Saturday, September 30, 2006

I was 41 at 4 am last night. I awoke to a pounding heart and what I've begun calling "the wobbles." Responsible for once, I woke my husband and asked him to get me some juice. I discovered, in the haze of 4 am, that orange juice tastes a lot better in the daylight.

I was low at 8 am; after juice, I was 98. After my workout today, for which I left my pump at home, I was 68.

I have a headache that won't quit.

And I am excited. Not about the lows or the headache, but because I had my endo appointment yesterday and she strongly encouraged me to get the GuardianRealTime. She explained how it would work and what we would need to do to get it and hopefully get insurance to cover it. She told me about one patient who within two weeks had been able to get her sugars to "flatline" -- to quit doing that nasty jumping about that mine do. How cool!

I have this fantasy that with the GuardianRealTime (covered, of course, by insurance) my blood sugars will be stable and I will feel well again. But I had that fantasy with the pump. The truth is, these are technologies, not life-changing devices. They only can have a significant impact if you are willing to work with them. Sometimes I am not. But I am still hopeful.

And, I am relieved. I had been expecting an AiC well above 7. But I stayed level -- 6.4! Wooohooo. The lows, at least, are doing their work of counterbalancing the highs. Now to get rid of them both.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Besides knowing that diabetics shouldn't eat sugar (ahem), and that they test their blood sugars and take lots of shots (eeeewwww), non-diabetics associate diabetics with something else: orange juice. As in, low blood sugar = orange juice. For diabetics, a low blood sugar might also = glucose tabs. Now, in both regards I am not (or, was not) a "normal" diabetic.

I grew up with an utter loathing of orange juice. Utter. It is only now, in my 28th year, that I have begun to use it to treat lows. I thank the nice family I tutored for for getting me acclimated to this drink. Each Tuesday and Thursday, the mother would serve the two kids and I a tray of healthy snacks and glasses of orange juice. I would force myself to chug it down and gradually, over the course of 16 weeks, I learned to tolerate it. I am thankful, becuase I can no longer tolerate apple juice, my juice of choice. 17 years of treating lows with apple juice has resulted in a gag reflex. Even brand-name apple juice, like Juicy-Juice, doesn't do it. And the Walmart brand, a dollar cheaper but alas, more like urine than juice, certainly doesn't do it. And so for the first time in my life I am buying Minute Maid and making difficult choices, like "Low Pulp" or "No Pulp." Can I force myself to handle "High Pulp" for its Calcium Enriched goodness? (Answer, "NO". Low Pulp is pulpy enough.)

And then there are those glucose tabs. When I was diagnosed they came -- as far as I know -- in one flavor. You've got it: orange. And I don't do orange (even now -- OJ, okay, orange anything-else no way). But because of the I-can't-stand-apple-juice turn-of-events, I have lately found myself in the glucose tab aisle. There's watermelon and grape and English toffee and tropical fruit. But I still find that being the glucose tab kind of diabetic is a struggle, because I am not a fan of chalk. And although the English toffee tabs do taste like English toffee, it's a sweet explosion that makes my teeth hurt and that makes me grimace as I swallow the disentegrating tongue-coating stuff. OJ it is.

It's a good thing I'm finding Apple Juice alternatives, because I've been low A LOT these last few days. I didn't break 100 until 5 pm on Thursday (where I finally rebounded to a lovely 303. Ahem.) I had three juices in the course of 4 hours. Yesterday I was 47. And I haven't been above 100 today. All because I've altered my morning basals to try and stave off the peak-to-nader pattern that plagued me all summer and continues to plague me now.

This is a problem, because my low symptoms are mimicking the anxiety I have had all week: wake up with racing heart and near tears. The shakes. Definite stomach issues. A persistent headache, mornign till night? Is it just anxiety? The fact that I haven't been on my thyroid or depression meds for a good months (waiting for the doctor's appt Friday for new scripts)? A combo? And what's with the lows? Anyone's guess at this point. I'm actually looking forward to the endo appointment to find out.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

It's a commonplace that dissertation writing is like giving birth. You harbor an idea, letting it grow, and then labor (through revisions, revisions, revisions) to birth the child of your idea. What this commonplace doesn't tell you is that craving are a part of this birthing process. And throughout this process (I've been "pregnant" for two years now -- more like an elephant, I guess) I've had cravings. I could not have done my first chapter without trail mix; two pounds a week; solid hand-to-mouth movement. My second chapter I must have been okay, because I don't remember eating exhorbitant amounts of one food. Maybe ice cream. My third chapter...CAJUN TRAIL MIX. I literally thought about it all the time. When I would hop my bus home I'd have a huge smile on my face because I'd soon be with my precious trail mix. Now, chapter 4 and job docs, it's all about the carbs. Chocolate muffins, cupcakes, pizza. PIZZA. Gooey, cheesy pizza. The kind I had two nights ago, with sausage and pepperoni and green peppers and mushrooms and black olives. Normally, I'd be set with that. 3 slices would do me for weeks. But now all I can think about is pizza. I can't wait until this "child" is born!

