Classes start soon

I'm beginning the classroom portion of my journey to becoming a nurse. This is exciting and scary. Prayers, please?
Baby bear turned three last month. I hear odd noises, so goodbye for a few weeks or hours, haha.

A few weeks ago, I went off posting

I took a break. I have discovered that I cannot commit to daily blogging. It is simply too much pressure for me at this stage of my life.
Current events:
 Signed up for a JDRF walk, and am looking forward to that.
 I'm still using my dex, but took a break from my pump and sensor yesterday. My numbers suffered, and it is proof that my MDI game is not up to par.

I've seen articles regarding the artificial pancreas and this is just a misnomer to me. If it were truly an artificial pancreas then that sum-gun would be permanently inserted like a pacemaker inside the body. I saw a few images of one set-up that had a pump, an infusion site, a CGM, a sensor, and something else  I think. I wear All of that. It's a pain in the royal ass.
I'm not going to be all excited about an AP until it's been out a while and the ads for class-action lawsuits are done running all the time, and my insurance covers it.

Been struggling with highs....

For nearly a week it feels like I have been super damned high. UGH!

I've given up!

The daily posting of pictures, that is. I just cannot keep up. I got too much other stuff going on and my time at the computer is very limited these days.
But, I'm here, I love my Dexcom, my Ping, and being healthier than I have in years.

D:365 Day 27

I love spring.

D:365 Day 26

The 24 hour graph of blood sugars reminds me of a mountain range. I am so badly trying for the flat plains of North Dakota but so far, no luck inless I zoom in for the two hour graph

The latest

Well, I now use the Dexcom CGM. I am a happy convert from very anti (for me) CGM to pro CGM for me. I used Medtronic's CGM more than 5 years ago when pregnant with my first kid. It was hellish. This, howeve, is so easy to use and I love it.
I tweaked settings but thing they need to be more finely tuned.

D:365 Day 25

More Penny. She has been a camera hound lately.

D:365 Day 24

More fun with Penny

*disclaimer. She was asleep and this was a sealed mini bottle.

D:365 Day 23

Outdoor fun with the animals and kids. This kitty is the most photogenic animal I've ever had.

D:365 Day 22

The day I used Dexcom for the first time!

D:365 Day 22-25 addressed

So, apparently the weekends kill me when it comes to picture taking and blogging. I have failed a few times to post daily but I am not giving up yet!
Pictures to come still.

D:365 Day 21

I used one of these nasty suckers last night. It works but tastes horrible to me. Keep in mind I choose diet and sugar free drinks as much as possible.

D:36 Days 20

So this happened yesterday:

I replaced my site in the morning. I knew I wasn't getting good absorption in my belly site, so I moved it to my arm. When I reached back to help with a minion in the back seat, I ripped my fresh site out. This is exactly WHY I keep an extra site on me at all times. I popped this fresh pink site in and went on my way. Also, the blood was from the less-than-hour-old site. I am apparently blessed to have ripped that bad boy out, as I hit a blood vessel with it. I bled for a while before it finally stopped. Oy.

D:365 Day 19

IT'S HERE!!!!!!
My dexcome is here!!!!

D:365 Days 14 thru 18

Day 14  Kitty cuddling is the best.

Day 15 Inspirational poster in my diabetic educator's office. Made me smile.

Day 16 Just another glimpse of my Lego addiction.

Day 17 Two of the four newest chicks bought in February went missing. My theory is a hawk made a feast of them. We have since reinforced their growing enclosure. There are two new hicks in this brooder. Anna and Elsa. I named them, and I'm not even a little ashamed of that.

Day 18 These cute dollar store calendars make my day. I love the baby wildlife ones the best. 

It has been nearly a week!

I last blogged days ago! I have been sick, the kids have been the same energetic minions, and I have been in a constant state of blargh since the last blog post was published.
I was officially trained on my new pump and barely had anything new to learn.
I lost out on the last 5 days of photos, so I will post all 5, and today's pic, later today.
I'm officially registered for classes in the fall, so that makes me super freaking excited!!!!

D:365 Day 13

Yes, I can have that candy.

D:365 Day 12

Cheat day! Thanks to Type 1 Diabetes Memes on Facebook, I have a whole slew of hilarious memes I love!

D:365 Day 11

Trying to prevent a night-time hypo leads to questionable bedtime snacks.

D:365 Day 10

This alone is not what causes me to panic. This combined with being unable to bring it up and then proceed to do things and not remember them is what causes me to panic.

D:365 Day 9

This is what my furniture used to house before I made the empty strip garbage vial.

D:365 Day 8

My way to keep my test strips from overtaking everything.

Please excuse the dirty looking nails. I promise they are clean.

"Easily treatable" BULL$#!+

I am incensed and have no where else to vent my frustration.
I just read an article written by an obviously non-type 1. If he were, then he would never use the phrase "easily treatable" to describe diabetes.
A little girl in Tennessee just died due to a late diagnosis of T1D, and she died from ketoacidosis. It's fucking horrible and my heart goes out to her family.
My irritation has naught to do with her. It has to do with the poor word choice by the reporter. If I were able to eloquently put into words a way to inform the reporter that diabetes may have a commonly know treatment but that it is different than being treated easily, then I would. I just can't do that right now, and I don't want to go all diabadass bitch on someone who likely has his heart in the right place but is simply ignorant without sounding like a curt rude asshole.

D:365 Day 7

A whole week down!

This is not from today but it reminds me of my father. His last trip was to visit Mt Rushmore and Crazy Horse.

It's been 11 years.

