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.

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.

Attention: The Old Girls Club

My tests all came back from my annual exam. All of my girly parts passed just fine.

Now, the husband, on the other hand....

His incision site is slightly infected. He went back to the doctor's office, but his doctor was on vacation, so saw one of the other ones. He's on antibiotics. His arm still looks better than it did in the photos, because the bruising continues to go down.

A little pre-emptive antibiotics. Something most of us with diabetes will eventually become familiar with.

I've fallen out of the habit of testing. Well, part of the problem was that both of my test kits were in my desk at work. And, believe it or not, I'm not there seven days a week, nor 24 hours a day.

So, I brought it home and it is sitting here, among the knitting, and the the debris of household life, and the animals, etc., ready for me to test first thing in the morning.

I still don't like being a diabetic. I don't like this disease. I feel like it amplifies my already too big tendency toward perfectionism. There's always something to work on, to improve, to perfect about my health, about my lifestyle management.

And I can get really tough on myself when I don't do what I planned to do or what I had said that I would do. Yuck.

In about the past month or so, either my eyes have experienced "the change" or I've noticed it. If you're over 45, you know what I mean. The muscles around the eyes, or the lens itself, I'm not sure which is the problem, but all of a sudden, I can't see things right in front of me, that I used to be able to see.

I'm wearing my reading glasses for my small gauge knitting.

Yes, I owned them before I needed them. But now I'm going to start a collection. Accessories are my life.

I knew there was a problem when I was reaching for my glasses in order to fasten a front-hook bra. I'm going back to the rear-fastening type. Those I can do without looking and noticing how old I'm getting.

My Naivete

(And no, I don't know how to get the accent displayed on that last e, as it should be)

I continue to be dismayed by the Portland Police Bureau's use of a stun gun to subdue Ms. Brandi Hess, who was experiencing a diabetic episode. Yes, I know she was combative and striking the officers and medical personnel. Yes, I am very happy that she got the medical help she needed and is still alive. Yes, I am very glad that she was not beaten, nor sat upon by a 250 lb. officer, nor had ribs broken, etc. I am very happy that she was not shot. I am happy that she does not have brain damage.

I do not think the police were wrong to assist her in receiving medical aid. I do not think that Brandi was wrong in her management of her diabetes. I'm not blaming either of them. I wasn't there.

But I do wish it had happened differently.

After a little more research (maybe that should be the title of my blog), I learned that this sort of thing is not that uncommon. Probably every 6-12 months, some poor diabetic, behaving erratically as a result of diabetes, somewhere in the USA has an encounter with the police or authorities, where she or he is beaten or subdued in a manner which seems excessive to me. Sometimes, the diabetic dies. Sometimes, somebody sues. Here's a story about a driver who crashed, suspected of being drunk, was actually low. Here's another story. And another.

I learned that if you do searches for news including the words "diabetic" and "police", you will find some pretty sad things, such as this story about Hallie Shanklin's mother being convicted for Hallie's death. And that's not even going back very far.

I'm not sure what to think about finding out that I am, at nearly 42, still so naive and hopeful to think that a person with diabetes can receive good medical care without being beaten or tasered or blamed for poor diabetes self-management. I don't like to think that injury at the hands of the authorities is one of the possible side effects or complications of diabetes (type 1 or type 2).

I like my hope. I like to think that the world can be a good place to be. And I will continue to look for examples of people being kind and helpful to others. And I'll keep trying to be a wonderful person who is kind and helpful to others. Somedays I do it. Sometimes not so much.

I find, for me, that it's hard to be kind when my feet hurt. Maybe the police officers were responding out of their pain, rather than out of their compassion. Not unreasonable.

Here's the story: Police use stun gun on woman experiencing diabetic crisis.

Here's a link to the story at KATU.

The person's name is Brandi Hess.

I do not know you, Brandi, but I send you good thoughts and support during this time.

I'd suggest that you find counseling or some sort of support system, as many people who experience something like this sometimes struggle with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). And who needs that on top of diabetes?

