17 years

June 10, 2012

to the love of my life…

my forever partner in all SORTS of crazy…

my co-mama in the growing and raising of Ms. Diva…

the best person to ever happen to me…

you were Type Awesome before we even knew what that was.

*****

type 1 diabetes is not fair for or decent to you, either.

when we met, I ignored the crap out of it.

I told you that I had it and what it was, because that’s what I do.

but that didn’t mean I took a tiny bit of care of it, or of myself.

this broken pancreas gets in your way, too.

thank you for not letting it scare you out of our life.

*****

you are here with me in every moment of d.

all of the annoyance, fear, pissedoffedness, anger, resentment

of the challenges and pitfalls d brings our way.

AND, more recently, in the joy of the “LOOK at this 24-hour/7-day/30-day/90-day average!!!!!!!”

the amazement of the first A1c of 6 or below

of finally feeling like something is going right with d.

you are here, and I am so grateful for you.

*****

I don’t know how we took some of the journeys we took without some major d-mishaps taking place–

pure luck, and the universe winking in our direction.

standing on line for Lilith Fair in New Mexico and boiling the insulin.

me leaving on a plane for Nashville, my pump sitting on the towel rack at home in New York.

that other time I took both sets of house keys with me to the conference in Denver

(not d-related, but my goodness, there have been plenty of things for you to complain about!)

scares with eyeballs, pumps, insulin, insurance denials, new endos, no insurance at all…

no matter what, you have my back and fight the good (and bad) d-fights with me.

thank you.

*****

you learned about insulin & sugar, carbs & IOB, potential complications & depression.

about how awful  450 mg/dl is.

the difference between BGs that lower just the right amount

and unsuspecting, unsymptomed lows that creep out of nowhere

you found me slumped on the kitchen floor, gazing into the open refrigerator, and got some juice in me.

you went with me to endo appts. with dr. wonderfulendo in a different state, when I told you

I needed to see an endo with a brain instead of the dr. crappys that were a dime a dozen where we lived.

you listen when I’m scared or mad or just burned the hell out.

and you help. even if I snap at you when you ask if I need help.

you help.

*****

you make everything okay, somehow, in ways I don’t begin to understand.

navigating mazes of EOBs and phone calls and blood tests and backdated referrals,

shouldering the bother and the annoyance, the crap and the everything

picking it up when I just have to put it down

just for a minute.

thank you for supporting me, for loving me and all that d brings with me…

when Dex screams all the freaking night long b/c it thinks I’m 40, when in fact I’m 80(!!!)

when I forgot to put the pump back on and we just got our InNOut order.

when I start testing my blood just when we’re about to have dinner.

when we decided that 6 negatives were enough,

and we already have the perfect amount of enough with us and our daughter.

we are enough. together.

*****

seventeen years ago we began.

in that time, so many lifetimes.

so many moments, and not just the d-ones(!)

thank you for every single one of those moments, those days

and every one still to come.

*****

happy anniversary, my love.


arduously, painfully boring d #hawmc day 18

April 18, 2012

“There is only one thing that Lena could do. She could be so arduously, painfully boring that Effie would leave the next day. And that, at least, came naturally.” (Ann Brashares, Sisterhood Everlasting, p.143)

Type 1 diabetes is naturally arduously, painfully boring. It bores me to tears. From the day I was diagnosed on June 13, 1980, through my pre-teen, teenage, young adult years, and well into my 30’s, it bored the daylights out of me. Before I was exposed (and thrilled by, believe it or don’t) the data of my diabetes experience, I could not have cared less about doing all the things associated with caring for myself, over and over and over. Painfully boring! And it never ended! All of the monotonous things to care for myself STILL never end, but at least I’ve found some aspects of it that make me wonder…and wondering makes me question…and questioning makes me collect and compile and describe and list the data, and try to analyze it so I can tweak my care regimen and improve, sometimes. And that is good.

Some really rough numbers to illuminate the arduous and painful boringness of my type 1 diabetes:

I started testing my blood in about 1982. Let’s use an average of 3 blood tests/day from 1982-1990; 2 tests/day from 1990-96; 3 tests/day from 1997-2009, and 15 tests/day from 2010-present day. That’s about 41,000 blood tests. Just thinking about it puts me to sleep!

Incidently, it would also be 41,000+ lancets for each one of those blood tests IF I changed my lancet every time I tested. But I don’t. It’s too boring. 😉

Between the many years of hardly any or just flat out no blood sugar control, and the last couple years of attempted very tight control, my blood sugar is low–less than 70mg/dl–probably an average of about once a day. Over the last almost-32 years, that’s roughly 11,680 lows that needed treatment with carbohydrates. We’ll just ignore all the times that I overtreated lows due to my body feeling like it needed to inhale everything with sugar in my reach, and assume treatment with 15 grams of carbohydrate for each of those lows. That’s 175, 200 grams of carbs.

Okay, that number might be a little interesting (or gigantic and disgusting if you think about the entire amount at once). But the need to constantly feed, or treat, the lows, is boring. Especially since it works best for me to treat every low with the same kind of sugar (juicy juice apple juice box) so that I can track the results. Insanely boring, is what that is.

On the other hand, searching for new or different food to give me 15 carbs to treat my low is arduously boring and causes a whole lot of pain too. It takes too much energy to try and think of something else that works, and works well.

I’m just going to SWAG this next one and say that I’ve probably spent close to 384 hours (1 hour/month x 12 months x 32 years) on the phone with insurance companies and durable medical equipment/supply company billing departments, arguing about  prescriptions or pump supplies or test strips or insulin or endocrinologists or eye doctors or other services that were covered, at least to some extent, by my insurance coverage at that time, but billed incorrectly or just not billed to insurance, or not coded correctly, or just forgotten along the way by the insurance company.

Zzzzzzzzzzz…sorry, so boring. Again. And neverendingly so.

I feel really lucky that within the last couple of years, I’ve realized that what’s interesting–at least to me–is finding the trends in my diabetes numbers. What time of day am I high? Low? How many days in a row? But in order to do that, I have to go through the boring stuff and remember to test, and fill in my logsheet, and take time to look at it and figure out which options might work.

Remembering the interesting parts, and taking the time to find them interesting, helps me not blam my head against the wall with the arduously painfully boring d-stuff.

Cupcakes, glitter, unicorns and rainbows help too.

This post was for Day 18 of wego Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge. Open a book. Choose a book and open it to a random page and point to a phrase. Use that phrase to get you writing today. Free write for 15-20 without stopping.


%d bloggers like this: