aiming for grace

dreaming of cookie.

I went to bed a little blue last night, hoping that today would be better. I expected it to get better once I woke up, but instead it got better in a dream beforehand.

I've had animals my whole life, and they rank as one of my greatest sources of joy. I'd place them tops on my list of what helps me in living with diabetes. I have 2 dogs now, Ruppert and Flora and they are just the bees knees. Before them we had a wonderful, funny dog named Cookie (her name before we got her). We got her at the local humane society when she was 6 years old and had her for 5 delightful years. My husband used to call her the "dog of good cheer" and oh, she was just that. It's like she smiled with happiness, and was up for pretty much anything. Having said that, it was obvious too, that she'd been treated poorly by her former owners because she was skittish and easily frightened. But over the too short time we had her, she grew to be calm and silly and happy. Cookie, the vunderhund. Unfortunately though, her last year was a tough one. Her health began to deteriorate and after countless tests and treatments, we still never found out what was wrong with her. She basically just wasted away and over time, her quality of life diminished profoundly. About 18 months ago, we made the difficult decision to put her down which was so painful, but in the end, the most humane thing to do. The kind vet came to our house and she died in my lap, in our garden with the birds singing and the wind blowing around us. It was very, very sad and I miss her every day.

Which brings me to last night. I had the most vivid dream about Cookie. It really felt like she'd literally visited me, which sounds silly but feels true. In the dream I saw her lying in the road with her back to me. I approached her, fearful that she was injured, but when I got there, she rolled over onto her back, asking to have her belly scratched as she always did. She seemed so happy to see me and I was just overjoyed. She licked my face and nibbled my chin gently, something she used to do to me every morning when she was alive. She stayed with me for a while and a feeling of warm comfort and calm washed over me. It was as if she was coming to comfort me when I needed it most. When I woke, I felt totally content and happy. The vividness of my dream of Cookie has lingered through the day, as well as the realization that in fact, everything is, and will be, ok. It's amazing to me, but she is still bringing me comfort and joy. How wonderful is that?

a physical reminder.

I've started to exercise, with a personal trainer. Which is great. I can already see and feel the difference. In a good way. Well, at least until last night. In the past, as I have gotten more fit, my insulin needs would decrease fairly quickly. Well, 3 weeks into my new exercise regimen, and I'm already starting to see the difference. Especially on the day I work out with my trainer. Which was yesterday. I thought I had it all figured out. Hm. Not so much, it turns out. I ate before, tested afterward, ate a snack, went low anyway, covered the low, rebounded, went too high, made the mistake of correcting the high and wham, it's the middle of the night and I'm jolted from a dream, wicked low, pounding headache, sweaty all over, grasping for food. This was a hard core low. Really intense, really physical. All was well of course, but I feel pretty crappy today. From getting woken up in the middle of the night, from the rollercoaster of low, high, LOW, from the intensity of the reaction, hell, even from my soar muscles from the work out.

I know I made a mistake by overcorrecting. I know my metabolism is changing because of the increased exercise. I know that I will feel better soon. But still I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I'm struck with how physical a low like that is. I haven't had one that harsh for ages, so I guess I'm a little out of practice. My control has been good lately and quite frankly, I've been recovering from other physical stuff, so I haven't been working out like I am now. But wow, do I feel humbled now. And a little shaky. Emotionally, I mean. I was feeling so good about getting back into active exercising, even in spite of the nagging worry that something like this might happen. Good and strong. And then wham! I'm reminded how harsh this disease can be. Grabbing at food, adrenaline pumping. Visceral. Physical. Urgent.

Last night reminded me of the edges of my physical reality and I have to admit that I feel a bit sad because of it. A bit sad for now. I'm sure that tomorrow I'll feel better.

fun with boring routine.

I love this illustration by keri smith. A list doesn't have to be boring. Yes, this takes time, but it could be fun to do once in a while. Draw all the food I've eaten, with a note about all the insulin I've taken too. Or take pictures of everything eaten in a day with a tag in the picture with how much insulin I've taken to cover the corresponding meal. Funny. Fun with boring diabetes routine. Might as well try to make it entertaining once in a while, right?

one too many.

My pump site was itchy last night and into this morning. Annoying and noticably itchy. The itchiness, coming and going, but mostly staying. They say you can keep the sets in for 3 days, and goodness knows I keep them in for the full 3 days and then some, if at all possible. Every time I have to change my site, I have a brief flash of resentment. A moment of feeling sorry for myself. But then I get to it. And in the blink of an eye it's done. But I digress.

