Type One Mom

A New Year

2011-01-01T07:33:00.001-08:00

Welcome 2011. I always find it refreshing to have a clear, defined sense of beginning. Sometimes it comes slow, but when the ball drops and the kiss is had on New Year's night-it is a line drawn in the sand- dividing of the old and the new.
Spring is in the air-even though it is a cruel little trick in upstate New York. Spring really won't come for another few months, but all of the snow has melted from the past storm, and the birds are chirping, the squirrels are chasing each other up the hill and my boys are ready to ride their bikes.
This little false spring is getting me excited for the real one, as I know by then I will be almost 2/3rds through my third pregnancy. Yes, we're expecting our third child. It is an exciting and wonderous time, and sweet because the boys are so aware of what is to come.
As for me being a Type 1 Diabetic, I am excited and aware of the other things that could happen. It was a strange start to the pregnancy in that as soon as I told my endocrinologist at the Joslin Center in Syracuse, they let me know that they would not be seeing me anymore, and would be referring me to the perinatal office in Syracuse. The perinatal center then said I need not go there as I had an OB already. My OB's office took on the responsibility of my diabetic care. This all in the first 10 weeks of my pregnancy and no one tested my A1C, no one asked for my BG readings, no one told me who I could call should I be concerned or worried about highs and lows-all of which I was experienceing.
I felt as though I was sent on a tiny raft in the middle of the ocean and told "Good Luck!" It was, needless to say, a bit scary.
I called my OB and asked for a second referral to the perinatal center and finally recieved a consultation there last week. I was begging for someone to take a little extra care. After meeting with one of the doctors, and hearing his surprise that no one had truly took any care or concern of my Diabetes, I decided that I will now be seen for the pregnancy only at the Perinatal Center-which I do feel good about. For my other two pregnancies I was in Binghamton and had a wonderful OB AND endo who worked together seemlessly. I had no idea how truly nice that was.
I have a letter floating around in my head for the Joslin Center, I don't intend on going back there for my own care after being pregnant-how can a doctor be a good one if they will refuse to see their patient at a critical time in their life?
We saw the movie True Grit yesterday and it made me pine for times of simple, clear cut, right and wrong, answers in this complicated world. It was such a great movie with an amazing heroine-that you don't see everyday. I'm inspired to read the novel it was based on. And if this baby is a girl-I know what she will watch when looking for a role model. The boys will enjoy it too. I am now a fan of all Western movies-but that's another post.
As for the pregnancy all is well and I feel really good-just tired at the end of the day. Looking forward to feeling things grow and continuing to eat and be healthy. Here's to a warm winter's thaw, a fresh start to the new year and the growing of babies, fruits, vegetables, happy kids, and smarter people!

Summer Time

2010-08-15T19:27:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite summer songs is the Janice Joplin version of Summertime. So soothing...so perfect. It's been a beautiful summer-full of sunny days, heat and humidity, smiles, laughter, katydids, shooting stars and all that good stuff. But we seem to be beating this heat by hanging out at the lake as often as possible and eating lots of ice cream. UGH! I only order the baby cones, but the guilt still lurks. It's damn hard to forgo the ice cream part of the summer tradition.
I've also felt that when the heat and humidity are high up there on the charts, my sugars go right along with it. Maybe it is my laziness that sets in with the heat, and my lack of getting up to test, and bolus. Or maybe there is a correlation. I'm finding that more water is good. I need to drink more water-and maybe cut out a baby cone or two.
This is my short and sweet attempt -even when I don't feel like writing much!

