Just Talk.

To me, being an "advocate" for diabetes all comes down to one basic principle: being willing to just talk. It can be answering questions posed to you specifically, dispelling diabetes myths, telling your own story via blogging or forum participation, writing on the Facebook wall of a U.S. Senator... there are a lot of ways to be heard.

I've had several opportunities lately to do just that: talk. Now that I'm blogging, I notice that the people I see in my day-to-day life are more willing than they may have been in the past to fact-check with me something they heard about diabetes, or tell me that someone they know also has it, or ask me questions about my own care.

And I think that's pretty awesome.

For example, when I told one of Aaron's co-workers (who I had just met) about my upcoming diabetes-themed party and the milestone it was marking, I got a big grin and a high five. Turns out diabetes (I didn't ask which type) runs in his family, and they all get tested once a year. He seemed to totally get why I wanted to celebrate.

Then, at my diaversary party, a friend asked about my pump. We see each other pretty often but haven't had a lot of chances for in-depth discussion - our meetings usually center around football or other Reasons To Be Partying.

"So... your pump. Is that something you had to have surgery for, oooor...."

I realized that, for as much as I've mentioned diabetes around her, I've never gone into some of the important basics. Which made me feel a little bit dumb for not telling her all of this earlier - but there's no time like the present, so I went into how the pump works, where it goes, how often it gets changed out, etc.

Once a month, my employer brings in a massage therapist to do 15-minute chair massages. (And let me tell you, it's reeeeally hard to go back to work when you're post-massage and feeling halfway asleep. But I do.) She knows about my pump and CGM; I told her about my trip to DC for JDRF's Government Day. She's pretty hip to the diabetes vernacular, too. And when I saw her a few weeks back, the first thing she did was squeal, "Oh! I have something for you!", and pull out a piece of paper with a name, phone number and website on it. "I've got another client who has a daughter with type 1, and they're doing some sort of group thing? Anyway, I totally thought of you and told her about you - I hope that was okay? - and she wanted me to give you her information."

"Hope that was okay"? Heck yeah it is!

The most recent chance I had to "just talk" was with my cousin's wife, at an Easter get-together. We were standing in my parents' yard watching all of the kids play, and true to her direct nature (which I love), she just came right out and asked.

"So, no one ever talks about this, and I don't know what the answer is, so I'm just going to ask you. With your diabetes, are you able to have kids? I mean - is it safe? Because I have no idea."

(This is the part where I should note that, as one of the youngest in my generation on both sides of the family, I'm the only one left - besides my brother - who doesn't have children.)

The funny thing about this inquiry is that, perhaps asked a few years earlier, I might have been bothered by it. I wouldn't exactly have known how to answer. It would have caused me considerable stress to come with a decent answer - because, really, I wouldn't have known that answer myself.

That megaphone looks suspiciously
like a coffee mug and sleeve. Just sayin'.

Thanks to the community I've found here online, and the blogs and books I've read, I felt very prepared to answer that question with a resounding "Yep! People with type 1 have healthy babies all the time. It just takes some extra work."

This is part of why this community means so much to me - it gives me the confidence and information I need to be able to "just talk". Reading and hearing the stories of others - even from afar - gives me validation and purpose. When I talk about diabetes, I feel like I've got a team of warriors right there beside me. The words of others shape my own, in that my voice wavers less and uses bigger words.

I hope that this community does the same for you - and that the next time an opportunity presents itself, you'll be willing - and confident - to just talk.

Wordless Wednesday: Can't... Stop... Reading.



I want to go to there.



CGM Bloopers.

Life with diabetes isn't always a smooth ride. Sometimes it's a whirly-twirly rollercoaster and I'm just trying not to ralph on the kid sitting in front of me.

While I can achieve pretty decent in-rangey numbers most of the time, I certainly have my share of "Oh, crap" moments. Times where I SWAGed unsuccessfully. Times where I forgot to use a combo bolus in place of the regular kind. Times where it was Tuesday. (In other words, times where I have no freaking idea what happened.)

