Full-Time Diabetic, Part-Time Mad Scientist.

It's been a stressful last few weeks. November brought on an onslaught of new barriers to my tiny Diabetes-world bubble. With the welcoming of my 19th birthday in October I found myself suddenly thrust into the mysterious-pseudo-medicaid twilight zone. It was a grey zone filled with odd, confusing and scary terms such as "cost of share" in which I found myself utterly unprepared.
When I heard the news, I glanced with a nervous swallow at my minifridge, which had essentially become the home base of my day-to-day "let's not let Diabetes kill me" operation. My internal calculator did up the math in my head to try and count just how long my insulin could last me in the event that I could not get more for a while. And test strips - what about test strips? I thought of the 5 times I day I liked to test, now seemingly more like a luxury and less like a necessity. Could I cut back? Inwardly, I challenged myself and thought that maybe I could be a successful, saavy and test strip-thrifty Diabetic, too.

I'm not saying it's permanent, but believe it or not, it's been a blazing success. I've essentially reduced my testing to 1-2 times a day just to see how good I am at controlling my sugar by sense and hyper carb-awareness alone. The last week has gone a bit like this:

I wake up in the morning, courageously assume that both because I tested my sugar before bed last night and it read normal and because I am, in fact, not dead or going into seizures or ketosis that I'm hovering reasonably normal, and then have breakfast. I usually eat oatmeal or cream of wheat, which typically breaks down nice and slow and doesn't cause a sharp spike like my now sworn-off Recees Puffs did. After bolusing I go to class, go to work, grab a piece of Candy from Amy's desk (bolus 1-2 units), go to lunch, give myself 3-4 units for my salad and any extra depending on what kind of candy I snagged or if I feel I overdid it a little too much on the carbs that morning, stay hydrated, then go back to class. I have a snack after my last class of the day at 2:30, then go to dinner and give myself about 6 units to cover both dinner and any residual slight-high I might have had from my snack that afternoon. Then I have a snack in the evening, bolus for it but undershoot just a little to avoid nighttime lows, and test before bed. Just to show you, here's a complete list of my sparse readings from the last few days:

11/11 8:21 PM: 121 mg/dL

11/10 7:47 PM: 184 (A work day, so consequential little monitoring of sugar).

11/9 9:32 AM: 151

11/9 1:14 AM: 282 (Ok, I was a little high here, so I bolused to bring myself back in range, then checked in the AM - this was because of the cookies we baked at the apartment).

11/8 12:44 PM: 81

11/8 9:19 AM: 237 (Too high - just beginning this experiment and, a few days in, it's a work in progress).

11/6 8:29 PM: 119

11/5 6:40 PM: 169

11/5 12:52 AM: 172

11/4 12:10 AM: 133

My seven day average is 168.

BAM. I feel like a regular mad scientist. Or maybe the nerdy side of my Biology major is just now starting to swallow me whole. Or maybe I'm just a saavy, test strip-thrifty Diabetic.
It's not perfect, and there is of course the worry that I may just be missing the high readings by simply not testing them. That's true. But I'm definitely pleased with myself - I feel like even if I don't continue this "experiment" of testing my blood sugar sparcely that I've learned a lot just over the span of this week alone. I've learned to be more in-tune with my body, recognizing the signs of an oncoming high as it starts (dry mouth and I know almost immediately that  my sugars are going up) and experience very, very few lows. I've also learned to keep careful track of what I eat and hold myself accountable for all of it. When I think clearly about it and remember it, I always bolus for it, and in theory that in itself should keep my sugars normal. I've also encouraged myself to make the healthy choices that I know are better for me (i.e. NO RECEES PUFFS) to avoid surprise highs. For the most part, I feel great, my sugars are showing steady readings and things are going well, so that's what I figure is important. Therefore, we'll see where this goes.

I would like to note, however, that for Thanksgiving all bets are off - that's going to require practically 24 hours of constant monitoring if I'm going to successfully pull off the biggest nightmare of every Diabetic's year. Am I ready for it? Yes. It won't be a repeat of last year. Armed with better sense of my body and what it's telling me about my sugars, I'm confident that I can succeed this time!

Post For a Stranger.

I sat in the afternoon quiet of the auto shop, flipping through an old copy of TIME magazine and glancing, uninterested, at the pages of the anatomy and physiology text I had brought to my side. The TV was playing Fox news to my left, and I intently studied one of the commercials it was playing on break, laughing to myself at the different examples of social psychology I could identify in the commercial  (Can you tell I've been doing entirely too much studying?

I checked the time. 4:45. I was hungry, and reached down to pull a granola bar out of my bag. I ate the granola bar, then grabbed my blue and orange insulin pen. I did the dosage calculation in my head real quick;

24 grams of carbs is 1 unit / per 8 carbs so 24/8 is 3... 

I opened the pen cap.

The front door bell jingled and a man walked around the corner and sat down. I gave myself my insulin, turning away from him, slightly self conscious. I didn't usually like people to watch me give shots in public. For the most part I always did it and I didn't care, but sometimes I wondered if diabetics had their own etiquette protocol to follow. When people stare at you, perplexed, it puts you on the spot. It makes you feel like you're doing something wrong, even though if they understood better, they'd know that there's nothing wrong with it at all. So I prefer to do it hidden, if I can.

The man does stare. I quickly put the pen away after giving myself the insulin.

"Does it ever get any easier?" He asked, his eyes knowing.

My head swam with all of the replies I could give him. I was surprised that he had asked. Yes, it does in a way, but only because I do it so often, No, I hate doing it just as much I did when I first started, or, It's complicated - I've adjusted but I can't bring myself to just "get used to it", as if mindless repetition is supposed to make having this disease any easier mentally or physically. 

I shook my head as I started straight at him, locking eyes.

"No. It never does."

I was thankful that he had asked, though. I didn't like attention when it came to my shots - but at the same time, it was refreshing to meet someone that even knew what an insulin pen was, that understood and didn't get bogged down in all of the preconceptions of Diabetes.

Granted, the man didn't know much about Diabetes, but he'd been familiarized with it through family members. We had a long conversation about the differences between Type 1 Diabetes and Type 2, and the different lifestyle adjustments that he could make to hopefully reduce his chances of ever having Type 2. He was frightened, because Type 2 ran in his family, but I tried my best to quell his fears. "Watch how much sugar you eat," I told him, which was the same thing I told to everyone. Sugar simply isn't good for you - Diabetes isn't its only bad side effect. "Watch your weight, be conscious of what you eat, and just take good care of yourself."

I also told him a little bit about how my life was like. My eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, actually happy to share my experiences with someone who was eager to listen. I told him about the perplexities of counting every carb I ate, the odd insulin dosage changes that your body could take from time to time, and how I was diagnosed. I told him all of the frustrating things people said to me, and how I hoped that someday there would be a cure.

It was a wonderful experience.

I was halfway through explaining reactive hypoglycemia to him when the man at the front desk told me my truck was ready. I stood up, eager to get back to the apartment to study. I smiled at the man. "It was great talking to you," I said to him.

And I meant it - it had been great. It's people like that that help me to get through the day, giving me a purpose and a chance to explain what I do.

