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.


my diabetes shero

May 20, 2012

My “diabetes shero” is my daughter, Ms. Diva. She does not have diabetes, but she is the daughter of this mama with type 1. And she is amazing.

She has never known anything different than her mama with several buzzing and clicking little devices hanging on or around her body, even when she didn’t know what they did or why I needed them. I wasn’t sure how it was all going to go when it came time to tell Ms. Diva about diabetes. I read some different blogs about other moms’ worries, and decided I wasn’t going to think about it until the girl brought it up herself. Then I’d figure something out.

She was 5 years old when it happened. One day, Ms. Diva watched me prick my finger, squeeze blood onto a test strip, and said “Mama, why do you have to do that?” She’d seen me do it many times before, but that day, something provoked her to find out.

“There is an organ in our bodies called a pancreas. Mine stopped working when I was 7. Yours works great. It makes something called insulin, which helps your body use the food you eat to keep your body strong. The pump (point to pump) holds insulin. The meter (point to meter) tells the pump how much insulin to give me, through this tube. It works hard to try to keep the sugar in my blood at a healthy level.”

“Your pancreas doesn’t work?”

“Nope, babe, it doesn’t. Hasn’t for a long time.”

“What happens when you need a juice box?”

“Well, my pancreas still doesn’t work, but I’ve either taken too much insulin or eaten not enough food, or exercised too much. Then there isn’t enough sugar in my blood. Like when I say my blood sugar is low, you know? That’s when I need some juice.”

“Okay.” And she went about her day, to play Dinosaur Train and read some Fancy Nancy books.

The next day as we were sitting at the dining room table, she asked me a question. After I answered it, she looked at me intently and said, “Mama, your blood sugar is low.”

“Sweetie, why do you say that?”

“The way your voice sounds. When your voice sounds like that, you need a juice box.”

Ms. Diva was oh, so correct. My BG was 45.

“Thanks, honey.”

“No problem, mama. Will you tell me about the no-hitter on your Dex again? Do you have one right now? Can I see it?”

That girl. She had all of my heart from the moment we saw the little peanut in my partner’s very first ultrasound, and of course from the moment she was born, and a zillion times after that. But that day she let me know she’d noticed my diabetes without thinking that it made me different or less of a mother; noticed and remembered what I needed to take care of the diabetes problem at an annoyingly imperative time; and let me know that it was no big deal. She relieved some really giant fears I’d been carrying around inside without even knowing it.

I so love that my dumb pancreas and my diabetes are NBD for Ms. Diva.

I love her so much.

She’s my diabetes shero.

So many other cool diabetes sheroes and heroes right here, go read some more!

D-Blog Week 2012, Day 7: Let’s end our week on a high note and blog about our “Diabetes Hero”.  It can be anyone you’d like to recognize or admire, someone you know personally or not, someone with diabetes or maybe a Type 3.  It might be a fabulous endo or CDE.  It could be a d-celebrity or role-model.  It could be another DOC member.  It’s up to you – who is your Diabetes Hero??


10 things I couldn’t live without #hawmc day 13

April 13, 2012

 

 10 Things I Couldn’t Live Without (type 1-style)

10. digital logbook spreadsheets

9. Dromedaris & Asics shoes

8. diabetes online community (#DOC), every single last one of you! 🙂

7. dr. wonderfulendo

6. Dexcom continuous glucose meter (CGM)

5. OneTouch Ping blood glucose meter

4. Animas Ping insulin infusion pump

3. family & friends

2. My partner and our daughter.

1. Insulin

*************************************************

Things I Couldn’t Live Without (type 1-free style)

10. Pilot G2 gel pens, blue, fine point

9. fleece: jackets, pants, gloves, scarves, blankets, whatever, I love it

8. pluots, the red ones (they’re coming into season next month!!! woot!!)

7. Big Bang Theory, Friends, and Sex in the City reruns

6. InNOut cheeseburgers, protein style

5. Cupcakes.

4. Spotify

3. honeycrisp apples

2. Facebook

1. friends, family, and the #DOC (of course they go on both lists!!!)

**************************************************************

BTW: Happy weird not-quite-diaversary-to-me! Friday the 13th is the unlucky day I was diagnosed…and in another 2 months it will be my actual 32-year diaversary. There it is.

This prompt is for the wego Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge. The prompt: Write a list of the 10 things you need (or love) most.

Want more? Check out all kinds of wonderful posts from tons of supercool health activist writers at wego health’s Facebook page.


%d bloggers like this: