drinking Pedialyte. Assuming he had read the chart, I pointed out that I was a type 1 diabetic, thinking that they're had to be something better then Pedialyte for me to drink.

"How long have you been a diabetic? Since birth?"
"No, I was diagnosed two years ago."
He grimaces and I think, "Oh lord, here it comes."
"What made them arrive at the conclusion that you were type 1?"
"Ummm, the whole needing insulin to live thing probably pointed them in the right direction. Having this insulin beeper strapped to my side doesn't hurt either!" is what I should have said.
What I actually said is "I wear an insulin pump," a little dumbfounded that this doctor who knows absolutely nothing of my medical history is questioning my diagnosis.
"But type 1 occurs in childhood."
"And apparently when you're 28."

One of the most annoying things in dealing with medical professionals is this constant battle over what doctors think they know about diabetes. How rigid (and out of date) their knowledge is about it. Under the age of 18, must be type 1. Over the age 18, must be type 2. What's worse is this arrogance that somehow they're going to diagnosis me better then my endocrinologist who specializes in type 1, two years of blood work, blood sugar testing, insulin pumps, and a1c results.

Yes, you doctor, who I have only seen for two minutes are correct in assuming that all other medical professionals I have seen in the last two years are wrong. You must be right that I'm too old to have type 1 diabetes and I should just diet and exercise. Now that that whole diabetes thing is settled, can we talk about this shitting my brains out and pesky fever now?

Asshole.

Enough to Make You Cry

My endocrinologist called me yesterday asking if we could move up my June appointment to this Friday! Even though it was mildly inconvenient, I have a little bit of a high school girl crush on my endo and, obviously, agreed to change the appointment. As well as offer to have his non-diabetic love child. This change in appointment meant getting my A1c completed earlier the expected...which means blood work. Ugh!

There are many things I have adjusted to since becoming a diabetic. Blood sugar testing, injecting myself, carrying an insulin beeper, stealing packets of honey from every Starbucks in the tri-state area. All of those fun things. Yet there are two things that I'm not sure I will ever get use to.

One is that awful, shaky, mind-numbing experience of hypoglycemia. Two is getting my blood drawn.

Before diabetes, getting my blood drawn was no thang! I'd roll up my sleeve, puncture a vein and be on my merry way. No problems! It was also probably something I did every other year. 

With diabetes, I have my blood drawn every 3 - 4 months. Every time I go, I can't help but get a little teary eyed. Whether because it's an uncommon reminder that I'm diabetic or because most phlebotomists suck and stab me several times before successfully getting blood or I'm traumatized from my experience in the hospital, getting my blood drawn is my least favorite part of being diabetic.

Except today. Today was different, my friends.

Maybe it was the last minute nature of the experience. Or because Rolondo is my new best friend and got my vein on the first try.  But this was the first time in my year and half of being diabetic that I didn't cry after getting my blood drawn.

What's up now, Diabetes? Take that!

Pain in My....

...knee.
When one goes away for a weekend of beer drinking and overeating, it can only be assumed that a 3 mile run is part of the weekend plan. Oh wait! That's only if you're fucking crazy, like me.

For the last two years, a part of my TAP Fest ritual (in addition to wearing a beer box on my head) is to do a quick run the morning of the festival. It helps me feel better about the gluttony that will occur later on in the day. Except, the only thing is, I hate running!

Okay, okay, maybe hate is a strong word.

In fact, I really, really want to be a runner. I want to be one of those people who run marathons well into their 70's. It's one of those things that I feel like all the cool kids are doing and I'm just sitting on the sidelines. My interest in being a marathon runner only increased when I was diagnosed with diabetes. I wasn't going let some stupid chronic illness hold me back from doing something I had never, ever actually planned on doing before! Yeah, that's right, Diabetes! I'm going to spitefully complete a marathon because of YOU!

Except for the tiny, insignificant detail that I'm just not meant to be a runner. As much as I try. As much as I want it to happen, every time I start a running program, my hips, ankles, knees, and toes (knees and toes....sorry, couldn't help it) start to feel sore. And not in a good "Wow, I'm really working out!" way. They feel sore in a way that makes me feel like long-distance running is not what's best for my body.

This weekend, I started off my run, expecting it to feel awful since it had been a while since my last outdoor run. The first mile actually went pretty well. A 10-minute mile, which for some is a warm-up, but feel me and my short, little legs is pretty good. As I finished the second mile, my knee started to feel a little sore. I figured I'd just run through it. Because that's what makes the most sense when you're in pain, right?  Not to stop and take it easy? No, no, no, but to push through the pain so you can limp back the last half mile and have knee pain for the next week and a half.

