aiming for grace

honesty.

 

I'm going in this morning to be fit for a sensor for the week. I know it's a good thing because it will yield lot's of helpful data. It's time for that given how strange my blood sugars have been the last couple of months. It's amazing we have the ability to this now. Such accurate, persistent feedback. What an helpful tool in our arsenal. So yes, from a diabetes management, medical information standpoint, it's very a good thing.

But that's not how I feel this morning. I feel sad about it. I know it's not going to be anything horrible from a physical standpoint, but still, I'm so very tired of having devices in my body. For whatever reason it makes me feel a little off kilter, like I'm one beat off on a song. I know, old story, old lament. But there you have it nonetheless. The feelings are real and I'm trying to be OK with that for a bit. I guess honesty is the least I can do for myself today.

I'll get mine now.

 

I'm an apple girl in all things technical except my phone. I haven't bought the iphone yet, due in great part to a profound reticence to having to learn yet another technical tool. I like my tech tools well enough, but they're just that to me, tools not toys, and as such I come to resent them when they cause me more work in the process of "helping me out". But today's announcement by apple and lifescan about this groovy, new diabetes app (scroll to the middle of the post), will most certainly be the thing that tips me into buying the iphone. Period, no question, no doubt, done deal. Nicely designed (of course), simple to use and thankfully, not very "medical" feeling overall, this app looks like it will let me do what I need to do, seamlessly, throughout my day. What a concept! The only downside here is having to wait until June! 

Thanks to engadget and Alex for the original heads up. You just made my day!

to go or not.

 

I just got back from a short business trip to the midwest. Only 2 nights away. 3 hour time difference though, which is always a challenge. Ah yes, traveling continues to pose some particular challenges for my diabetes control. It's as if I step into an airport and until I return, my blood sugars are out of whack, pure and simple. No matter what I try, to carry the right food with me, to stay on west coast time throughout the trip, to switch my pump to east coast time as soon as I land, at the end of the day, nothing ever really works. I'm always high on the plane no matter how much insulin I take, or how little I eat. Meal schedules are off once I get where I'm going so regardless of how vigilant I am about bolusing to cover the food I'm eating "off my schedule", it rarely actually works. And night time always poses a special set of problems because of time and meal changes. Raging highs at "bed time", do I correct or not? When I do, I often crash a few hours later, when I don't, I'm in the 300's and up at night dealing with the thirst or need to pee. Beyond jet lag, there's always a little diabetes fun to add to the fatigue of travel. Ah, it's such a bundle of fun.

And yet, at times, it's still worth it. My trip last week was one of the those times. It wasn't fun physically, but even so, it was a very positive experience. And more importantly, I come away from this particular trip with a new view about travel and trade off. Now when I'm faced with travel, I'm going to think about the potential, the opportunity for a positive experience that will outweigh the inevitable negative physical impact on me. No judgement here, no "woe is me", just put the proposition on a scale and see what comes up. Though it might not always be so hard on me physically, I'm going to assume it will be, just for arguments sake. That way I can really weigh the options. That way I can really enjoy the trips when I do choose to go, in spite of the toll they take in the immediate. That way I can feel good about the times I pass on travel, because at those times, the trade off just wasn't worth it. 

I win both ways. And that totally works for me!

small adventures, close to home.

 

My friend and I visited this place last weekend. A half an hour away, fields of dahlias, row after row, like a huge striped painting made of flowers. Eye popping beauty on a gorgeous early fall day. It's been warm again, as it often is in the northwest at this time of the year. And with the warmth comes late summer flowers like these, big and small, variegated and solid, simple and frilly. The variety and bawdiness of it all literally took our breath away. It was a wonderful small adventure.

I've been wrestling with the realities of my life with diabetes, wrestling with it for most of the time I've had it. Trading off between what I'd like to do and what happens when I actually do it. I've landed on both sides of the equation, sometimes not caring about the ramifications of that cupcake or extra long walk, and then other times opting to not indulge because the costs are just too great. This ongoing debate is just a part of my life with diabetes.

