Hey. It's been awhile. Part of that is because I never seem to have the time or energy to write these days, though the itch has been growing and I've been opening up stagnant stories in the hopes that maybe inspiration will hit and I'll pick them back up.
Mostly it's because of two reasons. 1) I usually re-read the last blog I did before writing a new one and the last thing I want to do is re-read my last blog. I miss Bandit enough without reminding myself how shredded I was the day we had to say good bye. Hell, just writing that is making me sob...so hang on while I do that...
The other reason? My diabetes is in shit control right now and I'm ashamed of it. I've been eating poorly, my Garmin has reset my step goal to less than 5000 steps because of how little I move around, and even though I'm trying to work with someone from Medtronic on revising all of my pump settings, it's been difficult to connect with her and my blood sugars are paying for it. Don't believe me? Look!
The gray area below all that yellow and above that red line is where my blood sugars are supposed to be. I basically feel like shit all the time and am giving myself copious amounts of insulin for what appears to be no reason at all. And no, I can't really understand all of that either. I just know it's bad.
I don't blame anyone but myself for this. I know, I could blame any number of people or scenarios or things, but let's be real, okay? It's my damn fault these numbers are this way. I don't count carbs, I don't use the bolus wizard, and I don't hound the Medtronic employee when she doesn't get back to me after two weeks of waiting. It's my fault.
I had an endocrinologist appointment this month but I had to reschedule it, so I now have a month to get myself back on track. I have not fallen off of the wagon. I jumped off, chased fairies into the forest, and have spent the last several months eating the leftovers of the witch's gingerbread house now that Hansel and Gretel took care of her. It's time for me to shake this off and take care of myself and fix this mess I've made of my health.
#BetterOffTed
Which is easy to say but not do. I know this, because I've said it many, many times before. I've said it in this blog. I've said it to my doctor. I've said it to myself in the mirror with conviction, even. But when the time comes for me to roll my butt out of bed and spend ten minutes on the exercise bike before I get our son up and ready for school...
Hell, I should be on the damn bike right now, but instead I'm sitting here trying to be clever. I mean, I could do any ONE of the things that I need to do and I would see improvement.
Use the bolus wizard so I am giving the appropriate amount of insulin when I eat.
Eat healthier foods, and lay off the cookies.
Get up twenty minutes earlier and exercise.
Email the pump specialist and see if we can't lock down a time to chat.
Get up and walk around the building during my breaks at work.
Take breaks at work, for that matter.
Any one of them would make a difference. Right? I don't have to do all of them at once...
Had my endocrinologist appointment last month...this month? I can't remember. Anyways, the new nurse practitioner he has me working with wasn't thrilled with my 7.8 HbA1c. Neither am I, truth be told, but at least it wasn't an 11, which in this case wouldn't be a good thing regardless of what Nigel Tufnel claims. Everything else was pretty normal, though my cholesterols both went up from last time.
A little more movement on my part and being more cautious about what I eat would solve this hemoglobin issue, yet unlike the previous nurse practitioner that I worked with this one can't seem to see through my BS and see that. If I say I've been trying to be more active it means during the last three months I managed to get on the exercise bike three times...total, and not per week as I had intended. The only reason my A1c was even that good was my continuous glucose monitor.
This is fairly accurate except for the "What I think it is" box because the last thing that (insert chain of expletives here) CGM does is let me sleep. It beeps constantly. And wouldn't you know it, I just realized I could at least shorten the length of the beeps so it isn't quite as annoying after using one for years. There has been an unforeseen consequence of this, though, in that the beep is now so short I often don't hear it until all the alarms go off and its beeping emergency signals because I've basically been ignoring it.
Getting back to the endo, though, she hooked me up with a thyroid ultra sound I've as yet to schedule (I've complained about this before, and here we go again- no, I don't have a thyroid problem, yes I've had more than one ultra sound done on it before and as there is nothing in my blood work that indicates there is a problem why am I doing this yet again?) She also gave me a number for a diabetes educator that is probably not covered by my insurance but will be able to see through my line of BS and just tell me I need to do what I know I need to do. The alternative is being part of a "study" which has been mentioned more than once at visits that I have clearly shown zero interest in (the study, not the visits...though, let's be real- I'm not that interested in going to visits, either.)
Now, I'm usually all about the science, but not when I'm the freaking project. And the more she explained the less interested I became. It's a study on a drug for Type II diabetes that they are "thinking" about using with Type I's, and there's no guarantee that I'd even be on the drug as I could be in the placebo group.
I'm sorry if I'm dense here, but how the heck is being in the placebo group going to HELP ME?
Answer: I don't think it is.
Also, I've been asked by this person more than once if I've ever been on Metformin. Please, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that also a Type II drug? Is it actually possible the woman with whom I trust my care doesn't know the difference between the two so- completely- different- they- might- as- well- not- even- be- the- same- disease types of diabetes?
http://thediabetesheroes.com/html/pictures.html- this website is completely awesome, by the way.
I doubt that I'll go for this study thing, regardless of how I do my next visit. I really should just try exercising more and eating a little better. I'm sure it would go a long way and save me a lot of trouble in the long run. Adding another level to the science experiment that is life is something I don't need right now, and probably never will. Managing diabetes is hard enough as it is on a good day.
Why can't I just stay on this damn thing? Getting back on it is hard.
I got a Garmin step thingy for Christmas, and I used it pretty regularly for a while. I stopped using it over the summer for two reasons. First, I tended to hit about 6500 steps a day regardless of what day it was or what I was doing and I didn't need a reminder that I wasn't making that 10K goal and second, it's hot in the summer and wearing a plastic wristband is uncomfortable enough without adding summer sweat and a wrist band tan to that.
But it's "fall" now (pumpkin everything means fall even if it's still 95 degrees outside), and I do need to get my A1c down, so I strapped it back on and connected it to My Fitness Pal, and as of today I am trying to get back on the fitness wagon. Counting steps, counting calories, counting the days until my designated cheater day...
Why???
I don't want to be overweight. I'd like to not go blind. I would appreciate having the energy to chase an 18 month old around and not have to stop and take a breath or a break all the time. I'd really like to feel good and feel good about myself.
That's really the deeper reason. I've been kind of depressed lately. My pants feel too tight, and not in a good way. I have no control over the whiny diabetic dog, or the in-pain husband, or the foster situation. I have a little more control over things at work, but even there I'm bound by rules and a boss and an administration that's still in the middle of constructing our strategic plan. The one thing I do have control over is myself, and lately I've let myself get out of control.
Time to stop that crap.
I miss carbs. Do breaded vegetables count?
I'm starting off small...fifteen minutes of stationary bike riding three times a week is small. Trying to make sure I hit 7K steps a day is small. Trying to stay close to my allotted caloric intake and not hating myself for going over it is not as small, but still smaller than expecting perfection right out the gate. I'm on day one of this and so far I've done well. Maybe I'll let next Sunday be my cheater day. We shall see how well I do this week... and this week I'm off several days for varied reasons so it will not be a regular week against which to measure things, which is good, because it's days when I'm home that I'm less likely to get off my butt and more likely to be doing things like this
At least my right index finer is getting exercise.
The thing is, now I've got to be watching my blood sugars more than ever because one fifteen minute stint on the bike will give me a day of lows. Could I alter my basal rates to compensate? Sure, if I had a habit of exercising going. But I don't yet- YET- so I don't want to go in and make adjustments until I'm at a level where I know I'll need them all the time. Which means I'll need to constantly monitor my sensor readings else I'll be imbibing so much regular Coke to keep from passing out that all the exercise will be mute.
Frustration level: Fax Machine.
But since the diabetes is part of the reason I need to do this, I need to do this. And I know I've said I need to do this many times in the past, and those times have not gone so well. The nice thing is that I can keep trying and hope that eventually I'll get myself in some good habits. So here we go again.
Or, to paraphrase the words of Joey McIntyre, heeeeeere weeeeeeee goooooo agaaaain...I'm a gal on a mission, baby,
Heads up- this might be a good blog to skip if you're squeamish.
I've been using this new Medtronic Enlite pump now for...well, I'm done looking through old blog posts trying to figure it out. It's been a year at least. And I haven't been complaining about it much.
Charles and Eddie, "Would I Lie to You"
If you recognize this song, congratulations. You made it out of the 1990's.
Okay, so I complain about it. But I usually only complain about the incessant, unwavering, unrelenting beeping it does. What I don't complain about is how hard it is to put the sensors in because unlike the Enlite's predecessor, the Revel, it wasn't designed by Torquemada to convince Jews to convert. It's a fairly simple device to insert and I've become pretty good at putting the sensors in. Not only that, they actually last the six days that Medtronic touts, also unlike the Revel, which means I'm sticking myself less than I could be.
I've got the whole thing down to a fail-proof system, actually. Sunday I put in a new sensor. By Monday afternoon it's pluggin' away and pretty damn accurate (something else the Revel wasn't!) Saturday morning it shuts off and I charge the transmitter that sends the blood glucose readings to my pump so that it's ready to be put back on Sunday morning. Easy peasy!
Well, yeah...usually. Very rarely they go in wrong...
My stomach bent that wire-needle combination there, and it was in my stomach when I was trying to pull the needle out. Sucker was so bent it wasn't budging. The needle would only come part way out so I had to waste the whole sensor. When I pulled it out it didn't hurt, but I was kind of queasy for a few minutes after tugging on it and not being able to get it to work right. Nothing like having a bent needle stuck in your stomach to really set your day off on a good note. /sarcasm
I actually have more trouble with the insulin infusion sets, to be honest. They go in wrong all the time, and I'm left with bruises on occasion, too. And I'd love it if I only had to change those every six days instead of every 3-4. And sometimes I'll hit a spot in just the wrong way and I'll start to bleed, and I'm both completely grossed out and fascinated by it.
No wonder I was having trouble getting insulin to go in- the tube was clogged!
But I digress. I was talking about the sensors.
Frankly, the fact that my hemoglobin A1c jumped from 6.8 to 7.3 in four months is probably an indication of two things- having a toddler makes me too tired to exercise and being annoyed with my noisy sensor to the point of silencing it for hours at a time is not a good thing. I really like sleep, though, and I get more of it when I'm not waking up every two hours to acknowledge that my blood sugar is either possibly maybe going to hit 170 or possibly maybe going to drop to 80. But getting a good night's sleep is no excuse for this kind of thing:
4:34 pm. Not the middle of the night.
Yeah, that was three hours in the high two hundreds that I should have addressed earlier. (To be fair, those little black marks at the bottom are times I gave myself insulin.) So I won't censor my sensor during the day anymore and I'll try not to complain too much about the incessant, unwavering, unrelenting beeping, because the beeping is what's helping me keep my blood sugars in check which can only be a good thing in the long run.
Also, I've received a request to note that my husband is handsome, and smart, and wise, and modest, but I won't do that because it's pandering to a very small demographic.
As I sit here in my living room this morning with BabyFirst TV playing silently as Baby sleeps, I find I have come to a decision.
I was never a big Will and Grace fan, but this picture my husband put on my Facebook page today accurately sums up how I've been feeling the last two weeks. Being an adult is hard. It's sometimes fun because you have the money and the decision making power, but it will never be as good as being a kid was. Speaking of kids, I went to see New Kids on the Block less than a week ago and for two glorious hours I was 12 again. I was singing along, and dancing, and screaming, and laughing, and the weight of everything in my life that has been pressing down on me was just gone for two straight hours. It really was like being 12 again.
I miss being 12.
When I was 12 everything was either black or white. Good or Evil. Right or Wrong. Now everything is shades of gray and Davy Jones isn't even with us anymore.
I don't like paying bills and my inbox is mostly filled with emails labeled BILLS. I don't like having to clean my house but if my husband and I don't do it no one else will. I don't like laundry or dirty dishes, but they stack up if you ignore them. Nor do I like having to stay home from work when Baby isn't feeling well, but the daycare insists that he be well when we bring him even though that's where he gets sick. I don't like going to the doctor whether it's for me or Baby or one of the dogs, but not going leads to bigger problems I don't like even more. I don't like that I'm tired most of the time because Bandit whines to get up at least four or five times a night and my pump usually beeps at me as if that's the only thing it is meant to do so I don't sleep well, even with the new mattress we got yesterday that so far has lived up to the company's promises. I guess that's what coffee is for.
Being an adult means having responsibilities. Some of those are good- like being the boss. But responsibilities can suck- also like being the boss. Sometimes I want the buck to stop on my desk, and sometimes I want it to bypass my desk entirely. Alas, you cannot always pick and choose what you are responsible for and what you can leave for someone else to deal with.
I miss Phil and Lem
If I had no responsibilities, I could be in Disneyland right now instead of home taking a sick day. Or I could fly across the county and go see NKOTB again this summer with some of my friends instead of going to San Fran to do work stuff. Or I could sit at home all day every day and actually blog or write another book or exercise and have time to pamper myself and relax more and stress less.
Uh oh, Baby is waking up...must type faster...
I'm not saying that being an adult is all bad, or that I'm regretting the choices I've made that have led to the responsibilities I have. I'm actually happy with my life. I'm even in pretty good shape health wise. My last HbA1c was only .1 higher than the time before and I thought I did a rotten job of taking care of myself the past four months. Overall things are good. But the dogs need their shots, I need to go to the eye doctor, my husband has been sick, Baby isn't feeling well, we have a couple BIG projects going on at work that I'm not there to deal with and my inbox is still full of bills that are due in the next couple weeks.
I feel like sick has taken over my household. First baby was sick, then husband was sick, then I got sick, and I haven't been able to kick it. I'm on antibiotics, I'm choking on phlegm, and boy am I tired. I cannot wait until I'm healthy again.
Of course, that's never going to happen. You know. Dia-frickin-betes.
It's kind of funny, actually, that it is only NOW occurring to me that having diabetes basically means I am never "well" or "healthy" in strictest terms. Maybe this has occurred to me before and I just forgot- which is even funnier. How do you forget something like that?
I missed my last endocrinologist appointment because I was sick. I mean, I probably could have dragged myself down to get my blood work and gone in for it, but the numbers would have been all skewed. I have no clue what my numbers are since it's been six months, maybe, since I've had blood work done, so I'd really like them to be as accurate as possible so I can see just how much having a baby in the house has effected (affected?) my health.
Yes, even this English Major is guilty of a few of these. #BestWeirdAlSongEVER
I know how having a baby in the house has taken it's toll on other aspects of my life. It's a lot harder to pay attention to the dogs and give them the attention they are used to, and especially with Bandit this has become a problem because of his deteriorating health. Every now and then my husband and I realize that in the near future we may have to make a very hard choice, and it's eating me up inside.
I am also awake at unholy times of day. Like, 6 am. Who gets up at 6 am? I don't think I got up at 6 am when I was in high school and had to catch the bus at 6:40! I like to sleep in, and I'm a night owl. Or at least I was. Now if I'm awake for Blue Bloods on Friday night it's probably because I'm changing a diaper and have been woken up to do it. On the weekends it used to be common for me to not get up before eleven am at the earliest. Now that's when I put baby down for his second nap.
I'm still not eating a whole lot, and we've started to eat more fast food because it's easier than cooking. My poor digestive track is not happy with this (or perhaps it's the antibiotics?) I've lost about six pounds and seem to be maintaining there, so that's something. Hell, if I had the energy right now to get on the exercise bike for ten minutes I might start losing it again...but energy is something I am in short supply of these days, and I try to conserve it for things like "having to go to work" and "chasing after the baby who just learned to crawl" and "Oh my GOD, how does one infant create so much LAUNDRY?"
I had to reinstate all of my auto-reorders for pump supplies because Medtronic cancelled them without notice, probably because I had an enormous bill I was trying to figure out with my insurance. At least, this is what I am assuming, because why else would I not have gotten blood testing strips or pump supplies since MARCH?