Knowing that a person experiencing a diabetic crisis may be combative, as Brandi reportedly was, and may not respond rationally to instructions, this is basic knowlege about diabetes. They were called to the house to assist, due to her diabetic crisis. This action, at this point, seems to be very, very bad.

I hope they investigate and take appropriate action.

Portland has had problems with use of deadly force. Now, remember, I've lived in Portland since 1970, off and on. I've lived in Portland steady since 1988. There have been two deaths of mentally ill persons at the hands of Portland police (one was inside a hospital) during that time. There are been two african-american persons shot to death at traffic stops within the past five years (the time since I've lived in a more ethnically diverse area of the city). Since the two african-american deaths, supposedly, the police department has reviewed its rules on deadly force and its policies on citizen review of use of force incidents.

And now this.

Please pray for Brandi and her family and friends if you're a prayer (I am). Please do whatever you feel is right to stand with Brandi as she goes through this time.

As a former boss used to say, more will be revealed.

Trust and the Diabetic Partner

I've been reading this book called 21Ways to Defuse Anger and Calm People Down by Michael Staver.

Confession: I actually read few books. I listen to many many books while driving around in my car, and one of my favorite features about my new car is that it can handle both cassette tape and CD.

So, you may ask, what has this to do with diabetes?

Not much, not directly, except for this one little tidbit. He has this equation: Consistent Behavior over Time equals Trust.

I've been thinking about this in the context of diabetes and the relationships we have, especially in terms of the partners of PWDs. The Diabetes Partner Follies over at Diabetes Mine, always a favorite. And the blog Wife of a Diabetic, although it is not for the faint of heart.

Since I am a diabetic, and the wife of a diabetic, both of us type 2s, I know both roles. I'm also the daughter of two diabetics, the niece of several diabetics, and the granddaughter of two. (Diabetic cousins, please sign in now.)

Do you remember the equation? Consistent Behavior over Time equals Trust.

SOME persons in my family have at some times in the past accused me of being the Diabetes Police. Hmmm, we won't name names.

So, I was venting with a different, non-related, diabetic friend. D-friend shared the opinion that I couldn't possibly be part of the Diabetes Police, because I am a diabetic. Therefore, I do know a little bit about diabetes, and it's not like I'm a non-diabetic imposing my false and out-dated ideas about how a diabetic person should live.

Beggin your pardon, but my non-specific family member might beg to differ with you.

My grandparents eat at the same time, take meds at the same time, test at the same time, share their numbers, and discuss how much insulin to take for a particular meal.

My husband and I do not test together and are fortunate if we eat one meal together a day. We rarely discuss diabetes or diabetes-related topics.

Sometimes, it's along the lines of "Your doctor's office left a message on the machine about your appointment tomorrow. You should listen to it."

"Oh really, what did they say?"

Hard look. "You should listen to it yourself."

I always quiz my folks when I think I can get away with it. "So Dad, how's your diabetes? Did you see that podiatrist you were talking about?"

Let's go back to the equation. If Consistent Behavior over Time equals Trust, is it then true that Consistent Bad Behavior over Time equals Mistrust? Perhaps so.

So, if (relative)thinks my behavior towards (relative) regarding diabetes is bad, and if I do that same (bad) behavior over time, it only builds mistrust. And that's not good for close family relationships.

And the equation might be true for your relationship with your physician, or with your CDE. Consistent Behavior over Time = Trust (or Mistrust).

After several years with my physician, for the most part, she trusts that I know what I'm doing with my diabetes management, because my consistent behavior, as measured by my HbA1cs, over years, has produced trust. This doesn't mean that she doesn't ask questions. She does. She makes herself available for help or adjustments if needed.

But I'm not giving up my family just because they may handle their diabetes differently than I do mine. Sometimes, you just have to trust. And sometimes, you have to be the one to trust first.

It feels sort of like walking out on a frozen pond. It's likely to be OK. It has been OK in the past. But I don't want it to break this time.

[I know, it's rambling and not as funny as the last post. I promise, I'll post any joke I can think of soon. Besides, some of you should write some diabetes jokes, too!]