Imagination got me through the tough parts of my life, and there have been many difficult pieces. This story is told through my 7 year old point of view. I had more imagination at that age anyhow.... Diabetes will try to kill me one day; it has already told me so.
This is a work in progress which I have been working on for the past couple of months. I have a tingling sense that this might actually develop into something bigger..... I feel extremely satisfied with putting time into writing about my struggles with my personal diabetes experience this far. So please hang on for the ride! And any feedback would be great!
Please stay tuned.....
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Acerbic Strength
Written June 11 2007
Acerbic strength
We all have obstacles we must overcome. Mine is sugar. Sugar will try to kill me one day. It has already told me so.
Sugar talks to me. Sugar tells me all day long that it wants me. It says that it needs me. So much lust is involved that I start to hallucinate. And I am aware I am hallucinating because I know what the word crave feels like. I know how it feels to be lacking. To hanker for something you will decide in a nanosecond to surpass your judgment just to get insane relief. Aw relief. Even better. Sweet relief.
I see sugar standing there. It thought I was not noticing. So it started to shout. Then began to pout. I tried to be unaccessable. Why could sugar not do the same. It is the substance that makes my body tremble. Shall I close my eyes as I start to spasm inside of its hollow doorway. When I am in its arms it has complete power over me. Its the allergy I react to after I have already ingested it and wake up in the emergency room. Someone please oblige me in putting it into an unreachable realm!
My heart is affronted with the yearning for its fulfilling taste. The longing just to lick the smooth, gritty rainbow like substance once more. You too will want to bury your face in the navel of its syrupy goodness. But many hours go by as the sugars pour throughout my veins. Dancing and swirling inside of my body while my pancreas screams. Yelling at my kidneys to do something. Anything. It takes too long to come down after a sugar high. Would you give in to your own suicide. I do not desire to.
I claim innocence. I claim to not understand. But do I really? Do I continue to allow sugar to be my neighbor. I admit I have enabled it to hold my hand for 17 years. I ask you now if you understand. Do you understand how important it is for you to stand by me in my decision.
Will you please take this sugar down from its high shelf and occupy its attention long enough so I can kick it in the ass. Together we can create a defensive stategy. We can build a mechanism, a wall of blandness against this enemy of sweet treat threats.
Sugar I am not sorry I ruined your day. I hear your anguish. Stop shaking cute like. I am not taking you home. Pretending is only perpetuating a lie. It was once maybe all I ever knew. Sneaking in extra calories under the darkness of insufficiency and naivety. It does nothing for me now. There is no question on what I am sure of in my life. Move on over sugar you are being replaced.
I no longer lend my health to that which I wish not to be bound to. I am armed with acerbic strength. My cleverness out weighs my feeble hunger. My stamina can endure and over take this. I whisper to you, It is all in your head remember.
I give myself an autopsy of what I really need. I feel better already. Life is best without all those glittering granules anyways. These are not tears in my eyes. I know whats missing in my life. Its not dry skin and achy muscles, and toes that have no circulation. Blurry vision or numbness in the fingers. Fatigue, incessant thirst or nausea. It is sugar that aids these symptoms in happening. I know whats missing from my life. It is not sugar. Period.
Good bye feeling like crap. I have control.
Hello my name is Kate. I do not have diabetes. I live with diabetes.
Acerbic strength
We all have obstacles we must overcome. Mine is sugar. Sugar will try to kill me one day. It has already told me so.
Sugar talks to me. Sugar tells me all day long that it wants me. It says that it needs me. So much lust is involved that I start to hallucinate. And I am aware I am hallucinating because I know what the word crave feels like. I know how it feels to be lacking. To hanker for something you will decide in a nanosecond to surpass your judgment just to get insane relief. Aw relief. Even better. Sweet relief.
I see sugar standing there. It thought I was not noticing. So it started to shout. Then began to pout. I tried to be unaccessable. Why could sugar not do the same. It is the substance that makes my body tremble. Shall I close my eyes as I start to spasm inside of its hollow doorway. When I am in its arms it has complete power over me. Its the allergy I react to after I have already ingested it and wake up in the emergency room. Someone please oblige me in putting it into an unreachable realm!
My heart is affronted with the yearning for its fulfilling taste. The longing just to lick the smooth, gritty rainbow like substance once more. You too will want to bury your face in the navel of its syrupy goodness. But many hours go by as the sugars pour throughout my veins. Dancing and swirling inside of my body while my pancreas screams. Yelling at my kidneys to do something. Anything. It takes too long to come down after a sugar high. Would you give in to your own suicide. I do not desire to.
I claim innocence. I claim to not understand. But do I really? Do I continue to allow sugar to be my neighbor. I admit I have enabled it to hold my hand for 17 years. I ask you now if you understand. Do you understand how important it is for you to stand by me in my decision.
Will you please take this sugar down from its high shelf and occupy its attention long enough so I can kick it in the ass. Together we can create a defensive stategy. We can build a mechanism, a wall of blandness against this enemy of sweet treat threats.
Sugar I am not sorry I ruined your day. I hear your anguish. Stop shaking cute like. I am not taking you home. Pretending is only perpetuating a lie. It was once maybe all I ever knew. Sneaking in extra calories under the darkness of insufficiency and naivety. It does nothing for me now. There is no question on what I am sure of in my life. Move on over sugar you are being replaced.
I no longer lend my health to that which I wish not to be bound to. I am armed with acerbic strength. My cleverness out weighs my feeble hunger. My stamina can endure and over take this. I whisper to you, It is all in your head remember.
I give myself an autopsy of what I really need. I feel better already. Life is best without all those glittering granules anyways. These are not tears in my eyes. I know whats missing in my life. Its not dry skin and achy muscles, and toes that have no circulation. Blurry vision or numbness in the fingers. Fatigue, incessant thirst or nausea. It is sugar that aids these symptoms in happening. I know whats missing from my life. It is not sugar. Period.
Good bye feeling like crap. I have control.
Hello my name is Kate. I do not have diabetes. I live with diabetes.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Chapter One- The hospital
Written Dec 29 2008
Most of the diagnosing period is a blur to me. I half recall getting my first ever IV stabbed into my delicate pale arms. Zach and Chris (who are respectively near my age but have no clue what life change is really happening here) are blowing up latex rubber gloves and letting them go shoot across the room- zoooom zooom zoom. Boys. They are trying their best to cheer me up but I am limp with desolation. I have no idea what is going to happen to me. Although being in the hospital is all too clear to me at the moment.
The only thing I know about disease is that it kills people. Aren’t I too young yet to die? They tell me(as in the "doctors") that I can lead a long, healthful life just like the other "normal" people. Wait just a second here, these "doctors" are telling me I AM NORMAL, but have to take extra good care of myself to be NORMAL, because Im special. And if I dont, unmentionable things could happen to my limbs/arteries/eyes/body. Really are they trying to confuse me on purpose? Because I can tell you it is working.
One of the nurses tells me~ with a smile of all the current emotions available, that insulin is a hormone, made from pigs, diluted so the human body can process it. GROSS. Why couldnt she have lied and told me it was made from dogs, or monkeys, where is the evolutionary connection to livestock? I later learned that the protamine that is mixed with the insulin is derived out of the semen of river trout. Tell me which is the better option to biologically have fish or pig parts swimming along side to my blood cells?!
Thump, thump, thumpity thump. My heart is racing as the nurse gently approaches the side of the hospital bed and in the next not so gentle movement, rips the tape holding the IV from the crook of my elbow, so it doesnt hurt as much she tells me. Oh boy I can already tell Im starting to dislike medical personal.
Diabetes is a healthy disease. They tell me I will understand when Im older. The only thing I understand as tears well up in my seven year old eyes is that I am no longer allowed to consume sugar. I have to count out my raisins, my snacks and carrots, carrots have sugar? Pay close attention to my caloric intake, learn exactly what a carbohydrate is? Not to drink soda pop anymore..... oh gawd I am going to bawl. I am so hungry, I never feel fulfilled and Im thirsty all the time, not to mention the insane urge of having to go pee at least once every hour.
It feels like sugar is pouring throughout my veins and my body does not like all these finger pricks. And the horrifying injections, which my dad is practicing his methods of jabbing onto oranges, and my mom (my parents are divorced) is practicing her stabs onto my big brave dad.
We gather up my get well cards from my second grade class mates, who probably wonder if I will ever be coming back to class. I dread returning to school more than the horrifying injections. I am a quiet kid, and definately do not have an inkling on how to explain my current situation. Can I not just stay home and be home schooled? Go fishing with dad everyday? Or hide under my bed for the rest of my diabetic infested life?
