Talking About Type 1 Talk.

As much as I love my friends in the online community, it's tough to not want some face-to-face contact with other people who have type 1 diabetes.  Making a connection with someone in your local community helps deter the lonely, "going it alone" feeling that so many of us have.

The support group pickings around my area are pretty slim.  We have a JDRF-affiliated support group, but it is geared towards families.  (I went for the first time a few weeks back, and ended up spending my time assisting 17 small children with craft projects - I didn't quite fit the demographic, and I think they didn't quite know what to do with me.)  One of the local hospitals has a diabetes support group, but it is for type 2's.  I don't fit particularly well with either group, and I know others out there have this same dilemma.

Some of us have expressed our frustrations about this situation.  We know there are other T1s out there, but how do we find them?  Strike up a conversation with the other people in the waiting room at your next endo appointment?  Wait in the "diabetes care" aisle at Walmart until someone shows up? 

JDRF has caught wind of this need to connect T1s on a local level, and announced earlier this month a project called Type 1 Talk.

What is Type 1 Talk?  Here's what you need to know:

1. The idea is for local meet-ups to take place all over the US, all at the same time (3:00pm EST) on World Diabetes Day, which is Sunday, November 14th. 
2. In addition to meeting each other and discussing what matters to us locally, everyone is invited to watch the live JDRF webcast addressing five topics that we picked out and voted on.
3. All of the events are being coordinated through the Type 1 Talk Facebook application.  Go there to search for events, create your own, RSVP, and ask questions.
4. You can search for an event in your state, and if there isn't one registered yet, consider hosting one of your own!  (That's what I'm doing!)  It doesn't have to be fancy.  If you're going to watch the webcast, you'll need a computer, a web connection, and sound. 
5. You can make the event as big or small as you want, by setting a maximum number of attendees.  JDRF has made it pretty easy to get prepared for the event by uploading ready-made materials you can print off, like a sign-in sheet and Advocacy information.

I'm looking forward to the chance to meet some other T1s in my area, and I'm hoping to have more than just me show up.  :)

If you are interested, or know someone that might be, please pass this onto them.  JDRF isn't asking for donations - they're just asking us to get together.  To Talk about Type 1.

Beautiful.

It happened as I finished lunch today.  It's glorious.  I wanted to start cheering - or maybe dancing.  As you can see, I came perilously close to it not happening, but I was able to avert danger both times.

I'm marking today on my calendar, because today is the day that I got my first honest-to-goodness No-Hitter*!

Behold!

My No-Hitter - brought to you (unofficially) by Chobani Pinapple
Greek Yogurt.  That free case I'm getting won't last long, if this
is what happens.

*The term "No-Hitter" was coined by Holly, of Arnold and Me.  The official definition, from her website:

"A no-hitter (also known as a streamline) is a time period in which a diabetic does not hit their high or low threshold on their CGM. For a Dexcom user, they must be without any alarms during the entire day, and the day must be at least 24 hours. A diabetic who prevents their blood sugars from reaching a threshold is said to have "bolused a no-hitter"."

I didn't vary anything significant in my routine - in fact, thinking back, I actually ate more carbs than I normally do on a weekday.

Some days are just luckier than others.  Today's a good day after all. :)

Running With Invisible Friends.

When I first started running in a semi-serious way, it was easy to want to give up.  I'm not sure what my body is built for - reaching things on high shelves, perhaps; or enjoying the heck out of sushi - but I'm not built for running. Add in the rollercoaster that can be diabetes + a new workout regimen, and you can guess how much fun those first few weeks were.

I was out of shape, got winded easily, and it just plain hurt.  I would bribe myself with new workout gear, or new songs to listen to on my iPod, or a change of scenery - knowing that no matter how I got to that point, all that mattered was that I ended up there.  I needed to be motivated to work out, because there was no turning back - I had signed myself up for my first half-marathon.

Running on a treadmill at my old gym was tolerable.  The times I switched to outdoor running were quite unpleasant.  Cement just doesn't have a lot of give, and there wasn't a place to stash glucose tabs, Jim, and a water bottle.  Instead, I got to wear what amounted to a fanny pack.  Sexy!

On the longer runs I did outdoors, I found that my music alone wasn't sufficing.  I felt miserable, and tired, and even my trusty playlist of T.I., Jay-Z, and Lil' Wayne couldn't keep me going.  This would inevitably also be the point at which I was furthest away from home.  I wanted to complain.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to give up.  No one could do this for me - I had to do it.  And I had to do it alone.

Or did I?