My father.
When I think of my father, I think of the man who raised me, my biological father married to my biological mother (there are all types of families.)
I grew up in a "nuclear family" as it was called when I was a child. There was Dad, Mom, siblings, pets, and that was it. We lived in a single family house in a suburb.
That's where the average resemblance to a family ended as far as I am concerned.
I am the youngest of five siblings. Technically we are six, but my second eldest brother died in-utero. Thomas was his name and he was rarely talked about. He wasn't raised with us. He was a source of great pain for my dad and mom and eldest brother, his twin.
Mom was young when she married Dad. Their first pregnancy was after the wedding though naysayers in their day liked to pretend they were the reason for the swift courtship and marriage. No. Mom and Dad met on a blind date. They spent the entire evening talking on the levee. Two weeks after they met, Dad proposed. Two months later, they married. Six weeks or so before their first wedding anniversary, my brothers were born. T1 (eldest brother) and Thomas were born. Thomas was taken away as medical waste I assume, as we never have visited his grave. I don't know if Mom knows what they did with him. Times were different back then.
So my parents moved forward with life. Dad worked many different jobs. He was smart as hell. He had great "street smarts" and could read a person like a book. He knew how to fix anything mechanical, could build a wood frame house, wire and plumb it, and roof it with shingles despite having no official certificates. He was a soldier in the US Army, he could complicated arithmetic and calculations without aid of calculating devices of any kind. As a child, I accompanied him to the grocery. He used to calculate the price per ounce of food in seconds. Keep in mind, this was in the early 1990s, where there were no cell phone and calculators weren't in our pockets.
My father was a stubborn, determined, intelligent man. If he wanted information, he found it.He was an avid reader, he absorbed facts like a sponge.
He was kind, he was considerate, he was gentle to his children and wife.

He was also sick. All my life. I never knew him in a healthy state. My earliest memory of him was one where I felt guilty.  It was Chritmas, and I had just launched myself onto his lap/ He caught me and winced in pain, then gently asked me not to jump on him like that again. I asked why not. He told me it was because his leg was sore and it hurt him when I landed on him. I remember the last time he played "horsey" with me. His breathing was labored and he said "No more, Sweetie, this horse needs  a break." I never saw him run. I saw his last construction project rot before our eyes because his health failed before he could complete it. I went with him to purchase tools from a hardware store he used once or never, and I remember feeling so special that he chose me to go with him. i remember his health declining steadily. I remember the last school function he went to with me. It was my freshman year, MCJROTC banquet. After that, he saw me graduate but left before I ever got a picture. You know the one. The new graduate in cap and gown, with proud parents on either side? never got that. He and my mom left to get home so he could elevate his severely swollen legs and recover for the next month from the outing.
I remember the alcohol. At my uncle's 50th birthday party, I remeber his jumping off the sobriety wagon. I was standing at his front, talking to him about something silly. He old me to close my eyes and count to ten. I did and opened my eyes to see him swallowing the last of the tumbler of some brown alcohol. That  was the last night I ever knew him to be sober. He wasn't ever the typical drunk or anything. he just always had a state on inebriation to him.

In January 1980, Daddy was on his way home from work on a motorcycle. He stopped at a four-way stop. The Cadillac driver did not. He was dragged with his bike about a hundred feet before stopping. His injuries included a cervical vertebrae break, a compound fracture of his left femur, a broken left ankle and a lot of road rash. Helmets in 1980 apparently eight a lot more than today and doctors told him he'd have been decapitated had he been wearing one. They attempted to fix his femur,( and it want badly, as the orthopedic surgeon did a bad job the first time. It broke a few more times after he left the hospital). He was kept in a medically induced coma for two weeks to give him time to heal. he woke up, they kept him on straight morphine from admittance into that hospital until discharge day. He was in traction for a month and was not treated well at the hospital. It was a Veteran's hospital in 1980, again, times were VERY different back then. These were Vietnam Era veterans, and if people don't remember, anyone associated with Vietnam seemed to be looked down upon. He had to relearn to walk, to do many things, and he now had less control over his temper. Due to morphine withdrawal, he left the hospital coming off morphine cold-turkey. He turned to alcohol. For a while, it helped take the edge off the pain, but after a time, he could not cope. There was a time of arguing, and once it got close to becoming physical, Mom gave Dad an ultimatum and Dad chose Mom and my siblings. Things go well for a while, Dad learned more coping skills, He went to work again after the grim diagnoses or "you'll never walk again, you'll never work again, you'll be a cripple in a wheelchair" He learned to walk, re went back to work and he and Mom had two more kids, me and my youngest brother.

Somewhere between 1980-something and that night at his brother's "over-the-hill" party, he learned to balance alcohol and living a fruitful life. I never saw him drunk, He was a dedicated father, hard working husband, and a skilled homeowner.
I remember him getting a tiller and making a big huge garden. Building a grape vine trellis , laying concrete slabs in parts of the yard, and being the one to tune up the vehicles.


After 1992, when he had a massive heart attack, and his doctor laid it out bluntly of "medically retire or have another heart attack and die next time" he retired. His drinking became more frequent and my development of abhorrence for beer bottles and cans became overwhelming. things from your childhood leak out all over your adult choices at time. For me, I will not deal with anyone else's empty beer vessels. So, Dad retired from work, but his mind was as sharp as ever, despite his body giving up on him.