So thankyou. Thankyou, random stranger, for making my day all the better. You'll never know just how much it means to me, but this post is for you.

Peanut Butter Fried Rice, Spicy Kelp... This Must Be the Wesleyan College Apartments!

My experience at Wesleyan this week has been so far nothing short of great. I love being back - I like the routine, the endless lists of things to do, the feeling of getting things done. I love living in the apartments with my two apartment-mates, Crystal and Dingxiu. Crystal is from Columbus, GA and Dingxiu is from China, studying at Wesleyan as an international student. Over the last few days I've become so comfortable with these group of girls. We hang out and cook dinner together, play card games or listen to music. We have long talks about faith, Dingxiu's experience in China, and the similarities Crystal and I both share.

Getting to know Dingxiu in particular has been a huge learning experience. I met Dingxiu last year, seeing her walking around campus occasionally, in the dining hall, or in Hightower, the Hall we both had dorms in. Crystal and I had decided in early April that we would both apply for the apartments together, having no one else to choose (most people had already picked their apartment-mates long in advance!) We wanted to pick at least one other person, though, because if you're going to be living with three of four girls for a year, it helps to know who. I was talking to Dingxiu one day in the dining hall, and happened to mention our dilemma.
"We are rooming in the apartments next year but haven't found anyone else to live with us yet! Would you like to live in the apartments with us, maybe?" I asked her, thinking of Dingxiu as an incredibly nice girl and feeling happy to extend an invitation to her. A few days later, Dingxiu agreed, and we turned in our paperwork. We were going to live in the apartments!

Last night Dingxiu cooked us a real Chinese Dinner. She made a yummy soup with chicken, ginger, onion, mushrooms, and several other ingredients. She also brought out packets of spicy kelp and sesame seeds to adorn our rice. Crystal and I attempted to fry rice in a strange recipe calling for... peanut butter.
"I've seen it done at a restaurant before,"
Crystal told me.
I stared at the jar skeptically - "Are you sure you don't just want to use Soy Sauce?" I asked.
About 20 intense minutes later of putting together ingredients so quickly it'd make a chem major sweat, we had fried rice. Crystal gave me the first taste.
"Do you think it needs more salt?"
Crystal added salt, and we tried again.
"This is delicious!" We both agreed. No lie, the peanut butter fried rice was one of the best fried rice meals I've ever had.

We got pillows and sat around the coffee table on the floor, because we didn't have a table, but we were all comfortable. Music was playing on the CD player, and Crystal got up to make tea. "Do you want any tea, Rita? (Dingxiu's english name). "No, I drink the soup!" She told us, and we laughed. How practical that was!

I enjoyed talking with the girls. Most of all, I loved the opportunity to hear about China from a girl that had lived their all her life. It was incredible.

"What kind of strange foods do you eat?"

"Cow tongue, monkey brains, jellyfish..."

"Is there a lot of pollution?"

"My father can't fish in the river at all anymore, because sometimes the fish just float to the water and die."

"Is American Chinese Food like real Chinese Food at all?"

"NO!"

While I fought back the growing burning sensation caused by the spicy kelp in my mouth, we kept the conversation going between us. Dingxiu told us she had never seen a dishwasher before, and thought that it was a strange American quirk for us to put dirty dishes in there... and leave them!
When I got out my Novolog to bolus for the rice, Dingxiu cried out, "Oh no! Are you okay?!"
I laughed a little, and tried to explain in as simple terms as I could how my body did not use sugar properly, which is why I had to take shots.

Dingxiu told us all about New Year in China, and the strange Chinese calendar in which dates change every year - even your birthday! We told her about our American traditions - Christmas and Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny.
"Americans live in storybook!" She laughed and told us.
"Some of us still do," I winked. (I do princess parties for a living).

The most incredible thing of all to me was, however, that Dingxiu had never seen a Bible or heard of Jesus Christ. It just really opened my eyes - here I am, raised Christian, in a way taking that fact for granted, and here is Dingxiu, living in our apartment because of a whim I had to ask the sweet Wesleyan student to live with us. Perhaps this was a chance for both Crystal and I to share to gospel, the good news of Christ. It was amazing that in today's day and age, with all our communication, that here was someone who didn't even know what Christianity was. That never really comes to your mind often, because as an American, I think we tend to assume that it's so easy for every kind of news to spread. And we take for granted the fact that we really can observe a religion freely and without persecution. And so Crystal gave Dingxiu a Bible, and advised her to start reading the gospel of John. I really hope that perhaps one day, we can all sit down and talk about the gospel together, and truly share the good news to someone without Christ.

I was so happy that Dingxiu was living with us, and happy that Crystal, who is quickly become one of my good friends, was there too.

What an exciting week this has turned out to be - and hopefully an even more exciting year!

51.

Junior Year!

Sunday the Wesleyan College move-in fiasco began for the second time.

Last year was a nightmare - it went kind of like this:

lowbloodsugar

lowbloodsugar

eat90gramsofcarbs

bloodsugarisstill30

lowbloodsugar

nighttimelowbloodsugar

morninglowbloodsugar

lowbloodsugar

for consecutive weeks straight, leaving me reeling and my newly-christened diabetic self (4/3/11) feeling helpless and unsure of what to do. 

This year left me thinking,

"Why didn't I take a lesson from last year?"

I have a ton of stuff. This year I live in the apartments - third floor landing - and enlisted the help of 3 boys (Josh, Josh's Brother, Josh's Best Friend) - to move the heavy stuff.

Even with the lighter stuff, though, the workout was substantial. 

Huffing and panting, we went to DQ to cool off and get some ice cream. I had a small cone and then had a few bites of Josh's Georgia Mud Fudge Blizzard - it was a lot of sweetness for me, and I bolused well for it, wanting to avoid a spike later. I felt fine, except later that night I felt hot and sweaty... the shakes began...

I tested my Blood Sugar. 

51.

So I ate a 30 gram-carb granola bar my apartment-mate, Crystal, gave me.

I carried on unpacking, feeling pretty okay.

As I started making my bed, I started feeling hot again. A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead. I groaned as I wiped the sweat away, knowing what was coming on. I tested again. 68. Still low? Seriously? I ate the other half of the granola bar (30 grams), as well as an additional 30-carbs worth of snacks before bed.

I went to sleep feeling assured that my blood sugar was nice and through the roofs.

I woke up at 7:30 that next morning, which was unusual considering I'd gone to sleep past 2. I curled my toes and crossed my feet luxuriously, taking in my new surroundings - although still messy, the apartment was coming together nicely, and I sure did love my new room better than the dorms!

I woke up and yawned a little. What to do? 

I padded out into the kitchen. Crystal was still asleep, and I should have been, but I had work to do! 

I started working again, cleaning and unpacking...

Soon I felt weak and shaky.

O.M.G., I thought, not again. You've got to be kidding me! 

I had vague flashbacks of my flashing 30's and 40's last year and the nightmare it was to understand the concept of a.) delayed hypoglycemia (work out (in this case, move in), and get low blood sugar up to 10 hours later - hence nighttime lows) and b.) reducing my insulin intake based on the level of my activities. I went through so many snacks during that time. 