So this morning, I knew I needed to change my site even though it hadn't been in the full 3 days. I changed it, and though I didn't have a full blown infection, I was pretty close. It felt awful. Itchy, soar, irritated. Boy did it feel good to get the set out. And all day, I kept checking it. Making sure it was ok. All day, I felt better and yet also a bit sad. Sad that I have to deal with this kind of thing. Sick of my skin feeling mildly irritated, by either the site or the adhesive or my jeans rubbing against it. I put the sets in different places and each has it's upside and downside. My old standby is my backside and hips. Overall, it's been the best place, but as I've said before, it's getting a bit tired and is in need of a break. I do use my legs, though the tubing often get tangled or tugged when I'm getting dressed. Occassionally I use my belly, but it's only good for 2 days because I'm lean and the candula tweeks my abdominal muscles. I haven't tried arms yet which I guess I should, but with all the shoulder recovery, I have no fat there to speak of. Round and round I go.

In the end, it's just a small thing. A small thing that sometimes feels so big. One of many small things that makes up life with diabetes. Unto itself, not such a big deal. Like a paper cut. Small but irritating. Small but such a pain. As with most stuff around diabetes, it's never just one thing. It's all the small things that add up to how it felt today. That this one small thing, was simply one too many.

Thanks for the pic from beth.

a little funk in the morning.

One of the things that really helps is a little funk. Or sass, or groove. Wherever you can get it. Like in music, or clothes, or humor. I'm not very funny so that's not where I get it. I guess I mostly get it from clothes or music and right now I seem to be getting it a lot from gwen stefani's new album sweet escape. More specifically, the title song, which I play on my way to work, loud. Very loud. Sometimes twice in a row. Totally fabulous. Get's me up. Inspires me. Gives me an excellent funk hit. Makes me happy. Gives me joy. And does that ever help!

a magical day.

Yesterday was one of those magical days. Start to finish. It started out with a project I've been asked to participate in with some colleagues from work. A rebranding exercise for a local non-profit who works with childern who have cancer, their families and friends as well as the hospitals, doctors and staff who care for the child. They "fill in the gaps" between services offered by the hospital, other non-profits and the state. The woman who started the organization, lost her 5 year old to cancer many years ago and one of her ways of dealing with her horrible loss, was to build a place of comfort, joy and support for others who have to go through what she had to. She's created a remarkable organization, focused on joy. Their working principle is that whatever time anyone of their clients has, it should be filled with as much joy and happiness as is possible. So they bring music and musicians into the cancer ward. They connect kids with 'buddies' who hang out with them during chemo, play with them when their parents need a break, whatever the child needs. They provide a community and navigational tools for overwhelmed families. It's just a lovely and worthwhile organization.

So I was asked to help on this project, by a man I've worked with for many years, and whom I deeply admire. This man has always been such a support to me through my own journey with balancing diabetes and work. Supportive, safe and an advocate for me. So when he asked if I would help, I did not hesitate to say yes. But I have to admit that inside I was a little nervous. Nervous about getting close to such a sad and hard place. Apprehensive about feeling sadder, when I work so hard to find joy in my own life. And guilty that I was feeling these feelings.

After a bit of thought though, I realized that my friend had invited me to work on this project because of my own experiences with illness and disease. I realized that I had something to offer beyond my business and design skills. I had a special insight that though, not exactly the same as what this organization dealt with, had some shared aspects that could prove useful. My experiences with living with diabetes could possibly add to what my team had to offer this group. So though I was a bit scared, I was also excited.

So yesterday we met with the organization and it was amazing. It went so well and the project is very exciting. I brought my 20 things I know about diabetes book as well as my collage journal, to show a visual expression of one person's disease process. And people saw it and understood it in a way I've never experienced before. Plus the insights of living with disease well, did help in the project, both in credibility and understanding of the right tone needed. There is still a lot to be done, but we are off to a good start. And what an exciting and meaningful day!

I came home very tired but happy, excited to share all that had happened with my husband over dinner. My husband I discussed going to a nice restuarant and maybe a movie afterward, but in the end, we ended up just going to a local mexican restuarant chain. The food is pretty good but the atmosphere is basically cafeteria style. Lot's of tables, with people you don't know, eating close by. I sat down first while my husband was getting the food. I took out my hello kitty bag, pulled out my bloodtest meter and took a blood test. And then suddenly, a voice came from behind me. A young boy, probably around 8, bounced into view, exclaiming excitedly that "he had one of those too". I said "you do! Wow, we're just alike." He could barely contain himself with excitement. He told me how he had a couple of meters because sometimes they forget one. He told me how he'd been diagnosed a year and half ago and how "he was getting the hang of it". We talked for a few minutes and then his father came over and said how his son was always noticing people with diabetes. That he had been sad about taking his blood test and shot earlier that evening but now he was happy because he'd found someone else who also had diabetes too. He then turned to his son and said, "see honey, you're not alone". My husband arrived and we began to eat and again a voice came from behind. The little boy said from his chair, "you're having a burrito and I had a burrito and we're both diabetics!" And then he smiled. I said yes, we were a lot alike and I literally had to choke back the tears. After a while the family got up to leave and as they passed the table, the boy said goodbye. His father said thank-you to me for talking with his son and I said that no, it was all my pleasure. I then turned to the boy and said I knew that the bloodtests were hard but he was very brave and strong. His dad said to his son, "yes you are strong" and flexed his arm. And his son laughed and said, "dad, it makes me strong on the inside not the outside!" and giggled and was gone. Now I really had to choke back the tears.

Oh what a day! I still can't quite believe it. I felt so visible, connected, contributing, and recieving as a diabetic and a person. As a person with diabetes. As a whole person with diabetes. The day was about giving and recieving so much in return. And then in the evening, by just taking a blood test, getting the unexpected gift of connecting with such a sweet and wonderful boy. His joy in finding someone like him, his excitement in sharing all that he'd accomplished, and his wisdom in knowing that he was stronger on the inside because of all that he had to do with diabetes, truly moved and honored me. I've never had this sort of thing happen to me before, and how amazing that it did happen on a day that had been so focused on children and illness. It was just magical.

Yesterday, I learned a big lesson. By opening up to something that I was nervous about, by showing up to help others in need, by trusting my friend in asking me, by acknowledging what I have to offer because of this disease, by being open and sharing of my personal insights, I was showered with unexpected gifts and affirmation in return. By reaching out beyond my comfort zone, I was comforted in ways I never imagined were possible.

Oh, what an magical day!

visualizing what helps.

I've been thinking about the idea of what helps a lot lately. Maybe it's because it's what I can actually do something about, versus the stuff I just have to deal with. Or maybe it's because it just makes me feel better and that's always good. I don't know why but for whatever reason, it's where my thoughts have been going lately.

I think that's why I was so drawn to this great visual list of things that give inner peace from an article in one of my favorite mags, new york magazine. The graphic illustrates the results of a survey they did about how new yorkers find inner peace. What I love is the idea of listing all the things that help anything, like finding inner peace or living with diabetes or work or getting older. Whatever. I like the exercise of making the list and I especially like the effort of making it well designed and pretty. Which means it's inspiring and appealing, which is exactly what it should be. I love the graphic illustrations they used to visualize their list plus I really like a lot of the list itself. Yes, I've been known to listen to loud music or have an occasional slice of pizza and I definitely like law and order for a little relaxation. But I'm not talking about inner peace here. Well I guess I'm not just talking about inner peace, because when I think about it, inner peace does factor in as one of the things that can really help. But so does walking the dogs. Or gardening. Or noticing the indescribable blue sky.

I'm talking about is making the what helps list a visual thing. A series of images. Or symbols. Or photos. I'm not sure how it should come together yet, but I like the assignment. It could be very fun. And after all, having fun is something that really helps too.

dogs help.

Via the wonderful cute overload, which also helps a lot.

no more brochures please.

Today was a day for dealing with details. Getting all the last bits together to send the taxes to the accountant. Burning some new cd's for the car. Oh yeah, and recycling. Shredding mail that has any kind of personal references, cutting up the cardboard boxes that all my pump supplies come in, as well as cleaning out my supply drawer of all the extraneous packaging that comes with all my supplies. Boxes, brochures, instructions. In each and every box, tons of paper that I never read, that has to be gathered up and recycled. What an absolute waste of trees, time and money. I get that there are probably legal reasons for the manufacturer to do this, but please, there has to be a better way. It's depressing enough to throw away a pile of used sets every 3 days, of which I'm more willing to live with, since I need to do it to live. But the rest of this stuff seems purely wasteful. If you've read the stuff once, it's unlikely you ever need to see another brochure again. They could send a package with all the stuff they want us to read when we first sign up for supplies. Don't pack it in the box every time (imagine how much paper alone would be saved when you multiple the thousands of boxes that are sent out every year). And don't even print the box (I don't need happy, smiling people on a box I rip open to get a new set from). Heck, do they even need to send the supplies in a box in the first place? I don't know the answer but it's at least an interesting design question to pose. These are all design questions that I'm not sure I'd have even noticed, if it wasn't for the sheer volume of packaging I have to deal with by wearing a pump. And though they are just design questions in the end, they do feel like ones worthy of consideration nonetheless. Because really, at this point in time, I think I've had enough pump brochures to last a lifetime.

2.8 units.

Yum.