I know what you're thinking. "Didn't you notice you weren't getting pump supplies for over six months?" Yes, I did, but I thought that once the overpriced bill I had was taken care of that Medtronic would reinstate my services, because after all they are in the business of keeping people alive. Dead people don't buy medical supplies.
Yeah, yeah.
I am a smart cookie, at least, and I stock up on supplies for everything- extra insulin, extra blood testing strips, extra pump supplies- so it hasn't been an issue that I haven't gotten supplies for months, but the lack of communication on this from Medtronic disgusts me. I'm going to try and let it go, though, because harboring anger at a corporation only hurts me, as it is clear Medtronic has no human feelings or consideration at all for my well being. We shall see if the items I placed on "auto order" automatically order or not. I'm not holding my breath.
I also haven't been using my sensor for a couple days, mostly because I've burned through two of them in the last week and they are too expensive for me to have a surplus. I can barely get them paid for as it is, so stocking up is unlikely, especially considering Medtronic claims they last six days and the insurance will only pay for a certain number of them over a certain period of time based on that erroneous claim. Of the five sensors in a $450 box, three will last six days, the other two may make it three or four, and often at least one of those goes belly up after just one. If the sensor bends the wrong way when I insert it there isn't much I can do to make it work correctly, so I make do. Being a diabetic is expensive.
100 flimsy stickers to go over my sensor...$65.49 Wha?
I need to be exercising and eating better, and I'm finding that eating better is a lot easier than exercising. I like fruit, and I like veggies, and I don't mind packing my TARDIS lunch box full of them. The hard part is the exercise, and it always has been with me. I'm not athletically inclined. In fact, I trip over my own feet. Often. Daily. At the most inappropriate times, too. I don't trip on stairs, I trip on flat surfaces. I turn my ankle turning corners. I am a klutz.
However...with the weather being nicer and us maybe becoming foster parents in the near future, I'm thinking I should at least try to be a little more active. I think my problem is I try to make 30 minutes of exercise a day a habit right from the start. I'm sorry, but I'm lazy. I admit it. And while 30 minutes of exercise a day is what I will ideally be doing this time next year, I need to start off smaller. Like, maybe ten minutes on the exercise bike while watching Rewrapped or Match Game. Or maybe just getting in ten sit-ups and some crunches. Or something. Anything. Just not 30 minutes of hard core exercise right off the bat.
Now...I cleaned house this morning and broke a sweat doing it, so I'm counting that as ten minutes of exercise (even though I spent at least 40 minutes starting laundry, doing dishes, and making sure the kitchen and bathroom were clean). Bonus is that the house looks great, too.
I'm not a big fan of math, unless it's addition into my bank account. But I've been doing the math and I've come to the conclusion there aren't enough hours in the day for me to live a normal life and take care of my diabetes the way I know I should.
Hours in the day = a negative number...
What I need to get done in them
First off all, let's look at the taking care of myself thing. There's the whole "low carbs" thing I'd been trying...That stopped almost as soon as it started. I was crazy to think I could do that. I do think I'm eating better though. I know I'm eating more yogurt, and fruit, and vegetables, and I am trying to lay off the heavy carbs at night. I'm not always successful, and if there is pizza to be had you can be sure that I don't even bother. I've also been trying to exercise more. My blood sugars are always better when I do that. This is all good news, but none of it is habit yet. When I can say that I've been doing all of this for a month together, then I'll be more apt to celebrate...but let's look at the numbers, because I think they show why I haven't formed any good habits yet.
I try to exercise at least 20-30 minutes five days a week. Okay, fine, three to four, max. But still, that's better than I've been doing.
I usually work five days a week, which takes up 10 hours of my day (30 minute commute each way, 8 hour work day, 1 hour lunch in there somewhere).
Where I spend most of my waking hours...at least it looks cool.
Add in the 8 hours I get for sleeping (sadly, it's usually more like 6 when you take into account the tossing and turning and pump beeping, but I'm still trying for 8) and that means 18 hours of my day are already accounted for. 30 minutes of exercise shouldn't be that bad, right?
Well...we're forgetting some things.
There's the 1 hour a day I spend getting ready to go to work, scarfing down some breakfast, and making sure I pack myself a lunch. If my night was particularly bad, that hour includes my 30 minutes of exercise, and if my night was really terrible or I wake up low, then the exercise is replaced with health maintenance.
By the time I get home my husband has usually started dinner, but sometimes I make dinner (a rare occurrence) or I at least get home in time to help. I am also trying to be better about cleaning up afterwards, so that's 20-30 minutes of clean up and maybe 30 minutes of cooking. Usually I get home only 10-15 minutes before dinner is ready because I get off of work an hour and a half after my husband, plus my 30 minute commute, so he's a hungry guy by the time I drag my tired ass through the door. Let's say all this takes an hour and a half.
How much of my day has been spent already? 19.5 hours, and 19.5 from 24 is 4.5 hours. I should have plenty of time for more exercise. Wait...did I include eating dinner? Better make that 4 hours left over. Still plenty of time.
Only I haven't had time to decompress yet. And at least once or twice a week I'm working on laundry. And my dogs need fed. And by the time dinner is over and cleaned up on an early night (because sometimes I work 'til 7 or 8) it's almost 8pm, and if I exercise then I'll be up for hours because of adrenaline (I know this from experience.) And really, a few minutes of conversation during a 24 hour period is enough for you and your spouse to connect, then call me co-dependent and clingy because I need more than that. A lot more. The house doesn't clean itself, either. And I feel like I'm always spending at least an hour a week paying bills, though it's likely less than that.