I tested while sitting on the floor, and waited for the reading.

51.

... wasn't that my Blood Sugar last night?

I laughed a little, then took a shaky breath and got to business digging a snack out of my bag and eating 26 grams of carbs. That should do it. 

For lunch I was in a rush to get to my Physical Therapy Internship - 10 minutes to eat - I had salad and literally no time to bolus, so I ate and was off. I was starved after interning, and had a 12 g carb rice cake before rushing back to campus for my work study meeting. Since I couldn't test at lunch, I tested there - 200, okay, that meant 2 units of Novo ( - 80 should give me a BG of 120). 

Crystal and I went shopping for apartment supplies later, and we had oatmeal cream pies (28 carbs) for a snack, which was a perfect bolus - 4 units of Novo (each unit covers 7 carbs). So I should have been perfect, right?

We got home from shopping and I set down my purse. I had "hummingbird heartbeat" as I call it, as my heartbeats tend to become fast, tiny, spaced together beats when a low starts coming on, or has already hit and I'm just then becoming aware of it. I wondered vaguely if my sugars were low. Crystal found me later in my room laying on the rug, fanning myself. I knew I was low.

Crystal got out some pasta noodles and sauce, and proceeded to make dinner while I checked my BG again.

51.

UGH! Low once more! 

"It's a good thing you're making pasta!", I told Crystal.

I really couldn't wait until dinner was done, so I ate a slice of bread (11.5 carbs) while I waited, which would probably do the trick. When supper was ready, Crystal fixed us nice big bowls of pasta and sauce (about 60 g of carbs total). I hadn't had pasta since before I was Diabetic, if you can believe it. Crystal and I joked it was both a celebratory first apartment meal as well as a "first" pasta meal for me. What had my life come to? Living on the wild side meant... eating pasta???

Perhaps against what was my better judgement (or so my Diabetic mind thought), I didn't bolus for a carb of it. My sugars were going to be so high....

About 2 hours passed. It was late as it was - we had ate around 9, and now it was a bit past 11. 

And yet...

I still felt hot.

I still felt shaky.

There is NO freaking way this time. NO WAY! I just ate pasta! Not to mention I had done an UNHEARD OF thing for a Diabetic - I hadn't even bolused for the pasta. That was like Diabetic blasphemy, let me tell you.

The test confirmed my fears a moment later though - I was low.

But not just low - I was

51.

Again! I couldn't even believe it! What were the chances?

I ate a bag of popcorn then, hoping that would up my sugars for the night. 

Today my sugars finally stabilized, starting out low at a 59 but remaining in the mid-100's today. I've certainly made a mental note for NEXT YEAR to BRING LOTS OF SNACKS, EAT MANY CARBS and NOT USE SO MUCH INSULIN during move in. No way am I going through this again.

The plus side?

"At least this'll make a good blog post," I told Crystal that night. "I'll call it...

51."

Gone.

I went to a funeral for the second time in my life tonight.

The first funeral I went to was for my great uncle Ben. Tonight, I went to the funeral of Joshua's great uncle Larry.

I never got to know Larry very well - but I loved him in my own way. Larry lived right across the street from the Kuckuck's back when they lived in Macon. His house was beautiful - perfectly manicured lawn, a two-story house with a huge back porch that overlooked the fish pond, and Aunt Shirley's (sp?) wonderful sweet tea, which I used to drink like water back before I was Diabetic. I remember we used to walk across the street and Uncle Larry would be in his recliner, and greet me with a smile, a hug and a kiss. He'd call me Sweet Pea, or Pretty Thing, and I'd smile in return. Larry was a sweet part of my life, and although I didn't know him as well as I might have liked, my heart is full of sorrow to know that I will never see him as I walk inside his house again.

I didn't know what to expect. This wasn't the actual funeral, per se, but it was the viewing. I have never gone to a viewing before. My Grandma Ball had died long ago, when I was only a little girl in 5th grade, and had never before dealt with loss. I have been fortunate that Grandma Ball is the only loved one I have truly yet lost. I had decided not to go to her funeral - I wanted to remember my grandma as the woman who used to mail me cookies and china dolls. Not as a woman being buried. I do not regret the decision - I was, and am at peace with the fact that I love my grandma, and I miss her as I remember she was. One day I hope to meet her again.

But I am older now. Grown-ups go to funerals. I dressed nicely tonight, and we arrived at a fancy funeral home called The Cuppola. It used to be a place where parties were held, before it was a funeral home.
Family from all over Georgia - and from beyond - was there. There must have been hundreds of people there to pay their final respects to the renowned Larry Justice, whom I-475 is named for (Larry Justice Highway). I mingled by Joshua's side, talking with friends and family whom I hadn't seen in months, weeks or years.

It wasn't until we were about to leave for dinner that I wandered into a side room with lots of flowers. I peeked behind a guest and saw a pale white hand - this was the room where the casket was. I'd had no idea. I had never seen a dead body in real life before. I didn't know if I wanted to.

Seeing a dead body used to be something I feared - I worried that I would be scared, and have nightmares. I felt strangely at peace though, as I approached the casket and moved closer. I maintained my distance, but I was only about a foot, maybe two, away. Maybe it was because I had known Larry, that I remembered the warm feel of his hands, and the way his face glowed with a warm smile. I was not scared. But I was suddenly overcome with a sense of sadness. This wasn't Larry - this was only a shell of what he used to be. Larry was gone, I believe with our father in heaven, perhaps watching over me at that moment. And the fact that he appeared so gone made me want to burst into tears - he was gone, and he was never coming back. I couldn't believe it - never in my life had I seen such a complete and total absence of life.
People say the dead appear as if they are sleeping, but I believe they are wrong. He didn't look like he was sleeping. He looked...absent. He looked utterly, inevitably gone. I was overwhelmed. Like a whisper, life is gone, and when it is, on this Earth, nothing is left in its place.

I was awestruck by the realization of how fragile life really was. Our body is truly but a shell - our us, the real of essence of who we are, the thing that puts the sparkle in our eye and the rosiness in our cheeks, is truly something different, something separate, from our physical selves. When we see people alive and living, we perhaps take this for granted, but it's completely different when you see someone without their essence, without whatever it is that makes them alive. It is like seeing all your life in color and suddenly waking up to vision in black and white, or living your life without Diabetes and suddenly having to give shots at every meal. The difference is startling, so noticeable.

If I never truly believed it before tonight, I believe it now - this life is only a fraction of the existence that we are given. We are here for but a moment, and then suddenly, we are gone.

Larry Justice is gone on Earth, but I know that somewhere, Larry - the one we all know, that I know, and love - still lives elsewhere. I believe without a doubt in heaven, and I believe he is there. And one day, I'll be gone too - not today, and certainly not last April of 2011 - but one day, the day will come and I will meet him and my grandma again. I am not afraid.

Would You Like a Side of Guilt With That Candy Bar?

Guilt.

It's perhaps an unlikely thing that you would think Diabetes makes me feel - but it's the one thing I find myself feeling most.