See, let me backtrack a bit. Before my mom, my dad was a kid raised in the dangerous areas of New Orleans. He grew up on Magazine street. I'm not sure where he lived before my grandfather died, but after, it was in the heart of the Irish Channel. He was the younger of two sons between my grandparents. My uncle left right around the time my grandfather withered away from lung cancer. My dad was 13. My grandmother went to work to support the two of them and Dad was left to roam the streets of New Orleans alone. He got by but I gather from comments not made and tones of voice that left a bit to the imagination, that my dad had some shady dealings in his youth. Once in high school, he butted heads with a young math teacher fresh out of college. Remember my mention of my dad and his arithmetic prowess? Well, that bit him in the ass one day. He got into a verbal disagreement with the written textbook and how the teacher was teaching. Dad spotted an error and the teacher disliked being corrected in front of others. Words were said. My Dad's temper flared. He got so angry he walked out of the school and to the nearest recruitment station. In 1970/1971, my dad went to the Marines, then the Air Force, then the Navy, then the Army office. The Army was the only recruiter not out for lunch at the time. Dad enlisted, with apparent approval from his mother. My knowledge is shady of that time as both parties are gone now.
 He enlisted, served in the military, then left military life for civilian life in New Orleans. He worked odd jobs, one of which was as a man who worked the X-ray machines on the roof of the Superdome. He handled radiation pellets for the machines and worked them. In my humble opinion, his handling of the materials played a role in his later heath decline, but as I am no scientist and there was never a study done in which he was included, it is only my supposition which links the two things.
So, he was in the Army, then back to civilian life. He did many odd jobs. He met my mom, they married, they had 3 kids, then he had the accident, then recovered, next was 2 more kids. Life tooled along until 1992, where he had heart attack, Retirement, more of him thirsting for knowledge, and finding it in any material he could learn from. He would have LOVED the internet's resources availability. Then 2005 rolls in. His health is declining even more steadily. He has more instances of his legs "going out" on him and episodes of confusion. I believe he had mini-strokes which caused temporary weakness and loss of memory. Then March 4, 2005. It happened. He had a massive stroke and heart attack. I refuse to get into the hours surrounding the events leading up to his arrival at the hospital but I will say my guilt for the hours will never go away.
Mid-March, he has heart surgery. He recovered, is extubated, and begins the process of recovery. I go to class. I go back to the hospital. He is re-intubated. I spend the next two weeks living in his hospital room. I watch him die, slowly, and without realizing it. He fights the intubation, he thrashes each time the "milk of amnesia" (propofol?) wears off. He tries to pull the tube out! They put soft restraints on his arms. I held his hand as he fought them and tried to be there for him. It never helps long. I sleep in the chair next to the bed so I can try to stop his thrashing at night. Finally the fights begin to ease after a few days. I memorize his medications, the schedule and frequency of the doses. I fight with the doctors who want to change things without my mom being there to approve them. I live there, watching him slip away. I wake up to a code blue, his heart stopped while I slept next to him, and I never knew. The machines wail, the beeps, the sounds of the defibrillator, them getting him back, fumbling for my phone, Calling over and over until my mom answers. Telling her to come to the hospital. Waiting, waiting, waiting; they arrive. Doctors gather us around' tell us he is brain dead. We can wait for him to die on his own or we can turn off the machines. It's March 30th. My sister's birthday is coming up. We do it that day, so he doesn't die on her day. We call everyone. People arrive, my active duty Soldier brother is still here on emergency leave, thank God. We surround him, we pray, we tell him he can let go. Mom tells him goodbye. We assure him we understand he has fought a long, long time to stay with us but he can go now. The nurse slowly begins turning off machines. Heart flat-lines. That horrid sound of the the heart rate monitor signalling flat-line. Thank God she turns it off quickly. The doctor quietly pronounces him dead. We cry, we weep. We begin to grieve. I can't leave but they want me to go. I sit at his feet. I watch his face as they extubate for the final time. His lip is bitten through completely. The thrashing makes sense and the guilt washes over me in waves. As with the time preceding his arrival at the ER on March 4th I didn't listen. The guilt never leaves, to this day. His face has turned green. He's really dead, they're really urging me to leave. I don't care that they need to take him to the morgue. That's my daddy. He's going to be cremated and I will NEVER see his real face again, only pictures. They convince me to go. I hate them for it but I have to go. I try to be there for my mom. I sleep in my home for the first time in two weeks. I sleep on his side of the bed, next to my mom. It's hell.
We make plans with a funeral home. I go to classes on the coming Monday. I have a huge exam. I can't take it. I break down in the hallway telling my professor why. It's the first time I've said the words out loud and it nearly beaks me.
Life moves on, the pain starts as waves during my conscious hours. The waves recede until they come less frequently, Now, eleven years later the waves hit like tsunamis, rather than a constant category 5 hurricane that won't hit landfall yet wont leave the coastal waters.

In those eleven years, I've accepted he is gone. I've felt this overwhelming sense of loss each time I reached a milestone without him. Getting my driver's license, my first real job, meeting the man I would marry, graduation college I skipped completely but he missed that as well. My wedding, the birth of my children, buying my first home with my husband. My first car wreck, my first surgery, my child's first surgery.
He missed it all.



When I think of my father I feel pain, loss, grief, sadness, and pain.
I also feel relief. I am relieved he is not suffering. He was in physical and emotional pain from the day of his accident until he died, twenty-five years later. So while I am sorrowful that he is gone, it comforts me that he's not suffering through unceasing pain, drinking himself into oblivion in an effort to ease the agony that was his nervous system following his accident, his development of asthma and emphysema, lymphedema, and in the end, systemic organ failure.

My dad suffered a lot but he did it out of a strong will to live, to love his family, and to be there for us as his father could not.
I hate that he is gone but am thankful his pain is ended,

D:365 Day 6

Well, hello there, Beautiful!

D:365 Day 5

Chinese buffet, for the win!

D:365 Day 4

I got very bored with the boring test strip bottle. Dollar tree had some cute paper stickers. Problem solved!

D:365 Day 3

Well, this didn't get written technically on the 26th, but I am not in bed yet and I try to write these before I go to sleep.

D:365 Day 2

This is one of my supply drawers. I have pink and green insets.