Back on

2010-04-29T11:30:00.001-07:00

What! A Year!
Well that happens doesn't it. A year goes by, and you realize the book you wanted to write, the photo albums, the room renovation, and the great ideas for when I had time never really did happen. But hey a hell of a lot of things were going on too.
So I've been home with my sons and enjoying moments of tea in the morning, teaching them to read and write and listen to the birds, and call them by name. I've picked up the hobby of bird-watching, and gardening. I nap. But I'm afraid I'm turning into an old woman already, walking slower in the yard, keeping the thermostat waaay down-to the grumblings of my cold-footed husband and children. Walking instead of running for exercise. And sometimes I think that with Diabetes, it is better to take it slow, better on my body, my mental health, etc. But I'm not old- my 33rd birthday is around the corner. I've got little rascally kids running all over the place. And we're thinking about growing our family just a bit more.
It's funny how the disease makes you look at life in a different way-for me at least-I am more sympathetic, more aware of death being a reality. I'm more disappointed if I don't accomplish something, and more apt to think in terms of the fast pace of time, and how our lives are always changing, and I try to take nothing for granted.
That said, I've had these great years of extra time with my little ones, working part-part time, and what have I done? I thought for sure by now that I would have perfect A1C's and feel like I really have the bull by the horns when it comes to this disease. Maybe by now I would have trained and been in a 5K and gotten support for research. But I haven't. I'm in relatively good health, eat well, and check my sugars all of the time. But my A1C's are still above 7, I still get high readings, I haven't been running-just walking. Hmm.
Do we take on the responsibility to live the extra good life when we are given a diagnosis of a chronic illness? Are we disappointing oursleves, our family, our friends if we don't become spokespeople for the disease? I'm not sure-no one says they're disappointed-they are proud of me. But I can't help but feel like I am letting someone down (maybe my doc, my kids?) when I get high readings. I am happy to be writing again. I need to do this-at least one thing on my list I can put a check next to-as long as I post again soon!

Mind over Matter

2009-03-10T13:47:00.001-07:00

For some reason moments of clarity and strength happen in the strangest of places.
Wegmans.
I love to shop there, what with all of the great stuff-natural, local, organic-but it is also one of the friendliest places to go with children. The grocery store is a big experience in our household, you know. Ever since my boys were young, I have suited them up, packed them in and scoured the parking lot looking for those damn giant car carts (which could probably qualify as a weapon of some degree-as I have knocked over a couple of really nice displays and people on occasion.) In any event, the boys get free samples at each counter, the layout is nice and I am always getting compliments on how good and well behaved my children are. That can really make a mother's heart soar. Really. Now watch-the next time I hit the store it's going to all fall apart.:)

So as a diabetic-grocery shopping is a challenge. I learned this around the first time I went shopping after I was diagnosed. I remember angrily looking at some guy trying to decide which icing-covered sweet cake he was going to buy. I never even considered those cakes before-I prefer to make my own. But all of a sudden, those cakes weren't an option for me to buy. It made me want to buy one. And I still linger at those displays a little too long in Wegmans. They're decorated in gold for crying out loud.

Deciding which foods to buy, what I'll prepare for my family and offer to them for snacks, etc., it's daunting. I want the food to be healthy and super low on sugar, if not free of it. But that is really tough. Not impossible- I know there are people out there who have been able to cut out sugar and write about it. And good for them. I haven't conquered that part of our lives yet. But I'm reading more-the latest-The Sugar Solution, by Sari Harrar. We'll see. All I can say is lots of cheese and lots of oats. Good thing those are accepted foods on my toddlers' menus.
So food is a challenge-shocking eh-for a Diabetic. I have to say my husband is always offering to go to the grocery store and shop for us, but for some reason that's a tough issue for me. Maybe it's a control thing. Wait-it is a control thing.

So on to my moment of clarity. It happened in the shopping line, when after reading labels, pushing the cart and boys throughout the store (it's got to be at least a mile) and talking/refereeing-I felt low. Shaky low. And I'm in line with the millions of other people waiting to get the hell home after a longer than expected trip to the grocery store. My tester is buried in my purse, under groceries, the free samples are crumbs on laps, the florescent lights are turning annoying, and I've got to keep unloading-expending energy. Of course, I chose the aisle with books and balloons as opposed to candy and soda.
So what am I left to do. Breath. I will be okay. I keep telling myself this. I have been low while cleaning the house and been able to keep cleaning knowing OJ is a second away. I can do this. I can do this. Groceries on the belt. Yes boys you can help. Breath. Write the check-is my writing okay? Can I still add numbers? I am okay. I really am.