It should take longer to spend a paycheck than it does.
Still lots of time, right? Well...my husband and I are working on becoming foster parents, and once we have a placement we'll be adding going to the doctor with the kid, going to court with the kid, going to birth parent visits with the kid, going to meetings about the kid and taking care of the kid to the mix. And while much of that is going to require me to take time off because of work, or happen on the weekend, a lot of it is going to eat up what little free time my husband and I have, because we want a younger child and I've heard they can't really feed or clothe themselves until they're at least five or something. Most of my experience with babies has been pretty limited, but they seem to be able to take care of things on their own pretty early...
Books always tell the truth, right?
I know what I need to do is get up earlier and get in my workout so that I'm not adding an additional thing to my poor sleep cycle, especially since I tend to go low in the mornings and will need to deal with that before I can exercise...only, let's be real, there is definitely a problem with getting up before 7 am. At least there is for me. I am just not a morning person. I can't concentrate or focus, and the earlier I get up, the harder it is for me to eat breakfast.
I know I'm making excuses, but unless I have a staff of five working seven days a week four hours a day with me there's little chance of me getting into the kind of shape I wish I was in, so I guess I need to set myself a goal and just work at getting to it, and if I don't look like a Victoria's Secret model a year from now that's okay. As long as I'm healthy, that counts as a big win.
I had to get some blood work done this morning. I didn't enjoy it as much as, say, going to Disneyland, or seeing New Kids on the Block in concert...or cleaning the bathroom, but it was okay. At least I didn't faint this time and the phlebotomist knew what she was doing.
I haven't had blood drawn in a few months. I forgot to do it for my last appointment, and then the nurse practitioner I'd been working with left my doctor's office, so my appointment for June was pushed back to next week, so I guess we'll see what a few months of not checking has done. I'm sure that the retina specialist I saw a couple months ago has sent the letter detailing everything he saw in my eyes has arrived, so undoubtedly that will come up.
I don't know, even though I've been a patient of this particular doctor for several years I've only seen him once or twice, so this feels a lot like going to a new doctor. And I don't particularly care for that because Tom, the NP that was, knew me. He knew what my treatment had been, the issues I've had with the insurance, the emotional stresses in my life- he understood where I was coming from. Now I feel like I have to start over and it's not sitting well.
Add that to the stresses I do have going on right now, and I don't feel particularly on track with the diabetes care. For one thing, this has pretty much been how things are going right now.
I've been trying to exercise more, and I've managed to get in three workout type activities a week here for a couple weeks. I'm certainly not on a schedule or training plan, which is what I should be doing, but at least I'm not just sitting around watching Star Wars for the seven hundredth time. I'm watching Property Brothers instead.
Fact is, I'm not exercising because I'm just tired. I'm tired of putting a smile on my face when I don't feel like smiling, I'm tired of things not going my way, and I'm tired of always feeling so damn down all the time. Am I depressed? Maybe a little, but mostly I just feel tried right now. I've got a list of things to do at home and at work that are each a mile long, and I feel like I'm always behind the 8 ball. (Is that the right expression? I don't play much billiards so I may be completely off on that.) I'm happy enough- I've got a relatively clean house thanks to a helpful husband, I'm in a good place in my career, and I've been writing a little again, which always makes me feel good.
I just need a nap. But I don't see one in my future until retirement, at least.
I majored in English in college. Go ahead and make the joke...I'll wait.
Oh, you have another?
Have you gotten that out of your system? Good.
One of the many useless things I learned while working on my degree is that languages are living things. Languages that do not change die. English is a great example of a language that is changing. Words are added, lose favor, even change meaning...the English language is a living thing that changes all the time. Latin is a language that is, for all intents and purposes, dead. Other than using it to classify animals and diseases, no one really uses it anymore. It's not spoken by the average person. You see it on money, and in old books, and on tapestries, but not in everyday communication.
I vaguely remember this from my Old English class...
So, like all living things, languages change, which means living things change. People change. And I am considering doing something, making a change, that goes against my very genetic makeup. I have thought long and hard about this, and to be honest I'm not sure I can do it. This is going to be hard, maybe one of the hardest things I have ever attempted. Change isn't always easy after all. It's usually difficult, and this is going to be difficult. I am gong to change my diet, and I am going to...going to...I am going to cut down on my carbs.
Keeping a theme going is something else I learned in college.
I am not doing this (only) because I want to be skinny, but because I am really having trouble with the diabetes thing. I don't know if it's that I'm suddenly insulin resistant, or if I have a minor bug that's barely noticeable and being fought off, or if the midichlorians are in a tizzy over that antibiotic I was taking a couple weeks ago, but whatever it is my blood sugars have been mostly high for the last two weeks and damned if I'm not ready for it to stop. Carbs can cause havoc with my blood sugars, and while I don't plan to get rid of them entirely, I think if I scale back the amount of them I eat then I won't have to give as much insulin as I have been, and that's a good thing.
I know diet isn't the only thing that needs to change. I need to be more active. But that I think I can do if I get myself in the habit of doing it. I spent 30 minutes on the stationary bike this morning before breakfast while watching Mysteries at the Museum on the Travel Channel, and it wasn't too bad. (It wasn't running the Boston Marathon, but since I'm still not supposed to walk for exercise because of my blasted foot I'm not holding my breath for that in the near future.) Being more active is a change I'm not worried about.
