Monday, August 28, 2006

The 2-year olds in Sunday School gather round me, focused on the round white disk on my arm. "What's that?" They ask. "Medicine," I say. "Oh..." one girl's eyes widen. "You have a boo-boo."


"Why is your cell phone like that?" The little girl's eyes are blue, solemn, serious. She looks up at me, precocious. "It's not a cell phone," I reply, consistently amazed by how often the little children pick up on difference. "It's medicine." "Oh." She processes the information. "Is it in your bottom?"


The second day of teaching, and I have drastically changed my basals so that I will no longer skyrocket after breakfast. For once, my body is responsive. Just short of 8:30, my class time, I test in at 63. I rejoice to be low for once. I drink juice, and suspend my pump, erring on the side of caution. Midway through class, I find the sweat gathering at my lip, above my brow. I fumble through, aware that my heart is racing. Back at my office, I test in at 50. Sometimes suspending just isn't enough.


Church on Sunday, I am 300-high, resiliently refusing (through no will of my own) to come down. Then, the plummet starts. The humidity blends with the drop, merges with the stops-and-starts of the after-church traffic, augments the exhausted-to-the-point of illness results of my 3 nights of insomnia. It is a wonder that I don't throw up. I spend the day listless, sad, tired.


Day in, day out, shaping our responses to each and everything. Teaching becomes dangerous, a chance to humiliate myself before students who admire me for my enthusiasm. Job interviews are worries, not because I am not sure if I am prepared, but because I am not sure if my morning blood sugars will swing too high, or too low, because they are never in the middle. How much juice will I consume in the course of one day? What will the job committees think? Will my diabetes work against me on the one-to-two day campus visits?

The fabric of our lives, indeed.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Some irreverance is in order.

Alternative careers for me:

Founder of a website called: Don't know what it would be about -- maybe no content at all. I just really like the name. I like the suggestion of the name.

Barista (fully clothed) at Starbucks. Their health insurance is better than mine. There's no thinking involved. Just have to get the foam right.

High School English Teacher. I can teach thousands of students to hate The Scarlet Letter.

Any other suggestions?

Saturday, August 19, 2006

School starts in 2 days. Less than that, actually. And I am not looking forward to it.

This was the first summer in 6 years of graduate school that I've actually accomplished something. I researched a dissertation chapter, and I've nearly completely a draft. I've established a routine -- oatmeal for breakfast; work out; hop the bus; hunker down in the library; work two hours; eat my sandwich; work a little longer; get coffee; work until 5; catch the bus home. It has worked.

My routine starting Monday is determined by when the bus comes and when I teach -- and 6 am comes early. I dread the change in routine, particularly because I know that my blood sugars will resist and I will have to try to figure them out while trying to figure this phase of school out, too. And each start of the school year means renogiating household chores, and generally means a couple of marital meltdowns. (AKA I meltdown).

But maybe I am dreading the start of school so much because it is my last year. The last year I will teaching in my department, the last year I will meet my friends for coffee; the last year I am a student after 10 years of student-hood. This is the year that I become a professional. I'm not sure I'm ready. The department has been my home for 6 years; I've checked my mail in the same office; gotten my coffee at the same place; put my feet on the same desk for a good portion of my adult life. I've asked my professors for help and have relied on the fact that I'm not "there" yet. And as I finish a chapter, then finish a diss, and apply for jobs, I'm no longer just going through the motions that I've been through. I'm stepping into a new chapter...and I don't know how it will end, or where it well take me. And that's exciting, but awfully daunting, too.

Monday, August 14, 2006

I haven't posted recently, mostly because things have been going well. That, and I realized that I use this blog as a complaint forum when in fact I should be focusing on being thankful. And I am thankful:

-Thankful that my bad bloodsugar blitz is over
-Thankful that my husband's graduation party went well, despite the chaos preceding it
-Thankful that we have good insurance
-Thankful for my family and in-laws (who I frequently complain about but who are actuallly pretty cool)
-Thankful for a productive summer
-Thankful that my advisor gave me the go-ahead for the job market this fall

And thankful for the words of friends who help me think about the testimony I bear. It turns out that two friends were talking about me the other day, and one marveled at my empathy toward others, my serenity, and -- hah! my can-do attitude. "I wonder," she said, "if it's because of Nic's diabetes." As the other party was relaying this this to me, I chortled. "I can't believe that! Yesterday, I called my parents and WHINED about being diabetic. I was so sick of it. And serenity? I am always freaking out." "Well, Nic," she said. "You have a calm and encouraging demeanor. You hide everything well."

I frequently worry that I have an opposite effect on people, because I really am a worry-wart, type-A personality. So this exchange was encouraging. But then I thought of the persona I am on this blog, and see that this is my outlet for the worries, the stress, the annoyance of being diabetic. This is where I channel all of these things because here people will understand -- even if they do think I'm shallow and wound too tightly.

And as I begin the new school year and seek to juggle diabetes, wifehood, the job-market, teaching, and dissertation finishing, as well as friends, family, in-laws, and increasing church responsibilities, I resolve to try to be thankful above all...

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

I am flumoxxed. Confused. In a dither.

Yesterday, I skipped breakfast for the good 'ol basal test. I looked longingly at the peach on my counter, the oatmeal carton in my pantry, and just said no. I was going to do it. And so I watched as my blood sugar climbed, climbed, climbed. And when it beyond 250 I did a correction and watched it climb, climb some more.

So, this confimed my sense that by bolus rate has been covering (or not) my morning blood sugars rather than my basal. So I drastically upped my morning basal. Didn't know what to do with the continued clib.

Woke this morning at 112. One hour later I was 157. Seeing as I was obviously repeating yesterday's pattern, I gave in and had breakfast. Glorious oatmeal, walnuts, peaches!

Clocked in at 257 an hour later. Corrected. Went nowhere.

Until lunch, when I was a very shaky 100. Suspended my pump. Had some quiche. Was very conservative on my bolus. Came home. Was still 100. Drank a ton of juice and forced myself to wait a half-hour for my much-needed swim. Then I was 114.

Had a yogurt. Am now 260, a mere 2 hours later.

I don't get it. I suspect I should call my doctor, but she'll say -- have you changed your pump? yes. Is your insulin fresh/cool? yes. Have you done a basal test? um...yes? Well, then, just keep increasing your basals until you get. I am, I am, I am. It's not working.