By the time I get to the car I am at 79. Not bad. Not pass out bad. Everyone is fine. Safe in their carseats. The shoppers can breath easy now that the lady with the giant car cart and two little boys will not knock them over. And I can have a sip-guilt free-of the yummy organic juice I managed to find as I put the groceries in the car.
It is mind over matter. If I panicked and let myself worry about going low-making a scene at the store in front of the boys-it could have been chaotic and scary. I hope I can maintain composure more often than not.
I know it is not always possible. But talking myself through was good. I will be okay.

The Mothership

2008-09-23T09:14:00.000-07:00

Before I got to Boston-I had visions of entering into this massive building-high ceilings, some dramatic movie soundtrack playing in the background, and a flock of eager doctors awaiting my arrival. I think I was bored and fantacising a bit. The ceiling are hig, though.
I'm talking about visitng the mothership of Diabetic care in America-The Joslin Center in Boston, I just got home late last night from a whirlwind tour of the city-seeing friends-visiting Harvard (and pretending I was one of them), and getting myself back on track with the help of the Joslin group (A Harvard Affiliate-not surprising).
It was a blast-literally and figuratively. I had moments of great clarity-like "oh yeah I should be taking insulin when I eat-not an hour after food/sugar has started taking over my body."I knew I needed help when I assumed my sugars would be in the 300's and I was okay with that after eating my meals. So they guided me-the group at the Joslin Center. They've seen patients like me. They reminded me I am healthy for now-but the road is long and we must be diligent. I must be diligent. I have a family to care for, I have a life to live, a world to explore.
It wasn't dramatic, the doc's offices are the same no matter where you go. I did like the idea that the excersize phisiologist has worked with famous athletes-he mentioned a few. Not in a name-dropping way-in a "during games, he checks his sugar 6-7 times and he goes off the pump and uses a slower-longer acting insulin." I'm wondering if Ok magazine would pay money for that kind of insider information. Yeah..nope.
So the trip was symbolic as things in life can really be. I feel renewed-I've got a real plan form the best doctors in the business. I took a trip alone-and traveled as a diabetic-it can be done quite easily. Lots of testing at the gates, in the air, on the subway. And of course being away from my little family was tough for a bit-but I knew this was good for them in the long run.
So the ceilings were high, but the docs weren't waiting with clipboards in hand telling me I wasn't in Kansas anymore. They brought the reality, the humanness, the feeling that people all over deal with it-we are working with it-it will get better-you will be okay. And I will. The soundtrack playing-hard to tell right now. When I hopped on the treadmill-I had a Rocky moment-but that's a bit much...I'll keep thinking on it.

Is it me?

2008-07-09T13:39:00.000-07:00

It's hard to tell sometimes who I am beneath this disease. I have feelings and thoughts as I always did-but somehow they seem more dark, deeper, and when things are out of control-they seem really out of control. I have a tendency to clump things all together when things go wrong. So I think of the problem, where the problem stems from, how it is exacerbated, and finally how having diabetes makes it all worse. I wish many times I could erase that one final issue from the issues of being a mother , wife, daughter, worker. I can't quite figure out how it all works together-it only seems like this is something that worsens the bad parts. And when there are good parts-it doesn't make them better-it just lingers in the corner waiting to burst a bubble. And I am impatient about making my problems go away. I have done this even when I was younger. My father reminded me recently that I would rush to them at the end of their day-just as they walked in the door with all of my problems-and my concerns and I wanted them to help me right then. As a parent now-I can see how this can be tough. There are moments in the day when Wes, my youngest, wants to be picked "up right now" and he will cry if I don't. Maybe this is some foreshadowing (mental note). I know I still do this today with my issues-I am impatient in wanting everything to get better. Diabetes is not for the impatient. Insulin takes 2 hours to really work and peak in my body. When I have a low-I want everything-and need at least 15 grams of something-to eat-right now.

