SweetLifeStories Diabetes Blog

I don’t usually pass along quotes, although many inspire me toward appreciating life. But here’s one I thought I’d share. It may serve to strengthen your resolve or lighten your load–especially if you’ve been worrying a little too much about the “what if’s” of diabetes or another health issue.

Live your truth. Express your love. Share your enthusiasm. Take action towards your dreams. Walk your talk. Dance and sing to your music. Embrace your blessings. Make today worth remembering.                                                                                                                                              - Steve Maraboli       

Blessings? They surround us, challenging our thinking and the obstacles in our path. Diabetes, in a strange way, has ultimately made me a better person by forcing me to think, problem-solve, outwit and be able to laugh at all the zany situations that come up and are related to the disease. Would I rather be free of its burdens? Of course. But I also give thanks, at this time of the season, for its challenges. They remind me of the joy and beauty all around me. 

Celebrating Tess & Zoe's bds!

B well, b happy. And have a happy THANKSgiving. 

Four interesting things happened recently that made me think about how much of a struggle it sometimes is to live happily and passionately in spite of a lifetime of health issues like diabetes, and how critical it is to throw yourself with passion into doing the things that make you happy. Things that bring joy into your life. Activities that are so consuming that they make you forget, even if just for a little while, the burdens of trying to stay healthy and all that means.

First, my sister had a birthday and turned, well, three years younger than me. Nope, not telling! But I was thrilled to read her post at http://Beanygetsablog.wordpress.com and feel her growing happiness and appreciation, post-breast cancer, of everyone and everything in her life. She epitomizes what life’s all about–greeting every day with zest, loving her time with family and friends, immersing herself with gusto into cooking and city life, travel adventures and singing. Yes, my sister, I’m proud to say, is singing once again. That says it all: I am happy enough to sing my heart out and share my passion with others.

Then, I read an article on the internet that grabbed my attention–mostly because of what is not commonly seen these days in the news. It was about coping with Type 1 diabetes–and the article acknowledges how very hard it is.

See:  http://www/nytimes.com/2011/10/25/health/25brody.html?_r=1.

Although it gives just a simple glimpse into some of the burdens of this disease, it still made me ponder how often (healthwise) I feel like a “bad” person when my blood sugars aren’t in control–despite my best efforts at maintaining my willpower, managing an insulin pump, trying to fit in healthy meals and exercise, and overcoming the high blood sugar rises that accompany stress. Or how often I fight feelings of sheer panic when I start to envision a future where I succumb to the often-reported scary complications of long-term Type 1 diabetes. I try not to do that too often, but it’s always there. And the best I can do is to keep trying, refuse to give up and live as normal a life as possible.

The third incident was happy and fun. I was on an agility course last week with my 6-year old whippet Zoe. She and I have been in the process of becoming a team where we can interpret each other’s signals, verbal commands and moves. The resulting bond from working together is awesome! When we finished a particular sequence of running several obstacles, the trainer’s words rang out to me. “Party her! Party her really well! She did a great job following you!” That made me smile so brightly that it could have lit up a room. First of all, I love playing with words, and here was a perfect example of turning a noun into the most amazing verb; it was perfect! Then I realized, that this word–as a verb–is so powerful, too. I couldn’t think of a better way to say what needed to be said. I thought later, as I drove Zoe and myself home, we all need to “party ourselves” in the issues and things that matter. We need to recognize the importance of taking the smallest steps forward on our life journey and be sure to celebrate doing so. 

Finally, I had the absolute joy of running Zoe in an AKC agility trial last week. My sweet little whippet who is so shy becomes a driving, maniacal force out on the field–so much so that she (and I) often make mistakes (which we learn from) and of course then get disqualified (DQ’d). (It’s humbling, but you have to imagine trying to keep up with a whippet who can run like the wind!) So after a long dry spell of four trials and eight runs over five long months with no qualifying scores at all, on our very last run of the day, we finished the course. I knew Zoe had erred once when she went around, instead of through, the tire. So I’d brought her back and, this time, she soared through it, bounding over the last two jumps to the finish line. Had we “Q’d?” OMG–yes and more! Zoe and I had earned an astonishing FIRST PLACE!

