SweetLifeStories Diabetes Blog

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

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

When Reporters Become Targets

 Perspective

CBS News / AP

Until next time, kath

 Kathy . . . in haiku

      January 2011

 I was born early—

long struggling to find my way

in spirit and place.

Survivor, thriver—

I’ve learned a key to living

is looking forward.

My visions are strong—

realized through a camera’s lens

and other art forms.

I am a thinker;

creative problem-solver;

a great listener.

I relish in play—

everyday interactions

wrap me in happy.

I’m swept by passion—

more artist than scientist;

dreaming in color.

I’ve tasted success—

teaching and training, giving

to make a diff’rence.

Passionate trav’ler–

I love grasping warp and weft

of other life beats.

Still, dreams are many—

motivational speaker,

writer; gard’ner, too.

Despite challenges—

yet perhaps from their impact,

I assume little.

Laughter is a gift—

and opportunity looms

every day I wake.

Push onward, I say—

live extraordinarily

and never give up.

And those dreams? Still strong—

despite the cacophony

of spooling months, years.

They all nourish hope—

feeding every embarked step

of dazzling passage.

So, here I am, still working 8 weeks later to adjust to fitting back into my routine life after a whirlwind 3+ weeks traveling in Japan and then a crazy but fun-filled four days of photographing red rock formations in Moab, Utah!

The small amount of Japanese language I had begun to understand and use has mostly faded from my brain cells, and I find I’m missing the excitement of trying to function between two languages, two geographic places, two cultures! But I still find myself processing what went well for me as a traveler with diabetes; someone who had the luxury (guided by my Tokyoite friend Chikako who traveled with me) of being so immersed in the Japanese culture, and what didn’t go so well in terms of living with my diabetes.

The basic staples of the Japanese diet: rice and noodles (udon; ramen; soba), served in huge amounts, were definitely an obstacle to good control. I am embarrassed to admit my recent HA1C was 8.5; gulp! one of my highest ever. Yet I found I needed to eat these carbs in Japan, since I had to be sure my blood sugar level didn’t fall too low while I walked miles every single day! That’s a common dilemma for many of my friends who have diabetes and travel anywhere. What I learned to do was add good protein, when available, to my meals, in the forms of fish (all types cooked and yes, even raw), egg, and chicken. The amount of protein served in meals was very small compared to what we eat in the U.S., so I supplemented my diet with protein bars and spoonfuls of peanut butter (which I brought in a plastic jar with me) when needed. This helped me survive pretty well!

The “new” carb that seems to be helping to skyrocket the number of Japanese being diagnosed with diabetes is, of all things, bread. White bread. Lots of it, everywhere, in patisserie specialty shops. And lots of sweets in the form of cakes, cookies, pastries. The Japanese definitely have a sweet tooth, and I was saddened to hear (and see) that many are paying for it . . . becoming overweight and diabetic. This was almost unheard of a generation ago, so it’s something to think about.

With the exception of battling high blood sugar levels after carb-laden lunches of noodles, ramen or udon soups, or rice dishes, I’m confident I managed my blood sugars and tweaking my insulin in such a distant land quite well!  I’m working on bringing that high average HA1C level down. But traveling definitely makes me quite grateful for home glucose testing (which most of us probably take for granted these days) and my insulin pump (for which I often give thanks for its ability to enable me to sleep later, switch time zones, cover extra carbs with boluses of insulin, and even suspend insulin, as  needed)!

Thanksgiving may be over on this year’s calendar. But in living my own life, there’s reason to celebrate and give thanks every day in terms of my gratefulness and sheer pleasure at the possibility of being immersed in the zest and best of life.

B well, b happy. Until next time (my procrastinating days are over; I’ll be writing again soon!), Kath

Strolling through my bountiful garden this sun-drenched afternoon, I noticed the first fallen leaves tucked here and there, curled into warm corners.  It seemed incongruous with my wish for summer to never come to an end; me, just loving summer’s freedom and joy. I’ve lovingly nurtured these plants through spring and summer, coaxing them to provide me with their tasty treasures. Today, plucking some tasty golden cherry tomatoes bright as a golden sun, pulling the ripe red romas, I marveled at the yield and how it has fed me, my family, and so many friends for months. And I thought about the last of the harvest, just a few weeks ahead. I do love fall, even as I wish summer would never end.

So in the quiet time spent watering and filling my waiting bowl, I reflected on more than the nutrients I’d consumed and shared that promised to fill our bodies with superdoses of vitamins; I recalled a poem that recently crossed my hands. I’ll beg the use of writer’s license to change the title from Plant a Garden of Success, to Harvest a Garden of Success, as befitting the time of year, and share its message.

