SweetLifeStories Diabetes Blog

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.

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

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

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.

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.

Ok; self-introspection is not the easiest thing to do, but hearing from an old h.s. friend in whom I once was interested in dating seems to have plopped me into the “what if” realm of thinking! And that’s sometimes tempting, right? innocent, fun, and a little magical; an escape from real-life challenges . . .

So taking a few mental steps back into my past, I remember the excitement I felt at finding a new friend in my English class (I’ll call him Eric) who seemed as thrilled as me about our topic of studying the poetic lyricism of Simon and Garfunkel, along with a number of other songwriters-poets. And as we connected, I thought: I really like this guy. I wondered: How much do we have in common? Is Eric interested in me? What do I think about how this connection might evolve? Okay, I’ll just admit it; I was smitten.

Truthfully, I was a girl in love, at the time, with the idea of being in love. Magical thinking was a terrific lure from my feelings of self-doubt in those years. Over the next few months, despite my obvious feelings for him, it turns out that Eric let me know he thought of me only as a friend, a sister of sorts. I was crushed, despite his attempt to write a beautiful letter filled with words trying not to bring me down. So who knows what might have been?

I moved on and dated many other guys until finding an amazing friend and partner in my college years with whom I chose to share life’s experiences. I can say I chose well and that I’m happy, even in spite of all the challenges I’ve had to face living day to day with diabetes’ plaguing issues; blood sugar swings, denial, doubting myself and my own worth, countless hand surgeries and shoulder surgery from the effects of long-term abnormal blood sugar levels on microvascular tissues and tendons . . . not to mention the occasional verbal bloopers inflicted on my poor hubbie when my blood sugars dip way too low or jump excessively high. Bless his heart; he actually is often able to find a way to laugh WITH me as he helps me deal with these situations.

But thinking back–way back to the magical lure of high school years–I recall feeling tremors to the pit of my soul. It’s because you’re flawed, I heard inside my own head. He doesn’t want to take on someone with diabetes . . .  and You’ll never find anyone willing to be with you. I was angry and necessarily distant, at least for a while, while I grappled with these feelings.

These are just a few of the emotional issues that get inside my head, living so long with this devil of a disease.  And through years of meeting people–whether as dates or potential friends or partners–the messages played this same dire song. Unnerving. Questioning. Threatening defeat.

The antidote, I’ve found out over time, is to focus on the here and now; investing my heart and mind in doing things that make me smile and push myself forward. To know that by taking small(er) steps, I can actually reach goals and feel “grounded” about myself and the work I do. And often, that work includes doing things for others; it’s such a magical way to stop focusing on and worrying only about me and my own problems.  Learning more, over time, about how to open up and give has quieted the disheartening threat of my fears. 

Traveling this road between “then” and “now”, I realize there is a difference between what my journey might have been and the beauty of what actually IS.