Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Differently the Same

I was at TCOYD in Des Moines Iowa over the weekend. Bea drove us from Illinois to Iowa in George the Beetle. We listened to The Beetles and the songs are still stuck in my head. I got a chance to meet several people living with diabetes. It was fun. Sitting together at a long restaurant table, seeing everyone else test their blood sugar, use pens or pumps to dose insulin, made me feel less alone. It was like summer camp for grown-ups.

While I was laughing and listening I realized so many people grew up living with diabetes. They found out when they were five, six, eight. l found out I had diabetes at 42. While we were counting carbs and figuring out insulin doses, I realized our initial experiences with diabetes couldn't have been more different.

I wondered what it would be like to grow up with diabetes. The idea that they "didn't know any different," doesn't ring true to me. Kids know more than they let on. Growing up with diabetes in the way must have been challenging.

It made me think of trees that grow through fences.

The fence couldn't stop the tree from growing. Diabetes didn't stop my friends from growing up, either. They grew up around diabetes. They grew up with all the needle sticks and glucose tests. Highs and lows knocked them down, but they got back up and kept going. They share a familiarity with diabetes that I will never have. I didn't grow up with diabetes. I spent the first 42 years of my life without it.

Diabetes arrived in my life like this:

Like a sudden storm, diabetes knocked me over and shocked me down to the core. I don't have strong roots that nurtured me as a child with diabetes. I don't have my parents to shield me from the uglier realities and worries about complications. I have to learn to live after a storm and reinvent how I go about doing this. It is a tough task.

During dinner I realized how differently the same I am from my friends. Adjusting pump settings, trying to determine how many carbs are in the Cajun food and laughing, I can do with everyone. Adapting to a new life with diabetes? That is a different task. Thanks to the DOC, I don't have to face it alone.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Speaking Up

My friend Jeff Neitzel posted on Betespora.org about the biggest problem with the iBGStar blood glucose meter. I'll give you a hint. It's not the meter. Check out what he has to say about it here.

Thanks Jeff for speaking up. It matters.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Love Affair

I’ve enjoyed blogging so much and I’m grateful to everyone who has visited.  I need to confess something I haven’t been brave enough to tell anyone.  My conscience is bothering me.  Sometimes it’s easier to say the truth when I type, so here goes.

I’ve been having an affair throughout my entire marriage. There. I said it. I’m sorry if you think less of me now.  It’s with someone I’ve known since I was a child, many years before I met my husband. I fell in love with him in junior high. We had a stormy relationship throughout high school. We lost touch during college and rekindled our relationship right after I was married.  He left me for a time, but this morning we connected again and it was magic. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until he came back. I don’t ever want to lose my lover again. I know I’m married, but… I love him so much. I cannot imagine life without him.

I think about him constantly, to the point of being distracted when I’m with my husband.  When Steve takes his dog to the dog park, and Evelyn is out with her friends, my lover and I meet in my back bedroom.  Sometimes, we meet late at night after Steve goes to work and Evelyn is sleeping. I’m careful not to wake Evelyn when I greet him.  He calls to me and I must answer.  I can’t help myself. I think Steve suspects, but he hasn’t said anything outright.  I’m trying to be subtle and careful, but it’s only a matter of time before Steve finds out about my lover.  It must be obvious. I can’t hide my desire for him.

My passion for my first love is a consuming fire. I long to touch him and hold him.  His smell is intoxicating. I love to put my nose on the base of his neck and breathe in the scent of him.  Remembering that is making me dizzy with longing. I love how he looks, the deep color of his body. The smoothness I feel under my fingers when I touch him. I love to put my arms around him and hold him close. I love the weight of him against my chest.  He is so gentle, never leaning too hard against me.