For reasons I hope do not indicate insanity, my outdoor jaunts started to include an imaginary man running with me.  Was it Jesus?  God?  The Dude?  Forrest Gump?  I'm not sure; I never pictured a face.  I just daydreamed someone who could be there with me, every step of the way, through this gruelling journey.  He was wearing the same stupid fanny pack I was, and he had it stocked with glucose tabs for me, in case I needed more.  He'd ask me how I felt, and encourage me to not give up.  When he saw me get tired, he'd slow down with me until I was ready to go fast again.  And when I felt as though I couldn't push anymore, he'd cheerily call out "You can do it, Kim!  You can do anything!", and we'd keep moving.

I had sort of forgotten about my Imaginary Running Friend.  It occurs to me now that he never really left me; in fact, he's been around for quite a while.  He's there on Twitter, when I talk about having a crappy diabetes day.  He's there on Juvenation, enticing me to have a reason to post to the "What was your last blood sugar?" thread.  He's speaking through a friend who asks me to tell them about the diabetes advocacy I'm doing, and then actually listens to all of it, and is excited for me.  And he's there in all of you, when you post here and keep me engaged and entertained.

Every time I sign up to do something new to help our diabetes community (online or offline), I have a moment of wondering if I'm taking on too much.  Will I have time to do this new thing in the manner I think it deserves to be done?  Will it make a difference?  What I'm learning is that each opportunity brings me a sense of fulfillment and belonging that I'd never otherwise experience, and if for only that, I need to keep going.  It's a selfish sort of philanthropy.

I wanted to say thank you, Imaginary Friends.  This journey sucks a lot less when you're all running the same race beside me.

"Can I be The Dude?"  "Dude, we're ALL The Dude." 
"Duuuude."

Babies Are Taking Over My Brain.

Ever since A and I started talking seriously about planning a family, babies seem to be materializing everywhere.  It's as if the infants of the world have some sort of centralized database and GPS system on me, and they're planning a strike.  Everywhere I look, there is a baby in a stroller or sling of some sort.  There are baby clothes.  And baby shoes.  And baby socks.  And baby Husker apparel.  And the huge baby section in Target.  And the baby section I have to walk through at the grocery store to get to the organic section.  And then the baby section I have to walk through to get to the freakin' restroom at Kohl's.  They're taunting me.

A and I went to Omaha for the morning, and even at my favorite breakfast spot, I could not find solace.  It only makes sense that we would be seated in between two tables with...  well, you can guess.  One of the suspects kept turning around to look at A.  And, because that is what he does, A kept making goofy faces, which would cause the kid to giggle and turn back to her table.  She'd playfully turn around again, and this cycle of events would repeat and repeat.

It's cute... it is.  And while I'm very excited for what the future may hold for us, I've admittedly been trying to squeeze in the largest amount of non-pregnant behavior I can lately.  We're exhausting the wine supply, I'm eating as many ceasar salads as possible, and I made sure to choose a breakfast dish this morning that included hollandaise sauce.  I'm also enjoying what could be my last few cold turkey sandwiches for a while. 

And while I'm doing all of that, I'm taking pre-natal vitamins and folic acid (holy cow, those pills are HUGE).  I'm getting more of the regular exercise that I should have been doing all along.  And, I'm finally getting that closet cleaned out in the office/future kid room.

Every time I talk about babies, or share the things that I'm doing to prepare for one, a small part of me wonders if I'm jinxing something.  I sometimes feel that I shouldn't be talking about it, until I have some "it" to talk about - but, here I am, talking about it anyway. 

Part of it is being newly married, I think.  Part of it is being 31, and knowing that if I want to do this in the recommended "safe" time, I've only got 3 1/2 years to go.  (I know that they are numbers, and they won't apply to everyone, but I feel that I've already tempted Fate enough in my life so far.)  Part of it is being the only one of my cousins who doesn't have children - on both sides of my family.  Apparently, I am susceptible to peer pressure.

But more than any of those things, it's something I very much want.  I know A and I will be good parents, and we feel comfortable that now-ish could be the best timing.  It will always seem a little scary, because that's how life-changing experiences are.  It may never seem like the "perfect" time, but...

"If you wait for the perfect moment when all is safe and assured, it may never arrive. Mountains will not be climbed, races won, or lasting happiness achieved."  - Maurice Chevalier

D-Feast Friday: Shrimp, Tomato and Basil Risotto.

This is a recipe adapted from "Junior Master Chef Australia".  (Is that a real thing?  I don't know; I found it through Google.)  Everything was measured in liters and kg, soooo...  I just guessed a lot.  Here's roughly what I did.  I made it Monday night, and it was delicious!