Yes, brilliant idea.

Asshole.

Hey, Are You?

Every week, we order pizza at work for our social skills group. It's usually the same delivery guys from week to week. People whose faces grow familiar to us as time passes, but who we know little about. 


But, last tonight...something different.

Delivery guy points to me and asks, "Hey, are you?"
Confused, I question "Am I?"
He reaches into his pocket and takes out his pump. He asks again, "Are you?"
Big smile across my face, "Yes, I am." 
"I would notice the tubing any where."
"How long for you?"
"Long time. Since I was 8."
"Really. It's just been a year and half for me."
"Really?! A year and half since onset?"
"Yup. How long you on the pump?"
"12 years. It's awesome!"
"Definitely. Best decision I've made. Thank you for asking me. I'm always on the look out for others. It's so funny."
"Yeah, me too. I'm always listening to see if beeps in the room are someone else's alerts. Have a good night."
"Yeah, you too."


Having met him several times before, always thinking he was a pleasant guy, tonight, for some reason, I liked him so much more.

Others do exist. Who would have thought?

Out of the Box

As part of my detox, I've been spending some time with my old friend, the Smoothie!

I use to be a frequent smoothie-maker. Until diabetes, that is!

I eventually cut myself off from them. It wasn't one of those "I have no self-control, so I'm going to take this jar out of the garbage and eat it" cut-offs. It was more of a "I'm a diabetic now and figuring out insulin for a smoothies seems too hard" kind of cut-offs.

My smoothie making ability was further impacted when I decided that I was only going to eat local and organic foods, which, unfortunately limits the amount of fruit you can put into a smoothie. When was the last time you saw a banana tree growing in the North East? I usually use bananas as a creamy base for my smoothies, but while on a trip to Coast Rica, I actually "toured" a banana plantation. I use the word "toured" loosely because really all we did was watch hard-working citizens of this third world country in the Dole Banana Factory while crazy gringos snapped souvenir pictures to bring home!

When I combine that image with the thought of how those bananas make it to our shelves here in the US, you can understand my hesitation of consumption.

However, this recent detox inspired me to think outside the box when it comes to my smoothies. Here's an array of "outside of the box" smoothie recipes that are surprisingly delicious! No. Really.

Sweet Tater Smoothie

Ingredients
1/2 c sweet mashed potatoes
1/2-1c milk (I used almond milk)
1 package vanilla protein powder
handful of ice
1/2-1t cinnamon
1t fresh grated ginger
1t vanilla
few shakes of nutmeg

Method
1. Throw it all in a blender and let it go! Add more liquid, until desired consistency is met.

Carrot Cake Smoothie - Seriously good

Ingredients
2 carrots, steamed
1/2 apple, roughly chopped
1/2 - 1 c. milk (I used almond)
1 1/2 tsp freshly grated ginger (or to taste)
1/2 t. vanilla
1/2 cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom (or to taste)
1 scoop vanilla protein powder (optional)
1/4 c. old-fashioned oats (optional)
sweetner to taste (though you don't really need it)

Method
1. Throw it all in a blender and let it go! Add more liquid, until desired consistency is met.

Beet-Carrot-Fruit Smoothie - Doesn't it look pretty?

Ingredients
1 small beet, steamed
2 carrots, steamed
1/2 apple, roughly chopped
1/2 pear, roughly chopped
1 - 2 cups water
1 tbsp lemon juice
2 tsp freshly grated ginger (or to taste)

Method
1. Throw it all in a blender and let it go! Add more liquid, until desired consistency is met.

Moldy Cake Batter Smoothie - Moldy, not because of taste, but because of looks! Live a little! Try it!
Ingredients
1 handful spinach leaves- I swear you can't taste it!

1/2 - 1 c. milk (I used almond)

1 scoop vanilla protein powder

1/4 c. old-fashioned oats

1 t. sunflower seed butter

1/4 c. organic cottage cheese

1/2 t. vanilla

8-9 ice cubes

sweetner to taste

Method
1. Throw it all in a blender and let it go! Add more liquid, until desired consistency is met.

Maybe Not Soul Mates?

I found my soul mate (or so I thought). He was perfect for me. He's a chef, a granola-munching hippie, and a type 1 diabetic. And it doesn't hurt that I wouldn't kick him out of bed either. Soul mates! We have so much in common. Even though we never actually met. A person can just tell these things!

That is....until I read his cookbook.

Of course, I'm talking about Sam Talbot, former Top Chef contestant, who recently published The Sweet Life: Diabetes Without Boundaries. This book combines anecdotes about living as a type 1 diabetic with interesting, delicious-looking recipes that even non-diabetics would want to eat. It challenges the idea that diabetics need to live a life of rigid diet restrictions, overly structured mealtimes, and no fun...hence "The Sweet Life." I know. The cheesy title already has you questioning it, doesn't it?

While I completely agree with the content (and who am I to challenge a professional chef on his recipes), there were some parts of the book that I thought were...well, sorry soul mate...a little obnoxious. Like the story Sam included about the time he dropped his insulin vile on the floor of a puddle-jumper airplane during his travels. Eek! Feeling his anxiety and stress levels rising, he checked his blood sugar. He writes that he was at a 120, little high for him! What?! 120? A little high?! 120 is my daily goal!

Throughout the book, there were a number of other habits he discussed that caused me to snicker, roll my eyes, and suck my teeth. Like that he only eats 15 to 30g of carbs per meal. Like when he drinks, he always follows that drink with a glass of water and a blood sugar test. Whatever, dude. I can pick up any diabetes book that tells me about the way endocrinologists think I should live my life. But, that doesn't help me in the real world, you know, where the rest of us diabetics live.

After some reflection, I realized that my judgemental snarking was more defensiveness. Sam has some pretty high standards and a fairly rigid regime. I, definitely, do not. It makes me feel like a bad diabetic.

But, then I realized, "Of course my standards aren't as high!" Nor should they be. Sam has been a diabetic for over 15 years. I've been a diabetic for a year and half. He's had a lot more experience learning about his diabetes, of what works and what doesn't, and how his body will respond in certain situations and to certain foods. I haven't had those experiences yet. Even though I have good understanding of this disease, I'm still a newbie at this whole chronic illness thing. I have a lot to learn.

I forget this tidbit of information on a fairly regular basis.

So, I'm sorry I was so hard on you, Sam. You seem like a great guy.

I still don't see us working out. It's really not you. It's me.

But the whole "not kicking you out of bed" thing still stands. :)

Childhood Memories

Cynthia Martieri was my best friend in the 3rd grade. She was a very sweet girl who always had the best lunches. Her mother was from Italy and would send Cynthia to school with thermos of warm soups, couscous in broth, and kick-ass snacks! Plus, Cynthia had an "in" with the teachers as she went to the teachers' lounge WHENEVER she wanted to! She also had special containers of orange juice in their fridge. The perks of being her friend were awesome!

Had I realized then the reason for her special teachers' lounge privileges, I probably wouldn't have peer pressured her into sharing her lunch and orange juice with me quite so often. I am a fat kid, after all. Cynthia was a type 1 diabetic. But one of those normal ones, whose pancreas never really worked to begin with. Unlike mine, who decided to claim work-related disability and retire earlier. Lazy fucker. 


I can remember going to the teachers' lounge with her before lunch so that she could take her blood sugar. She was squeeze a huge glob of blood out onto a strip and wait 2 minutes before a color (much like an acidity test) would appear. She would then compare the color of the strip to the color code on the bottle to find out what range her blood sugar was in. I don't remember her taking any insulin shots. Funny how one blocks out things out. 

I can also remember one morning after a sleep over, Cynthia testing her blood sugar. Her mother was disappointed and said in her broken English, "Too many sweets last night." We had attended a neighborhood birthday party the night before where Cynthia and her family weren't quite as diligent in monitoring her eating. I distinctly remember blue and white iced birthday cake.

Remembering back to Cynthia actually makes me grateful for the advances in diabetes care. I can find out my blood sugar levels in 5 seconds from a .5 milligram of blood. I have a pump that can provide me with the insulin I need to .10 of a unit. There's no guess work or waiting involved. I can take a blood test that can let me know how well I am controlling my diabetes for the PAST THREE MONTHS! How incredible is that!

Diabetes sucks no matter when your pancreas decides to crap out. But I really am so grateful to be diabetic at this point in time where the technology has come so far and continues to only get better.

Gobble, Gobble!

I cried my way through last year's Thanksgiving dinner.