One of the biggest struggles I've had in the realm of these trade offs has been around travel. It always takes a toll, no matter how careful I am. Always. But I do it nonetheless, usually because I have to for my work. It's do-able of course, and I have a good time in spite of the inevitable blood sugar ride that ensues. But when I do have a choice, I find that I am choosing not to travel when I can. I'm sick of the work it requires and the physical challenges it always poses, the extra highs and lows all take some of the bloom off the travel rose. I've struggled with the desire to see the world more and the particular cost diabetes adds to the process of actually doing so. I've worried that I'm "wimping out", that I'm letting diabetes limit me, that I'm missing out on a full life. And yet, more and more I find that I just want to minimize the discomforts of diabetes as much as I possibly can. I'm tired of the roller coaster, pure and simple. And though I still have it in my day to day life, I have it less so when I stay closer to home. That's just a fact. As much as I'd like it to be different, that's the way it is.

Recently, something occurred to me that's turned out to be very helpful. I realized that travel is just one way to have a full, intriguing, magical, rich life. Plenty of the greatest thinkers and artists that I admire, didn't have to go far afield to experience a meaningful, adventurous life. Close can bring expansion. Near can bring adventure. Small can bring liberation. And in my case, safe can bring joy and energy, balance and happiness. 

Yes, my friends and culture think travel is the end all and be all. The magazines I read celebrate all the exotic corners of the world. The question everyone asks after a week off is "where did you go"? Yes, my friends dream and plan and visit places far and wide. But, it's all relative. It's very personal. And at the end of the day, it's up to me to decide what works best for me with diabetes!

So I'm trying to feel better about all this. I'm trying to look at the rich world just outside my door. Last week I went here and here and here. And later this week, I'm going here and here. Lot's of small adventures, close to home, but as so full of the opportunity to "travel" far and wide.

eat the rainbow.

I was one of those kids that hated vegetables and fruits. Unfortunately, I remain that same type of person as an adult, though I know better than to avoid them in my diet. I try to eat the few types of fruits and vegetables I actually like as much as possible. My nutritionist says I'm ok with the types I like, as long as I eat them more often. So I am and it's getting easier to do so, though I doubt fruits and vegetables will ever be tops of my favorites list any time soon.

Nutrition is so very complicated as a science and as a diabetic, there's so much to consider when thinking about food. So much of the time eating becomes a chore or source of fuel or connection to bloodsugars and not a source of pleasure or sustenance. So I like it when nutrition is presented in a simple, straightforward way, which helps make it easier to do the right thing when it comes to what I eat. Which is why I'm loving the nature matching system by tattfoo, a project that frames up nutrition as color, "as a reminder to consume your daily recommended doses of color. The shades of color displayed at farmers’ markets are more than skin deep, reflecting the inner potential of every fruit and vegetable; intense colors might even be called nature’s nutrition labels. They get many of their colors from phytonutrients, compounds that play key roles in health and reduce the risk of heart disease and cancer. The more colors come together at a meal, the better. Sadly, marketers of junk food apply the same technique used by nature to pollinate seed to their nutrition-deprived product. Color is a device that can do good or be deceptive and ensure the pollination of unhealthy eating habits. The colors on the placemat shown below are all actual food colors, taken from photographs of various fruits and vegetables. Match your meal to the placemat—it is truly a rainbow connection."

What a smart, simple way to think about food. I love it, plus it sounds so much more fun and doable than the usual "eat better or you'll be in trouble" feel of most of the talk we hear in this culture around nutrition. Add more colors to your meals! Eat the rainbow! I actually want do that!

aiming for grace: 20 things I know about diabetes.

I owe Amy a big thank you for her kind review of my new little book aiming for grace: 20 things I know about diabetes. To be honest, I'm feeling a bit funny about even talking about it. More than anything, making this series of posts into a self published book has been a terrific exercise, a healing process, to be honest. The fact that there's a book that people can have if they'd like, is a very nice result of a personal exercise that's been helpful and positive to me as an individual. Making something from nothing has always really helped me for some reason. A piece of art, a story, a blog post, a book. Taking an idea or feeling from inside and pushing it outward into a real form that I can see and feel has always made sense to me. It's always made hard things less difficult to deal with.

