aiming for grace

sour dessert.

My husband and I went out to dinner the other night. I got to the restuarant a little earlier than he did, so I took the opportunity to take a blood test before the meal. The waitress must have seen me do it because later on, after we'd finished our meal and were ordering dessert she said something to me about it. She said, "You're diabetic aren't you? You're going to go easy on that dessert right?" My husband has a sweet tooth and so we usually order one dessert for him and I'll take a couple of bites and that will be it. We'd done that very thing this time around, one tiramisu, two forks please. I was so surprised by the waitress' comment that it took me a couple of seconds to regain my composure. And when I did, I have to admit that I was pretty surprised by my own response. It wasn't a comment like "that's none of your business" or "excuse me but who asked you for your opinion?" No it was nothing like that. Instead I found myself explaining that I was on the pump and I could take a bolus to cover the sweetness, and that it was ok for me to have a bite or two. But I didn't stop there. No I just kept babbling on about how I get to have a few treats here and there. That I wasn't going to have a whole dessert, just a couple of small bites. Geez. I just barely stopped short of saying "no really miss waitress, stranger to me, I'm really a GOOD diabetic. Really!"

Wow.

I haven't been able to shake this encounter. It's left a sour taste in my mouth that no two bites of tiramisu could ever wipe out. What's stuck with me is less about the presumption and frankly, rudeness of the waitress and much more about my own reaction to her comment. I'm a bit saddened by my need to explain and justify my actions to anyone, let alone a complete stranger. I'm surprised by how insecure and judged I felt. Where did that come from? I know in my heart that I'm dedicated and disciplined. I'm not overweight, I have good and consistent A1C's and I rarely overindulge in sweets. And yet, there it was, this overwhelming need to explain myself, out of the blue. I'm still shaking my head about it. I'm still surprised.

Image (ironically from googling tiramisu randomly) from ezeediabetes.

dear birdie.

I stumbled across this site future me the other day, and I just can't stop thinking about it. I love it's simple premise, to write a letter to your future self today, set a date in the future to receive it and then ideally forget about it until the day it arrives. It's interesting to think about what the me of today would say to the me of tomorrow as well as imagining the me of tomorrow, reading what the me of today wrote to me "back then". There's a different tone and clarity in imagining writing a note to oneself with the knowledge that one day it'll actually be sent to you. It's a very interesting and exciting idea.

I've been wondering what I'd say in a letter to my future self, if I was to do such a thing. And what keeps coming up for me is that I'd write something about hoping that I'd found more peace in living with diabetes. More peace. More comfort. More gentleness. More balance. That's pretty much where I keep landing. I don't think I'd say much about better A1C's or new technologies or better management. No, I really think I'd send hope to myself, hope that I feel more peace in my heart around diabetes, pure and simple.

bring it on.

We're having our usual tease of spring here in the Northwest. It seems to happen every February. Cold mornings, followed by glorious sunny afternoons in the 50's and 60's. It will pass soon enough and we'll be back to the low, grey cloud cover and incessant drizzling we know so well. But for now it's amazing.

It was like that yesterday most of the day, with blasts of sunshine breaking through soft, diffused clouds on and off. It was a day for gardening, cleaning out overgrown beds, pruning of roses and soil amendment. It's been a long time since I've worked so hard physically and I'm feeling it this morning. Even my hands hurt. But oh, not my spirit. Everything feels right in the world when it's sunny and I've spent a day in the fresh air with birds singing and the earliest signs of spring in the garden. It doesn't matter that my blood sugar is dropping. It doesn't matter that I'm out of practice in adjusting for this kind of activity very accurately. It just doesn't matter that much.

Of course, it does matter and of course I will figure it out, all over again. But it takes time because this kind of exercise changes everything, my metabolism, my insulin needs, my energy level. After a couple of days of this kind of work, my overall insulin needs will change too. I'll need less this week than last week to maintain my overall control. But I'm not sure how much I'll actually need to do that, so it's more blood tests and more attention to what's going on. I'm eating more protein in the morning and even a bit more fat so I can augment all the exercises's impact on my blood sugar. But I don't care about that because I'm having so much fun digging in the dirt that I'll do anything to be able to keep doing that very thing. I'm up for the trade off because the pay off is so high. So bring on the blood tests and adjustments I say! Bring it all on because there are roses to be pruned and sunshine to be soaked up. Ha!

hvd.

Happy Valentines Day everyone. I hope your day is full of love and warmth and comfort.

Lovely photo from forty sixth at grace.

looking for my antidote.

I was talking to a friend the other day about living with diabetes. That it's kind of a never ending assault of sharpness on your body, all so that you can live. That it's about enduring the actual hurting of yourself, because it's good for you in the end. That on a primal level at least, it's all very counterintuitive. Which prompted my friend to raise an interesting question. If you have to do all tis unpleasant stuff to live, in that light, what's the opposite from that necessary fact, she asked? What's the antidote to diabetes if you will? What's the physical antidote to the reality of the physical experience of diabetes, she asked? Hm. Now there's an interesting question I'd never quite considered in that way. I'd always thought about what would help me to live with this disease, but I'd never thought of it as an opposite kind of mechanism. The more I think about it, the more I think that this is a great question. A smart and healing question. If I have to endure the regimen of diabetes to live well, what can I do to offset and sooth some of the physical impact it has on me?

What my friends question has also helped me to see is how compartmentalized I've become around the pain and discomfort of the maintenance of this disease. I say to myself that it isn't constant pain, so the sharp sting of inserting the pump port into my body isn't really a big deal because it will soon pass. The discomfort of an itchy site or the ache of cold insulin going into my body, well that's not ongoing, so it doesn't really matter. The fact that my finger tips are so scarred that I need to find new places to take blood tests, places that still have active nerves that jump when the clicker plunges in and succeeds to draw blood, well that just goes with the territory. I say to myself that I should feel ok because I have less discomfort because I only have to change my site every 3 days instead of take 6 shots every day, as I did before I went on the pump. It's less physical invasions, so the pain that is there, doesn't compare. It's come to not count over the years, because it's just so necessary. Necessary to live, so it's necessary to endure. Right?

Huh? Wait a minute here. Less pain is definitely better, but it's still pain. Less shots are definitely better, but it's still a physical invasion every 3 days, year in and year out. Plus there's the cumulative impact of all these tiny acts of violence. 6 shots a day for 16 years, 4-8 blood tests a day for nearly 22 years, insertion of a port into my stomach, backside and legs for over 7 years, thousands of low blood sugars and high blood sugars. That's a lot of "not so bad" stuff. A lot.

So in that light, my friends question is starting to take on some real importance to me. What's my antidote to the physical assault of diabetes? I'm struck with the fact that at this point, I'm not really sure.

Is it a massage every few weeks?. Not massage work, but rather, a massage just to relax and feel good.

Or maybe it's water. I remember how it felt when I was a young girl growing up in California floating in the waves at the beach. I imagine that physical feeling could possibly be an antidote to diabetes. Weightless, buoyant, floating in a calm, undulating sea. Maybe I need to try to find some of that in the near future.

Or maybe it's lying in a hammock on a 70+ degree day, somewhere sweet smelling, with a cool, refreshing breeze blowing around me. That perfect temperature, not too cool, not too warm, calm, quiet and complete. Yep. That would work too.

Even as I write this, I'm amazed at how much better I'm feeling, right now, this very minute. By just imagining what the antidote might be, I feel better. The idea that there are things that could possibly counteract some of the persistent physical noise and discomfort of diabetes is exciting. Seeing this idea as a filling in of what's been taken away physically by diabetes really helps me. In the absence of a cure, the question then becomes how can I soothe the tired, diabetes impacted body I have? What is my antidote?

sunshine on a grey day.

Thank goodness for the coming of spring and bouquets of daffodils in the meantime. Things are better now, the clouds are a little higher, there are a few more sun breaks and heh, life is basically good. Thanks to everyone for their kind words and reliable support. You are sunshine and warmth on the grey days. I am full up with appreciation.

hope.

It's been a bit of a rough week on the old diabetes front. Less about the inevitable, unending physical aspects of it, and more of a struggle of the spirit. I've felt heavy hearted, and more aware of some of the bigger trade offs I've made because of this disease. Trade offs that I'd make again, because they make sense in the big picture. They've helped overall, but regardless, they've also come with a price. They represent a loss of some of what life has to offer. 95% of the time I'm ok with the trade offs, I remember why I made them and I know they were for the best. But once in a while, I'm reminded of their cost and it's at those times that I feel sad and burdened. Last week was one of those times. Today is too. I know that this feeling will pass, as it has so many times before. I know there is hope. Just like the spring bulb in this lovely photograph from holly. It reminds me that there is hope. For better days and a lighter heart. I know that this too shall pass.