Having only been diabetic for two months by that point, I was still navigating my way through diabetic eating. Actually, that description is far too kind. It was more like......Having only been diabetic for two months by that point, I was still pouting and temper tantruming my way through diabetic eating.

I still was finding my bearings and obsessing over every blood sugar number I had. I avoided eating some of the usual favorites, like homemade stuffing and canned cranberry sauce. Nothing says yummy, or high blood sugar, like gelled, ruby reb high fructose corn syrup in the shape of a can! Mmmm....

You can be rest assured that there will be no crying at the Thanksgiving Day table this year! Besides that fact that it made my dinner soggy, I feel like I have a much better grip on eating as well as accepting that I may possibly have a high blood sugar after eating for 5 hours straight. Though it's my goal not to have high blood sugar, it's bound to happen at some point!

To help the ol' pancreas out a bit, I came up with two yummy Thanksgiving recipes that are low (or lower) in carbs that could easily replace the traditional favorites. Make them and give me thanks! :)

Oh....but first, a comment or two on ingredients. First,  Whole Foods has Pumpkin Puree for $1.25/can! I know! I was excited too! Second, I use Pumpkin Pie Spice in this recipe, which feels like a little bit of a cop out. Usually, I like to add my own flavor combination. However, Trader Joe's has this awesome Pumpkin Pie Spice mix, that include cinnamon and cardamom. Really good. Also, this recipe uses only 1/3 the amount of sugar (depending on how much you add)!

Pumpkin Pie Pudding - aka Crustless Pumpkin Pie

Ingredients
1 15 oz can pumpkin
1 12 oz can evaporated milk - I used fat free, but you could easily use 2%
2 eggs
1/4 - 1/2 c brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp Pumpkin Pie Spice
1 tsp fresh grated ginger
1 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of salt

Method
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Mix all the ingredients into a bowl until well combined.
3. Pour pumpkin mixture into a prepared baking pan or ramekins.
4. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until mixture is set, but with a slight jiggle. Less if using ramekins.

Because you're saving some carbs on the crust and reduced sugar, I give you permission to add a dollop of whip cream!

Mashed Cauliflower - which could easily replace those traditional spuds!

Ingredients
1 large head of cauliflower, broken into smaller pieces
4 cloves of garlic, whole with skins on
1/4 c milk
1/4 c olive oil, divided
salt and pepper


Method
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2. Toss cauliflower and whole garlic cloves with enough olive oil to coat. Salt and pepper.
3. Place cauliflower in oven to roast for 35 to 40 minutes, until pieces are golden brown. May be less depending on your oven.
4. Squeeze garlic cloves into food processor. It should come out pretty easily.
5. Add cauliflower, milk, and more salt and pepper if desired. Puree cauliflower, streaming in an extra tablespoon or two of olive oil, until you have reached desired consistency. 

Silver Lining on the Crap Cloud

When I was first diagnosed with diabetes, it was not a happy time. Obviously, being sick for several months and being told you have a chronic illness is not like finding the Golden Ticket! It fucking sucks. I was pissed about it. I was sad. I was angry. At times, even a little resentful, especially when I would see others with unhealthy lifestyles in perfect health.

During this time, there was a lot of "Why me's?" I am healthy. I exercise. I eat well. Why me? Coming on the heels of a bad break-up, where insecurities were swirling around inside my head, I thought that diabetes was the universe's way of saying that, yes, there was, indeed, something inherently wrong with me. It was the cherry on top of the proverbial shit cake.

Depression definitely set in and my future became harder to picture. Suddenly, getting married, having children, living past the age of 30 seemed like far away possibilities. That marathon I planned to run at 60 years old would never happen. Instead, I would now have to worry about poor circulation, amputation, blindness, neuropathy, kidney failure, high cholesterol, heart disease, the list goes on. I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Life seemed bleaked. My relationships suffered.

However, since that I time, I have made some significant progress. I don't see my life as cursed the way I once did. I have let go of a lot of those initial thoughts and feelings. On my optimistic days, I think, of course I got diabetes! I'm one of the best people to get it! I would have an easier time integrating diabetes management into my life then most people. Eat healthy? No problem! Want me to exercise? Got it covered! Need to not be squeamishness about blood and injections? I can work on it.

On less optimistic days, I think shit happens, in all its crappy glory! There's no rhyme or reason to it. In those moments, I let myself be angry or sad. I acknowledge that sometimes being diabetic can suck and try to move on from there. 