I love sharing the successes I have, like this guy:

It's No-Hitter-ish!

But, let's be realistic - it's not always like that. Instead, a lot of it is like this.

The CGM Blooper Reel.

One of these spikes is not like the other...

Doesn't look like a constant blood sugar to me, Jim.

Oh, there's my coffee.



I was just as confused.





At least I was consistent?









I can't help but think that this looks like a camel.





Correcting one problem with another.





Twenty Five Years With Diabetes.

Saturday* was my silver anniversary with this roommate of mine -

And you'd better believe I celebrated: with family, friends, cupcakes and wine**.

A quarter century of blood draws, finger sticks and shots;

Six of those wearing gear, just like the robots.

We've done a lot together; diabetes and I...

And I feel quite old knowing this many years have gone by.

Childhood summers filled with art classes, bike rides and softball.

We went to all-day music festivals as teenagers - unrefrigerated insulin? Bad call.

Double-digit A1C's. Hours of blood testing, we did without.

And because of that, we had an eyebrow piercing that totally grew out. 

International travel. Half marathons. In front of politicians we've sat.

Diabetes and I; we've done all of that.

I used to want to hide it. Diabetes existed in stealth.

And now? It's weird - I'm telling the whole world about my health.

But the weirdest thing, about sharing so much here?

Is that it actually doesn't feel that weird. It isn't always something to fear.

Because the greatest gift diabetes has given me (when thinking of it positively)

Is the friends I have in all of you - this wonderful diabetes community.

Thanks to you guys - for all you've done.
You've shown me that parts of life with diabetes can be kind of FUN.

So this is it - the big two five.

Celebrating resilience, a bit of luck, and being healthy and alive.

Why yes, that is a giant clipboard with a winner's bracket I drew.
And yes, we played You Don't Know Jack (really wanted to call it
The You Don't Know Jacket, but Aaron voted "Um, no."). And yes, we
then played Rock Band until 3:00 in the morning. And yes, I may have
totally dominated drums and singing-ish. Is there
another way to celebrate a 25th diaversary?

Thanks so much to my friend Natalie for making the
awesomely good cupcakes - with my favorite color, even!

*The overwhelming amount of well wishes and congratulations on Facebook and Twitter this weekend was much appreciated! You guys helped make the milestone even sweeter. (Pun totally intended.)

**Wine, and its consumption, not pictured. Because there are some things The Internet just doesn't need to know.

Free Coffee, Twenty Five, and e-Pharmony.

I'm feeling a bit list-y today, so here we go.

• Last night, I decided (after seeing another one of their commercials) that we need a version of e-Harmony for patients to be matched up with doctors. We could call it... e-Pharmony? You'd be matched up on dimensions of healthcare compatibility, like "bedside manner", "actually listens to me", "will reward progress with high fives and exploding fist bumps", and "takes my insurance/Medicaid/I can afford you".
• This weekend, my diabetes turns 25. (Does that mean the cost of my health insurance will go down? No? Darn.) I'm planning to celebrate that at least a couple of times this weekend - more on that next week.
• And in honor of that milestone, I got a hold of my hospital records at diagnosis. More on that later, too.
• One of the JDRF volunteers I met at JDRF Government Day has written a guest post over at the Diabetes Social Media Advocacy site, and is looking for input on how JDRF can help adults with type 1 - would you have some time to go over and check it out, and leave a comment with your thoughts? (She's totally a rockstar!)
• And finally - in celebration of Earth Day, head over to Starbucks with your own mug and get yourself some free coffee. I'll be there - maybe more than once. :)

Tooth Sweaters and Empathy.

Yesterday, my friend George put something up on Twitter that caught my attention.

@ninjabeticGeorge Simmons

Hate this disease.

And he shared this photo:

And it just broke my heart.

A graph like that represents the cruelest form of math. You just can't eliminate x and y from the quadratic equation of diabetes every time. There will inevitably be times where you "do everything right", and your blood glucose will still refuse to get off of that trampoline.

