Tenth Anniversary

I was diagnosed with diabetes ten years ago this month.

I had given blood at the local Red Cross, and got a letter from them saying that my blood was rejected, due to high liver enzymes.

I went to my physician, saying "What's wrong with my liver?"

Ultimately, his answer was, "Nothing's wrong with your liver, but you have diabetes."

And thus, my diabetes life was launched.

I had to remind my current physician that I am now 10 years post-diagnosis, as there is often a change in this disease that seems to happen 8-12 years after diagnosis. Previous control methods may stop working, and new meds or new eating or exercise plans may need to take place.

I've had to step up my medications. I'm now on Januvia. Hooooray!

It controls my numbers very nicely. I'm still on the other meds, metformin, glipizide, etc.

I remain discouraged about my diabetes, and about my ability to reach my goal of being a very old, very healthy [person with diabetes]. My feet still hurt, but I'm able to function. I'm scared to walk my dogs, though, or do other standing exercise for fear of debilitating pain.

My weight is about 200 lbs. I am discouraged about my ability to get it back down to about 150-160, which would be very healthy for me.

But, life is good.

I'm hoping to become more active in my blog. I know, I know. I took a year off. So sue me.

We'll see how it goes. With this disease, with me, with my life, I've got to focus on the positive. I've got to focus on the next step in front of me, not the 999 miles beyond that. One step at a time, and, in a flash, ten years have gone by.

PS. I owe Bernard $100. I have not forgotten. He is a saint. I'm writing the check today.

Discouraged

I have not died. I have not fallen off the planet. I am discouraged.

I'm discouraged about my diabetes. My numbers are up. I imagine my HbA1c is going to be around 8.5-9.0. It needs to be below 6.5, 6.0 for best control. And control is important to me, because good control means the best chances for my neuropathy to NOT advance or to advance only minimally.

I've signed up to participate in a study up at OHSU. This study is with Dr. Lou, a neurologist. The study coordinator is Grace. They're studying a known herb to see if it will keep my nerves healthy or permit them to heal. I go in on Wednesday to get my capsules. I hope it's not placebo. The study will last about a year.

I have to check with Dr. Lou and see what we can add to my diabetes regimin that will not impact his study. I'm thinking insulin or Byetta.

I weigh about 195 lbs, which is, I think, my lifetime heaviest. I feel quite desperate about my weight. I'm not fat enough for bypass surgery, but I haven't been successful at losing the weight myself. My foot problems seem to limit thepossibilities of exercise. I don't know what I'm going to do.

Diabetes is a tough disease. (I know this.) It's a day in and day out challenge. (I know this.) And one has to just tough it out, do the daily choices to maintain good health. (I know this.)

And I know that depression goes along with it, and that I'm doing all the right things, as much as I can, to cope and continue on.

I wish it got easier.

I feel guilty about posting such a negative post, because I want to be encouraging to others with diabetes. But I'm struggling. I'm discouraged.

But I'm still in here. And the good days will return.

Parenting

I've been trying to wait until we could notify all of our closest family members, but let's make it official: Dr. Parts and I are pursuing adoption. (And that does not mean George, although I would adopt George and his scrumptious family in a minute.)

I promise: I will not make this an adoption blog. I find most adoption blogs a little self serving and dull(except for Starfish's and she's a knitter and an interesting person and she has an adorable little Seamonkey who was born in South America). It is each person's discovery of the wondrous emotions of what is a fairly predictable process overall. When I find adoption bloggers and adoption group members using the term 'siked' after some particularly good news, it makes me want to quit blogging for good and abandon adoption if this is the state of education in this country.

I have started a secret adoption blog for my own ranting about the topic. If you find that blog and leave a message, there or here, matching the two up, I will send you a prize. Yes, that's a challenge. I dare you to find it. What's the prize? Maybe Dr. Parts' Ceviche Recipe. I think I can sneak it out of the house. Maybe some LoriRode hand-knitted socks, if you can wait that long. And if you win the prize (one prize only will be awarded), you are truly a person who has a problem with obession and excessive down time.

Why adopt rather than try to conceive? 1) because I don't want you people to know that much about my private life. I blog, but I do not tell all. 2) because I am almost 42 and he is almost 45 and I am on many meds. 3) because he is greatly fearful of the increased risks to any child we would conceive. 4) because we're not sure we want to start at the beginning. (Come on, if you could skip sleep deprivation and diapers, wouldn't you?) 5) because I, having a delightful brother who was adopted, am aware that adoption does indeed form REAL families. 6) because the infertility/fertility path sounds like a big wobbly ferris wheel and I don't like ferris wheels. 7) because we are older, confident parents, who are willing to access any resources necessary (counseling, special ed, medical treatments) for a child we adopt. Dave is experienced, although he didn't always get to parent Daughter A, and I practically grew up at Camp and as a daycare assistant and with younger foster siblings etc. My parents were good parents, who consciously practiced good parenting techniques, and adapted as necessary. I learned to be a good person from them. I think they also taught me how to be a good parent.

What path have we chosen? Well, we haven't exactly chosen, yet. We are thinking one child or two siblings who should be the same gender. (We think we only have one bedroom available for child/ren right now.)