Numbers that read higher than they should be, a slice of frosting-laden birthday cake, even going out to eat.
My numbers were great in Florida, but I am struggling a little while getting back in the swing of things in Georgia. My sugars are higher than I'd like from late night baking sessions, going out to eat, and entertaining at parties with little time to bolus or snack quickly in between. Would a pump make life easier? I don't know - I won't until I figure out what happens with insurance and where I'll be standing in regards to how I'll pay for insulin. Apply for Georgia Medicaid and hopefully make it in? I'll have to give up my Florida citizenship, but for insulin, it might be worth it - I hope to go to Grad School here anyways. Either way, until the issue gets solidified, on insulin shots I will stay.

I am frustrated sometimes, because my higher sugars have led to more shots throughout the day and you can see visible pinpricks and tiny traces of bruises. There's only so much skin you can find to inject into. I do not like feeling bad for eating anything but eggs in the morning, I do not enjoy worrying about what the bite of brownie batter will do to my BG, and I hate eating dinner with everyone but having to avoid most of it because I don't know the carb count. It sucks. I wish I was normal. I hate seeing my sugars high. I know it can get better, but the effort is hard. I don't want to control my food habits like a perfect angel. I want to have a bite here, a taste there, a chip here, maybe half a cookie whenever. I cannot. My sugars require constant maintenance and slacking for even just a bit always seems to send them soaring back up.

Hopefully my sugars will be more controlled once school starts back up. I'll be more active, and hopefully be eating more healthy. No unhealthy snacking for me - I'll have a carefully stocked kitchen and try to eat well in the dining hall.

I just wish it was by choice, and not by mixed feelings of guilt and obligation.

Blood Work Sucks!

My endocrinologist appointment last Tuesday went great. My A1C was 6.9%, even better than I had thought. I felt happy that so much of my hard work had paid off - Diabetes was hard work, and it felt good to know that despite the turning down unhealthy things, the 3 bruises currently on my body from insulin needles, and the worry about expenses, that my health was doing well. It was nice to see all of my old Doctors, too - they'd always been special to me, being my Doctors since I had first been diagnosed. Paula wrote up paperwork for blood work for me to get done, and I groaned as I took it from her, saying goodbye to everyone before leaving the office. I drove to Quest Labs down the street from Princeton in Winter Park, and walked inside the reception room as I had done back in December. I filled out the paperwork. "Have you been fasting?" The woman at the reception desk asked me. "I...well, no," I told her, stating that I hadn't been asked to fast last time. "Well, I'm just telling you, you have to fast for 10 hours before getting your blood tested. Most people fast overnight and come in the morning." Knowing I was in for an unpleasant experience, I left the office disappointed that I couldn't get my blood work done with right away.

The next morning I woke up, feeling unusually ravenous. My stomach was empty - I groaned inwardly as i remembered I had to go get my blood work done. I entertained daydreams of saving it for another day, of getting breakfast, but I wanted to get it over with, So I rolled out of bed, pulled my hair back and changed into a pair of sweatpants. Mom drove me to the Quest Labs in Apopka, which as chance would have it I saw while driving by yesterday had just recently opened. We found the office on the third story and walked inside the tiny room, and I handed the woman my license and Amerigroup insurance card - conscience of how soon the card would be useless, and how soon the woman would be asking for a debit card and not an insurance card. I sat down and waited until a kind looking woman called my name from the door. I gulped and followed her around the corner to a short hallway, and she had me sit in a chair. I showed her my usual vein, and she tied a band around my arm. I took a deep breath as she grabbed a needle, tubing and a few vials from the dresser to my side. "I hate this part," I told her in a shaky voice. I dealt with needles every day, yet pathetically enough, I still dreaded blood work. But this was my third time since having Diabetes that I'd gotten it done, and despite my reservations I knew I cold handle it. I closed my eyes and turned away, thinking of other things as best I could. I felt the pinch, and the needle was in. I felt slight discomfort, but it wasn't so bad.

The blood didn't come out of my arm easily, and the woman tilted my arm. I still looked away, not liking to look at it. The feeling that came upon me was sudden and swift. One moment I felt fine, and then I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "I don't... feel so good..." I told her, leaning back, giving anything to be away from there just now.

I shifted again. "Do you feel like you are going to pass out?" She asked me. "No, I feel like I'm going to throw up!" I told her frantically, starting to heave. I glanced towards the trash can, and she grabbed it, handing it to me to hold with my free hand. I heaved and heaved again, but my empty stomach allowed for nothing to throw up. I choked up bile and spit it out, leaning back and wiping my hair away from my face. I was drenched in sweat, my whole body shaking. My mom showed up in the hallway. "She's diabetic and they told her to fast," she told the woman. Another older lady strode in. "Just take the needle out, we have enough", she said, coming up to me. I didn't even notice the needle being removed. I just sat there, motionless, breathing in and out heavily. "Get her some juice, the one I have in the fridge". She told the other woman. "She's Diabetic, she needs sugar. Let's get some color back in her." "I'm sorry," I repeated over and over to whoever would listen. "It's alright, the younger woman said when she returned with a small container of juice. I thought you were just afraid because of the needle." I laughed. "No, I haven't eaten in hours." I drank the juice slowly, still feeling poorly. I was allowed to leave a few minutes later, feeling better, but drained, from my experience.

No matter how many times you've had it done, bloodwork sucks!

The Nighttime Low Strikes Back

Erica has been my best friend for years. We met in freshman year of High School, and were as opposite as two people could be at first glance. Blonde and quiet, shy and reserved, I came to school every Tuesday in my Smith Prep Polo, did my work, and went home. Erica had fiery red hair and a personality to match. Always the first one to speak up in class, Erica never said no to a chance to talk in front of the class, debate, or just in general share her views. She played football while I sat in the field at break, wore colorful scarves in her thick hair, and was surrounded by a group of close friends.

Erica completely intimidated me!

I consider our first official "meeting" to be the last day of class that school year. It was almost time to leave for the bowling party, and we were all talking about our summer plans. Erica brought up something anime-related and I burst out, "I love Anime!" I remember her smiling from across the room even if I don't remember the rest of the conversation anymore. More than anything, though, I remember Erica mentioning our Bible and World History Teacher Mr. Phillips' summer camp, VSO, that she and her close friends were going to for the second time this year. We didn't have much time to talk because we were all loading into the vans just then, but Erica sat with me on the way, stating something along the lines of, "I haven't talked to you yet, so I guess now's a good time to start!"

The rest is ancient history. Erica and I hit it off, I came out of my shell, we went to VSO together, I met Joshua, and we all lived happily ever after.

Fast forward 4 years - I am now in town and visiting for the summer. I find myself at Erica's Saturday evening, sighing after a long day of work and helping myself to some cucumbers and grilled portabello mushrooms. Erica and her mom are pulling more food out of the fridge for me as a substitute to tonight's meal of sausage and spaghetti. I haven't eaten much all day except eggs in the morning, a slice of pizza at a party, and then a hurried meal of popcorn and a popsicle (sugar free) at home before heading back to Erica's. I bolused for the popcorn and popsicle, just not for the pizza... I'd had NO time! My blood sugar was high - somewhere around the 290 range, so I bolused a correction and then debated a little while before bolusing a little more for the vegetables. I ended up staying up late with Erica - 2 am - and checked my blood sugar on a whim before bed, checking in at the 90's. A little low, and normally I wouldn't have gone to bed that low, but I figured it was late and the night would be over soon anyways. I'd be fine. I drifted off to sleep in my comfy bed, dreaming strange dreams and resting up before church in the morning.

