I Threw a Hissy Fit

The low drifted in as I prepared to settle in for savasana. The Dexcom confirmed that the sudden anxiety and irritation flooding my body was not a failure of my meditation but rather had more to do with my anticipatory morning-exercise-on-an-empty-stomach corrective bolus overshooting the mark.

I was hungry for breakfast, not glucose tabs, so I decided to wait, hoping I could make it home on a 78 gently drifting down.

I made it one block from the studio before I had to stop and cram 3 tabs angrily in my mouth, dizzy on a street corner. And suddenly I'd had it. I snapped. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about my ruined savasana, my failure in calculation, the frustration of having almost made it, the anticipation of having to wait even longer to eat my breakfast or else risk a boomerang blood sugar, the shame of being a crazy lady cramming oversize smarties into her mouth on a street corner. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I gave no f*cks about being an adult woman crying in public.

As my misery and I made our way home, I was reminded of one of my mom's favorite stories to tell about me. How when I was about 3, I threw a huge hissy fit on the floor of JC Penneys. And she just left me there, wailing, until I got over it and went to go find her.

Snuffling a bit, I thought to myself, what wouldn't my 3-year-old self have given to be allowed to have sugar candies during that tantrum? It probably would have ended the whole thing, honestly.

So I sucked it up, to honor my inner child. I showered and ate a breakfast that said inner child would have hated (plain yogurt and fiberful cereal and a little fruit) and felt better. Then I sat and watched TV for an hour because I'm an adult and I do what I want, dang it. 

Don't Believe What You're Reading

Okay, do.

Just don't believe the timestamp.

Because guess what, world. This lady is taking off! I'm going to be gone for the next 5 weeks doing what I do best, teaching & traveling, traveling & teaching.

So anything you read between now and July? Yeah...it's already been written.....so maybe not reflective of my adventuring, although that will come later I'm sure!

If you want to follow along, find me on Instagram at: averyday102. WARNING: There will be puns, so be prepared to EL OH EL.

See you all back in real time, sometime in the future....groovy, dude!

Hell Is

....being a teacher and moving between different schools that have open enrollment in June and August. Yet the deductible year starts in January for all of them.

Meaning that, in 2016, I will have to meet my deductible not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES with none of it counting towards my eventual out-of-pocket maximum.

Slow, deep breaths. Slow, deep breaths.

It's strange to feel sometimes like you quite literally cannot afford to live.

West Texas Forever

A day in the life of a diabetic is....

Trying to set up your new backpacking water filter and becoming increasingly frustrated as you test it in the sink and repeatedly blow air into the sink instead of sucking water into the filter.

As a diabetic, though, you do a check. Are there any obvious mistakes? Am I unnecessarily angry? Am I hungry? Or.....is my blood sugar a wee bit high?

I took a break as I waited for the Afrezza to kick in (only 15 minutes, BLESS YOU AFREZZA!!!).

I came back, calmer. I took another look.

Sure enough....I had connected the intake tube to the outtake valve and vice versa. Immediately apparent with fresh eyes and no sugary brain fog.

You know what they say....

Clear eyes, clear heart, can't lose (BLESS YOU COACH TAYLOR!!!).

The Night Shift

After everyone else goes home, I am still on call. I pull out

The tape
The bandages
The scissors
The new pod
The device
The insulin
The needle

And I prepare myself for duty. I answer the beeps that have been ringing all night. I snip and tap and measure and squeeze and pinch and prick and keep going for just a little while longer




than everyone else. 

A helpful cheer!

As a teacher of the primary grades, rhyming is second nature to me. Chants and cheers are great attention-getters, and my natural tendency to pun plays into this nicely.

The other night, as I was treating yet another 4 am low (hello, basal rate adjustment my old friend), I realized that I've been having a certain....melody is the wrong word but I'll go with it...playing in the back of my mind the past few days. Then I realized that it had words.

And that it goes like this.

And that I'm sort of proud of it. 

Glucose Tab cheer:

1234

I almost never need any more

123 

The perfect amount for IOB

12

This plus temp basal will usually do

1

Never enough, never done

PS Disclaimer of course, I am neither a medical professional nor a professional cheerleader so this might not work for you during your middle of the night lows. But it made me chuckle, so why not pass it on?

Give Me a Break

There is an old saying that states “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”. I'm willing to bet we've all disagreed with this at some point, and especially when it comes to diabetes. Many advocate for the importance of using non-stigmatizing, inclusive and non-judgmental language when speaking about or to people with diabetes. For some, they don't care, others care passionately. Where do you stand when it comes to “person with diabetes” versus “diabetic”, or “checking” blood sugar versus “testing”, or any of the tons of other examples? Let's explore the power of words, but please remember to keep things respectful.

I have been freakishly lucky when it comes to responses about my diabetes. It's true that I don't appreciate the sugar jokes and that I've occasionally had to stand up for Type 2 diabetes (Uhhhhh...that's actually the one that does have a genetic component...it's not a "lifestyle choice"). But there's only one thing that really gets my goat when it comes to language around diabetes and that's three small words:

"I could never."

I know that it's often meant to be a compliment, in a weird way. It's intended as a sign of respect for me and my diabetes and what this person assumes is my daily battle. But to me it implies such impunity. Or maybe it simply reminds me of me 2 years ago when I was busy pretending nothing was wrong as I hobbled around with perma-heartburn and an even more perma-sweet tooth. Maybe I feel jealous of people who really think that things like this can't happen to them. 

Because guess what kiddo? You could never (ever?). You could and you would and you know what else? You'll be damn happy to do it because it beats the alternative. There really is no other alternative, to be honest. I know that I'm a brave person. I have traveled and lived on multiple continents and I have climbed mountains and faced emotions and read scary books and stood in front of classrooms full of foreign children. Maybe you "could never" do that and that's cool and I don't mind hearing about that. 

But don't act like me pricking my finger (without even looking) in front of you is something you respect. It's something you're scared of. When you say "I could never," what I hear is "I hope I never," and that's unfair and upsetting because I wish I had the luxury of hoping this never happened to me.