That was the core idea behind the aiming for grace exercise I did a couple of years ago to commemorate my 20th anniversary of living with diabetes. It was so very helpful, 20 posts over a 2 week period. Surprises and revelations that I hadn't expected, confirmation and celebration of what I'd learned so far. It helped so much to see the ideas rather than just think them. Doing the exercise did exactly what I had hoped it would by creating a milestone and documentation of all that I knew so far. It honored my journey for myself.

After doing the exercise on my blog, I decided to make 10 one-off copies and have them bound in a book format to give to my family and friends and doctors, to acknowledge their help in my journey and to thank them for their support. There was something so amazing about take the idea further, from inside my head, onto the blog with it's virtual format I could see, to a book format I could touch and feel. The process somehow made the ideas feel more real to me and just as importantly, it gave the people who received the book a chance to interact with the ideas in a more intimate and personal way. I don't know what it is about books, but there's something about the weight and feel of a story in your hands, physically revealed with each turn of the page, each picture and phrase. Everyone, to the person, commented on how they had learned something more about diabetes because of the book, a result quite frankly I hadn't expected. These were people who knew the disease well or at the very least, knew me well, and yet because of the format, were able to interact and understand diabetes at a different level. Who knew?

Since I went through the exercise of making the one off books, some amazing technology has come to be. In the last couple of years the ability to self publish has become possible in unprecedented and relatively affordable ways. Thanks to services like Blurb, iPhoto book, and Lulu to name a few, it's fairly easy now to publish one's own content in a beautiful, professional way. Each company has a interface that makes it possible to drop your content into their format and then for a price, based on size, number of pages, and whether it's hard or soft cover, they will produce the book for you. Simple as that.

So what's happened is that the insight from my experience with making the aiming for grace exercise into a book has combined with this happy new technology of self publishing and voila, my little book was born. I kept thinking about how people internalized the ideas differently in a book format and I thought that other people might like to have the choice to see the story that way too. All the original content still lives on the site and can be read anytime here. What's fun is that now if someone wants to have it in a swell book format, they can have it that way too.

can limits be possibilities?

I went to the portland art museum yesterday to see the chuck close prints: process and collaboration exhibition. Chuck Close is one of my favorite contemporary artists because of his amazing study of color as well as his exploration of the wide range of materials and production methods he uses to make his art. The exhibit features many of his prints and paintings but what was most exceptional was the fact that the various process' he uses to make his art were shown along side the finished work. Etching plates, carved wood panels, and a series of screen prints shown in stages, with each progressive screen adding yet another color, revealing how the final idea emerged over time. This exhibit highlighted Mr. Closes technical mastery, his meticulous attention to detail and unrelenting dedication to a complex process of making. I thought I knew and loved his work before, but after seeing this show, I walked away with a greater understanding and appreciation for his art. What an absolute treat!

I walked away with an appreciation for this man's art unto itself, moved by it's beauty and technical achievement. But I also walked away with a few thoughts that might apply to my life with diabetes. The fact that this amazing work is done by a person who is a paraplegic with limited use of his arms is also remarkable. To say that Mr. Close suffered an enormous set back in life, one which imposed profound physical limitations on him, is a colossal understatement to say the least. I have a hard time imagining what it must have been like. I have a hard time imagining what it took to move forward to paint again. But the fact that I can't personally imagine what it was like or what it took to start again, and the fact that my physical situation is completely different from Mr. Closes, doesn't diminish the lessons his story offers to me. It's not about comparing the level of challenge each person faces but rather, respecting and learning from the way each person approaches their journey and then applying the lessons that make sense to your own. For me, Mr. Closes particular story resonates deeply. The way that he made his art had to change to address his new physical state and as such, his art changed too. Limitations were accommodated and his art continued to be created. He made what was dealt him work, regardless.

Now I'm not going to go to that place about what a "blessing" limitations are. And I'm also not going to talk about how there are no limitations, just lack of will. Everyone has their own response to the physical limitations imposed by disease, disability or accidents. Sometimes getting up in the morning is the most courageous act a person can muster that day and sometimes that's as important to celebrate as any other type of accomplishment as far as I'm concerned. No, what I'm taking away from Mr. Closes story is more of an idea about possibility. I'm taking away the idea that maybe limits can be possibilities too. Given the choice, I'd hand in the limits of diabetes first chance I could get. But in light of the fact that there isn't a choice, I'm left with the question: what are the possibilities here? What can I learn from other peoples journey's with physical limitations and what lessons can I apply to my own?

When I step back from Mr. Closes story, I take away two key lessons. One idea is kind of romantic, the other is practical, but both are very important.

The first lesson I learned was about passion. When I look at Chuck Close's art, I see an enormous curiosity and ability for obsessive focus. There is a deep interest and passion around making and understanding and finding a kind of perfection, on his terms, for himself first. When you see the 100+ screens for a screen print series, you know that there's a journey towards something perfect and complete going on here. A narrow subject range and idea is explored over and over again, with different mediums, through different lenses. Passion, curiosity and deep focus, all feel to me like they're important sources of energy for this incredibly rich, alive and profoundly beautiful body of work.

The second lesson I learned was about collaboration and outsourcing. Less sexy than passion but just as important. Mr. Close's situation, and the art form of printmaking, requires the help and expertise of others to execute his artistic vision. The write up that accompanied the piece called Emma, spoke repeatedly about the trust he had to give to the master printer who was producing it. That it was hard for Mr. Close to let go of the control of the making of the piece. But in the end, Emma is magnificent, due in great part to that very collaboration and dialogue between the artist and the craftsperson. The actual making was outsourced, but the idea, the genius, the artistic story was Mr. Closes, made better through collaboration and trust. To bring that story to life, he had to let others help him do it. And magic and beauty was the result of that process.

So at the end of the day, I saw some wonderful art yesterday. The questions and lessons that came from yesterday however, will be carried with me for far longer. Questions like, what are the possibilities that lie within the physical limits that diabetes can present? What is the passion in my life that transcends diabetes and all the struggles it can carry? What do I need to do to accommodate the limits I feel? What things can be outsourced and who can I collaborate with to bring to life the things I am trying to build and experience in my life in spite of diabetes? And most importantly of all, what new thing can be brought into the world because of the limits I experience?

What are the possibilities?

Image via don relyea's blog.

another way.

My friend who got diabetes last year is now on the insulin pump. She's so cool. She's an inspiration to me in many ways, especially in her grace in dealing with all the changes that diabetes has brought to her life. I can't say enough about her because she's just so cool.

Like how she wears her pump. Out in the open, clipped to her jeans back pocket, there for the world to see. Not like me who discreetly clips it to my waistband, conscious of every time my sweater rides up and reveals my clunky, not so pretty friend. Conscious and constantly tugging to cover it up and keep it as much out of view as possible. It's not that I'm ashamed of the pump but rather that I just don't want to lead with it. "Hi there, I have a pump, oh by the way, did you know I was diabetic", you know, that kind of thing. Or that's at least what I used to think until my cool friend came along and showed me another way. Every time I see her, totally styled out and as groovy as she's always been, moving through her day gracefully with her square chunk of a pump clamped nonchalantly to her back pocket or sweater, I find myself needing to stop and catch my breath. I'm totally floored, flabbergasted, flummoxed. Not by her. By me. Why have I been so nervous about showing my pump I ask myself? Why have I worried so much about someone seeing it? When I see my friend I'm struck with the question, what does it matter? She's so cool and sassy and stylish with her pump that I realize it's really ok to show it. In fact, it's totally ok.

What this has taught me is that it helps a lot to be actually be around other people who have diabetes once in a while. It's a good thing to actually see other healthy ways of dealing with this disease. It's fine to choose my own way, but being exposed to other options along the way, makes the choosing that much more informed and personal. I'm so completely grateful and lucky to have the chance to do this now with one person, one friend.

And who knows, maybe one day I'll feel less self conscious about showing my pump and just clip that puppy to my jeans pocket on the way out the door. Or maybe not, but at least now I know I have that option, thanks to my friend.

what's in a number?