New pump, new name

I need a name for my new pump. She's a silver Animas Ping!
I decided to look at a brief history of advancements in diabetes management. I took note of Doctor Priscilla White. She was a crucial part of the Joslin Center. She worked with pregnant women who had diabetes. She made a great impact, and I think she increased the fetal survival rate from 56% to 97% after she began. I feel immeasurably thankful for her pioneering work. She is one of the reasons that I am a mother today. Without her work, I don't want to imagine what would have happened to me and my babies.
So, after learning just a little bit of this doctor's history, I feel like I ought to name my new pump Priscilla. She may be known henceforth as Prissy, Miss Priss, or any odd bastardization of the name.
My meter needs a name as well.  Since Dr White worked with Dr Elliott Joslin, I think my meter will get the name of Elle, Ellie, Josie, or Ell. We shall see.

D:365 Day 1

I became bored with the old look of the old onetouch meter that connected to my medtronic pump. I painted her. Now, she is pretty but unused.

Diabetes 365

So I ran across the term in my blog post title. I googled a bit and it seems to have begun on Flickr.com back in 2007. I could easily be wrong here but that is where my limited googling led me.
I have adopted it into my blog. I am starting this in a few days, but thought it was worth trying

Discouraged

I am impatiently waiting for my new pump to get here. They have about 3 hours and 26 minutes until ther delivery window closes and I'm grumpy as hell.
Kids went to bed easily last night, my bg was 148 before bed. Perfect number so I didn't drop low overnight, so I thought. Little Miss woke up wet so I had to change her, clean up the mess and try to not fall over in a haze of dizziness and shaky legs. Tested before I fell asleep and I was down to 52. AYFKM? Drank an ounce of syrup, literally 30 freakin milliliters of syrup and one damned pb sandwich cracker. I went back to sleep, then tossed and turned with post-hypo-nightmares, which are a thing with me. The sound of duplo legos crashing into a plastic bin woke me in a drunken haze, I managed to slam my bedroom door shut, and lay there in a half aware state. Turned back over, felt around for my meter pouch, and tested. 370!?!?! Retest using a toe and it was 317. UGH! Bolus and I'm still high, after having coffee with barely any sugar free sweetener.
I just tested and am finally down to 81 on one meter and 84 on the other from the same drop of blood.
I am past the honeymoon phase of perfect numbers after getting my body used to actively trying to keep the D monster in check.
I've had more highs and elevated numbers followed by random lows that I fear my A1c is going to spike above ten again. I hate diabetes.

After waiting all afternoon for my pump to arrive, and then calling the company and then feeling utterly enraged by the fact that they STILL have not sent the thing out, I am having more anger induced hyperglycemic readings. I am so beyond pissed and every time I think of it, I get angry all over again. ACK!!!!!
May tomorrow bring a phone call regarding confirmation of shipping, a tracking number, and apoeace of mind that the screw up was a miscommunication rather than an outright lie by the sales rep I was previously dealing with.

What a great day!

Today was a typical Monday, and it was totally not.
I had my weekly prayer meeting AND managed to wake up in time to make it there, go me!
I actually volunteered to help serve food at a brunch my group is hosting soon. This is some scary stuff to me, but I'm trying to peek out of my comfort zone a little.
After my meeting, I took my minions to grab some snacks for later in the day. My Berry went off to school, and my Bear and I went shopping for a vacuum. That was oh so joyous. I finally picked one and brought it home but I haven't unboxed it yet. First, it's in a cardboard box, the feel of which I detest. Second, there's going to be all the crap that comes with an unboxing. There's going to be plastic bags, twisty ties, cardboard in the cardboard and likely styrofoam (gag).

Anyhow, once the Tiny Tot of Awesomeness helped me get a vacuum, we got Berry from school then went to a local conservation area for a playdate. We let the munchkins run themselves tired, plied them with snacks, then enjoyed the outdoors. It was absolutely wonderful.

The only downside to the day came when a song on my mp3 triggered some strong grief. This month is hard. I remember the day my dad had the stroke, and the day we turned off the machines. the days in between are a hellish blur. So when a song which has no connection to my father comes on and slams me with a wave of sadness, it kinda pisses me off.

It's been a nice weekend

We were lazy all weekend and stayed home for he most part. We stopped at one store after Mass today, then came right home. I became ill and fell into a rough sleep. I awake and still slightly high but am trying to come down.
I've looked into trying to find fun accessories for my new pump, meter, and other stuff.
This month seems to be getting my numbers all wacky. I dislike the month of March. This is the month of my father's death. Aside from happy times squashed by waves of terrible memories, I can get by as more years pass.

Tomorrow is a nice meeting with my prayer group, to which I'm looking forward.

Laziness is creeping back in.

I cannot sleep well at all again It is hard to fall asleep, hard to stay asleep, and I cannot wake up in the mornings very easily.
My testing is slipping, my numbers are rising, and I am feeling the crappiness that comes with feeling high.

I woke up over 300, and had a hard as hell time getting my number back under 300. Then I woke up this morning, at 137 and spiked high because I miscalculated the carbs in my coffee and used the regular creamer instead of sugar free.
I've been grumpy more and very irritable and I hate feeling like that.
Tomorrow is back to writing down all food and only eating small meals at a time.

I'm in the minority.

I dislike zombie stuff.
I REFUSE to watch zombie movies, tv shows about them, or give them much thought.
I despise them.
The only thing zombie related I will enjoy as entertainment are the novels by Laurel K Hamilton. Her Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter novels have the main character, obviously Anita, who is a necromancer. her power lies in the ability to reanimate corpses. In her universe, vampires and werewolves exist. Vampires are given legal rights, they have their own church, and are treated by some people as love interests.
Zombies in this universe are not caused by some virus or bio-hazardous mistake. They are mostly intentional, and are put back to their graves when the animator is done with them.
I love these novels, and there are over twenty in the series.

I refuse to watch the current hit show about them and will not watch any of the movies that Hollywood is going wackadoodle over.