I took a personality test-"Are You a Happy Person?" I always considered myself to be one-but then the question was posed-do you take something bad that has happened to you and turn it into an opportunity-or a way to make your life better? I am not at this point in my coping with my disease yet. That is for sure. So in essence-does Diabetes make me not a happy person anymore-not as optimistic as I once was? I cannot answer this question-at this point.
(And I still don't know if I should capitalize Diabetes.)

Is there something good that can come out of this, and how will I find my true self within the disease? The cliche-of not wanting to be defined by your problems is major here. Maybe within this there is one part of me that can mature and become better at being patient. I have to be-there is no cure right now, there is no way I can change the right now of my Diabetes. But on the other side of impatience is understanding the importance of the right now. Diabetes has definitely made me much more eager to experience all that life has to offer-right now. I don't like feeling like I have missed an opportunity. I hate thinking I may have regrets.

I can pick Wesley up right now. And I can do many things right now-as a healthy, mother of two beautiful boys. And I can sit and enjoy the right now-not in the way that something is creeping up around the corner, but in the way that right now can last-and more right nows will come in good time.

The Center

2008-07-03T19:28:00.000-07:00

Hooray. My doctor has set up an appointment for me at the Joslin Diabetes Center. I am looking forward to being amongst the latest and greatest people who deal with this disease. The trip to Boston should be fun-nice city, and it will be in the fall-apparently they book far out. I am having a hard time keeping good solid track of my numbers-but I know I need to do this in order for my slew of healthcare professionals to realize what works for me and what doesn't. I'm not sure if it is hard for me to fit it into my schedule to write down all of my carb intake, and my boluses, and all of that, or if I am avoiding the work that will show that I am off track. My numbers have been better since I have been on the pump-but that is what I always say-I am doing good-better, etc. Rarely do I ever say I am not doing well or I am totally unhealthy. I fear that if I say it it will be true. And I have not had any complications from the disease yet. I hope never to have them. But am I kidding myself? This is a disease that will not go away. I am afraid to admit that someday it won't be as easy as it is now.
Not so much on the creative side-but I needed to write-it's been a while.
Sugars 1 hour ago 199-3 hours ago 114.

Bend Over

2008-06-20T09:28:00.000-07:00

Shoes. Should they be comfortable, should they be stylish? I change my mind on this a lot. Good shoes are important for our foot health, and so on. But damn there are some ugly-ass comfortable shoes around. In any event I was trying to find the best pair to wear this morning, bending over deep into my closet to find a match. As I was peering into the depths, my son Wes started playing with my pump cord. Just like a cat and a string. He pulled it long, looked at it and rolled it around his pudgy little fingers. It's a toy to my sons. It has been since they were born. I remember changing my pump site from my belly to my butt while I nursed both boys, so their tiny feet wouldn't get tangled up in the line. Like fishing wire, that could cut off a toe.
They play with the blue screen light in the middle of the night when they can't fall asleep. I worry, and am cautious that they will give me insulin accidentally, but I also don't want them to fear this gadget that hangs from their mother. There are enough safety features that I would know if this were ever to happen-and I am only a foot away from them when they hold the pump.

Unlike how I am with friends, I am very open about testing my sugars, changing my pump site, and dealing with Diabetes in front of my children, and husband. I don't want them to think of me as different, or weak because I have diabetes. I want it to just be a part of our life-uninterrupting, just a piece to the large puzzle of our lives. They are at an age where everything is new to them, and they are curious without judgement. So when I tell them I am checking my blood sugars-they watch, and try to grab my tester out of my hands. They are boys-if they could they would probably throw it across the room and leave it out in the rain. If I could, I would throw it across the room and leave it in the rain.

I noticed that I sit differently in the car with my pump on. I always attach it to my backside, clipped to the rim of my skirts or jeans, or pants. and tuck it in so it looks like a beeper. When I first started wearing it, I hoped others thought that's what it was- a beeper-or cell phone. Now when I lean over and show the pump and the cord attached, oftentimes sticking out awkwardly, I am self conscious. It is something that draws attention to me but not in a flattering way. I'm working on making the pump a more fashionable accessory. We'll see.
But for now when it sticks out and I'm home, and Wes or Everett reach over to explore this weird thing connected to their mommy-it's okay, it's a time to talk about it and make it part of me, and my life as thier mom...as a diabetic.

