SweetLifeStories Diabetes Blog

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.

I’m visiting my sister, bro-in-law, and 16-year-old niece in NYC this week. It’s hot and humid, but every time I’m here I wonder at the delights and different ways of life that fill the city.

Just yesterday, for example, I got to walk through the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens for hours by myself, photographing to my heart’s delight. The new herb garden filled me with inspiration for my own southwestern garden and hardscape. When I finally returned “home” and had a moment to spend with my niece Hannah, I told her how much I loved doing things, being passionate about my interests and open to new pursuits. Her simple response? “Every day should be filled with wonder.”

How inspiring her approach to life is! For the first 25 years of living with diabetes, I wasn’t always able to view life around me with so much wonder and pleasure.  Hannah listened and, in her child-on-the-cusp-of-grown-up manner, she reiterated the importance of doing something wonderful every day. That’s a powerful mantra! From the mouths of babes . . . telling us something we already know to be true but is somehow farfetched, at times, when we feel burdened with health or family problems.

Living so long with Type 1 diabetes has not been easy, but it has helped me appreciate every friend and experience I now have. It has made me push myself to learn more, do better, be better. It has forced me to focus. It has pushed me to shape opportunity from challenge. Diabetes has ultimately made me a better person. For all this, I am absolutely filled with wonder!

B well, b happy, b wonder(ful).

Until next time, kath

This weekend, I’m off to shoot (with my camera, that is) cyclists in the Albuquerque Century Tour de Cure sponsored by the American Diabetes Association–NM affiliate.  Looking forward to everything but the early start time, when the first group riding 100 miles officially takes off at 6:30 a.m.

Ugggg; getting up and out at 5 a.m.  is not the most ideal scheduling for controlling my blood sugars, but the sacrifice (that’s me, this time ’round) has to be made. Will just have to channel the enthusiasm and energy of all 600+ riders to get there and into the zen of great photo ops! Once there, I know my adrenaline will kick in and I’ll be totally into the moment, working the camera from all angles to capture the excitement.

Cool; just thinking about it, I feel better already about the early hour rise time! Since  we are what we sow, I shout: go, cyclists, go!  The more, the merrier, as we come together to raise funds to cure diabetes and minimize its impact on so many people’s lives!

So back to the heart of all things diabetes, thinking about the all-important question so many of us fantasize-dream-cry-pray-hope-wish-bargain-share-plead-formulate:

IF YOU COULD GIVE IT ALL BACK, WOULD YOU?

Here are my thoughts from the preface of my memoir on growing up with diabetes:

Someone once asked me (this very) intriguing question when I’d been diabetic just over half my life. But in the moments that followed, as I grappled to understand who I had become after all those years of trying to live with the disease, an incredulous thought swept through me. How can it be possible that I can’t separate the person I’ve become as a result of living with diabetes, from the person I might have been without its grip on my life? And I realized that my life had been indelibly and irrevocably changed by the process.

I recall sharing this crazy heart-stopping thought with my husband. He looked me squarely in the eye, somehow already knowing the answer. Yet he still asked, “So what did you say?” Being obstinate, I just wasn’t so easily inclined to give in at the time. I fidgeted, looked away and finally mumbled a reluctant response with a heavy sigh, “Well, I’m not sure. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think I should give it up.” To be honest, this was a terrifying thought. What I really wanted, of course, was to eradicate, strangle, and burn away all evidence of the inroads this disease had made into my life, mind and heart. But that moment offered me an epiphany. Another unimaginable gift, as I realized that I couldn’t give up the experience, because having diabetes had shaped me into the person I’d become, triumphant warts and all.

When the work of suppressing my diabetes began to take too much energy for me to want to stay in that place, I finally grasped that despite my many tribulations, much of the ultimate impact has been surprisingly positive. It started with accepting a simple truth: while my own journey has not been an easy one, it has definitely been profound. Finding ways to emerge from obstacles in my path has made me stronger both in character and spirit. It has pushed me to be decidedly more determined, and helped shape a sense of empathy and willingness to give to others. The day I acknowledged a grudging acceptance of the disease to my husband was most definitely a day that it all began to make sense. The knowledge that someone I deeply cared for and trusted was willingly there beside me in partnership and solidarity was enough to sustain me and help me believe in the power of the journey.

Today is just one of those days when I find myself running around like a chicken with my head cut off!  BUSY and catching up, like we all find ourselves doing so often. So when I stopped for a few minutes to test my blood sugar level before fixing lunch, I played my daily guessing game. “Sixty-seven,” I announced to myself. “Sixty-five,” came back the reading on my meter. Hmmmm, not bad . . . you rock, girl! I was thrilled to be in such close touch with sensing my body signals and being in “good” control.