What I have realized in the last few weeks is that, on most days, I don't even think about it! It has become a natural part of  life, the way that brushing your teeth or feeding your obnoxious cat at exactly 7 AM every fucking morning no matter what day of the week it is, does! You don't necessarily think about it, but you certainly do it every day. Although Jackson definitely has me consider otherwise!

When I reflect on diabetes, I am now able to see some of the positive qualities I had lost track of. Like that I'm resilient. Strong. Intelligent. I'm fun! I have a wicked sense of humor, particularly when it comes to amputation! I'm going to be a great wife and kick-ass mother! I have awesome people in my life who love me. Diabetes didn't change those things. It enhanced them!

Instead of seeing diabetes as the universe snubbing me, maybe it is the universe kicking me in the ass! Of letting me know that I am a much better person then what I had been telling myself. That a stupid boy and broken pancreas doesn't define who I am. I do.

Either way, I come to realize that it's all about looking for the silver lining on the crap cloud. It's there somewhere. You just have to find it.

Thingy

"Ummmm, sooooo, what is this thing?" as she hands over my insulin pump. "I just call it 'the thingy.'" Giggle, giggle, twirl of the hair. 
And then I bitch slapped her.

Ok, no, not an actual bitch slap. But certainly a mental one!!!

When I first began wearing my insulin pump, figuring out what to do with it during yoga class was a bit of a concern. Usually when exercising, I simply disconnect the pump and put it in my bag. But my yoga studio was a bit more challenging.

I take a Hot Vinyasa yoga class every week. The room is heated to 98 degrees and is generally very humid and wet. Heat and mositure is not an optimal combination for anything filled with insulin. Insulin will degrade faster in higher tempatures. Unfortunately, the only way to know if that has happened to your insulin is when you're actually trying to use it.

I could just put it in a locker, right? Except this yoga studio doesn't have any. They have open cubby holes in a large, open "locker" room. That whole trust and be trusted crap! Now, I'm not paranoid or anything. I don't think any one is walking away with my insulin pump, but it's not necessarily a piece of equipment I want just lying around.

This left me the option of asking the front desk if they would hold it for me. I had some hesitation about doing this. It would mean disclosing to people I don't really know that I'm diabetic. I'm fine sharing with instructors who will need to know to pour honey in my mouth (or eye, if the situation is really dire :)) if I ever get too low in class. But do random front desk staff need to know my business? Especially ones that giggle, twirl their hair, and refer to my life-saving device as a "thingy?"

It's been working out pretty well. I just hand it off to whoever is working at the front desk when I sign in for my class. And they all take it from my hands like I'm asking them to hold Baby Jesus for me! The way the gently take it from my hands and delicately place it behind them on the counter lets me be reassured that my "thingy" is safe.

Connected.....

To my insulin pump, that is!

Yesterday was the first part of my insulin pump training. I met with my CDE (Certified Diabetes Educator) to learn the pump basics and to put it to use! Right now, I'm actually using saline instead of insulin just so I can get the pump features down, etc. Sitting in the office, going over all the many steps of filling the pump, putting in the injection site, programming all the features, I had the slight need to cry. I was feeling a little overwhelmed.

While my stupid pancreas and I have come to terms, there are still moments where I think, "Shit, I can't believe I'm a diabetic!" A year ago, I didn't even know what an insulin pump was! I had never seen one, heard one, let alone think that anyone used one! And now here I am, excited to be owning one. It's bizarre and, at times, still seems unreal.

This is part of my life now. And I'm okay with that. Even if I feel the need to cry about it every once and again.

Happy New Year!

Today is the start of my new year.

Sure, I wrote a post for the start of the first real year, but whatever. There are no rules on this blog. It's anarchy!

If I had a $1 for every time I have said or had said to me "This has been a rough year," I would have my car paid off and probably part of my student loans.

Yes, this year has been hard. I had an unexpected end to a relationship that left me devastated. Only to have an unexpected beginning of a new relationship that gave me a sense of happiness, confusion, and fear. I was diagnosed with a chronic illness that no one would have saw coming. I have questioned myself. I have lost faith in who I am. I have lost trust in my decisions. And I am fucking tired of it.

It is time for change. While these things have been hard and will ultimately affect who I am as a person, I have been existing in this narrow unhappy, anxiety-ridden world, afraid of what comes next, scared of moving forward, too bogged down in the shit that has already passed for far too long.

No more. I say enough.

