Damaged Goods

When my alarm went off at 6:00AM Saturday morning I knew the day was going to require sticking to my schedule.

I had rehearsal at church, for a play I wrote that was being performed during worship the next day, at 8AM so I had to get there early to get things set up and really see how it was all going to work in the sanctuary. 

After a great rehearsal with my cast and getting everything put away to allow for a memorial service happening at church that afternoon I was home getting ready for my friend's wedding. She asked me to sing a special song for their first dance! I was so honored and of course, totally nervous.

No one had heard me sing the song yet. I promised to keep her choice a secret so rehearsing was sneaky and my nerves were running extra high since I do like to get an opinion from someone before I hit the stage! But, I digress...

After shaving and a shower I started to get dressed when I realized I needed to change my infusion set. My schedule of getting ready and leaving has no room for deviation. Why didn't I realize earlier? Oh well, I grab the insulin from the fridge and get all my stuff for my set change.

Trying my best to not pull too quickly on the plunger and turn my insulin into Sprite, I got my reservoir filled and was all ready to go. IV Prepped, Inserted, and ready to go.

I grabbed my shoe inserts from my casual shoes and slid them into my black dress shoes. As soon as my right foot went into the shoe I felt a sharp pain in the arch of my foot.

"OW! What the heck!?" 

My wife walked in right as I blurted out in pain. "What's wrong?"

"My shoe. It feels like it's broken or something." I take it off and look inside. Everything looks fine. "Weird. I don't know but it hurts like hell."

So I slid my shoe back on and limped around the room grabbing my wallet, phone, and CGM. 

My sister was waiting for me in the living room to carpool to the wedding. When I walked in she stood up knowing we were behind schedule and asked if I was ready to go.

"Yeah... You know what dude I have to check my foot something is wrong." I called my wife over and I sat down in my recliner so I could lean back and she could examine my foot closely.

I kicked my shoe off and before I could even grab the handle to recline my mom asks, "What is that on your foot?"

Right in the middle of my foot was the infusion set I just changed. Somehow it must have not made it into the trash and instead stuck to my sock. I could not believe that I couldn't feel it when I was just walking around. It took putting my shoe on to realize something was wrong and even still I could not tell.

It was a good thing I took the time to investigate. I was happy about that. But it also was a reminder that I am damaged. My nerves are damaged and my body doesn't work correctly.  

Memories of doctors telling me how lucky I am I don't have cancer and that at least I can manage diabetes swirled around in my brain. Those moments when you feel you can do anything seem like a child's fantasy. Diabetes is slowly chipping away at me.

I am damaged goods. 

Not worthless or unable to accomplish all kinds of things. I am not saying that at all. 

But the realization of just how much this disease takes its toll was brought to light yet again this weekend. 

I have type 1 diabetes. And no matter what I do, it finds a way to remind me. 

You Tube Tuesday - Magic Candy

I must have watched this 30 times last night and then tried to recreate it by using a piece of paper. 

FYI there is no sound so don't freak out. The audible, "what they heck?" was the only sound we heard. Your response may vary.

Enjoy!

My Sister is Awesome

I always write about the awesomeness that is my family. I have 3 sisters and each one is awesome in their own way. This is about my sister Diane who just finished up a battle with Breast Cancer that she won. 

On Wednesday KOB4-NBC in Alburquerque, New Mexico ran a story about mother who lost her son 7 months ago due to a heart condition. She purchased a headstone for her son's grave but the funeral home went out of business before they gave it to her. She spent the money and yet her son's stone was never received. You can watch that report here.

My sister Diane saw this story on the news and decided to talk to her boss the next day to see what they can possibly do. She works for a granite company in Albuquerque. When she told her boss he was sure they could help and had Diane contact the news station to find out the woman's info. 

Check out what ended up happening.

I have always been proud of my sister. All of my sisters actually. But Diane has made me so damn proud I can hardly stand it!

I love you sis and thank God that you are the person you are. You inspire me!

Expanding

I wish this post was about my abilty to reach more people with Diabetes. That some Ninjabetic movement was sweeping the world! Where kids and adults would recognize that having diabetes is living with it every day of our lives puts in a class with super humans. 

Living with diabetes takes having a sixth sense. Maybe a seventh and eighth too! To know you body and feel when a low it coming on. Knowing how to count carbs in a single glance and check your bg faster than a shooting star. 

No, this is about my waist. It has expanded and it is awful. I hate looking at myself in any mirror and pictures are the worst! I have tried over and over and the reason nothing works is because I have not committed fully. And am I ready now? Probably not. I don't feel any real sense of motivation or drive. 

I want to lose weight. I want to feel better. I want to be healthy. And yet I have this "oh well" attitude. With that around nothing is going to happen for very long. 

The other thing I realize as I type this is that one thing "expanding" effects the other. There used to be this desire to get involved with anything related to Diabetes. How can I help? How can I find those that need a community and support? How can I empower those that feel powerless?

Now I don't want anyone to see me. I would rather stay home and hide. Taking a flight is a chore because I am not comfortable in the seats. Sitting in a restaurant can be awkward because some boothes are too tight for me to sit comfortably. 

And yet here I am writing about it and admtting I have no idea if I will ever change. The desire is there for sure. I don't want to be like this. But the drive is gone. Completely gone. 

This doesn't feel like depression, it's more like defeat. 

23

Let me start by saying, no I did not have a bg of 23 recently. 

It was Monday, October 2nd, 1990 when I was diagnosed with type 1. My stomach hurts when I remember back to the doctors visit. Like reliving the news of a loved one passing, the pain is still there. 

I remember the days following. Trying to find a way to get over having my blood drawn so often and the paralyzing fear of sticking that needle into my skin. The first time it probably took an hour and a lot of tears to finally get it done.

Sometimes I get stuck when I am about to put an infusion set in. In front of the mirror I stand there, looking at my body full of marks. Running my hand across my stomach and feeling scar tissue under my skin. Knowing I am about to add to the number of piercings and anticipating the pain. 

People always ask, "does it hurt?" I think it always hurts some but it's nothing I cannot handle. Sometimes it hurts so badly I have to let out a word or two to cope. 

You know what hurts more? Knowing as long as I keep waking up I am going to keep having to do this. The pain of forever. That hurts a whole hell of a lot more than a stupid needed.

That sting has lasted just the same for 23 years.

Happy Diaversary to me.