Sitting here now, I’m remembering two hours ago when we were together.  Caressing his neck, the feel of his body vibrating between my legs.  The sound of his voice, so rich and warm.  It’s grown deeper over the years, but I still love the sound of it. I cannot imagine my life not hearing him.  His voice is music to my ears.  This evening, our contact was intense.  I rocked my body against his as we moved together in perfect rhythm.  Then we rested.  I put my arm around his chest and leaned my cheek on his shoulder.  I was breathless with joy to be with him again.  Even when we’re silent together I’m contented.

Steve almost caught us.  I was with my lover when I heard the front door close unexpectedly.  My husband came home from work early!  I had my hand on my lover’s bare back.  We quickly parted.  I got lucky that time.  I’ve been careful, but it’s getting harder.  I don’t want to hurt Steve, but I can’t hide my obsession.  I really don’t know what to do about this, and I hope you’re not mad at me.  Even though this must be upsetting, I want to tell you more about my lover...

We met in Chicago.  I was 11.  The first time I put my hand on his neck, I fell in love. I knew we could make music together, and we have.  In many places both in private and in public.  We have made love in my back bedroom, in my backyard, in my parents music room, in churches, and in orchestras.  When I stroke my lover’s strings with my bow, my heart leaps for joy. I confess, my lover’s name is Sir Barclay the Cello. I am so happy he is with me once more.

Hold on.

You didn’t actually think my lover was a man did you?!?


P.S. Steve helped me write this.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

My Cello Is Fixed

Hooray! Thanks everyone who donated, dried my tears, prayed and wished for this day. My cello is fixed and coming home tomorrow. I'm so excited. My mind is full of music and of course... JOY!

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Where were you when...

Where were you when...

"Where were you when you heard about Pearl Harbor?"
My grandparent's generation.

"Where were you when you heard President Kennedy was assassinated?"
My parents generation.

"Where were you on 9/11/2001?"
My generation.

Where was I? Home. I was starting our homeschool day when my husband called me and told me there was a terrible accident. I ran into the TV room. My 11 year old daughter was eating cereal and watching cartoons. I flicked the channel to the news. She protested for a second, then asked,  "Did something happen?"

"Yes, something horrible happened. A plane..." I got that far before the second plane hit. We sat together on the sofa feeling helpless and terrified. We learned the Pentagon was on fire.

"Mom, doesn't Uncle Jay work there."
"Yes he does."
"Is Uncle Jay dead?"
She looked at me with her tear rimmed eyes. I wanted to tell Evelyn everything was OK. Jay worked in a different Pentagon somewhere safe. Somewhere far away.
"Mom? Is Uncle Jay dead?"
"I don't know."

My husband came home. The first thing he asked was, "Did Jay call?" I shook my head. Steve burst a blood vessel in his eye from the stress. We waited together feeling sick and frightened. It was a full 10 hours before we learned that Jay was safe. Too many others weren't. My heart still aches for their families. Years go by, but I still remember.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

23 Years And Counting

Today is my 23rd wedding anniversary. Wow. If I had a TARDIS and could go back in time to September 9 1989, I wouldn't stop the wedding. I would pull my younger self aside and tell her you can do this.

Hey Steve...

Wednesday, September 5, 2012


True confession time. I confess that I suck at carb estimating. Unless the box, wrapper, or packaging has a carbohydrate count printed on it, or I weigh my food with a scale, my blood sugar looks like a roller coaster.

Sometimes I think I have done a great job estimating how many carbs are in something and I discover just how wrong I was. That night I had too much snack and not enough insulin. So, the next night I decided I was going to do better. I had the same snack. I estimated the carbs again.


I am not a doctor. I do not have a medical degree. Nothing on this site qualifies as medical advice. These are lessons I'm learning at the University of Catastrophe. What I find to be correct answers in my classes may not be the right answers for you.

If you are enrolled with your own major at the University of Catastrophe, please consult your doctor, therapist, attorney, auto mechanic, veterinarian, plumber, dietician, arborist, acupuncturist, manicurist, mother, local dairy council, shoe shine boy, or other equally qualified professional, for advice and assistance.

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