I checked the phone and it was 5 AM, and I was wide awake. Every fiber and nerve in my body stood on edge, but that didn't transfer to my limbs - they felt like Jello as I mechanically slid out of bed. I was low, it was dark, my surroundings were unfamiliar to me and I was scared. I pushed open the door and stumbled down the hall to the kitchen, desperately trying to not make noise as I look for something to eat. But Erica's family was the most healthy I knew! My mind was fuddled and though I looked through the fridge, I saw only vegetables, cheeses and other healthy (but non-carby) things to eat. I stumbled to the pantry. Spices...teas...nothing useful to me now. I was getting desperate - my body was shaking, I felt as if I'd pass out right there on the floor if I didn't get carbs NOW. In a last attempt I looked to the island, found a big peach in the basket, and grabbed it, collapsing into a chair and eating the peach to soothe my shaking limbs and frazzled nerves. Finally I felt better, but the experience was not one I wanted to repeat... battling lows at night is hard, but especially when you're not in your usual surroundings.

My Pancreas Has a Bad Feeling About This...

Anyone who knows me well probably knows my view on the healthcare bill by now - I don't support it at all. I don't want anything to do with it. Yesterday was one of the saddest days in the history of our country because we just said goodbye to on the last true freedoms we really have - the right to purchase something without the government telling us we have to. Sure, the government can't force us to buy health insurance. But it can tax us if we don't. In fact, if the government can tax us for not purchasing health insurance, what does that mean when we go to buy a new car? Go to college? Buy a house? Will the government tax us if we don't buy a gas efficient car now, or tax us for not buying healthy foods it approves, or tax us for TV channels it doesn't like?

We are being penalized for exercising our freedom as a member of the free market to both buy and delcine to buy what we choose.

I find that I have a particularly high stake in the outcome of this bill due to my own medical condition, Type 1 Diabetes. The bill - perhaps was intended to truly help Americans - but of course, I doubt if even Congress knows if that's the case.

First of all, Florida has (naturally) opted out of the Medicaid expansion - which means that, you guessed it, Congress figures that on my mother's $12,000 a year income we'll all be able to pay for health insurance. Currently, health insurance for me is useless. I would be denied if I tried to sign up myself. My mother could sign me up for her healthcare (assuming she had it) but it means absolutely nothing Diabetes-related would be covered. At most, from the research I've done, private health insurance at this point would grant me 50 test strips each month, some insulin bottles but no syringes (so no more pens, and absolutely no pumps) or other supplies. Not to mention, anything at all that is wrong for me can be deemed "Diabetes related" making it difficult to get insurance companies to cover anything. My vision problems? (Myopia - which I've had since I was in 5th grade) - could be deemed Diabetes related. Liver problems? Kidney problems? Diabetes related.

So, I'm curious. Obama says that under his new Health Care Bill, people like me, with pre-existing conditions (which, mind you, I did nothing but exist to bring about), will not be barred from getting health insurance, nor will insurance companies be allowed to charge a higher rate for me. This sounds awesome. Except, I have some serious doubts. How am I going to pay for health care each month plus college? Come October, when I lose Medicaid anyways because I'm not pregnant, I do not have a child, and I'm not disabled enough for the Medicaid system, I won't have insurance or access to life saving drugs anyways. I planned on getting these drugs from Canada (Canadadrugs.com) for a much cheaper cost than buying my drugs from a local pharmacy. Test strips would have to be bought each month (about $120), and buying a box of 5 insulin pens every other month (each box lasts about 2 months) (Novolog and Lantus) would run about $300. In addition to that, I would need to buy lancets ($20) and syringes ($30), but I can make a box of each of those last several months (perhaps a bad practice, but I don't use new lancets and syringes every time I test or give myself a shot). Doctor's appointments every 3 months would run me about $70-$100 plus any blood work I need to get done, which I could get at least slightly cheaper by going to a separate blood testing lab other than one at the doctor's. So, adding this all together, this is my total projected cost for health care on my own after October per month: $337.50, or about $4,500 a year. Is this a large cost for a relatively low-income family? Yes. But health insurance costs more, and does less, under the current system.

But this is why I'm worried: the bill, in some aspects, may sounds good on paper, but gives me serious doubts as to whether it will truly help people like me. If insurance companies can't bar me from coverage, will they only cover bottles of insulin, eliminating the chances of me getting a pump or using pens now? Will they charge higher monthly premiums for everyone? Will quality and innovation in our health system see drastic setbacks, lowering the chances of anyone getting good health care? Am I going to have to pay high costs for health insurance each month and pay for all of the things they don't cover? And what about the large amount of money added onto our taxes each year to pay for this bill? I see taxes taken out of my paycheck - where will it stop? How is a country already in deficit going to pay for a bill of this size? How is it that "experts" say the bill will reduce the deficit over the years, but can give neither the math they used to get these numbers or offer any proof that this will occur other than "it's too early to tell if this will really reduce the deficit or not".

So, those are my concerns. If the bill actually does help people like me, and does what Congress claims it does, I'd be amongst the first to admit that my doubts were wrong. But the feeling in my pancreas tells me that perhaps my doubts aren't wrong, and in which case, people like Type 1 Diabetics aren't really going to be better off at all.

Summer Sugars

I've been really, really good this week.

Keeping my blood sugars good over the summer has been a challenge - (repetition from last year, anyone?) - and while they aren't at crazy high levels, they've been higher than I like. 180's. 200's, 242's... a few 300's in there thankfully not too often. (Thanks, Recees Puffs). I've always been really strict with my diet since getting Diabetes - I'm a big believer in early prevention. It's never to early for me to try and prevent complications. I was strict with my diet even before getting Diabetes, believing that what you put in your body truly does make a difference. And it does - my sugars attest to this. Sure, I might be the weird girl that eats salads and meats sans sugary, questionable sauces at college all of the time, but I know that the benefits of eating well are truly worth it. Plus, it really just feels good to put good things in your body. I lose my taste for greasy, carb-heavy foods and sweet desserts after I go without them for a while. It's just that all of the vacations, seeing friends and families, parties... have really done me in. It's difficult to eat well at parties, unfamiliar restaurants, fast food joints on the go and Princess parties where moms think it is nice to feed the princess!

It's hard to be a Diabetic in non-Diabetic surroundings sometimes - It's one of the hardest things about my disease. People around me eat whatever they want without thinking of it - ordering pizza or a quick stop at McDonalds is no big deal when your pancreas actually works.  It's hard for me, though, because not only do I have to count all of those carbs, after a while of eating badly my blood sugars tend to get harder to manage.  Plus there can be the added pressure of weird looks, or judgmental people who maybe don't know that I'm Diabetic or don't know what that entails - eating hamburgers without the patty at parties may come off as strange to some, as might leaving out the taco shell and making a taco salad instead. People look at my plate questioningly, wondering why my portion is half the size of their own, or why I always have to make a point to ask if the tea is sweet (then again I needn't ask in Georgia - of course it is!) It's not meant to be an insult to someone's cooking or something snooty on my part, it's just what I have to do.