Cutting back on carbs, though? It's MADNESS! Have you any idea how hard it is to find low calorie, easy, non-perishable and non-messy on the go snacks that aren't in some way full of carbs? How many carrot sticks must you eat before you start to turn orange? If it's got lots of carbs but they are mostly fiber, does that make it okay? Am I going to have to trade out carbs for fats I don't want? Why do sandwich wraps usually taste like crap, but the same ingredients on bread taste awesome?
So I guess the answer to that question above is no, I do not want fries with that...anymore.
I've got spring fever bad, and I am feeling particularly random today.
I sit in my office when I'm at work and I look out at the trees in the parking lot and think, I'd like to be outside. And then I remember I live in the arid desert and even though it's nice outside now by Thursday it's going to be 90+ degrees and when summer temperatures hit in early May I'll be more likely to want to stay inside and away from windows.
Update on the diabetes thing: I still have it.
I know, you're totally surprised. I am too. /sarcasm
I've actually been struggling with some high blood sugars of late. Mostly at night. I had bronchitis about two weeks ago and ever since I've been having trouble with those highs, actually. I even had to break out an old friend at one point because I wasn't able to get enough insulin into my body via my pump to combat the raging 400's I had going on.
I don't even remember the last time I used one of these.
The meds that the quick care doctor put me on wreaked havoc on me, actually. The antibiotics were garden variety- I'd been on 'em before and wasn't expecting complications. The steroids I was only on for three days, but my blood sugar didn't really come down until I was done taking them, so no one expect me to get pumped any time soon because if I can avoid those in the future I will. The cough syrup with codeine I knew better than to take and I did anyway- just once, and then I decided to get some diabetic/sugar free Robitussin because of math.
High blood sugar due to illness + sugary cough syrup + codeine = Really high blood sugar
Why do you do this to yourself, Carla?
At any rate, that wasn't even the worst of it. The inhaler I got literally made me crazy. I used it and noticed that my hands were shaking like I was in the middle of a massive low...and I really wasn't (See math, above.) And then the crying started. Now, maybe I was PMSing as my husband suggested, but I usually don't feel quite that unhinged when I am. I was sitting in my office sobbing for no reason. The whole process of buying New Kids on the Block tickets was making me mental (more than usual.) Just going in to work and sitting in my office made me jumpy and claustrophobic. I felt friendless, hopeless, and completely out of control of my emotions. After two days I stopped using the inhaler, figuring I'd rather take my chances with suffocation than endure this mental debacle any longer. My husband ended up buying me a twelve pack of beer and I had to drink a quarter of it in order to relax even then!
Incidentally, that's the most beer I've ever had at one time, and some of the Sam Addams spring brews are pretty damn good.
Anyways...I'm working on getting back on the exercise band wagon again (since it's hard to do that sort of thing when you can't breathe at all), and I'm feeling much better, both physically and emotionally. I am still trying to get the overnight highs under control, but I think that'll come with time. And as for that dumb inhaler, I'll be keeping my distance...
Had a doctor's appointment this week. My HbA1c was 7.1, which was good, but not good enough. I mean, Tom (the nurse practitioner I work with) was thrilled...but I can do better. I don't think a 7 is gold star work.
Just a reminder on what the heck I'm talkin' about.
I did mention the hubs and I just started to diet and exercise, right? Hopefully by my next appointment (three months) it will be down in the 6's. 6 is actually my favorite number, so anything in the 6 range will be fine. We're shootin' for a 6.3. It won't be easy, because there are some non-diabetics out there who can't even get that score, but I've done it before and dagnab it, I'm going to do it again.
Also in the course of discussion, which my husband was in on because he came with me this time, were all the "future" things coming for diabetics. Like insulin pumps/ CGM that talk to your Android phone and work on their own to correct highs and lows and account for food and what not. Otherwise known as a pancreas, or, in some circles, a unicorn. Husband and Tom were both really excited...me, not so much.
Woo. Really, I mean it.
Don't get me wrong- that would be all good once they have it all figured out. Right now you have to wear two sensors, and use three devices I don't have (different pump, different CGM, and an Android phone, which we all know no insurance is going to cover). I know they are in the very beginning test stages and we're talking years before this is even available to people like me, but that all sounds like more trouble than it's worth. Now, my husband is a gadget guy and he may also be Batman (I've never seen them together, so it's possible.) He is also more concerned with me being healthy than anyone else on the planet that I am not blood related to. For him this all sounds great, hassles aside. For me?
It makes me feel like a freaking science project. And I remember not liking those much.
It's also really hard to get excited for "what's down the pipeline" when my insurance company has been less than cooperative with getting me on CGM in the first place and the companies I've worked with have been less than stellar at making the whole "out of network" thing feasible (like, here). I mean, hello? It's pretty damn obvious that CGM and the pump alone are keeping me from ending up in the HbA1c red zone up there, because donuts and Christmas cookies and Red Vines don't just eat themselves. I'm just not looking forward to the battle ahead though it would be really nice to have a working pancreas again, even if I do have to wear it in my pocket.
Arthur Ashe is quoted as saying, "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." I find these words pretty inspiring, because a lot of what I have to do with diabetes is pretty much that. And Walt Disney is famous for saying, "It's kind of fun to do the impossible." I feel like I'm always trying to do that, too. I don't have much of a choice though, do I?
Again, Phil and Lem put it succinctly.