Give me Die Hard, Indiana Jones, Jason Bourne movies, Lethal Weapon movies, basically action movies or the fantasy genre where Harry Potter, Middle Earth, The Doctor, and Narnia exist

My husband.

I am beyond blessed. I found my best friend, and married him as soon as I could. I miss him when he is away on business, I love to chat with him throughout the day.
I love his sense of humor, how he changes words to theme songs and commercial jingle, and how he laughs so hard when our kids do something funny.

He is my biggest supporter, he builds me up when I feel down, he never degrades me, never discourages me from pursuing my happiness and dreams.

I am married to the love of my life, my best friend, and my other half.

A few rough days

It seems like things go bumping along fine then one day the little stress triggers start to build up until I'm ready to build a hobbit hole and hide from human contact.
Yesterday was my breaking point. Bad cycle of high blood sugars making me stress out more and stress spiking my numbers.
I'm planning to be proactive today and do what I can to stay positive.

I NEED time alone. I need that lack of input from anyone other tha myself in order to feel a sense of calm. Yes I know that I am mom to two young kids but when they sleep, I need time to decompress from the constant barrage of talking.

I hate chit chat at home. My home is place of quiet and talking coming from anyone when I just want quiet drives me batty.


I swear I have a sensory processing issue or I am an introvert or I just hate human contact unless it is on my terms.

Today, I am going to take Berry to school, and while she's there, I'm going to drive out to where Mr K is working and drag him to lunch.

Pray for my sanity, my ability to find peace, and patience.

I try to be a positive person, but...

Sometimes I just am not.
Things get to me.
The sound of people eating, utensils clanging or scraping a dish while someone eats, incessant chatter, tv commercials, loud volumes on radio and tv, the way the wind sounds when only the back windows are open on a car traveling faster than 25mph, the wind in my ears when all the windows are open in a fast vehicle, the drone of electronics-that hum they all seem to have, the sound of the road grader, the beep of the garbage truck, static on AM stations, and those are just the sounds that get to me.
I cannot handle the feel of paper products, Styrofoam containers or dishes, microfiber cloths when my skin is the least bit dry, how dry my hands feel after washing them, how yucky they feel if I get too much lotion that doesn't absorb quickly, when dirt or sand gets under my fingernails, walking on crumbs, and wet spots on my socks.
Visually, bright lights seem to bother me the most. Since my cataracts were removed, it's better but I still prefer not to drive at night. I don't watch music videos or kids cartoons if there is bright flashes of light.
 My taste issue is much milder. I will not and can not tolerate peppery foods. I love flavorful spices, just no pepper. Cayenne, tobasco, or anything of the like. I can enjoy small bits of black pepper but that is it. I have a strong sweet tooth for candy, but hate sweet drinks. I only use the yellow packets of sweetener only-the blue packets upset my stomach and the pink packets give me vicious migraines. I love to drink tisanes (herbal teas) with a hint of sweetener to them. If I drink soda, it is always diet, but those have been cut out because I am becoming more sensitive to caffeine as I get older. I try to avoid tomato based foods due to gastrointestinal protests.
Lastly, I can never seem to properly regulate my own temperature. I am always colder that my peers or overheated easily. My best investment for clothing was wool socks. I love them so very much!

Crowds and loud places make me very prickly. If my personal space is invaded without invitation, it make me twitch. I get sweaty and shaky like I'm having a severe low when I am the center of attention in a group of people who are not my family and close friends.

I'm feeling overly paranoid that I am suffering from some sort of sensory overload. That maybe my hypothyroidism or diabetes is making me feel so oversensitive to all these things. I feel like an unfair bitch when I can't handle a store when others are shopping.


EVERY one of these triggers manifests as irritation or anger.

I feel utterly alone in how the little things bother me to such an extreme degree.

How the HELL am I supposed to go back to school in a few months?

Tangential ramblings

Today wasn't so bad, at first. I wasn't all that hungry, until I started smelling the ham cooking in the oven around mid-day.  I managed to start  a slow descent into a low from lack of food, that's when I went to grab a bite. Suddenly I hear a small crashing sound come from my bedroom. I rush in expecting to see a cat or a kid near a broken window or mirror. No, it was my vase of rocks. Thankfully nobody was hurt but I had this beautiful glass vase that held a small collection of some of my rocks. It was initially bought as part of an amaryllis gift for my mom when I was in college, if I recall correctly. The bulb thrived and was transplanted and the vase was placed in the kitchen, and held glass craft beads for awhile. Somehow it shifted; it sort of migrated with me when I moved across the country. I loved that vase. It was a gift back to me from my mom, and the rocks it held were ones I collected in my childhood. I walked into my bedroom to see Berrygirl standing to the side of the mess, tears streaming down her face saying "I'm sorry Mommy" She was feeling guilty already and when she knows she messed up, she WAILS hard until she is directed to stop crying, take deep breaths and calm down. I'm beyond thankful that she is fine, that is was "only" a broken vase and not worse.
Apparently she disobeyed and broken some rules which led to the breaking of my vase. An aside- we have the same rules in my home as my parents had when I was growing up. You do not enter the parents' bedroom without knocking -or asking permission first, if no parent is in the room. We have breakable things, and private things, and secret hiding spots for certain holidays; there are more reasons, but suffice it to say, this is a rule she knowingly broke.
 Berry asked to use a toy I have put up and out of easy reach due to many small pieces. I told her no, not now. She chose to try to get the toy anyway. She climbed onto a laundry basket full of clean clothes and grabbed a shelf. In doing so, she hit my dresser and knocked the vase and rocks to the floor. Insert very sad face.

Once she took her punishment like a big girl (restrictions in place for certain toys), we settled in for an afternoon of movie watching.
The kids played and we watched San Andreas, after a break for food, we sat down to watch The Good Dinosaur. The kid film was way better than I expected. I had zero interest in paying to see it but my sister rented it for all the kids, so I was game. The girls fell asleep, but liked what they saw of it. I would likely rent it myself if they showed interest in seeing it in full.