A miracle? Perhaps. But I thought of all of our hard work and the challenges I faced struggling to not give up! That work and passion gave me such joy. I had tried to fly like the wind, too-channeling my beautiful soaring dog–and I was thrown into another dimension where diabetes, for once, didn’t exist, and the feeling of success was so sweet, so tempting, that it moved me to vow that I’ll keep on trying and loving life in spite of all its imperfections.

Power to partying your passions, and your steps forward no matter how big or small! 

B well, be happy. Until next time, kath

There’s NOTHING more upsetting, more disappointing, more stress-producing to someone living with diabetes or another long-term health problem than finding out their doctor is simply not a supportive team member. And by “team member,” I mean these things–all of which are essential, in my opinion, to helping me live with the ups and downs of diabetes!–

ESSENTIAL PATIENT-DOCTOR FOUNDATIONS TO BEING ABLE TO LIVE HAPPILY AND WELL include:

   1- open communication

   2- good listening skills

   3- positive outlook

   4- collaboration and TEAMWORK at all times!

   5- problem-solving skills

   6- mutual sense of caring and respect

   7- the ability to share and exchange what you know about diabetes

   8- helpful connections to professionals who can make a difference in how you deal with diabetes

   9- mutual ability to set goals and work steadily to reach them

  10- HOPE . . . POSITIVITY . . . and a BELIEF THAT ALL THINGS GOOD ARE POSSIBLE!

Why am I so burned about these issues? I have spent the better part of four years working with an endocrinologist most people rave about–only to continue hitting my head against the wall, believing he’d indeed come to know me, value my experiences, help me live better with diabetes. Recently, I swallowed hard and talked to him about what I needed from him to do well. This took courage. Staying with him was my mistake; I assumed that, given enough time, he’d come to care about me and my struggles to maintain the best blood sugars possible. So I’ll admit it right now: I was wrong! Assumptions are almost always the breeding ground for miscommunication and differences.

Yesterday, two things happened that hit me smack in the face after nearly four years of struggling to connect with “one of the best endocrinologists” in my health care plan:  My doctor–overwhelmed by entering data into a system requiring computerized (versus paper-filled) medical records–asked me question after question that proved he didn’t remember much of anything about me and doesn’t regard me as a collaborator in how “we” try to manage my diabetes issues.

“So,” he started (50 minutes later than my scheduled appointment time), “your HA1C went up and you’re not in very good control.” No questions, no problem-solving. In fact, he was so focused on his system’s red tape accountability and his own personal problems, he didn’t even follow through on the fact that no one had downloaded information from my insulin pump or blood sugar machine. Sighing, no direct eye contact, entering the most basic information including, “How long have you had diabetes?” For this, I waited an hour?

The second glaring incident came after I went home following my appointment with Dr. T. My husband related that when he’d been contacted by the doctor on call regarding his sinus infection, it was my doc who called him back. Their exchange went something like this:  “Hello, this is Dr. T.”  “Oh,” my husband replied, “Hi, Dr. T. You treat my wife Kathy for diabetes.” The shocking undeniable proof of his response? “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe. I have so many patients. What’s your problem?”

For THIS I worked four years, hoping that I could help shape this “great” doc into someone who could make a difference both for me and others? His depressed and negative attitude may be symptoms of a system that is overwhelming all of our physicians. And he has been slammed with coming to terms with developing  his own diabetes (Type 2). But I can finally solidly say, THIS IS NO EXCUSE! Everyone living with serious health issues deserves better and should seek out the best possible team you can find. Each one of us deserves to be part of that team!

So I indeed feel like a fool–disappointed, saddened, a little hopeless right now. My doctor has committed the ultimate sin by not respecting and including me. I perhaps did the same–by trusting too much, waiting too long, not listening to the warning signs  because I feared seeking out a better partner from the great unknown. But my anger at myself for allowing this situation to fester is starting to work a magic of its own–empowering me to move forward and willfully take (and demand) a different–and more positive–path. We all deserve at least that.