So I will keep starting where I am, using what I have and doing what I can until some company manages to do the impossible and I get my electronic pancreas, and if I have to deal with insurance companies being a pain in the arse and having to look like Batman with devices all up in my pockets and on my belt I'll do that, too.
This was before I got into my car and my phone decided it was going to play two upbeat tracks off of New Kids on the Block's first album followed by two of my favorite Maroon 5 tracks. This was before I cheerfully dropped off some prescriptions and the pharmacy staff smiled at me and said they hadn't seen me in a while. This was before I got dressed and found that I was having a really good hair day. This was before I made myself a cup of joe and sat down to do a little writing before work- and not just the usual editing something I'd written before, but actual, honest to goodness, this-is-all-new- in-my-head-I'd-better-get-it down-before-I-forget writing.
I just woke up happy.
I know what you're all thinking. She's high as a kite right now. She's never happy. But that's the thing- sometimes, I am, and even though I have to work at it, I often accomplish this more than I let on, even if it's just listening to my favorite music on the way home from work or sharing a particularly good vanilla custard milkshake with my husband at lunch. And though I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, I did spend some time trying to figure out why I woke up with a smile on my face yesterday morning. I think I have it figured out.
I slept Tuesday night. I was not tired all day yesterday (at least, not as tired as I usually am.) The hubs and I have been working on changing our diets and getting some exercise every day. We went for a walk Tuesday night, had some healthy snacks, watched The Voice and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., and went to bed, and I actually slept. Of course, I certainly didn't sleep because I had worked off nervous energy walking around our neighborhood or because I had an apple and some peanut butter a couple hours before bed. No, I slept because my CGM sensor ended Tuesday afternoon, and rather than start a new one right before bed I waited until Wednesday morning, thereby assuring that I would not be kept up all night by incessant beeping.
My hubs will not be pleased to hear this (sorry honey) but the nights I don't have my sensor on because I'm changing the setting the next morning are my favorites. I know it is partially my fault that the insulin pump goes off fifty three times a night- I have my high alert set too low and my low alert set too high, and unless my blood sugar stays steadily between 90 and 160 all night it is inevitably going to beep. I could change the high alert to be a little higher and the low alert to be a little lower, but my goal is to keep my blood sugar within that limited range and changing it is only going to make that much harder for me during my waking hours. Also, I don't think that would stop it.
Just like nothing can stop Agent Coulson.
I appreciate that those alerts are there for a reason, but let's be honest. If someone woke you up every half an hour, or even every hour between when your head hit the pillow and your alarm clock went off, you'd want to punch them in the neck with studded gloves. Sure, this might be what it's like to have a baby, only eventually the baby should grow out of it and I'm pretty sure the pump will just keep beeping at me until I acknowledge it. I am, however, able to turn the damn thing off every once in a while, and that is a nice thing because this disease isn't one you can ignore for any length of time, or take a vacation from. What disease is? I can't get a break from the diabetes, but I can at least get a break from the beeping.
And when I do get a break, I get a good night's sleep for the first time in six days, and I can wake up feeling motivated and happy and energized. Lack of sleep is not a good thing, people. It makes your brain slower, your reaction times slower, your attitude cranky and your whole outlook on life a little shadier. A well rested mind and body doesn't get ill as much as a sleep deprived mind and body. Being well rested helps you deal with stress. Sleep is a good thing. I'm a big fan of it.
Though...strangely...I woke up in a good mood this morning, too, and I had my sensor on last night. It only woke me up once, though, so maybe my hypothesis still holds water. I guess we'll have to wait and see how I feel tomorrow morning.
I am a control freak. I hate not being in control of things. It doesn't matter what the thing is that we're talking about, either. Diabetes, check. Other people being stupid, check. My foot, double check.
Honestly, I thought it would be better by now. I long ago reconciled myself to the fact that I will be a diabetic for the rest of my life. I have diabetes, and I am okay with that. I don't like it, but I can deal with it, and I get better at dealing with it everyday. But this thing with my foot?
Pardon me a second here, Mom.
IT FUCKING SUCKS.
I'm in pain, which is something that I haven't really been experiencing with this foot thing. Discomfort, yes. Frustration, yes. But it hurts now more than it has since I actually injured it. I've been back in real shoes for a couple of weeks, and I've been walking tentatively but getting around pretty well. The last few days have not been so good. I iced it a couple days ago and it felt SO much worse. And I've been wearing the plastic molded arch supports in my shoes but those seem to be hurting both of my feet. How much do they hurt? So much I pulled this out of the closet:
Expletive, expletive, redacted, expletive.
It's not really helping, either. Both of my feet hurt, my knees hurt...I mean, I'm falling apart. I've been following my doctor's orders and I am not better. I want it to be better NOW. However, I am afraid that this is out of my control, too, like most things. Yes, I admit most things are actually out of my control and I just need to let go of them. Believe it or not, I'm trying to do that.
I know, you're amazed.
I have an appointment with the podiatrist on Monday, where I hope I will hear some good news. I miss exercising like I used to. I miss walking without people asking me how I'm doing or if I'm getting better. I miss being able to take a real step without fear. I have control over how I take care of myself and my attitude, and that's what I need to focus on. I know what I can and can't control, and I need to spend my time working on what I can control- like my blood sugar most of the time, exercising when I can and how I am able, and keeping a positive attitude. I need to ignore what I cannot control because otherwise...