My numbers were decent, and it was an amazingly relaxing day.
My family down south are all okay but they have friends and extended family impacted by the flooding in Louisiana.

On a betic note, i spoke with my rep at Animas and really look forward to finally picking a color for my new ping. I have been anti pink for a long time. Once I became pregnant with Berry, I started HATING pink. I went as far as never buying a pink outfit, or anything with more than an accent with pink was donated to the thrift store. I eased up a lot when she started showing a preference for colors and then all hope was lost once she started preschool. CareBear (formerly BabyBear) is like Berry's shadow and mimic and therefore loves pink as well.  Now I am starting to not hate the color and have *gasp* bought myself a pink shirt. Granted the pink purchase was out of pure necessity (forgot to pack more than two shirts for a week at the in-laws' houses). ALL that said, my choices for my new pump are among: black, silver, green, blue, or pink. They also offer silicone skins in a variety of colors. I'm nearly evenly split between versatile silver and pretty pink. What the ever loving hell is wrong with me that I am entertaining the thought of four years with a PINK fracking pump!? Ack! those thoughts are why I am torn between the final two colors.
One cool thing I am planning to do is order a variety of infusion set colors.
I will get two boxes each of green and pink to start with, and go from there.
I need some sleep. It's 3 am and I have Mass to attend in the morning! This may not go well for being conscious while dressing in a few hours.

I don't mean to....

I truly don't intend to fast. Somehow it happens. I get up, test my blood, try to remember to swallow my levo, and grab a cup of coffee. The kids have a habit of waking up before me, and when they feel a disturbance in the force notice I've woken up, they come at me like a hailstorm of bullets in an old war movie. They want things. Things like food, drink, attention, praise, hugs, food, to know if we are going anywhere, food, to let the dogs outside, to let the cats inside, to feed the hens, (and did I mention they ask for breakfast?)--all before I have taken that first blessed sip of brewed happiness.
So by the time I get my kids and animals fed and hydrated, checked my messages via phone or internet, and taken care of cleaning up from the aftermath of food consumption, I'm ready to sit down. That may not be in the cards on an average morning. I still have to get a second sip of coffee in, and hopefully by then it is still warm, if not fully cold.  By the time I get a chance to eat, I may be dropping low from going on no fuel.
I can get lucky some days and fix myself up a nice steaming hot bowl of oatmeal or grits. Oatmeal is my favorite lately. I love my kitchen scale more than I ought to, but I do love it so very much. I can weigh my dry food, cook the oatmeal, the zero out the scale and weigh my add-in of butter, cream, and sugar (if I use the real stuff that day). Then I can accurately bolus for my food AFTER I've eaten it. Those are good days, those in which I can eat oatmeal before noon. Not so good days mean I am battling my willpower against the desire to stop in at crackdonalds for a large order of crispy fried potatoes. I swear they much add something to their fries to be that addictive. The worst days are those where I bring Berry to school and it's time to pick her up after 3pm, yet I still haven't ingested more than a few sips of coffee.
I really dislike those days. Sure, my numbers are fine; but that gnawing aching hunger by dinnertime is just not worth it. It's also negatively impacting my weight loss. I don't lose pounds from not eating, instead my over 30-year-old metabolism is greatly decreased by the lack of food. Unless I eat frequent small meals, my metabolism seems to be at a standstill.

So I dislike missing meals and I do not intentionally fast without doc's orders. Ugh.

My treadmill is dying.

I have an old beast of a treadmill. I have no idea how old it is, just that it was likely manufactured before the Y2K hysteria. It's been moved around from state to state, basement, garages, houses, etc. I went to plug her in and the sound that there was power going to the motor indicated it was working fine, but the belt would not move unless I forcefully walked, using my hands against the handle bars like I was pushing a car. *sigh*
I was really looking forward to getting back to running and trying out couch to 5k again.

Fear.

I have a lot of fear. Fear of going low while alone, driving, or doing an activity. Fear of trying out a new activity and having a great time then having to stop so I can deal with a low, with a call from someone or with my kids. I have been scared to go back to school because of something happening. I have been scared to get a full time job, even in retail, due to having no one I can count on for consistent childcare. I have no income to pay someone. This is a lot of anxiety, so I deal with it by doing nothing. I have great friends and family that will watch the girls for a doctor's appointment of for me to go out and do a quick errand or two. I don't discount these people as they've made life so much easier to live with their help. I just cannot and will not rely on them because they have their own lives to live.

I yearn to go hiking or walking or biking with my kids or friends or even by myself. I long for the chance to run. I have zero endurance. I tied couch to 5k last year but failed because we had to move my treadmill out the house and I lost my motivation to run in a an non-insulated detached garage. I lost the smidge of progress I had made very quickly.

How and where do I begin? I've got this friend who is a great cyclist. She's kind, funny, outgoing, healthy, athletic, and a great mom. She and her husband ride on a cycling team. I'm shy and have a hard time making friends to begin with much less trying to learn where to join a team doing any athletic activity.
I just don't know where to look or how to begin.

Some days suck.

Yesterday was pretty amazing, mood wise.My morning started slow but great. I learned a good deal about people from Burma (Myanmar) due to a local group whose mission is to help refugees settle and become more independent community members. Next, I spent time with my sister, thrift store hopping, which was fun. Found a couple cute shirts and trinkets. My evening was nearly thrown off by a massively split tire but my help wasn't needed after all (not my tire, and everyone is safe- thank goodness!).
The evening came about and I drove an hour away to go to a meeting. After a nice time meeting new people, I stopped for crackdonalds. Ordered a meal a little too rich in carbs but had to roll through the drive-thru again as they gave me the wrong size fry order. Got that all situated and managed to start eating and forgot to check carb count before eating. (Side note, using siri while driving helps with searches when one does not wish to look away from the road while driving.) I managed to shovel my dinner down then bolus effectively. Win!
I got home and had to deal with the madness that is my home when my kids have not been in the same room as me for more than .0345 seconds. Sat at my laptop and checked social media only to find out about the death of an internet friend. That blew my good mood to shit, then when texting a mutual friend about the recently passed one, learned some unhappy news from her. Lastly, my kids wanted cuddles and my husband is not home and it just made for a crap night with no down time.