So this week I strapped down, put on my big-girl Diabetic shoes and really started watching my levels. It helps that Joshua has started eating a low-carb diet this week, which has been helpful in encouraging me. It's not so bad when you're not the only one that strictly adheres to a carefully carb-counted diet. In fact, it helps quite a lot, actually - Joshua not eating high carb foods and getting on me for snacking or eating things bad for my blood sugar keeps me eating well and mindful of what I put in my body. Josh actually eats less carbs than me, so with me eating more carbs than him I almost feel like he's the Diabetic one instead of myself!

My hard work has paid off. My sugars haven't reached over 180 all week! It's only Tuesday, but I'm feeling hopeful. Lots of chicken, salad and eggs and no eating out have brought me some great results, and hopefully these good-behaving sugars will be a sign of a great A1C to come.

Not So Invisible After All

Last Wednesday was a big job at Turner Field for Delta Day. I was out in the hot sun (under a tent, but it was still hot and bright nonetheless) face painting baseballs and Yankees signs and Braves "A"'s. I packed a snack with me to last through the day, and an emergency low snack, and kept my meter in the shade in the cool. My Novolog was placed in front of me, clipped to my little plastic paintbrush cup. It looked like a pen, and everyone that came to get their faces painted said nothing about it. Of course not - nobody knew about my Diabetes here, or what the strange drug Novolog was, or that I had to take special care to watch my sugar all day today.

A woman who looked to be in her 20's sat down in front of me. It was her Birthday, she told me, and she was getting "Braves" painted on one cheek and "Happy Birthday" on the other. I set to work, dipping my brush in the water, then in the paint, letting my hands take over the repetitive motion of the same design I'd painted on 200 faces before hers.

She glanced to her right. "Are you Diabetic?" She asked, to my surprise. It took me a moment to catch what she had said - even I had forgotten the little pen, which sat to my left out of my line of sight. "Yes, I am," I replied, now glancing at the pen. "I thought so," she told me. "I'm a nurse. I know all about those kind of things," she winked at me.

I smiled a little. Sometimes, it's nice to feel that your invisible illness isn't so invisible after all.

And The Score Is... Diabetes: 1 Lacy: 0

The Kuckuck family (and friends) have a new adventure this Summer, and that is to keep Lucas Murphy, our visiting friend, entertained!

With that said, we took the opportunity this Tuesday to go hiking up in Jackson at Dauset Trails and High Falls. We headed out to High Falls first, packing all 6 of us into my truck (it was a tight fit). We blared Ke$ha and Mike Sparrow on the way, driving through back country roads that must have been hardly even a thought on the map. When we reached Dauset Trails, we were greeted by well-manicured lawns and beautiful forested acreage winding through tiny creeks, spacious ponds and colorful flower gardens. It was a beautiful sight! We found parking in the shade and walked over a covered bridge to the Guest Center, signed in, then went off to see the animals. I'd packed a few snacks just in case of a low for the trail - one of those cute little peach flavored Buddy Fruits that Kelle had gotten for me in Auburn (she'd raved about them and said I had to try one) and cereal. Except the cereal wasn't exactly a snack for a low, more of just a snack for enjoyment... I knew cereal was bad for my blood sugar, but they were Recees Puffs, and I'd always had a weakness for those! I munched on Recees Puffs as we walked past the animal cages, gazing at owls with big wide eyes, cougars, bears, racoons, bison and more. I gave some Recees Puffs to a couple of baby geese as a peace offering and got to pet them in exchange for the treat (much to the protests of the mother geese watching over them). I took this time to check my blood sugar under a shady picnic table, and frowned in dismay when I learned that my blood sugar was 403 - apparently, I'd been eating way more cereal then I'd thought. In rage I dialed in 6 units of Novolog (1 unit for ever 50 mg/dL I want to bring down). This turned out to be a mistake....

We walked around some more and then packed ourselves back into the car and drove onwards down little High Falls Road to High Falls. Once there, we all grabbed a water bottle and walked across the road to the trail head. I loved it here. Joshua and I had visited for Valentine's Day one year, and it had been one of my favorite dates. I've always had a fond spot for nature, and I loved the opportunity that living in Georgia gave me to hike through such beautiful landscapes. Rocky outcroppings, huge boulders and hiking trails shaded by thick canopies of green, all bordered by the rushing noise of the river right next to where we walked enveloped me in a serene state of mind. I felt as if I could go on walking forever.

We did walk for a long time. We climbed up rocks, took photos next to the waterfall (hence the name High Falls), and walked over wooden bridges. It felt like Summer camp 4 years ago, up in North Carolina where Joshua and I had met for the first time. This was bliss.

We stopped at a group of huge boulders, which everyone climbed up to take more photos. I planned on going up but stopped, noting my hummingbird heartbeat and clammy, shaking hands. I sighed and dropped to my knees, pulling my meter out of my bag, not panicking as I knew I still had my snack in my bag. I tested. 50.

Crap, I thought. I'd given myself too much insulin. "You should have asked me," Josh said. He was right - I should have. Josh doesn't have Diabetes but I sometimes asked him for advice on how much insulin I should give myself - his more logical side makes him a very good advice giver when it comes to what is and isn't a practical bolus. Sometimes I get so caught up in the numbers that I forgot to think, "Hey, I shouldn't give myself this much insulin because I'm about to go run a marathon." Hence where Joshua comes in. My ratio being 1u/50mgdL, I gave myself 6 units which would have been perfect under normal conditions. If I'd have asked Joshua, he could have stopped me and pointed out that we were hiking up hills and what might has well been similar to mountains. I should have given myself 5, probably 4. I would have walked off the rest of the high. But I had been mad at the 400 and just wanted it to go down. Stupid. I sat on a rock, feeling poorly now, and ate my Buddy Fruit (thanks Kelle - you saved my life!)  I rested for a bit before pressing on at full speed ahead, determined to show Diabetes that it didn't stop me or hold me back in anyway.

I could have (and wanted to) go further, but everyone else voted to turn around and Josh pointed out that if I got low it wouldn't be the most fun experience for him to have to carry me back. So we turned back and walked to the beginning of the trail head. I felt fine for most of the trip, but at the very end going up the wooden stairs I could hardly make it up. I flashbacked to all those years of gymnastics, where my muscles used to get so fatigued after constant conditioning that it felt as if I could hardly move them anymore. I felt like that now. It was hard to command my legs to move. We made it back to the car. The world was buzzing. I tested. 49. I was spinning. My breaths came out in shallow little gasps. My tongue felt heavy and thick and speaking was difficult. My heart raced, and I could hardly move my arms and legs. They felt like 200 lbs each. I sat in the car and we drove and stopped at a gas station. Joshua went in and got me snacks and an Italian Ice. I ate, but it took me a long time to feel better and work off the low. I was drenched in sweat, my back cold. We stopped for pizza in Barnesville on the way home, and finally made it back. My blood sugar was 310 now. I sighed. Could I ever win, or would my blood sugar always be a battle between one extreme or the other? It frustrated me. So much rested on my success or failure in managing my Diabetes - my future health wasn't something I wanted to play around with, but at times it seemed like Diabetes just liked to play around with me.