B well, b happy, and live life to the fullest.

Until next time, kath

And the morning didn’t disappoint. The birds’ sequined feathers dazzled me. Their quest for energy-sustaining liquids fascinated. And their near-nonstop activity was mesmerizing. Then, looking at all the energy these jeweled hummers expended, a curious thought grabbed me.

Though I love watching these tiny acrobats, I can’t imagine how much sugar (i.e., carbs and food) it would take to keep me going like that! Our group’s hosts, in fact, let us know that they mix up, on average, over 300 pounds of sugar and water in one season. That translates into 1,733 calories (straight carbs) per pound of sugar, or almost 520,000 calories per season for those busy little creatures! I can’t even imagine having to figure out insulin coverage for this type of routine!

Having to count my carb intake every day and balance it with activity, sometimes feeling trapped into a “Groundhog Day” repetitive pattern of being chained to food as an insuling-taking Type 1 diabetic, this thought of never being able to do anything but sustain one’s life by a singular quest for food takes my breath away! And exercising like that? It really would take a miracle for any of us to sustain that level of activity (insulin-dependent or not). Go hummers, go!  Amazing what we take for granted, isn’t it?

B well, b happy. I’d love to hear about your passions that keep you going in spite of health challenges.

Until next time, kath

My summer days are filled with amazing activities and opportunities to connect with friends. Dog-training classes, clay classes and studio time, gardening and yard design, exercise classes; you name it, I try to fit it in. Busy keeps me pretty happy. But sometimes, a more personal one-on-one connection is something I crave. There’s something important–more intimate–about spending time with one person and being able to share your thoughts, feelings, passions about life.

Yesterday, I called a new friend to see if she and her family were okay due to a raging fire not far from their home. We spent a few minutes talking, and then I reminded her to feel free to call me if she wanted any company to photograph people, special events, or places this summer.

“Funny you mention that,” she said.

“Oh?” I asked. What do you mean?”

“I plan to photograph the Santa Fe Rodeo this evening. Want to come along?”

Such a simple little question. Despite having other tentative plans that afternoon to meet a group of my clay artist friends and take the train up to Santa Fe so we could hear a guest lecture at Santa Fe Clay–which I’d done the previous week with that same group– somehow it was too much of a temptation to resist. Photographing a rodeo and its riders up-close and personal was something I had never tried. I was intrigued, but my reasoning went beyond the opportunity of photographing the rodeo.

Being outdoors and stretching myself to try something new? A powerful temptation! But beyond that, the chance to spend time with one person whose love of life and enthusiasm are contagious, and who understands–more than the average person–what it’s like to live with Type 1 diabetes because her grandson has lived with it since he was four? Those are powerful attributes  that struck me not only as being worth altering my plans, but also pushed me to take this chance to connect with someone I admire and want to know better. I let myself give in to my intuition and what felt right.

Every friend is important in keeping me connected, hopeful, and grateful for each day. These relationships help me appreciate the struggle to stay healthy. But sometimes, I need something deeper than meeting friends in groups. Maybe it’s the chance to delve deeper. To feel unthreatened enough to open the door to our souls just a little wider when we connect one-on-one. Sometimes, the power of one special friendship can be just the ticket to massaging the heart and keeping me believing in the journey.

The curse of always trying to be . . .

Ahhh . . . the quest to always be better (if not perfect)! Shall I name the ways for those of us living with and touched by diabetes?

blood sugar levels

dietary restraints

 remembering to carry snacks (and glucose)

exercising not too much but definitely enough

following a routine

focusing on staying calm and happy

not snapping at our partner/spouse

trying to share just enough info about ourselves with friends and colleagues

meeting our health-care team at least half-way

 improving HA1C levels

being kind to our eyes

enjoying small treats likes tastes of ice cream, a bite of a cookie, and (of course) chocolate

not making ourselves crazy about all the what-if’s

finding friends with whom we’re comfortable sharing some the details of living with this disease

letting ourselves be cared for and loved

giving to and helping others

being happy with our own bodies

smiling–even when it’s hard to do so

moving to a positive state of mind

tackling new ideas, projects, hobbies and interests

BELIEVING that all things are possible

What thoughts and issues don’t weigh us down when we allow ourselves to feel burdened with the impact of life’s disappointments and defeats?