Survivalist shows

Thanks to my recent addiction to learning anything and everything about hiking/backpacking I've delved into the world or reality survival tv shows. I know how inaccurate tv is. Editing is everything, so I take these shows with a grain of salt. However, it irks me to no end that they pick these people with no serious medial issues. Insurance won't cover the potentially medically fragile. I would one day LOVE to see a T1D on a survival show. I mean, come on! How well do we know survival tips and tricks. Hell, every single day we battle for our lives. We take meds that keep us alive and if we don't take them we can die very easily. If we take too much we can die in hours to minutes, if we don't take them at all, we can either die slowly or super fast depending on where we eat.
One or many of us could easily kick butt.

Backwards 'betic

In each conversation with a diabetic educator when swapping up insulin delivery methods, I am always told to bolus or inject for my food THEN eat. I refuse to do that. Too many times since becoming diabetic I did just that and it bit me in the arse so to speak. I used to do it the "right" way but no more. A few years ago, I had Berry. That meant my food schedule was gone. After a couple days with low blood sugars from not eating all I bolused for, I quit.
Now I only bolus after I eat. Some days I will sit down with a set amount of food already measured, but I sometimes get full before I eat all on my plate. Instead of dropping low from too much insulin on too little food, I only bolus for what I have already eaten.
I get "the look" from my educator or my endo. I don't care and after a few years, they know I'm not going to do it their way.

I don't have hypoglycemic episodes due to meal time carb to insulin ratios being off now. I get hypos for other reasons but tha is not one of those reasons.

There are times like last night where I eat something I have not had in months. I only ate those things after I had Baby Bear and stopped being responsible with my health. I didn't know if they had adverse effects on my numbers or if they had no other effects than normal carbs. Last night I found out. I had about a half dozen Ghirardelli squares. I was hanging normal around 89-115. I was stoked! For every bite of rice cake, chocolate, and peanut butter, I bolused. I woke up at 3am at 156 and corrected. Then I awoke at 6:28 at 311! ACK!
So, no more half dozen chocolate squares with my evening tv watching.

More borrowed blog post ideas

Thanks to Scully at  http://canadiandgal.blogspot.com/ I keep finding old posts and wanting to do 

them for myself half a decade after she has.  I differ from this woman in a lot of ways but thoroughly enjoy reading her blog!


10 years ago I was: In college, in a dead end relationship and retail job. 


5 years ago I was: Married with a newborn and had not worked in 2 years thanks to a cross

 country move and my own fears


 1 year ago I was: Not caring about my diabetes, trying for denial rather than care, and

 wishing my chicks would start laying


 Yesterday I: Learned that Joey Feek died of cancer and Dorian of D-Strong from a facebook

 page I follow is close to the end of his fight against cancer. I fucking hate cancer as much as I do

 diabetes.

 

 Today I:  had great numbers, felt a full range of emotions than in a non-diabetic might qualify as a

person in need of seeking a therapist's help


5 songs I know all the words to: 

- Nearly everything from Garth Brooks

- In My Life by The Beatles

- God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

- Fight Song by Rachel Platten

- You'll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins from Disney's Tarzan soundtrack

5 things I'd do with 1 million dollars: 

-Donate half to a charity 

-create a corporation 

-pay off all my debt, 

-buy my mom a house here 

-put a huge chunk into savings accounts for my kids' educations 


5 favorite TV shows:  

-The Big Bang Theory

-Doctor Who

-Grey's Anatomy

-NCIS

-Rehab Addict


5 biggest joys (In no specific order):

-My girls' laughter

-Making my mom smile

-cuddling with my cats and dogs

-Reading while having a cup of hot tea and not getting interrupted

- Being with Mr K

Mid-afternoon thoughts

My diabetes is a bit of an ass, if you'll pardon my language.
These next words are my imagination based solely on tv and movies, as I've never even seen pot in real life, much less ingested any.
 When I ignore D, she likes to act like a teen with pocket cash and get high whenever the mood strikes and stay that way. Like a teen who is higher than a kite, when D gets that way, she gets the munchies. Unlike a pot head, when D gets fed, she gets higher, not full, and it's a really mean cycle of hunger and hyperglycemia. Unlike pot heads, D will not just come down after a while. That nasty brat stays high until given insulin.
Like I said, D can be an ass.

I've been binge reading today.

So I found that blog I posted about previously.  I checked out the blogger's profile which led me to the blogs she followed. I've been skimming through that list. More and more I am seeing blogs written by moms of type 1s. These are little kids with T1 I was 15 when I was diagnosed. That was hard enough to be in high school and already trying to get lost in the crowd when suddenly I am thrust into the world of medically different.
These kids, one was a toddler! I am a mom now and would gladly live every day having to inject and test every 15 minutes without sleep than see my children diagnosed with this evil bastard. As "my" disease, I got this. I can make this bastard my bitch and reign it in. The idea of my children having it? That terrifies me in a visceral way. Just the thought makes me want to go sneak over to them while they sleep and test their blood.

I despise diabetes, what it has done to me because I let it, what it has changed in my life and how it has screwed with my mental clarity. I also thank God for my life because I believe He has a plan for me and led me through all this to get me to where I am today.  I simply pray, hope, and have faith that my girls are okay and will never be subject to being type 1.