I know the struggle does not end with this simple affirmation. I realize that changes are necessary, sacrifices may happen, and stumbling blocks are on the road ahead, but it is the first step on the journey to reclaim who I am and maybe make some improvements along the way.

You only get one lap around the pool, you know?

Ok, enough of this new age crap. Just so you know, the next post is about cupcakes! Because cupcakes are just as uplifting as a unicorn crappin' skittles! Am I right or am I right?!

Be There with Bells On....

Unwrapping the present, I heard the faint jingling of bells from inside the box. Curious as to its contents, I looked up to see Jerry with a huge, toothy grin spread across his face. His excited anticipation immediately made me nervous. Knowing Jerry, anything could have been in that box! I had to stop myself from violently shoving the gift in his face at the last possible second as I assumed something would be flying out at me and latching onto my face! 

Finally making it through the tissue paper, preparing for the impending blow, I revealed a pair of feetie pajamas with skulls and crossbones and….bells. Yes, bells. Immediately, Jerry insisted that I put them on. Laughing hysterically, I put the pajamas on while Jerry videotaped me dancing around in them while Jingle Bells played in the background.

Anyone who knows Jerry knows what a sick sense of humor he has. When I was first diagnosed, Jerry worried about overnight hypoglycemia. He worried that Heather (the roomie) would not hear me if I happened to go into hypoglycemic convulsions. His solution: pajamas with bells! So in the event of a diabetic seizure, the ringing of bells would awaken others in the apartment (hence the skulls and crossbones). It sounds morbid. And it is! In that special twisted, Jerry kind of way.

That night, I surprised my family with Jerry’s pajamas. The dogs’ ears stood on alert as I jingled my way into the living room. We all laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks and we were gasping for air. It was the first opportunity since I was diagnosed for the family to really laugh about diabetes. Jerry gave that to us….in addition to a pair of ridiculous pajamas and a broken pasta maker.

There are many words one can use to describe Jerry. And I use the explicit ones fairly often. But there are some pretty wonderful ones too. Jerry has an uncanny ability to turn a situation around. This ability has definitely come in handy, especially lately. Dating me has not been easy. He has provided me with many bright moments during dark times. I only hope that I can eventually do the same for him.
 
And if feetie pajamas with bells somehow works into the equation, that’s even better!

Happy Valentine’s Day to one of my best friends and the reason I want to be a better person.

Goodbye Pancreas!

Being a foodie AND a diabetic? What?! How’s that possible? Well, I’m making it possible, my friends!

Being a new diabetic, I assumed that my foodie lifestyle was over. No more good food. No more going out for meals. No more enjoying that glass (or bottle!) of wine. Can’t even have cake on my birthday! Come on people! No cake on my birthday!

Really, telling me that I couldn’t eat the way I want was like telling me I was going to lose my vision. That’s how close food is to my heart. Never mind that this new diabetic lifestyle means blood testing, insulin shots, hypoglycemia, and hyperglycemia, etc. In some ways, it feels a little bit like a death sentence.

Ok, so maybe it’s not that dramatic. Needless to say, it’s upsetting!

But, the more I learn, the more my misconceptions about type 1 diabetes are exposed. The idea that it only affects children, that insulin is to be avoided, or that I’m doomed to eating a bland, sucralose-laced diet are all wrong. Type 1 is really about doing the work my pancreas is refusing to do, that lazy motherfucker! I’m learning that life isn’t necessarily going to be about restrictions, but more about management. My foodie lifestyle doesn’t have to disappear like my beta cells (har har – that’s some diabetes humor right there, kids!)!

So, why write a blog about it? Well, obviously, the first reason is because I’m self-indulgent. Who doesn’t want to read a blog about me?!?! :)

Another reason is because I scoured the internet in search of useful information, support, etc, and I came up a little short. Sure, there’s tons of information about diabetes out there, but it’s mostly for type 2 diabetics and it’s not really information that supports my lifestyle. I eat a healthy, all-natural, practically vegetarian diet. I hate putting chemicals, processed, or unnatural substances in my body. I actually enjoy exercising. Most importantly, I cook! I eat! I love food!

Lastly, I hope that writing a blog will help keep me on track. I am constantly overwhelmed by this new life. I am hoping that this blog will give me the outlet I need as well as keep my focus on what I need to do as I start this journey. Even if no else ever reads this, I think it will help me. And maybe, one day, it can help another newly diagnosed type 1 in search of some information and support.

So there it is.

A final fuck you to that lazy-ass pancreas as I move forward to living a long, healthy diabetic life!