All this is to say that I can relate with Scott's carb struggles. I know I don't "need" this food, but I feel much happier with it. And moderation may be the key, but when your body screams "more, more" it's hard to convince yourself that you don't, in fact, need more. And sometimes, I think, the body knows what it's talking about. At least, I hope so. Pizza, anyone?

Friday, September 15, 2006

In the real world, when one wants a job, they scour the want-ads, use head-hunters and job search engines like careerbuilders.com, and use their connectiosn and the conventions of their field. When there are jobs that look appealing, they polish their resume, write a cover letter, and wait, anxiously, to hear back from the place they've applied to.

With academia, it's a little different, although the anxiety remains the same. I can't talk about all fields, but I know English quite well. Here is how it works in English: On September 15th, or some other day in mid-September, the professional organization for all English academics prints all job adds for the coming year. This "Job Information List" is the clearing house, so to speak, for all of the jobs in the field. The annual event is simultaneoulsy dreaded and anticipated by graduate students such as myself. "What if there are no jobs?" "What if all of the jobs are in, say, Alaska?" are frequent questions we ask ourselves.

Today was the day that the list was posted. And I am pleased to say that there are 41 jobs available, a number that should increase as other schools get funding for new hires. If only the anxiety ended here. Now, with 41 -- or 4 -- or 400 -- whatever the English subfield, my cohorts and I must churn out our job documents and be organized enough to have them mailed before the "must be posted before..." dates of each job. Back to the resumes and cover letters now. While people who must write resumes are tortured by having to keep the to one page, (would be) academics write Curriculum Vitae that show us off as much as we want -- everything we've taught, published, presented, thought, smoked (er, no) appears on this document because it is the history our academic life. This is kind of a fun document to write. Now, the letter is the pain in the tush, because we have to write about our research so that readers unfamiliar with what we do (say, the Shakespeare scholar who has never heard of Walt Whitman) can understand what we're talking about. And then, talk about our teaching and academic service. This is painful writing; it's all about self-presentation and not annoying our unknown audience. Anything -- a typo, an apparent aversion to lecturing -- anything might be the "nope, we don't want this person" factor. Further, we're supposed to taylor (tailor? I never know) each job letter to fit the job, to let each school know that we've read their add and that we can meet their requirements. So each letter requires finetuing, and each letter requires revision...and...I've revised one letter 12 times.

And there there is the...writing sample. 10, 15, 20, 25, or 30 pages of writing, depending on the school. The writing sample is usually a dissertation chapter or part of a dissertation chapter. The chapter I am using is 50 pages, which means cutting 30...or 25...or 20 pages and making what remains a coherent whole. (This is harder than it seems. Having done this all week, I know. And I am only referring to one writing sample -- the 20 page one).

There is the...teaching philosophy. How I teach. Why I teach that way. What I teach. What I want my students to gain. How I encourage them to make those steps. I like this. This is fun. I can do this.

And this is just round one of the job game. If -- if -- a school likes me (please note that I've shifted from third person to second person first person -- so much for giving an objective overview) they will call me for an interview. And from December 27-30 I will be at the English folk's annual convention, wearing my stiff, black, Ann Taylor suit, interviewing. I will be asked about my research, my teaching, my opinion about the transatlantic trend in early American literature. I will be asked to talk coherently about my research and where it's going. I will be praying for miraculous speaking abilities.

And if -- if -- I manage not to spill my water, trip on the committee chair, have a low blood sugar that causes me to scramble my words -- and if they like my research and my suit, they might just call me for a second interview.

At which point I will prepare a job talk ("this is what I do and why it's important") that's dynamic, scholarly, and relevant and a teaching presentation (in which I will "perform" my teaching for students and faculty alike). The job talk might just remain the same, but the teaching presentation will depend on the school and their needs. "We have a need for a teacher in...Dan Brown and Medievalism, Nic. We'd like you teach that for your presentation." Right. (Note: I don't think it works this way, but I know I could be asked to teach something I really unfamiliar with). Which means a heck of a lot of prep. For each school.

So, on this Friday the 15th, I look forward to adding another full-time job to my list. I don't know how parents do it -- I'm tired enough already. I am excited, though, to be at the point where I can be on the job market and feel fairly (by no means completely) ready. And I've posted this very long, very...well, English-y post to help you all (my 4 readers) understand what I'm referring to when I say "revised my writing sample for the 80th time today..."
In the real world, when one wants a job, they scour the want-ads, use head-hunters and job search engines like careerbuilders.com, and use their connectiosn and the conventions of their field. When there are jobs that look appealing, they polish their resume, write a cover letter, and wait, anxiously, to hear back from the place they've applied to.

With academia, it's a little different, although the anxiety remains the same. I can't talk about all fields, but I know English quite well. Here is how it works in English: On September 15th, or some other day in mid-September, the professional organization for all English academics prints all job adds for the coming year. This "Job Information List" is the clearing house, so to speak, for all of the jobs in the field. The annual event is simultaneoulsy dreaded and anticipated by graduate students such as myself. "What if there are no jobs?" "What if all of the jobs are in, say, Alaska?" are frequent questions we ask ourselves.