Friday morning thoughts

Yesterday, I had plans. They were pushed aside for good reasons. I got overly irritated by them getting changed on me.
This is an underlying issue regarding my distaste for unplanned changes. I like happy surprises, but things that change my expectations seem to get under my skin. 

 For example, if Mr K and I pick a day to go out and drive around with no real destination in mind, I'm good with being spontaneous and lackadaisical. If I take a day where I hope to do two or three things, but something comes up and we have to alter those plans or not go at all, I get grumpy. This must be normal, but I feel crazy. 

 I thrive on routine, organization, and serenity. If little things change, it bugs me in a big way.
 

My health is better with routine, I feel happier when see positive results for my efforts.

Onto a different topic.

Books!
I love to read. I have loved looking at books for as long as I can recall. As soon as I learned to read, I was addicted. The only books I don't care for are the ones I am forced to read. I was odd in high school. Books like The Lord of the Flies, The Pearl, and all things Shakespeare bored me to tears. I preferred either fun fiction or heart wrenching memoirs and biographies.  I still haven't had the heart to bring myself to re-read those stories and I have a goal in my mind to do just that one day.

I had a massive personal book collection when I was younger. As I grew older and had a family, I had to reduce for space and storage reasons. That just means I get to enjoy the library more.

My next idea after hitting publish on this random nonsense is to try for a few minutes of yoga. Wish me luck!

Lazy day in ruins.

My plan was to do nothing more strenuous than feeding then animals today. That plan changed when my sister needed help. I was obligated to look human while I did responsible things. I got them done but by the time everything was done, it was mid-afternoon.
Now, it is nearly 6pm, I am reading a blog (recently found) called http://canadiandgal.blogspot.com/. The author is Scully, and she is awesome.I'm reading it in chronological order. This is something she posted back in September 2010 as part of invisible illness awareness week. I'm reviving the idea and posting my own answers.
30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know:
 1. The illness I live with is: Type 1 Diabetes, hypothyroidism

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2000

3. But I had symptoms since: for 6 months before my diagnosis in the year 2000

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: Giving up my dream of joining the military and

 becoming a Park Ranger 

5. Most people assume: no clue, I don't badger others about their thoughts on me

6. The hardest part about mornings are: remembering to take my levothyroxine

7. My favorite medical TV show is: Currently it's Grey's Anatomy for fiction and save My Life: 

Boston Trauma for nonfiction

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: my insulin pump

9. The hardest part about nights are: falling asleep

10. Each day I take __ pills and vitamins. (No comments, please) 1

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: am not trying any

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: a curable one

13. Regarding working and career:  I have put a career on hold to raise kids

14. People would be surprised to know: I really like reading biographies and memoirs

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: the overwhelming effort it takes

 to get and stay healthy

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: have healthy kids

17. The commercials about my illness: What commercials, all they ever address is Type 2

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is:  Dreaming about how my careers

 would go.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: not worrying about what the food I ate did to my body

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: yoga, and learning about 

hiking/backpacking

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: I don't feel abnormal, but if I didn't 

have to test my blood, I would enjoy a bike ride more

22. My illness has taught me:  that the side effects of having a high A1c can be annoying as hell. 

23. Want to know a secret? I hate it when type 2s only on pills think they truly "get" what I go through

24. But I love it when people: Treat me normally and don;t ask if I can eat anything

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough time is:  She is clothed in strength and dignity, she can laugh at the day to come. Proverbs 31:25

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: Some days are better than others, keep

 testing and don't give up

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: How awful my bloodsugars

 can make me feel

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Mr K took care of me

 all day. Fed me, supplied me with drinks, and did all the childcare that weekend

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: n/a just found the blog post and figured my

 mom (my only read as far as I know)

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Thank you, Mom. You are awesome for reading this blog.

Glucose levels fail but emotionally awesome day.

Today, My K and I celebrated our anniversary. We saw a movie, had dinner, and just spent time together. I accompanied him to the same city he worked and shopped while he worked. I fond an amazing new purse. This is huge for me. Every time I go to a thrift store or a regular retail place, I check out the bag selections. I have been using the same old go-to purse since I was a freshman in college. It's olive drab and I love it, but she is getting on in years. Well today, I went walking past the seasonal bins at in Target, you know those bins with items for $1, $3, and $5. I found this beauty:

(Image taken from internet, not the bag I bought)

It is not exactly identical as the patterning is variable but it accurately shows the new purse. This thing rocks! I love it and it fits everything I need to carry for diabetes management, and has room left over for mom-related things. Win!

After I found that gem, I wandered through the clothes. Found a nice sweater with Darth Vader on it, but I refused to get it because I don't like Vader. I prefer the rebels rather than the Empire. I'm a gal who likes the nice guys, the good guys, those on the light side. So Vader gear is not my thing. But it was a nice style and if they'd had R2D2 or C3PO, Chewie, or especially that scruffy looking nerf herder- I would be wearing it right now.

After Target, I stopped in an perused the local thrift store, and saw they's rearranged the shelving and had fewer items, so I took that as a Godly nudge that I didn't need anything there.
Once Mr K was done with work stuff, we went to see The Force Awakens again. We loved it even more the second time! After the movie, we drove into the larger city, where we had a lovely meal. Barbecue hit the spot. Overall this was the best day.
My sweet sister watched the girls for us, and it made it possible to take the day for ourselves.

My bloodsugars ran high today. This is still a learning experience for me. I used to not test regularly, and got complacent. I no longer felt highs unless they were up near 400 or above. These last few days have been amazing. I am seeing what certain foods do to my numbers.  I ate candy and popcorn and learned that I definitely and more sensitive to some candies over others.


I'm done rambling. Getting sleepy and feeling like I can't concentrate anymore.