Ingredients:

32 oz. low sodium chicken broth
1 leek, finely sliced (I didn't do this.)
1 1/2 cups Arborio rice
2 tbsp-ish of olive oil
20 or so frozen shrimp - I used a bag of Target brand ones that were already detailed, deveined, etc.
2 garlic cloves, pressed or crushed
A splash of white wine (I totally didn't measure.  "Yep, that looks good.")
A handful of grape or cherry tomatoes, cut in halves
1-ish cup of loosely packed fresh basil leaves, shredded
1/2 cup cream

Serves four, or two really hungry people.

Directions:

Heat chicken broth in a saucepan on medium heat until almost simmering.  Reduce heat to low.

Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a large heavy-based pan over medium heat.  Add leek (or don't) and cook for 2 minutes or until soft.  Add the rice and stir until well coated with oil.

Add a ladleful of broth to the rice, stirring until the liquid is almost absorbed.  Continue the process, adding a ladelful of broth at a time until the rice is almost cooked.  This should take about 15 minutes.  Place lid on risotto, and set aside.

Heat other tbsp of oil in another large pan over high heat.  (Sorry, you're going to be doing a lot of dishes later.)  Add the shrimp and cook for about 2 minutes, turning once until just cooked.  Add wine and cook for one minute or until wine is reduced by 1/2.  Add tomatoes, basil, cream, and garlic and cook for another 2-3 minutes or until the cream sauce has thickened slightly.

Gently stir shrimp mixture into the risotto, or pile on top.  Garnish with basil leaves, if you're fancy.  Enjoy!

I'm Not Crazy.

If you see me standing frozen-stiff-still while staring off into space, I haven’t lost my mind. I’m counting the vibrations of my insulin pump to be sure I’m administering the right dose.

Pay no attention to the swooshes of air in the bathroom stall next to you. It’s just me, jumping up and down and punching the air. I’m trying a last-ditch effort to get my blood moving faster, so that the insulin I just took can go to work more quickly.  (Where else am I going to get my impromptu exercise on while at work?)

A carefully counted pile of candy doesn’t mean I’m neurotic. (Well, I guess that’s just my opinion.) I’m doing it so that I can get an accurate carb count of what I’m eating.

When I ask the waitress for Diet Coke, and then ask her again, “So this is Diet, right?” when she brings my soda, please don’t think I’m being difficult, or that I think she’s stupid. I’m trying to save myself from an emergency extra bolus of insulin.

It’s true that it may seem odd for someone who wears an insulin pump to also still take injections of insulin, but in perilous situations of stubbornly elevated glucose, an injection will bring me back down much more quickly.

An unusually high tolerance for pain, needles, and the sight of blood doesn’t actually make me brave, or a badass. (My black belt in Tae Kwon Do does.)  It’s just how I’ve acclimated to the life I was handed.

Yes, I’ve named inanimate objects such as my CGM. I also do a mean impersonation of him, when he gets confused (Also known as "???"). It doesn’t seem as juvenile when you consider that I spend more time interacting with this piece of equipment each day than I do with any one human being.

Eating the same breakfast and lunch every day isn’t a reflection of how much I enjoy these meals (though, I do most days) or an indication that I’m stuck in my ways. Repetition and consistency help me manage diabetes more easily.

I’m not crazy. I just have diabetes.

Sometimes, I Forget.

Towards the end of my workday yesterday, I noticed that my “emergency stash” was depleted. Even though I almost always have something like glucose tabs or fruit strips in my purse to treat lows with, I like to keep some back-up candy in my desk drawer. It’s there for times when I’ve run out of the aforementioned options, or for the times when candy sounds a lot tastier than fruit-flavored chalk. (Which, surprise!, it always does.)

I ran across the street to the drug store and spent a little while pondering my hypoglycemia-resolving choices. (Starbursts are a favorite, because 4 ‘bursts will bring me back up to normal without overdoing it. Also, I’m a fan of the fact that I get to have one of each flavor. The symmetry makes me happy.) As I started backing away from the candy, fists full of Rainbow Taste, something odd happened.

Apparently, an older gentleman had been watching what I was doing. As I caught his stare (because, indeed, he was staring), he broke into a sly grin. His hands then performed the “tsk tsk” action, and he walked away.

My first reaction was shock.  I wanted to yell at him. Or maybe throw some candy. I did neither – I think I just gave him an incredulous look.

What I realized over the next few seconds was that I was taking his reaction out of context. There was no way he could have known, in that moment, that I had diabetes. My insulin pump was concealed, as was my CGM. I wasn’t wearing medical ID, nor was I in the middle of checking my blood sugar. To him, I just looked like a lady who really loves her candy, and he apparently thought I was “pigging out”. Of course, my diabetes-centric mind had immediately jumped to defense mode and I had initially assumed he was trying his best as a D-Policeman to rain on my sugar festival.

Diabetes is something that I’m always thinking about, but I have to remember that it doesn’t mean diabetes is always on everyone else’s mind. Sometimes, I forget.