Crying in the doctor's Office

2008-06-17T06:08:00.001-07:00

It's something that I really don't want to do...ever. I don't want to stare at the sterile walls, the corner where the nightshift cleaner missed a clump of dirt, the $9.99 framed poster of some famous painter's work-reproduced so the colors bleed, and the brush strokes are lost, and cry. I don't want to do this in a doctor's office. Ever. But then, in a way, it is kind of comforting to cry to someone who knows the disease well-the numbers, and letters of it, the intricacies, even if they have only studied it and read about it in books, they have taken that interest, and the tears are a part of it.
I went to get my new pump hooked up and sat there, arms crossed. The nurse was running late-an emergency at the hospital.
"Will I ever become an 'emergency' at the hospital," I thought. "Will I ever get to work on time?" "Will I ever get a chance to feel normal and healthy again?"
I can't help but remember the days when I looked forward to going to the doctor's, because it was a reassurance of my health. All was well. I looked good, felt good, and my body was healthy. It is not like that any more. It is concern, and numbers, and directions, and pokes, and blood- letting, and anxiety, and reminders of what I will be if I make it to 65.
Ugh.
So I sat on the tissue-papered table, and looked at a Golf magazine, sunny skies, green grass, striped shirts, and I thought about whether or not I wanted to cry in front of this nurse, who knows my name only when she is looking at my chart.
I start to talk to the secretary of the office , who is also a diabetic, and says she understands, and tries to be there."I know, I know," she says. I am trying, swalloing hard, so I don't burst into tears. I have always been an honest to the core kind of person. Tell the truth, say how you are feeling, get it out. This is the first time I hold back my tears. What will it do for me here? It will make the nurse even later for the next appointment.
I ask for a name of a counselor-I get a piece of paper with "psychotherapist, name, phone" written on it. Psychotherapist. I am scared. I have tears welling in my eyes. My new pump is on, and I have no one to just cry to, to bury my head in someone's soft shoulder and cry for me. It is a selfish moment, but I just need that, and someone to hand me a tissue and tell me it's going to be alright. But I am in this office with fake plants, no windows, no fresh air, no flowers, no warm sun or swimming pool. I try to imagine all that until the appointment is over -and finally it is. I have to go back in a week, write down all my sugars-before meals, post perandeum-bedtime, middle of the night, exercise.
I will try my hardest, and I will go home and shed some tears. I wanted to in the car-but I had to head to work.

Hooray New Pump-new Hope

2008-06-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

I'm drowing in test strips. They are very where I go. I leave this funny trail of blue and metal. Random places, the babysitter's driveway, the floor in the library, the floor of my son's room, my bed.
I just got a new pump upgrade, and am looking forward to putting it on and starting like a new diabetic. I am hoping to tell my doctor to treat me as though I am new to this-because I feel like I need re-learning. I feel like I have learned as much as I can and am now making decisions based on fear rather than knowledge. Like I wait to give myself insulin until after I have eaten-in fear that I will go low. Or sometimes I don't give myself insulin at all. All of this I know is wrong. Like an alcoholic knows they shouldn't drink. It is all in the mind. I am more and more surprised at how in control-and out of control- we are of our lives through our minds. The brain is shockingly able to turn so many things. I love when I can think myself into being relaxed-at ease,.
I am hoping to test less, and be more confident with how insulin works in my body. I feel like anymore it is anyone's (mine) guess as to how much insulin I should take at a given meal.
I think that is why this is so stressful in my life right now. I worry when I sart the car-in fear that I will crash with my babies inside. I get nervous before a walk or run-I don't even bother with that now-because I'm not sure how my body will react.
A trip to the doctor's will hopefully be just what I need. It will be Friday. See you then!