Those three words, and that picture, really got to me. There I was, sitting at work in my Business Lady Attire and trying to be professional, and I could feel tears starting to form. (Decidedly not professional.)

It's hard to explain to someone outside of our diabetes community why I'd react that way. (Other than the whole, "Hi, I'm Kim, and I will cry at everything - including but not limited to Visa commercials, the kind acts of strangers, Pixar movies, and stubbing my toe on the foot of the bed" thing.) I mean, it was a tweet. And a picture. Posted by someone I've actually never met in person. Yet.

I get that.

But here's the thing - people with diabetes deal with a lot of the same stuff, really. And we don't need to have met face-to-face, or know each other's life stories, to be able to relate in a real, raw, emotional and deep way.

Seeing that graph got to me, because I know - exactly - what that's like. Because I've walked that zig-zaggy line, too. I know how it makes your body feel like it's been thrown around - and it has, in a way. I know the headache. I know the impossible thirst that leaves you feeling like you're wearing tooth sweaters.

Not what tooth sweaters actually look like.

I know how it drains all of your energy and patience. How helpless it leaves you feeling; how hopeless. How every attempt to "correct" seems futile, because apparently diabetes is just going to do whatever it darn well pleases anyway.

At those times, it seems like diabetes has you on a marionette string, and all you can do is try to figure out which way that puppet master will decide to pull you next.

And because I know the totality of how much that sucks, I tend to feel a bit protective. It makes me want to make diabetes pay for causing my friends to feel that way. It makes me want to run diabetes down and beat the crap out of it.

No one deserves to feel like that - or to feel that way about feeling like that.

Type 1 Talk: Relaunched and Loaded.

Remember Type 1 Talk? The Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation created this project last fall to organize local meet-ups on World Diabetes Day. Type 1 Talk is an events tool on Facebook that allows users to create or search for local type 1 related events, aiming to get those of us online to connect with others in our community offline.

Type 1 Talk has been relaunched, and can now be used to post events on any day of the year! For someone like myself, who doesn't know many other PWDs locally, this could be a great way to reach out and find people to connect with (in person!) on a regular basis.

And along with this relaunch comes a pretty cool incentive to utilize it - like, right now.

You could win a trip to JDRF Government Day 2012.

Wait, that announcement didn't do it justice...

YOU COULD WIN A TRIP TO JDRF GOVERNMENT DAY 2012!!

Here's the details on how to get entered in the drawing, straight from the email I got last night from JDRF Advocacy:

To help celebrate the re-launch of the new and improved Type 1 Talk, we're offering up a trip to Government Day.  Anyone who posts and holds an event in April or May will be entered into a random drawing for a trip to Government Day in 2012 (typically scheduled for early March.)  To be eligible for the prize, you must post photos of your April/May event on our Type 1 Talk fan page and complete the post-event host survey.  All photos and surveys must be submitted before the drawing takes place on June 7th. 

So, let's recap: you'll get to meet and hang out with other PWDs in your area, have your event searchable by any PWD who is Facebook-savvy (hi, free promotion!), AND get entered to win a free trip to Washington D.C. to meet with your members of Congress and take part in Government Day next year?

What more could a diabetes advocate ask for?

* * * * *

Disclosure: JDRF did not ask me to write about Type 1 Talk - but I did, because that's how I roll. The email I received with the information on the relaunch (and prize) was a result of being signed up as a JDRF Advocate - you can join in here!

Oh, Right. I'm Supposed To Feel That.

I was engulfed in a work project this morning; sorting and organizing.

Then I heard a muffled BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! from my purse. I know that alarm - that's a you're-low-and-haven't-been-paying-attention-to-me yell from Jim.

Except I wasn't feeling anything resembling that eating a horse, on a rollercoaster, while drunk experience. Hmm.

I pulled out my meter, instead of the CGM, to do some fact-checking first.



Well, I'll be darned!

 As soon as I saw the 58 mg/dL flash on the screen, the low symptoms rode in. On a speeding train. At 80 miles per hour.

