Peanuts

Christmas as a little kid with diabetes wasn’t always fun for me.  Well-meaning relatives would give me sugar-free candy.  I’d maybe get a cookie if I was low.  I’d have to come inside from playing in the snow to treat a low.  It just wasn’t always that much fun.  But my Mom and Dad always did their best to make it special for me too.

After I thanked my relatives for the sugar-free candy they’d take it and throw it in one of the cupboards we never opened and eventually, when it was hard as a rock, throw it away.  They’d make cookies without frosting.  They’d keep some sugar in the garage so I wouldn’t have to venture inside and take off all my snow clothes when I got low making a snow fort.

But, my favorite diabetes-related Christmas memory involved Santa.  All my pre-school and then kindergarten classmates would help their moms bake cookies for Santa and his reindeer.  They’d make chocolate chip, peanut butter, sugar, etc…

But my Mom would take me down to the grocery store.

“You know, Kay, Santa doens’t even like cookies.  Everyone just thinks he does.  He can’t have a whole lot of cookies either.  Just like you.”

“Really?  Does Santa get the ones without frosting too?”

“I’m sure he does.  But what he really likes are peanuts!”

“Peanuts?!  I can eat peanuts too!”

“Let’s pick out the best peanuts in the grocery store and set them out for Santa.  He’ll really like that.”

“OK!”

I was three the first time we did this.  We did it for a couple more years after that.  I’m at home right now and Mom and I went to the grocery store to get some groceries and we walked by the same peanut bins.  I asked her about it and she doesn’t even remember picking out peanuts for Santa instead of making cookies.  But I remember it and it will always be a special Christmas memory for me.

Anyway, that Santa guy would probably benefit from a few less cookies. 

Home Sweet Home

I’m at home right now.  I’m enjoying it.  Really, I am.  It’s nice to be at home with my parents and my brothers.  The Christmas tree is up in the living room.  The lights are blinking outside the windows.  There’s plenty of snow on the ground and we’re forecasted to get more in the next couple of days.  It’s really nice.

But, at the same time it’s not so nice.

I absolutely love my parents to death.  But it’s really hard to be around them sometimes.  And those times always have to do with my weight.

I worked late last night so I didn’t leave Omaha until about 1:30 AM and didn’t get to York until about 3:00 AM.  My mom had texted me to sleep in Joe’s room because John was in mine and Joe was in John’s.  (I really don’t understand why we’re not sleeping in our own rooms.)  And she said that she was going to go walking at the city auditorium at 8:30 AM if I wanted to join her.  I told her I’d think about it because I didn’t know if I’d be up yet.  Hello, less than five hours of sleep.

Well, I was up at 8:00 AM and couldn’t fall back asleep so I decided I’d go walking with Mom.  I stumbled out into the kitchen to check my blood sugar and get some breakfast.  Mom was sitting at the table reading the paper and looked at me.  Then she looked me up and down.  Then she went back to reading the paper.  I grabbed my PDM and 16g of vanilla wafers and sat down to bolus and enjoy my breakfast.

“Kay, how are the holidays going?  Are you eating right?”

“Yeah…”

“Because it looks like you’ve gained weight since I last saw you.”

“Mom, my jeans fit the same.  My belts are all on the same loop.  All of my work pants fit just fine.  My goals for the holidays are to just stay close to my current weight and not worry about gaining or losing right now.  And I haven’t had a lot of time to work out regularly because of the end of semester.”

“Ok, well, I’m your mom and I just want to make sure you don’t slip up again.  Your pants just look tighter to me.  Maybe it’s just that one pair of sweat pants.”

“Are you ready to go?  I need to move my car.”

End of conversation.

Really, Mom?  I know that you’re only trying to do the best for me.  I really do know that.  And I fully understand it.  But with my history of diabulimia and all of my other eating problems I don’t need your comments about my weight.  I didn’t need them in middle school.  I didn’t need them in high school.  And I sure don’t need them now.

I’m doing my best to lose weight the healthy way and every time I hear a comment about how I haven’t lost enough weight I just want to stuff my face full of carbs, “forget” to bolus and watch those pounds slip off again as if by magic.  I’m not happy with how I look either, OK?  I still hate looking in the mirror.  I still see you size me up and down in the kitchen when I’m reaching for something.  But do you see the tears on my pillow when I go to bed because I know how disappointed you are?  No.

So, please, just stop it already.

18 Years

Today is my diabetes’ 18th birthday.  It can buy cigarettes.  Which it will probably do because it’s stupid like that and usually does the exact opposite of what I want.

I don’t remember not having this disease.  It’s been there for nearly every part of my life.  It’s older than my brother, Joe.  I’m used to bleeding a little bit before I eat.  After a year, I’m used to wearing a pump.  And, after a month, I’m used to my DexCom.