I wasn't going to write about it given my penchant for being flippant, but then I got to thinking that maybe I needed to just for my own cathartic reasons. Writing is my therapy after all. But I promise I'll at least try to not wax too much philosophic.
Monday the 15th my husband and I were eating lunch at a Chinese restaurant celebrating my doctor telling me I don't need to be on crutches anymore when the TV stopped showing soap operas and started to show the bombings at the Boston Marathon...which New Kid Joey McIntyre had just finished running and where I knew there were people I know cheering him and others on. For one horrifying moment I had no idea who was alive or dead (fortunately they are all fine and uninjured and back online where they belong.) Who really gives a shit about crutches?
Wednesday, after some dumbass sends poison to the POTUS, a Texas fertilizer plant blows up in an explosion that for both my husband and I immediately conjured up images of nuclear bombs. It also reminded me of when the PEPCON plant blew up in Henderson when I was a kid...only there weren't residential areas backed up right next to it because it was a rocket fuel plant for God's sake. One of my coworkers has friends in the fire department in West, Texas, and the last time I talked to her there'd been no word on them. I kind of have to walk with a cane. Big whoop.
Late Friday night another of my coworkers got word her brother had been killed by a drunk driver at about 5:30 pm. I feel really guilty complaining about anything right now.
And yet I still do, because we as humans are inherently selfish and as long as it didn't happen to us there's a little part of us, maybe the five year old us that never goes away, that thinks, "What's the big deal? It didn't really affect me, so business as usual, right?"
But that's NOT right, because even though I didn't know anyone who got hurt in Boston it is still my favorite city the way Paris is some people's favorite city. And though the people I know in Texas all seem to be okay, there's a whole town that's half gone because the "it won't happen to me" mentality of people stacked a lot of flammable crap in a place with other flammable crap. And even though it wasn't my brother who was killed senselessly by a twenty seven year old woman who was drunk at 5:30 in the afternoon and walked away from the accident without a scratch, I am still almost paralyzed with fear when my husband leaves for work in the morning because I've been reminded that life is not guaranteed, and that it can be taken away from you in less than a second, and there is not really a damn thing you can do to control this.
This week has reminded me all too well of not just my mortality, but the mortality of everyone I love. Like Mr. Bennet says in Pride and Prejudice (I'm paraphrasing here) I'm sure that this feeling will pass sooner than it should and I'll be back to my whiney self in no time. But for now I am going to try to not be that negative whiney girl I usually am, and hopefully I can stick with it for at least as long as I've been off of caffeine (which has been since February if you care to know.) If nothing else, I'll try to follow this advice...
Do you remember the old Disney movie "Pollyana" that starred Haley Mills? When I was a kid I loved that movie. I've never read the book, but I had the movie on tape and I watched it over and over, almost to the point I had it memorized. In it Pollyana played this thing called "the glad game" where she'd try to think of things that made her glad when her life was not going so well. I've been playing it in my head the past few days...and I keep losing.
When regular fail just isn't good enough
Yes, my foot has an injury that is making it hard for me to get around. I am rubbish on crutches. I can barely walk with them, let alone carry anything, work, take a shower, help with dinner, or do pretty much anything except drive. I ache all over because I have zero upper body strength and there are muscles being using right now that I am pretty sure have never been used before in my life. My blood sugars have been *mostly* okay though all of this, though the fact that I can't do any exercise (other than moving from one room to another, which makes me break a sweat) is taking its toll. And if I don't blow out my right knee before this is over it will be a miracle.
Oh, and I missed this on Saturday:
I got the Maroon 5 tickets in November. The seats weren't this good, but still.
This is the pity party talking, though. I have more than enough good things and wonderful things in my life to make up for this temporary inconvenience. I do. And I can list them until I'm blue in the face. I have an amazing husband that is taking care of me. I have a pack of dogs that love me. I have a job I love, friends that are there for me, staff that are willing to pick up some extra work because I can't do it. I can still drive myself around. I am getting exercise every time I pick up those crutches. I have the time to take off of work and heal. I missed Maroon 5 but I'm not missing New Kids on the Block. Rob Paulsen liked a Facebook post I tagged him in, which is epically cool. And the most obvious, this is only temporary...
So why am I still depressed and cranky?
Because this is how I feel emotionally
I am listening to positive music. I am reading positive books (and since I read mostly Young Adult literature that's a hard thing to do because apparently all that teens want to read these days is depressing dystopian garbage.) I am forcing myself to think happy thoughts, and maybe that's my problem. I am forcing myself to be happy when I'm really not. How can I be happy? I'm the one who tries to take care of things and now I'm a burden on everyone I love and I can't even get myself a drink unless it's in a sippy cup...
Granted, my version of a sippy cup is AWESOME
I think I just haven't given myself time to wallow in a little self pity so I can pick myself up and deal with it. I keep thinking to myself "I can handle this" and I know I can, because what choice do I have, really? Even when I stayed home from work the day after I tore my plantar fascia I was like, "Oh, well. Missing a concert I didn't really want to go to anyway." (Lie. Just a flat out lie.) "Oh, well. Gonna have to use some sick leave. No biggie." (Lie. I am surely going to miss out on bonus days now and I don't feel sick at all.) "Oh, well. I can stay home and write." (Lie. I haven't been able to write anything outside of a blog and that's one of the most frustrating things ever.) I keep saying I'm fine to everyone including myself but I'm not and I won't let myself realize it. Well, until now.