I strive to rise beyond these days. Sometimes all it takes to help is looking at my in-the-moment puppy, so filled with the joy of discovery that I can’t help but hug her and feel renewed. A hug, a connection, a friend. And all is better in my world.

B well, b happy.

Until next time, your friend kath

What’s this world and the human condition coming to when I question the motives of a woman running up to my car in the dark and wildly begging for help?  ”Can you give me a ride home? I live just a few blocks away, all I have with me are my cigarettes and key, and I’m diabetic and about to pass out!”

My heart lurched. But my instincts pressed me to slow down my response while my husband slowed at a stop sign on our way to pick up some dog food. The woman was out of breath running from one vehicle to the next as she said, “Thank goodness! You’re normal! Please help me.”

I looked hard at my husband, already knowing what he was thinking about responding to this unknown. But he waited there, so I leaned over and asked how we could help in other ways. “Can we call someone for you?” (“No,” she said, “I live alone.”) Do you need something to eat? I can give you some glucose or food right now.” (“Arrrrrrh,” she squealed, as she spun away from us toward the next car.)

So troubled was I by this encounter that I told my husband we needed to call the police and see if they could check things out to make sure she was okay; maybe they’d be able to help her. I didn’t want to leave her alone and frightened out there without some kind of backup in place.

After running in and out of a store, we drove around the corner to check on her before placing a call to 911. My prayers were answered . . . more or less. There the middle-aged woman sat in the middle of a nearby busy median, with police officers talking to her and calling for some kind of help. One was a woman, and this reassured me. And at that point, knowing she’d be medically checked out, I had to let it go as we went on our way home.

Yet I can’t help but wonder What if that was me? Or a friend with diabetes in need of immediate help?  Would my response have been any different during daylight? Am I a pushover, or instead, so jaded I couldn’t allow myself to trust anyone out of my comfort zone? And then I wondered if diabetes has become such a hot button–so popular a malady–that anyone and everyone on the street is using it to exact sympathy and help? What an irony in the life of a childhood diabetic; being Type 1, I never thought I’d see the day when diabetes would be so prevalent!

But jaded or not, I cannot shake that feeling of “What if . . . ?” along with the images connected to stories I heard throughout my childhood of people ending up dying in jail cells because no one knew they were diabetic and thought they were ‘merely’ drunk.

Those images and worries spin in my head, round and round. I’ll forever wonder if this woman is okay, just as I’ll replay her plea and wonder how much truth it contained. For now, I have to live with trying to shake being jaded, if only to a small degree. Yet I’m comforted a little by the fact that I tried to listen and offer help that could have made a difference. For me, it probably wasn’t enough, but it was something.

B well, b happy. Make a difference where u can.

Until next time, kath

sometimes it takes something that puts fear into your heart to get you to move forward.

for me, it came within days of running agility trials with Zoe, my 5 year old whippet. the chant of “something’s wrong” came in the form of pain; aching in my foot that wouldn’t go away despite soaking and massaging it in hot baths, and getting extra accupuncture appointments designed to increase blood flow. it stayed, along with much higher than normal blood sugar levels, that swept a raw fear into my heart and mind.

that kind of deep raw fear is something that sometimes gets the better of those of us who live with diabetes. it’s like a refrain–a low pulse lurking in the background of our lives, but there nonetheless, whispering: do you think you can escape the long-term effects of diabetes? this is IT for you; you might lose your foot or your leg if you don’t get those blood sugars down NOW!

i always try my hardest to keep my sugar levels low. but sometimes, it’s a losing battle. insulin resistance? maybe. stress? probably. usually, these episodes resolve within a few days or hours, and i go back to being my more relaxed self. happy in being and doing so many things i love! but this go-round, lasting almost two weeks, definitely rattled me.