Why do my symptoms sometimes show up only after I see the proof on the meter or CGM screen? Is it that my body suddenly feels a need to ask permission to feel like crap? Is the panic of seeing such a low number a tipping point of some sort?

Will I ever know the answer to these sorts of diabetes mysteries? 

Probably not.

The Little Things.

Life has so many wonderful pocket-sized joys.

And for those things, I'm thankful.

I'm thankful that, despite a couple of lows, diabetes didn't rank very highly on my importance list this past weekend. Delicious food, wine, and dancing be damned - I enjoyed myself. And, in most ways, diabetes obliged.

I'm thankful for the sunshine and warm winds of spring. And even for the sunburn and tangled hair that sometimes accompanies my enjoyment of those things.

For the strength and endurance of muscles; for the lung power and range of motion that my mostly-healthy body possesses to allow me to enjoy that sunlight and hard-earned sweat. I know these things aren't a given in life for everyone, and I intend to start enjoying them more often and fully than I do now. Both because I can, and because I should.

Because I don't want to ever be the little old lady who realizes all-too-late that she should have done such-and-such while she still had the youth and ability for it.

For hand-made ice cream, made by the hands of someone else, I am ever so grateful.

I'm thankful for the good people who make up my circle of friends and family, and for the time we've been given to enjoy each other's humor, wit, and quirks.

For my husband, with the sparkly blue eyes, who truly loves me just as I am; who will chuckle at my faults in lieu of snickering at them; who will do whatever it takes to make me laugh (but never has to try that hard); who will always "love me more", because his wingspan will always be slightly longer than mine when I try to represent, with outstretched arms, just how much I love him.

I'm thankful for my mind, and the way in which it processes the world. While I may fear the arrival of kidney failure or vision loss one day, what terrifies me most is the loss of that gift - of what makes me myself - one day.

I'm thankful for that one defiant daffodil that grows in front of our house. We didn't plant him there; he invited himself. His presence makes me smile.

For the easily-earned affection of a friend's dog; for the soul-healing act of scratching a dog behind his ears and being rewarded with his aloof grin.

And always, but especially now, I'm thankful for my grandmother (who turns 95 years old this week) and her wise words - "People have asked me, 'What's my secret for living 95 years?', and I have to tell them - I don't really have a secret! But if I had to tell you how, it would come down to two things: That with everything you do, there must be love; and that you can't worry about tomorrow. When it's today; think about today. Worry about tomorrow when it's tomorrow - because you never know whether tomorrow will come."

So here I am, thinking about those little things. Which really aren't that "little" at all.

D-Feast Friday: Raisin Nut Banana Bread.

This is the only kind of bread I've ever tried to make, and it has turned out totally awesome each time.

Except for the times it has sunk in the middle. But I blame that on the silicone bread pan I use.

Anyway - this isn't low carb or anything, but it's yummy and that's why I'm sharing it.

Happy Friday!

Ingredients:

2 cups of Raisin Nut Bran cereal (Yes, I realize the irony here.)
1/2 cup milk
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 medium ripe bananas, smooshed (Or "mashed", if you want to get all proper.)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
3 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 egg

And Here's What You Do With Them:

This is what bread looks like.
Not this bread - but, you know, in general.

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease bottom of 9 x 5 x 3" loaf pan.

Stir together cereal and milk in large bowl; let stand five minutes or until cereal is soft. Stir in remaining ingredients. Pour that mess into the pan.

Bake about 50 minutes, or until stabbing it leaves no evidence on the offending toothpick. Cool for 5 minutes; then loosen sides of loaf from pan. Flip that sucker upside down on a wire cooling rack, slide the bread out, then prop it back up the way it should be, and leave it alone for a while before slicing.

Wrap tightly and store at room temperature up to 2 days, or freeze up to 3 months. (That's the official version - I can tell you that it lasts much longer than a couple days on the counter.)

Nutritional Information, per 1/24 of loaf:  105 calories, 18g carb, 1g fiber, 2g protein, 3g fat, 10mg cholesterol, 170mg sodium.