Today was the day that the list was posted. And I am pleased to say that there are 41 jobs available, a number that should increase as other schools get funding for new hires. If only the anxiety ended here. Now, with 41 -- or 4 -- or 400 -- whatever the English subfield, my cohorts and I must churn out our job documents and be organized enough to have them mailed before the "must be posted before..." dates of each job. Back to the resumes and cover letters now. While people who must write resumes are tortured by having to keep the to one page, (would be) academics write Curriculum Vitae that show us off as much as we want -- everything we've taught, published, presented, thought, smoked (er, no) appears on this document because it is the history our academic life. This is kind of a fun document to write. Now, the letter is the pain in the tush, because we have to write about our research so that readers unfamiliar with what we do (say, the Shakespeare scholar who has never heard of Walt Whitman) can understand what we're talking about. And then, talk about our teaching and academic service. This is painful writing; it's all about self-presentation and not annoying our unknown audience. Anything -- a typo, an apparent aversion to lecturing -- anything might be the "nope, we don't want this person" factor. Further, we're supposed to taylor (tailor? I never know) each job letter to fit the job, to let each school know that we've read their add and that we can meet their requirements. So each letter requires finetuing, and each letter requires revision...and...I've revised one letter 12 times.

And there there is the...writing sample. 10, 15, 20, 25, or 30 pages of writing, depending on the school. The writing sample is usually a dissertation chapter or part of a dissertation chapter. The chapter I am using is 50 pages, which means cutting 30...or 25...or 20 pages and making what remains a coherent whole. (This is harder than it seems. Having done this all week, I know. And I am only referring to one writing sample -- the 20 page one).

There is the...teaching philosophy. How I teach. Why I teach that way. What I teach. What I want my students to gain. How I encourage them to make those steps. I like this. This is fun. I can do this.

And this is just round one of the job game. If -- if -- a school likes me (please note that I've shifted from third person to second person first person -- so much for giving an objective overview) they will call me for an interview. And from December 27-30 I will be at the English folk's annual convention, wearing my stiff, black, Ann Taylor suit, interviewing. I will be asked about my research, my teaching, my opinion about the transatlantic trend in early American literature. I will be asked to talk coherently about my research and where it's going. I will be praying for miraculous speaking abilities.

And if -- if -- I manage not to spill my water, trip on the committee chair, have a low blood sugar that causes me to scramble my words -- and if they like my research and my suit, they might just call me for a second interview.

At which point I will prepare a job talk ("this is what I do and why it's important") that's dynamic, scholarly, and relevant and a teaching presentation (in which I will "perform" my teaching for students and faculty alike). The job talk might just remain the same, but the teaching presentation will depend on the school and their needs. "We have a need for a teacher in...Dan Brown and Medievalism, Nic. We'd like you teach that for your presentation." Right. (Note: I don't think it works this way, but I know I could be asked to teach something I really unfamiliar with). Which means a heck of a lot of prep. For each school.

So, on this Friday the 15th, I look forward to adding another full-time job to my list. I don't know how parents do it -- I'm tired enough already. I am excited, though, to be at the point where I can be on the job market and feel fairly (by no means completely) ready. And I've posted this very long, very...well, English-y post to help you all (my 4 readers) understand what I'm referring to when I say "revised my writing sample for the 80th time today..."

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

We have a frog in our house.

I have no idea how he got here.

He greeted us when we opened the door upon returning from our walk.

We tried to escort him outdoors.

He promptly hopped under our closet door and under our washing machine.

He just emerged, announcing himself by consistently bumpking into very solid, very metal doors.

He refuses to be caught.

I cannot catch him.

I am afraid of

...stepping on him in the dark of the night...

...chasing him back under the washer...

...finding his pathetic self dried up and shrivelled in the morning.

Ribbit!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

I am tired -- forget-to-blink tired. I've taught at 8:30 am before but never before have I gotten up at 6 am to do so, in the dark that will only get darker. Never before have I been on the job market, finishing my dissertation, teaching, and having a social and spiritual life (social life, good; spiritual life, suffering).

I'd say never before have I been so worried about my diabetes, but that would not be true. I am worried, though. Over the long weekend, I traveled across two time zones and was exposed to a nasty cold virus. I think my average blood sugar was 250; yesterday, I didn't drop below 300 until 1 pm. Part of this was a faulty insertion sight, but my lingering highs today tell me not all of that was the case. And today I experienced my second, "is this the diabetic complication I've been waiting for moment" as shooting electricity-like pains visited the tops and bottoms of my feet.

I've made a doctor's appointment for the 29th. I'm going to ask my endo to write a letter to my insurance explaining my (I think just) need for a CGM. And I'm going to hope on the Minimed Real Time. And if I am so lucky as to be able to afford these things, I am going to sign myself up for some serious training. Because these highs and lows have got. to. stop.