Diabetes has come a long way in the past 18 years.  Back in the day I was using pig insulin.  I was putting a HUGE drop of blood on a meter the size of a brick that took 45 seconds to count down.  I was only checking my blood sugar four times a day.  I was using food exchanges to eat.  (When I say, “I” I really mean my parents.  Because, come on, I was three years old.)  It was ridiculous.  But, luckily, I came along after the days of urine testing.  Dang it, I’m so sad I missed out on that!  (Insert eye roll here)

I’m so thankful for how far diabetes technology has come in the past 18 years.  And I truly hope that there’s a cure soon.  Because, really, who else was told there’d be a cure within 10 years of their diagnosis?

Until there’s a cure I’ll continue to say…

“…Eff you, Diabetes.”

Bonus Question

The last bonus question on our NS220 final:

 

Write a question that you think should’ve been asked on this final.  Include four answers and circle the correct one.

 

My question:

 

A newly diagnosed type one diabetic is at lunch with her friends.  A friend says, “Oh, my Grandpa had that.  He went blind, lost his left foot and then died from it.  I know that you can’t have any sugar at all or that’ll happen to you too.”  Which of the following answers demonstrates that the patient received the correct teaching from the nurse regarding her new type 1 diabetes diagnosis?

 

A.  You’re right  I can’t ever have sugar again.

B.  You’re wrong.  I can have sugar.  Actually, I count carbohydrates.  As long as I check my blood sugar regularly and give the correct amount of insulin for the food I’m going to eat and take care of myself I can eat sugar or any other food that I choose to eat.  And no, I don’t appreciate hearing horror stories about your Grandpa, who probably had type 2 diabetes.  I’m sorry that this happened to your grandfather and your family.  I’m sure it was very hard for you.  But I don’t like hearing stories about terrible compications that I am trying my hardest to prevent.  So, please pass me that last piece of carrot cake.  I’m going to check my blood sugar, inject insulin and enjoy this wonderful piece of cake because I can.  I am hungry and I want cake.

C.  You’re wrong.  I have to watch my fat intake.

D.  I don’t know.

 

Obviously, I circled B. 

Suuuuuuuuuuh

Ndamukong Suh for Heisman.  That is all.

Don’t Get Me Wrong

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m excited beyond belief for World Diabetes Day.  I’m going to wear blue.  I’ve been telling everyone I know to wear blue.  I’ve tweeted about it.  I’ve tweeted Ellen about it.  My Facebook status screams it.  I’m so excited for it!

But, on Sunday, November 15, 2009 I’m going to be doing the exact same thing I was doing in honor of World Diabetes Day on Saturday, November 14, 2009.  Well, minus wearing blue.  And maybe not tweeting Ellen.  But, we’ll see.  I’m not making any promises. 

I’m going to be doing the same thing I’ve done every day since December 16, 1991.  Yes, I’m thrilled for this day.  I’m thrilled for the support I’m getting from family and friends who are going to wear blue.  I’m ecstatic that diabetes is front and center.  But when the clock strikes midnight and it’s no longer WDD I’ll still be dealing with it.  And so will millions of other people.

Tomorrow is going to be awesome.  And the only thing that would be more awesome is a cure.  Now that would be something to celebrate.  Margaritas anyone? 

D-Blog Day 2009

I’m really busy with school this week but I feel like I need to post something on D-Blog Day 2009 so I’m going with something I wrote a while ago for something else.  And even if it doesn’t completely relate to the purpose of D-Blog Day I think it’s good enough. 

Would I be the same person if I hadn’t been diagnosed with diabetes?  Would I be completely different?  Would my personality be different?  Would the characteristics that make me Kay not exist?  Would I have the same friends?  Would I have chosen a completely different path?

I’ve always had to be prepared for any diabetic emergency.  I have juice, glucose tabs, granola bars, alcohol swabs, extra pods, Novolog, Lantus, extra test strips, glucagon and every other supply you could possibly imagine.  But this preparedness translates to my everyday life.  Everyone knows that I have extra gum, pens, pencils, bandaids, chapstick and plenty of other things.

I overpack for every trip I’ve ever been on.  Do I really need 13 pairs of socks for a weekend trip?  No, I don’t think so.  But they’re all shoved into the bottom of my suitcase.  And do I really need to have five blue pens, five black pens, five pencils and extras of everything else in my bookbag?  Again, no.  But I never know when I’ll actually need that extra juice box that I packed.

Why do I feel the need to buy three bottles of shampoo when I know that I’ll only need one for now?  Is it because I always have an urge to have extra vials of insulin?  I’m always checking the amount of bread left so that I can buy some more when it’s ¾ gone.  I have a fear of running out of something that I think is related to being terrified of running out of insulin or test strips.

Would I be so obsessed with having extras of everything if I wasn’t diabetic?  Would I have grown up not noticing how many pop cans were left in the fridge?  Would I add something to my shopping list only when it was completely gone?  I honestly don’t know.