I hate the roller coaster that my blood sugar can be sometimes. It just plain sucks. I guess Diabetes had gotten the best of me this time. Next time, though, I'm determined to have the upper hand...

"I Need Some Sugar! Do You Have Any Sugar?"

It was an all-weekend trip for work to Columbus, where I had three jobs lined up on Friday and Saturday. I'd visited Ft. Benning (the site of my first job) and visited my friend Crystal from Wesleyan afterwards. I stayed the night with Crystal Friday, having a great time with her and her family, being treated to Teriyaki Salad, doing facials, and watching movies that we actually got from a real-life Blockbuster (they still exist!) In the morning, we slept in and then had a delicious breakfast before I got ready for work. All in all, I'd had a fantastic time. It was so nice to get to see someone from school over the summer. I actually did miss Wesleyan a lot more than I thought I would! I can't wait to start back in the fall.

After leaving Crystal's and on my way to my first Saturday job, Kelle, who lives in Auburn - only about 30 mins. away from Columbus - called. We'd talked about me going to visit her but had failed to really make any plans. I answered the phone. "Hey! Did you say you were coming today or tomorrow?" Kelle's familiar voice asked. I hadn't planned yet on coming either... but jumped at the opportunity! It wasn't everyday that I got to see my best friend, who had moved from Florida to a little town in North Carolina when we were in freshman year of High School. The last time I had seen Kelle was last year, during my infamous sleepover when I got diagnosed with Diabetes (mentioned here as one of my friends). I'd been laying in a heap on the floor back then, so it hadn't the most pleasant of goodbyes. Kelle and I made plans over the phone. "But, I won't be there until about 5 or 5:30," I told her. "That's about 4:30 here", she replied. I hadn't even known I'd be switching time zones! I thought it cool that I'd gain back an extra hour of my day.

I finished both of my parties, tired and exhausted but ready to go see Kelle. I plugged in her address into the GPS and set off through Columbus. I'd been through downtown once before but never realized how close I was to Alabama (it had been dark at the time). Now I crossed over a bridge with a beautiful view of the river below and was greeted by a sign that welcomed me to Phenix City, Alabama.

I drove on towards Highway 280 West, and stopped at a gas station to refill, change out of my Cinderella dress, and get a Diet Root Beer. Gas was $3.18, which seemed like a good deal to me. It was a while before I reached 85 and began to travel past Opelika and reach Auburn. Gas here was as low as $3.06! I felt robbed! I got off the exit, excited to reach my destination. I reached the correct apartments and gave Kelle a call to see where I should park. I found visitor parking and that's where my truck came to rest. I took a moment to test, having not had time to eat anything at all today in between my parties. 62, and I knew I'd fall fast if I didn't get anything to eat soon. But I got out of the car, grabbing my purse, and heard that oh-so familiar voice. "Did you get taller again?" My beautiful friend strode over, wearing a strapless dress and boots. I hugged her elatedly. "Everyone always says that, but I don't think so!" I told her. (It was true, everyone always did think I was taller when they hadn't seen me for a while, but my actual height had yet to prove this to be true).

We walked up a flight of stairs to the second-floor landing and entered her apartment. Kelle's fiance, Jeff, was there (I couldn't even remember the last time I'd seen Jeff, who had gone to school with me back in Freshman year at Smith Prep). Kelle, who lived in North Carolina at the time, had come down to visit me and I'd thought that Jeff would make good company for us as we hung out at the mall. Matchmaking win.

Jeff and his roommate went off to watch the UFC fight at Buffalo Wild Wings, so after I got some food from Kelle to stave off my low, Kelle and I decided to do some shopping for dinner at Publix. While it had been 5:30 when I had left for Auburn, it was about 5:20 now that I was actually here. Time traveling! We reached the Publix, which was decorated in the front entryway with Auburn paintings. I could tell that the town had a lot of team spirit! We browsed through all of the aisles, everyone stopping to say hello to Kelle, who worked there. We got some vegetables, meat, and decided on a yummy looking pair of steaks for $10, potatoes, and grilled zucchini and squash for dinner. We checked out and Kelle took me driving through Auburn to see the sights. It was gorgeous! Auburn was like a city. There was just so much of... everything! Tiger pawprints sat right in the middle of the road, painted in orange, and led us to campus. I saw the dorms, the huge stadium, and all of the beautiful brick architecture. With the exception that Auburn dwarfed my little school, the brick buildings made me reminisce of Wesleyan's own rich history and beautiful buildings.

We reached the apartments again and both took in as many groceries as we could hold so as to not have to make a second trip. We put things away, then took out all of the veggies and sliced them up, putting them on a frying pan to grill with seasoning. We put the potatoes on a low boil, and when we finished the vegetables went down to the pool to grill our steaks. It was chilly after the rain - much colder than I'd anticipated - and I huddled next to the grill fire for warmth. We made it back to the apartment, finished all of the other food, and sat down to eat on the sofa in front of Aladdin, which was playing on the TV. It was a delicious dinner, and I was ravenous. I didn't bolus a bit, and by the time I fell asleep that night, I felt fine but had forgotten to check my blood sugar before bed.

The next morning I woke up to mom calling me at 9:15 (eastern time). It was 8:15 here. I answered the phone groggily. "Mom, it's 8:15 here!" "Oh! Sorry," she told me. "I just wanted to call and make sure you made it all right. And tell Kelle to call her mom, she's worried about the shootings last night." Shootings? "I'll tell her," I told mom. "We're all fine. Love you. Bye!" Kelle rolled over. "Call your mom", I said. "Apparently there were two shootings here last night!" We sat in the bed, talking, after Jeff had filled us in from the other room about what had happened. Two football players and one other person had been shot and killed - quite close to the apartment complexes we were at, actually. It had made National News. Kelle and I continued to talk through the morning, but soon the familiar shaky feeling came over me and I pushed it away like a bad thought.

After a time it had become hard to ignore, though, and I sat up quickly. "I really need to check my blood sugar," I said, walking into the kitchen where my meter was. 10 seconds later, I had my result: a solemn 50 staring at me from the screen. "Do you have any sugar?" I yelled to Jeff and Kelle. "I really need some. Any that you have." Kelle looked at me confusedly. "Sugar?" She asked. Jeff came out into the kitchen, the same puzzled look on his face. "Umm..." He opened the pantry door and rummaged around for a moment. A few seconds later he emerged, holding a white bag in his hands. It was a bag of sugar! "You actually eat straight sugar?" I stared between him and Kelle for a second and laughed. "No! Of course not!" I laughed a second time. I was unused to being around people who didn't know my Diabetic habits. Jeff seemed relieved as he put the sugar back into the pantry. I went on to explain, "Saying "sugar" is just out of habit for me. I really just mean anything with carbs - just check the back of nutrition labels. Something over 15 grams of carbs is good for a low." Jeff ended up grabbing some Italian Ice out of the fridge for me - I took it back to Kelle's room and ate it. It was much more delicious than eating sugar! Soon enough, I felt much better.