     HARVEST a GARDEN of SUCCESS

1) Plant 5 rows of peas: 

     PATIENCE

     PERSERVERANCE

     PREPARATION

     PLANNING

     POSITIVENESS

2) Include 3 rows of squash:

     SQUASH NEGATIVITY

     SQUASH DIETING (yeah, right) . . .

     SQUASH DEPRIVATION

3) Add 5 rows of lettuce:

     LET US BE POSITIVE

     LET US TAKE RESPONSIBILITY

     LET US BE IN CONTROL

     LET US REWARD OUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS

     LET US BE EMPOWERED

4) No garden is complete without turnips:

     TURN UP WITH A POSITIVE ATTITUDE

     TURN UP WITH A SMILE

     TURN UP WITH NEW IDEAS

     TURN UP WITH REAL DETERMINATION

     TURN UP WITH SUCCESS

These, then, must be key to reaping a great harvest in life, and making those everyday obstacles a little less burdensome, no?

Until next time. B well, B happy, Kath

How hard could it really be, I wondered, to get myself down to the local University hospital to answer some questions and be prodded to find out if I would qualify for participating in a new research study about Type I diabetes and the impact of insulin timing on post-meal blood sugars?

Like so much in life, apparently more than I bargained for. The reality of checking my blood sugar and worrying–that’s the thing: always worrying–about having to rebook my fasting early morning appointment if I was too low or too high according to study criteria, was–and always is–stressful. Not to mention (altho I am!) that I wasn’t allowed to give any insulin after midnight to try bringing down my too-high blood sugar to a healthier level.

But I actually made it to my appointment this morning, with a blood sugar of 190 (not my norm and not my ideal!). Getting the flu shot yesterday afternoon (yep; should have delayed it for a day) pushed my sugar level up, mostly because the side effect of my aching arm and upper body forced me into graceless snore-enhanced slumber for two dead hours! But who knew?

So I discovered this to be, after all, an interesting study; great people! Eight months long, with two study arms of volunteer “healthy” diabetics; one will be a control group who takes care of themselves according to their normal routine. The other will be the intensive study group; those who must follow an insulin timing protocol and see if it makes a difference in lowering HA1C levels (a powerfully informative blood test which measures the average glucose level over approximately three months’ time).  All to find out the impact of lowering glucose levels post-meals by giving insulin 15 minutes or so before eating. It’s hoped that this simple step will help lower HA1C levels . . . and thus theoretically reduce the risk of heart disease in those with Type 1.

So over 3 hours, I was EKG’d (results = normal); blood-pressure checked (102/58 = great!); bloodsucked (fasting glucose and assorted other tests); subjected to a general physical check-up (“You look like a healthy one!”); height- and weight-checked (none of your bees’ wax!); and then came the icing on the cake (I’m joking; by then I was imagining myself starving at 11:00 and never able to eat again). The study nurse Elisabeth harpooned me with a CONTINUOUS GLUCOSE MONITOR, aka a CGM. Sheesh; a big blob-of-a-thing stuck into my abdomen for 5 entire days.

The CGM will collect continual information over 5 days on how my blood sugars move up and down. But I have to provide not only the body host and mental willpower to do this, but be able to take time to keep detailed written records for the study team. When I test my blood sugar. What I eat (to the gram, if possible!). When I bolus insulin. How I feel. What my activity level is. Oh, and I musn’t forget any naughty highs or stealthy lows. Even if my blood sugar bottoms out, I am compelled to remember to hold onto my brain cells and write down every speck of what I eat (not so easy during or in the aftermath of the shaky carnival ride of reactions!)

Okay, so I like to use the thorny challenges presented by diabetes to complain sometimes! Who doesn’t, once in a while? But let’s be real. Before I even left the office, I knew that I’d get back even more than I’ll give. The funding support from the American Diabetes Assn, the intense commitment of study staff, the open sharing of information about diabetes, and having a chance to think about how I can use it to make a difference in my life and the lives of others; that’s simply priceless.

B well, B happy. Until next time, Kath

Reading my horoscope the other day:

Eugene Ionesco once said, “It’s not the answer that enlightens, but the question.”

Yep; it’s all about asking the right questions, which lead me to more queries, and pushes me to question my own thinking and actions. Necessary. Stimulating. Sometimes unnerving. But usually a great challenge and adventure on this road.

Kudos to the sappy horoscope writer and a tribute to the French-Romanian playwright Ionesco for helping me touch base with what’s important on this roller-coaster ride.