That being said, if I had my druthers, I'd adopt about a dozen children, any gender, many different types of 'special needs', from teenagers on down! I'd be chauffering and recitalling and parent/teacher conferencing every day of the week. Lori's Three Ring Life! Woohoo!

Ahem. Dr. Parts does his best to keep me sane.

There are many (thousands) available USA children who have been through the state system. Our state has great support for these kids and for their adoptability. If you're an Oregonian or up to considering adopting an Oregon Kid, here's a link and here's another one. (In Lori's 3-Ring Fantasy life, I'd head on down to Louisiana and get these guys, and, of course, Amy.)

There are also many (thousands) of children in orphanages and institutes in non-USA countries who need families. I'm thinking about Haiti, and Liberia, and China, and Kazakhstan, and the Ukraine, and Nepal, and Sierra Leone and many other places. But some of these countries will not permit us to adopt their children, some because of too many divorces in our past, some because of the diagnosis of depression and recent/continued use of antidepressant drugs. It is my great fear that our diabetes may prevent or make difficult this adoption. I hope not.

We have a niece (see the world's cutest nieces from a few weeks ago) who was born with a cleft lip and palate. My dad is a retired speech-language pathologist, although I think there's a new term for that profession now. This gives us confidence that we could parent a child with a cleft lip/palate. I don't think I can handle developmental disabilities or severe behavioral problems, such as FAS/FAE, Down's syndrome, autism, or ODD. I'm not imagining that the child/ren will be perfect, nor that every day will be conflict-free. Still, I'd really like a child who, at some point, will understand why I bristle at 'siked.'

So, in a perfect world, we would find a pair of male siblings, between the ages of 3 and 13, with one or both of them having a minor 'special need', such as cleft lip and/or palate, a limb difference (club foot, unusually formed hand, etc.), a birthmark, hepatitis B, or something like that.

We are sending this request out into the Universe to God. And trusting that the right path to these children will become clear.

Things are cooking!

Dr. Parts and the boys from work are off for the weekend camping. Here he is pre-cooking various foods which I promised I would not disclose on the blog, because they are, in the wife's opinion, not terribly healthful for human consumption, diabetes or non-diabetes. (It's Uncle Dave's Famous Beans. If you write your address on a five-dollar bill and send it to him, he'll send you the recipe. It is wonderfully high in fiber.)

This photo is informative, because, believe it or not, even with Big Dave in the shot, you can see about half of the kitchen. Between the camera and him is the sink. At his left hip is the one and only functional drawer in the kitchen.

A ONE-drawer kitchen! If women ran the world, that would be illegal.

I had my psychological consult Wednesday morning. He talked about my pain a little and took a basic history, made sure I was safe, etc.

Besides my family history of diabetes, I also come from a family with a history of depression. So I don't know if it's in the genes or if it's in the behavior patterns that I've learned or what. I live with depression close at hand. The level of depression varies from day to day, season to season.

So when they ask me to fill out a depression inventory to hand to the psychologist when I see him, and I'm filling it out, trying to be honest but not skewed, either way, and I'm close to crying, just from the inventory, I know that's a bad sign.

I hate going to therapy. It is exhausting. And I hate feeling this depressed when I'm on two antidepressant medications. I hate crying through the hour-long session about things that I don't usually think about at all. It's all background. It's part of the landscape of my life. It is baggage. Old baggage, that I thought I had gone through, sorted out and repacked neatly. It's not supposed to make me cry again now.

So, because I was weepy, he's probably going to recommend more counseling. And he's probably right. I just don't want to say so out loud.

I had taken the whole day off, personal time. I was glad I had, since I was still weepy for a while. I took a little shopping therapy mid-day.

Then in the afternoon, they did an MRI of my feet. That was fine. It was noisy, but the tech was kind, and since only my lower limbs had to go inside the machine, I did not feel claustrophobic. I'm not optimistic that it will show anything. I'm hopeful, but not optimistic. I still haven't gotten the appointment with the neurologist. Becca, the helpful scheduler, is still working on it. She has been helpful and told me where I was in the process. I'm sure she's a joy to her department. Maybe I'll nominate her for an employee recognition award....hmmm.

I have been testing regularly, at least my AM readings. They've been high this week. This morning? 207. The culprit was late night chocolate cake. And I probably should have stopped at a half of the store's portion size.

I've also started taking alpha lipoic acid as part of my supplement regimin. My feet do feel better. I forgot about an acupuncture appointment this evening. Uh-oh. I'll have to make up with my Ac, somehow.

And I also feel silly for complaining about my life and my circumstances, when I frequently hear stories about other people's lives, lives into which I would not willingly step. A twelve-year old, diagnosed with a fast-acting cancer, probably only weeks from diagnosis to release. A 31-year-old diabetic man with vision loss and on kidney dialysis. A woman newly diagnosed with ALS. I go through these papers on my desk, knowing that they represent people, lives, struggles and losses. I pray for them.

And I pray that the tide of my depression will recede soon. It will be nice to have the house to myself for the weekend. Dr. Parts took the dog out into the woods for the camping trip. They'll be back Sunday night. I'm missing them both already.