Most of the diagnosing period is a blur to me. I half recall getting my first ever IV stabbed into my delicate pale arms. Zach and Chris (who are respectively near my age but have no clue what life change is really happening here) are blowing up latex rubber gloves and letting them go shoot across the room- zoooom zooom zoom. Boys. They are trying their best to cheer me up but I am limp with desolation. I have no idea what is going to happen to me. Although being in the hospital is all too clear to me at the moment.
The only thing I know about disease is that it kills people. Aren’t I too young yet to die? They tell me(as in the "doctors") that I can lead a long, healthful life just like the other "normal" people. Wait just a second here, these "doctors" are telling me I AM NORMAL, but have to take extra good care of myself to be NORMAL, because Im special. And if I dont, unmentionable things could happen to my limbs/arteries/eyes/body. Really are they trying to confuse me on purpose? Because I can tell you it is working.
One of the nurses tells me~ with a smile of all the current emotions available, that insulin is a hormone, made from pigs, diluted so the human body can process it. GROSS. Why couldnt she have lied and told me it was made from dogs, or monkeys, where is the evolutionary connection to livestock? I later learned that the protamine that is mixed with the insulin is derived out of the semen of river trout. Tell me which is the better option to biologically have fish or pig parts swimming along side to my blood cells?!
Thump, thump, thumpity thump. My heart is racing as the nurse gently approaches the side of the hospital bed and in the next not so gentle movement, rips the tape holding the IV from the crook of my elbow, so it doesnt hurt as much she tells me. Oh boy I can already tell Im starting to dislike medical personal.
Diabetes is a healthy disease. They tell me I will understand when Im older. The only thing I understand as tears well up in my seven year old eyes is that I am no longer allowed to consume sugar. I have to count out my raisins, my snacks and carrots, carrots have sugar? Pay close attention to my caloric intake, learn exactly what a carbohydrate is? Not to drink soda pop anymore..... oh gawd I am going to bawl. I am so hungry, I never feel fulfilled and Im thirsty all the time, not to mention the insane urge of having to go pee at least once every hour.
It feels like sugar is pouring throughout my veins and my body does not like all these finger pricks. And the horrifying injections, which my dad is practicing his methods of jabbing onto oranges, and my mom (my parents are divorced) is practicing her stabs onto my big brave dad.
We gather up my get well cards from my second grade class mates, who probably wonder if I will ever be coming back to class. I dread returning to school more than the horrifying injections. I am a quiet kid, and definately do not have an inkling on how to explain my current situation. Can I not just stay home and be home schooled? Go fishing with dad everyday? Or hide under my bed for the rest of my diabetic infested life?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Chapter Two- Adapting to change
Written Jan 9 2009
After a week of resting and weighing my intake of food it is perfectly clear I am headed back to the classroom to finish up the rest of the year. You only have one month left before its summer vacation, then we get to go on a trip to Minnesota and go to a diabetes camp! My mom tries to make this sound encouraging and fun, but I dont wanna go to a camp. I dont want to meet kids like me. I dont want anything to change. Change is difficult. Change is scary. Change is BAD.
Class turns out to not be so terrible, for the time being. On the plus side: is I get to bring snacks to class with me, however the con side: is that nobody else gets to bring snacks to class...
After a week of resting and weighing my intake of food it is perfectly clear I am headed back to the classroom to finish up the rest of the year. You only have one month left before its summer vacation, then we get to go on a trip to Minnesota and go to a diabetes camp! My mom tries to make this sound encouraging and fun, but I dont wanna go to a camp. I dont want to meet kids like me. I dont want anything to change. Change is difficult. Change is scary. Change is BAD.
Class turns out to not be so terrible, for the time being. On the plus side: is I get to bring snacks to class with me, however the con side: is that nobody else gets to bring snacks to class...
But the friends that were there for me before are even closer now. Jennifer thinks out loud on how she can become a diabetic too- so we can be diabetic together. Zach volunteers that he will take care of me for as long as we will be married. Oh yes we planned to be together forever (it only lasted until the ripe old age of um, like 8) Kim, well, having both of her parents experience the thrills and woes of diabetes, is just consistently here. At least one person my age knows I will not fall over and die before I am legal to drive.