What is it with numbers? Why do I feel so bad about certain numbers and good about others? Why do I compare mine to other peoples? And why do people feel so compelled to share theirs, unsolicited but worked into the conversation nonetheless? Why do we care about numbers so much? I know we're trained to notice numbers, and to track them, and to understand their meaning. I've been trained to use numbers as guides and tools in my health care. I've been trained to shoot for certain numbers and to react to certain numbers and to notice the patterns of the numbers, to change my behavior, my choices, my life in relation to numbers. But no one has ever come out and said I should feel anything beyond the information they provide. Even so, I realized recently how much more meaning I attach to my numbers beyond the information they are designed to provide. I realize that I attach a judgement of my character to my blood sugar and A1C numbers, like some kind of cosmic grade about whether I am a good person or not.

Huh?

Wow.

Where is that coming from? Certainly not from my doctor or my husband or my friends or the OC. So if not from them, then from where? And more importantly, why? No one says I should feel the way I sometimes feel about numbers. In fact, they often say I shouldn't. There is no good reason to attach this extra meaning to a 6 or a 7 or a 5 but even so, I do it anyway sometimes.

Wow. Now that's really good information. To actually see that I'm doing that. To see it clearly. Because now that I see it, I can work on it. I can work on noticing and using the numbers as information and guides. And that's all. I can notice when 1) I see a number, and then 2) I feel like a failure or a bad person. I can work at stopping at 1) and not going to 2). Because the fact is that 2) is not true and to feel so, even unconsciously, doesn't help in any way (and in fact, makes it worse than it needs to be). So here's to a new equation. One where numbers are just numbers. Neutral, a source of information and positive motivation and inspiration, a guidepost and just a moment in time, and that's all. And that's all. Ah, now that's a noble goal!

totally off my game.

We're in the middle of some remodeling and it's totally got me off my game. I'm not a particularly neat person, but I am definitely a home body, so having my haven of calm disrupted by torn up walls, sheet rock, sheet rock dust, torn up floors, rooms full of displaced furniture from the rooms being remodeled, all adds up to a major rattling of my cage. Which is normal I guess but as with most normal things, diabetes adds another fun filled layer that can shift an experience from annoying to physically challenging and even dangerous. Case in point. Over the last 3 days I've made mistakes that I've literally never made before now. And not just one. Many, all in a row. What's going on here? I've forgotten to take my dinner insulin dose resulting in a 350 b/s at bedtime, resulting in another 340 b/s in the middle of the night and then a crash in the early morning because I over judged how much insulin I needed. Hi zombie woman the next day. Then last night I forgot to reattach my pump after a bath, discovering the mistake at bedtime, an error that would have meant a high b/s under normal circumstances but for some reason in this case, I was 56 so it didn't actually matter so much except for the freak out factor of realizing I'd forgotten to reattach the pump in the first place. Excuse me? Then this morning, it was time to change out the site, a fact that I had noted last night, this morning before my shower, and again after my shower as I was getting dressed. Normally I'd change out the site before I left for work, which I planned to do as usual today. Right. I got to work, picked up some breakfast, went to bolus and remembered that yes, I needed to change out my pump this morning but hadn't. Luckily, I had enough insulin left to cover the meal so I bolused, called my lovely husband and asked him to drop by some fresh insulin on his way to work because the vial I had with me was ancient. In the past I have never, I mean never, been in this position before, so frankly I'd forgot to change out the vial in the last year. Wow. I'm most definitely off my attention game here. Which makes me realize how much I'm usually on it (and for what it's worth, how much I hate remodeling). But ultimately, it really reminds me of how much I need to pay attention at times when my routine is out of sync. Because, though the situation at hand is most definitely annoying, given the right circumstances, diabetes can make it become a lot worse. After all, there's no negotiating with diabetes here. If you mess up, you mess up and pay the consequences. Period. Boy I hope the new floors, pretty picture window and big open, sunny room will be worth it. I'm sure it will be, if I don't land myself in the hospital or something stupid like that before it's done! Yikes.