Also, I’m a clock-watcher.  I always have to know what time it is.  Is this because I was on such a strict schedule growing up?  Because of the peakage (is that a word?) of NPH I was required to eat a snack at a certain time.  Ever since I could tell time I’ve constantly focused on what time it was.  And you’d think that now that I use a pump I’d drop that clock-watcher characteristic.  Not a chance of that ever happening.  I’m one of those annoying people who believe that being early is on time and being on time is late.  Is it because of my clock-watching past that I find it so crucial to be early now?

I like to be organized.  I keep all of my diabetic supplies in the exact same place and even tend to date the boxes when I get them from the pharmacy.  I like to keep my purse organized.  Everything has its place.  Well, except for my bedroom.  I couldn’t keep that room clean and organized if you paid me.  It’s impossible.  So, except for my bedroom, I’m organized and know exactly where everything goes.

There are many other characteristics that are a part of me that I constantly question.  I know diabetes has changed my life in so many ways.  But sometimes I’m just curious to know who I’d be if I wasn’t diabetic.  Would I be the same?  Would I be going to nursing school?  Would anything in my life be the same?

 I sure hope so, because I love my life.  I love my family.  I love my friends.  I love being organized.  I love being early.  I love being prepared.  I love who diabetes has made me.

Woohoo!

DexCom called me today.

I was at work.

They left a voicemail.

I checked my voicemail.

I jumped up and down.

I kind of yelped a little bit.

People stared at me.

I didn’t care.

I called home.

My brother answered.

He told me Mom was grocery shopping.

I called Mom.

She was excited.

I called Dad.

He was at work.

But he was still excited.

I’M SO EXCITED.

Ignorance Part 2

Kay,

We’re no longer accepting letters on Mr. Barber. We’ve gotten a ton already and feel like all the letters are just repeating the same thing.

We might do a story on the controversy. Mr. Barber upset a lot of people, nationwide.

Ian Fennell, Idaho State Journal editor

 

Just repeating the same thing?  Yeah, kind of like the blood sugar checks and insulin injections/pump changes that I, and all other diabetics, repeat every day.  I guess Mr. Barber has an ignorant companion in Mr. Fennell.

Ignorance

The following letter was published in the Idaho State Journal in the Letters to the Editor section on October 25, 2009.

Complaint:

On Oct. 3, myself and my girlfriend were eating lunch at Burger King. A family came in and sat across the aisle from us. While the father was ordering food, we were shocked and appalled to see a boy inject himself with whatever medication, in front of God and everybody all while sitting at the table. We found this extremely offensive. That sort of business should be done in private. How about a little respect for those around you. Other than the obvious fact that it’s not sanitary for those who use the table next, you have no idea how something like that can affect people. People go through a lot in their life and things like that may bring up certain feelings and memories best forgotten. I would like to thank those that day for totally ruining my meal.

From the other d-blogs out there I’ve read that this gem of a comment came from a Mr. Wallace Barber.  I read about this at http://diabetesaliciousness.blogspot.com/ and there are many other blogs with similar posts.

This is my response:

Mr. Barber,

Your letter to the editor published on October 25 was one of the most uneducated, ignorant, moronic letters I have ever read.  From the explanation in your letter I would assume that this young boy has Type 1 Diabetes.  It is because of people like you that many young Type 1 Diabetics are ashamed of their disease.  Luckily I have never been ashamed of my disease.  I thank God every day that my parents didn’t hide my disease in a restaurant’s restroom just to make people like you more comfortable.  Yes, there were times we would quickly dart to the restroom to check my blood sugar and inject insulin.  But those times were the exception, not the rule.

I distinctly remember attending a Nebraska Cornhusker football game that ran into my meal time.  At the time I was on a strict NPH and regular insulin regimen that required specific food exchanges at specific times or extreme low blood sugar could occur.  Now, I don’t expect you to know anything about that as you are so ignorant.  Ah, but I digress.  Why would my mom and I leave a game during the fourth quarter to hide in a filthy stadium restroom to check my blood sugar and give myself an injection of insulin?  We did not leave.  I poked my finger and injected insulin in front of 70,000+ people in Memorial Stadium in Lincoln, Nebraska.

There was nothing I could’ve done to prevent this disease.  Nothing.  When I was three years old the beta cells in my pancreas quit producing insulin.  Every single day since December 16, 1991 I have had to inject myself with insulin just to stay alive.  I didn’t ask for this.  But I am living my best with this chronic disease.  And I will continue to live like this until there is a cure.

Mr. Barber, I hope that you never have a friend or family member diagnosed with this disease.  I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.  But I do hope you do something about your ignorance.  Unlike diabetes, there’s a cure for that:  education.

Kay Ritzdorf

Omaha, Nebraska

If you would like to respond it can be done here:

http://www.idahostatejournal.com/service/editor.html