The highs, the lows

2008-06-10T07:11:00.000-07:00

Under normal circumstances, good food, good wine, and good converstaion are nice. Type 1 is not normal circumstances. I went out to my favorite restaurant in Ithaca for a celebration with friends, and really the food was fabulous, the drinks were great the conversation great. But really in the end I checked myself too much, and ended up with a high sugar reading throughout the night. It is one of those things that would be so nice to not live with on certain nights. My husband is headed out of town this week and it would be sweet to have a nice night, no complications, no grumpiness, just a nice night together but I didn't have it. I am falling victim to this disease in moments like this. I have an infection from days earlier that is still lingering, and I am over thinking things and feeling down about the woman I have or have not become by 31. All of these thoughts in my head, and I wonder what would I be like without Type 1. I wonder if I would have carefree moments, more random easy nights, more love, less friction. More laughter, less stress. If it could go away even for a night, I just want to remember what it feels like to not have this extra thing hanging off of me, that I cannot detach and that I frankly hate. Is it a challenge? Is it something that I will overcome, and happiness will come once I accept fully what I am (A healthy Diabetic, who will take control over this) and am not (a scared woman who can't quite get a grip).
I know it would be best to not wish to be different than I am, to accept fully what I have and do not have. But that is not easy. So it is a challenge. It is something I have to deal with.
And I will keep going out on occasion to try to have some fun, and one of these nights, I'll give myself enough insulin to have one of those movie screen nights, where the ending is perfect and the sleep is good.

A Day in the Life

2008-06-03T11:04:00.000-07:00

There are perks to this you know.
It can be easy to get down-real quick-about having the old Diabetes. I hear Wilfred Brimley's country voice occasionally telling me about supplies, I snap at my husband, I feel tired when I wish I had energy, I can't eat the rest of my super good chocolate birthday cake in one sitting-and I feel guilty that I even have a chocolate birthday cake. And I don't want this to go to my sons. I really don't want them to get this. And I worry about my brother who will get it eventually, but he lives with a bucnh of college guys, and will he really check his sugars when he should in the middle of the night?
But today I got to go to the zoo.
I got to go to the zoo because there is a little girl at the school where I work who is also a Type 1 Diabetic. She needed someone to go along with her on their field trip and check her sugars and make sure she took enough insulin after lunch.
I made a note to myself about how many times during our trip to the zoo I thought about my sugars. I tested myself four times. I checked her three times. That's 7 interruptions from the monkeys, the penguins, the leopards-and for me a couple more on the bus trip back. We walked a lot-walked! I'm 31 and I am concerned about how far I will be walking. I'm not overweight, I know I can handle it-but my pancreas cannot. I worry I will shake in front of the other students, or act out of sorts. I worry that I'll faint. I've never fainted in front of anyone because of Diabetes, I've never been hospitalized, but I am so freaking scared about it. So I do what any person who cannot control their blood sugars-I let my sugars go high-really high-like 410-after I finished my lunch-and then decided to take some insulin. I am guilty for doing all of this, and am worried about what I had for lunch-peanut butter on rice cakes, celery, grapes, chips, and I skipped out on the granola bar. but I also had some Vitamin Water. Sheesh. Nothing terrible-actually quite healthy. But I still feel bad. Damn this. It definitely is not easy.
Back to the perks. I took a break from the library in which I work, walked with the students, enjoyed the animals and in fact related to the idea of living like those animals. They don't fly at their cages-knowing they are trapped-they don't plan elaborate escapes-maybe they can't-though the crow is supposedly very intelligent-and may in fact. They don't throw the food back at their keepers, or scream at the visitors. They live with there fellow animals in their enclosures. They exist. Maybe happy, maybe not.
There are times when I can relate. But today I was not caged, concerned occasionally, distracted often, but not caged. No, I am human first, then Diabetic-somewhere far down the line. Way far down the line. I'm mom, wife, daughter, sister, granddaughter, friend, librarian, librarian who can go along on field trips, writer, photographer, gardener, reader, then maybe somewhere I am Diabetic. I am not caged.