This is the hardest summer of my life so far, I tell Jennifer and Kim. The diabetes camp was a bunch of counselors all telling me the same things over and over (okay yes some of it was important but also ssooooooo annoying) then they gave me a cup of cheerios, a banana, and orange juice in a plastic bag and told me mash it up to see what my stomach looks like after eating those things for breakfast. To which I was a brat and told them I wasnt allowed to drink orange juice anymore- so my stomach doesnt look like that! No my stomach only has 12 raisins, half a english muffin, and a MEASLY 1/2 A GLASS OF SKIM MILK IN IT!!!! I also told Kim and Jenn I didnt understand why I got into loads of trouble from my mom for that little "outburst" when I didnt want to go to the camp in the first place.
This is the hardest summer of my life so far, I tell Jennifer and Kim. The diabetes camp was a bunch of counselors all telling me the same things over and over (okay yes some of it was important but also ssooooooo annoying) then they gave me a cup of cheerios, a banana, and orange juice in a plastic bag and told me mash it up to see what my stomach looks like after eating those things for breakfast. To which I was a brat and told them I wasnt allowed to drink orange juice anymore- so my stomach doesnt look like that! No my stomach only has 12 raisins, half a english muffin, and a MEASLY 1/2 A GLASS OF SKIM MILK IN IT!!!! I also told Kim and Jenn I didnt understand why I got into loads of trouble from my mom for that little "outburst" when I didnt want to go to the camp in the first place.
Remember how I mentioned I was already a quiet kid? Well quiet doesnt begin to describe how I am with the new people that I meet now. My brain is trickling, streaming with questions. How will others react to knowing I have a disease. Will they treat me differently from the other kids my age. What will they ask me? Will I know the answers, oh god oh god oh god. I am always pondering and running through the various alterations of what my life will be like from now on, when before I didnt really take the time to think these thoughts. Of course a 7 year old shouldnt be required to have their mind brimming with these thoughts.
I cant seem to help establishing a better talent for back talking though, my emotions are running wild. I am finding my blood sugar to be the major cause. I worry that I used to be a good kid. But now (gulp) diabetes has made me a bad kid. When will my status change back to being "normal."
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Chapter Three - This is a mess
Written Feb 8 2009
This summer of 1990 is a summer I am turning unwillingly into an adult. I can see it. My parents can see it too. My parents are extremely supportive and I dont think I can manage this life change without them, but slowly I am learning that I only have myself to fully rely on. I am the only one who knows what is going on in my own body. The only one who knows that if I skip a meal the consequences will turn ugly. And quickly.
This summer of 1990 is a summer I am turning unwillingly into an adult. I can see it. My parents can see it too. My parents are extremely supportive and I dont think I can manage this life change without them, but slowly I am learning that I only have myself to fully rely on. I am the only one who knows what is going on in my own body. The only one who knows that if I skip a meal the consequences will turn ugly. And quickly.
This morning I opened my eyes and realize I cannot get out of bed. My limbs dont seem to be working. I panic and scream for my mom who comes barreling into the room a moment later. She asks me whats wrong and even though my brain is processing what I want to say, it will not come out the same way through my tingling lips. My mom is fumbling around in my nightstand for the tube of glucagon gel we keep there for emergencies. If this isnt one, I am not sure what classifies as one.
She pops the little plastic cap off which goes flying across the room and tells me to swallow. As soon as the cool gel hits my taste buds my body fights back. I begin to squirm and the scariest thing is I am not doing this intentionally. Hold still she tell me and I can tell she is starting to get upset with me. She holds me down to settle me which pretty much sends my body into convulsions. There is gel around my mouth, on my night shirt, my bed sheets, everywhere. This is a complete mess!
Not only a mess, a single parent should not have to witness their kid going through this unbearable horror of feeling like the only thing that they can do is to force sugar down their helpless childs gullet.
Yes, we need to figure out a way to prohibit hypoglycemic reactions from showing their distorted faces in our lives! But I feel that is going to take massive amounts of time, as it does not seem to be something we can entirely control at this precise time. Should we try telling a little white lie? That this Thursday will be too busy to deal with, do you think you can come back another time- like NEVER!?! Blood sugar reactions do not R.S.V.P. We are learning they prefer to arrive unannounced.
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