how did i cope and what did i do? i kept upping my insulin (higher basal rates on my pump and giving extra boluses). and of course, when too much insulin hit me, i had several severe reactions (low blood sugar episodes). then my blood sugar level rebounded spitefully–into the 370 range. but at a friend’s suggestion, i joined a Zumba exercise class. it had been a long time since i attended a group class like that, but it helped. finally, my blood sugar levels came down, and the class lifted my mood and worries.

hooray for the benefits of exercise. i was even able to go without formal exercise the very next day; thrilled to be on a photography trip with girlfriends. but these kinds of incidents remind me that quality time doesn’t just mean time connected with others. it’s obviously critical–whether or not you live with a disease like diabetes–to be connected to oneself in order to make your own life as positive and healthy as possible. and yes, Zumba’s on tomorrow’s schedule.

B well, b happy. And keep trying to stay connected!

Until next time, kath

Jules and me, we go together like pb & j. We’ve shared our triumphs, worries, and defeats over 25 years. Our husbands laugh and share stories about our sometimes obnoxious low blood sugar behaviors. I don’t know what I’d do without Jules in my life. She’s my touchstone. A sister of the highest order.

Today, Jules emailed to tell me she’d undergone laser treatment yesterday. A visiting once-a-month specialist from CA who collaborates with her regular eye doc came to do the surgery, and the news is GOOD! No pain, no more floaters, more oxygen restored to the eye, and little likelihood of vision loss . . . all due to the use of the most modern equipment and genius skills of a retinal specialist. A miracle conducted in the context of everyday living, so taken for granted.

Both Jules and I can breathe a little easier now. We can get out our calendars to schedule more SOUL-TIME together. That’s my euphanism for what’s good for all of us–no matter what challenges we face. I’m so grateful for the small miracles that surround us.

celebrating Jules' bd 2gether

B well; b happy.

Until next time, kath

Kath + Tess' first show- Scottsdale

Whoever said life–despite living with diabetes–can’t be fun?

Having come back recently from showing my puppy Tess in our first AKC conformation shows, and entering  local AKC Agility Trials with my 5 year old whippet Zoe for the very first time, I can swear to the magic that intense participation in something–anything–you love doing is worth it!

I’ll admit I was a tad overwhelmed when I drove all the way from Albuquerque to Scottsdale for my first dog show a few weeks ago! Mostly, I was a little rattled at having to stand my puppy correctly as show judges scrutinized me, her, and other entrants. But it took only a day or two into the showing process (along with some lessons and advice before I’d left home for the show), to realize that I really could do this! And aside from the political aspects of the dog show world where well-known breeders and their dogs and handlers sometimes garner judges’ attention and the top awards, we did well enough to be encouraged! Two 2nd place ribbons, several 3rds and 4ths, and a world of experience in the realm of showing my puppy! Woo hoo!

Next up, reminding me of the importance of exercising, eating right, practicing agility signals and moves, and just striving to improve, came the AKC 3-day agility trial. I entered Zoe with a little trepidation. Like me, she’s quirky and gets stressed in situations that are new to her. But we’ve worked hard for almost three years trying to learn agility together. I was happy, knowing my dog had found a niche in which she could do well. But I didn’t know if she would hold up at the competition level. So we registered for our first agility trials to find out.

What did I learn? Because I didn’t give up, Zoe and I are finally a team. Running two agility runs each day of the 3-day trial was great for me; the stress, well, sometimes less than great! But the lure of working at agility to get better is, well, simply alluring. I actually have dreams of earning any coveted titles of AX (Excellent A Agility), AXJ (Excellent A Jumpers With Weaves), or even, dare I say it, a MACH (Master Agility Champion)!

Camaraderie with other agility enthusiasts, the potential to make good friends, the focus it takes to stay physically active and get  stronger to compete–all for the love of a dog and a sport. Voila! How powerful to find a niche that makes your heart (and not your blood sugar!) soar.  Ahhhhhh; all is well.

Kath + Zoe in Agility Trials- Albuquerque

B well; b happy.  And find any niche that helps u soar to new heights!

Until next time, Kath