Ah–there’s that word that invokes guilt; control. What does it mean? Not every day is under your control when you live with diabetes, right? Hour to hour can find me moving from plummeting sugars to skyrocketing ones that make me feel sick as a dog. This happened to me earlier in the week during a four-day local dog show where I showed my 9 month old puppy Tess. I started off the morning congratulating myself on having a great blood sugar of 109. Ate a plate of eggs, knowing the protein would hold me. Three hours later amid the jitters (and adrenaline) of waiting, worrying, and then going into the show ring, my body was itching from the inside out. What was it? A blood sugar level of 311! Had I eaten anything? No. But stress and stress alone did me in. I had to go home after taking a large bolus of insulin from my pump and sleep it off–aggravated to have wasted the rest of the day.

A friend later asked, “Hey, isn’t the reason you wear an insulin pump so you can give more insulin when you need it–or not?” Guilt being my middle name, the question about why I didn’t test sooner to pre-empt my terribly high sugar level really bothered me.

Then, I realized what I was thinking at the time–sometimes, to figure out what works in terms of patterns, we have to grant ourselves time to experience what it really is that we have to do to function well and maintain control. In other words, I knew I had to observe the impact of stress on my blood sugar while handling my dog in the show ring. After it happened, I knew for sure that I had to counteract the rise in my sugar level the next day with just a touch of insulin.

What a fine line we have to walk–always deciding on not taking or doing too little versus not taking or doing too much–just to stay in control. Food, special treats, exercise, sleep, meds, travel–it’s all the same. Doing what works best to control your own health and enjoying your own life is what counts. That’s what I call being in control–but in a meaningful way.

And speaking of control, this week, the TCOYD (Taking Control of Your Diabetes) conference comes to Albuquerque! Looking forward to sharing my blog with others and inviting you to join in on sharing your thoughts about the challenges of living with or being touched by diabetes, as well as how and where you find the inspiration to overcome its challenges and live life to the fullest every single day!

Until later, b well, b happy. Kath

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

Oh my, how did I forget to consider the restorative power of getting enough sleep?!? Every once in a while when I go in to see a doctor or physician’s assistant or nurse for something, I’ll hear: ‘Yes, diabetes wears down the body ‘ . . . or ‘Diabetes strips the body of nutrients’ . . . or ‘Diabetics really need more sleep than the average person–about 8 hours–so their bodies can repair themselves from the toll it takes on them.’

Such a simple thing to do for all of us–diabetic or not–but so hard to remember when you’re in the rush of work or meeting obligations or in deadline (sometimes self-imposed) project mode!

Enough sleep is a magical gift. Most of us probably don’t give ourselves this simple luxury often enough. Maybe I’ll just have to consider skipping my next morning meeting or that dreaded early morning exercise class?!?

B well, b happy, and b rested.

Until next time, kath

How many times do we have to experience trials or defeat–whether in our own lives or those of friends and family we love–before it all adds up to feeling like we’re running into a brick wall and there’s no place to go? Forward, and with a positive mental outlook, that is? What are the things that trigger feelings of being a victim, being unable to win even a few points in the game of life, and block us from jumping into the things we love to do with gusto?

Sometimes it’s so hard, living so long with diabetes. For me, that’s 47 years this month. I find the ups and downs from my ever-changing blood sugars infiltrating my thinking, turning the positive viewpoint into negative. Not always, of course, but it can be overwhelming emotionally.

Small pains, like what I have recently felt in one of my feet, can trigger enormous fears that stem from the warnings that bombard us of what can happen if you don’t take care of yourself. Those stats aren’t pretty. And even if you do your best, the threats to life and limb if you live with diabetes are still there, insidiously chipping away at your mental health. It’s is so much work not to fall into the stance of being a victim when life feels discouraging! How do we combat this constant worry when every issue is so, well, real?

I’ve spent a few days worrying about the pain in my foot. I’ve limped around, feeling frightened beyond measure that it could mean something terrible–amputation, just one of a diabetic’s worst imaginings.  There, I’ve stated one of the complications I never ever want to think about!  But . . . what to do? Always looking to be proactive, I went to exercise class and wore good shoes. I attended a boot camp (once!) seeking to lower my glucose level. I soaked my foot. I made an appointment with my accupuncturist to have her look at my foot and treat it, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to increase blood flow. But today, still no change for the better. A downer, for sure.

Finally, I’ve decided to turn this bruising mental game around. After working the morning in the clay studio and hoping to lose my worries in coveted creative time, I finally confronted my pain and shouted NO MORE!  I am calling my doc’s assistant–someone I trust–to let her know about my foot (which feels like injured tendons or stretched ligaments). I’ll see her in just a few days.

Being a Type I diabetic most of my life, I can sometimes be melodramatic about the “what if’s” — but so what? Recognizing what I don’t want to happen (complications!) compels me to be more proactive about my health, and less willing to take the brunt of whatever issues come my way. I work hard to physically manage my diabetes. Being mentally on top of the game is admittedly harder, but the way we face our real health issues and manage our fears is all part of the game of life. I do the best I can, which is usually enough. So, I hope, will you.

B well, b happy. 

Until next time, 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