We spent the whole day shopping at the boutiques in downtown Auburn. They were adorable! Handmade jewelry, designer dresses, local artists, and all of the Auburn paraphernalia you could possibly imagine... I was in love. The sights and smells were new and unique to me. Kelle and I sat in one shop for at least an hour, trying to decide which jewelry we liked the best. I finally decided on a pair of pretty blue feather earrings - I'd always wanted some - and some pretty blue and green earrings with gold dreamcatcher feathers hanging on the bottom.


It was fantastic! I had such a good time I could hardly believe it. It seemed like it had been ages since I had gone shopping with a friend. Not just to find stuff to buy, but to have an experience - bonding and just simply having girl time together with a childhood best friend. My heart was happy. It began pouring as we headed to a shopping center called Tiger Town to browse, so we made our way back through the downpour in the car carefully. We were starved! Kelle and I (Kelle cooked - mostly I sat and watched) browned some meat in a pan and cooked up a fajita salad. I felt like my friends were really treating me this weekend to low-carb meals! The salad was delicious. We sat and talked a while longer, and I had a cup of coffee before my long two-hour trip back to Forsyth. Kelle soon had to leave for work, and as she got ready in her Publix Uniform I did a quick run-through to make sure I had all of my stuff.

5:15 PM (central time). It was time to leave. We walked down to the parking lot, where our vehicles were parked next to each other. The sun had begun to come out. Gosh, I was bad at goodbyes. We stared at each other, two girls who had known each other for years. I hadn't seen Kelle in over a year, but in between the time that had elapsed from then and now, it felt like not a single thing had changed. Our lives had changed, but not us. We had so much history together that I began to believe that we'd probably always be best friends. We gave each other long hugs, and I smiled at Kelle. "See you soon," I said, shutting the door to the truck.








The time had passed too quickly, but the memories that the last weekend had given me would last a lifetime.

"You're Counting Calories? That's Not Allowed In Here!"

"I'm leaving in one hour, so if you're coming, be ready by then!" I told Joshua as we sat on the couch watching Lie To Me on Netflix. I had a princess party booking to attend in Alpharetta, Georgia, and thought it would be fun if Joshua tagged along and we went on an adventure afterwards. Atlanta has always intrigued me, but as much as I have passed it by on the weekends I have never stopped to explore, being intimidated at the thought of walking around the huge city alone. Josh got ready, and in an hour we were on the road.

Thanks to Josh's driving, we were almost an hour early, so we decided to get some lunch. I was from Orlando which, as most of you know, is not a small town. Josh was amazed by the sheer size and volume of businesses there. Every inch of the place seemed crawling with life - one street in Alpharetta had more restaurants than the entire city of Forysth, GA! We hadn't had Steak 'N Shake in a long time (I hadn't been there since my High School Days - oooh, so long ago, I know), so we decided on there. I grabbed my carb counting book out of the side door and brought it in with me. I was in a bright pink and green Barbie dress, so thought nothing of the book - if anyone would comment on anything, it'd be the dress! However... Josh opened the door for me. I walked inside the cool, familiar restaurant and began nonchalantly flipping through my book. A man stood behind the counter and it wasn't until a few seconds later that he and everyone seated at the front benches started laughing at me. "You're counting calories? Ha! That book isn't allowed here!" He started to ridicule me. My cheeks grew red and I could feel my ears growing warm. I snapped, "I'm not counting calories, I'm counting carbs because I'm diabetic." It was silly, but I was angry as I sat down, the crowd at the front quieting around me.

I finished my party as princess Barbie 2 hours later, Josh helping me to pack up. My customer handed us two big slices of cake (which neither of us planned on eating) and we drove off. Okay, I might have licked off some of the frosting... or all of it! Traffic was awful. It was nearly 4:30, and rush hour traffic was beginning to congest the highways. I was excited to get to Atlanta, but being stuck in traffic was a big pet peeve of mine. I hated the feeling of sitting in traffic, going nowhere! Josh and I blasted music and kept the AC on high. It was hot, and I wanted to cool down.

We finally made it. As the skyscrapers of Atlanta began to tower over us, we exited 75 and drove straight into downtown. And the traffic was...even more awful. We must have driven around for an hour before accidentally driving into a parking garage, in my big truck, with a 7 ft clearance. My truck must have been 6 3/4 ft tall! We laughed and laughed - and cringed - as we carefully eased ourselves out of the garage.After about 30 more minutes, finally, we celebrated on finding a place to park for $5!

Elated, we grabbed what we needed and locked up the truck, making sure to hide any valuables. Where to go first...?

Everything seemed new and exciting and interesting. Mid-town Atlanta was no New York City, but the city had always held an intrigue for me that nowhere else ever had. The feel of the city, the flow, the hustle and bustle of life and sheer volume of everything - how amazing! My senses came alive as I smelled good food, heard traffic and voices and music, and saw flashing lights, towering building, glimpses of gardens and sky, traffic everywhere - there was a spring to my step as I gripped Joshua's hand and we walked together wherever we wanted.

We stopped at a quiet Starbucks in an even more quiet office building. It was after hours - all the workmen had gone home by now - and we were one of the few customers in the store. Joshua ordered a Java Chip Frappe and I, watching my blood sugar, ordered a light mocha frappe - sans whipped cream, which was pretty difficult for me. When our frappes cam out I gave mine a try - it tasted good but definitely had a stronger soy taste to it than I remember in any of the normal frappes. Oh well.... at least I was healthy, right? I took out my insulin and bolused for the milkshake-coffee. I had to guess, seeing as carrying my book around Atlanta would have just added another thing to have to carry.

After Starbucks, we found ourselves in a beautiful neighborhood - the landscaping in front of the grand houses more impressive than most themeparks I had ever seen (of which there are several). We walked through a quiet park with a small pond, weaving our way through the trees and up a mulch hill before circling back towards the city again. We passed by churches, homeless men, and even went inside the towering Bank of America building. The lobby was closed, but the security guard allowed us in for a little while to look. We had walked over 15 blocks to get there!

It was beginning to get dark on the way back. It was past 8, and we didn't want to be stuck in the city at night. We walked the long way back from 2nd street to 14th street, passing crowds and the impressive Fox Theatre, filled with life as people rushed in for a show that night.

The world swam a little. I swallowed. "Can I have my meter? I want to check my blood sugar now," I told Joshua, staring at the sky, trying to steady myself and determine if I was low. "Right now?" Josh asked. "Isn't it a weird time to test?" "I think I'm low," I told him, continuing to walk. He held my meter and placed a test strip in so that all I had to do was prick my finger and draw blood. The task, once daunting, had become rudimentary, and I did it quickly, placing my finger on the strip for... goodness knows how many times it had been by now.

The meter read 53. I remembered I'd kept the same pack of gummies in my purse for at least a month now, and although crushed, I pulled them out now and scarfed them down, glad for them as we walked through the big city. It could be scary, being in a strange place and feeling low.

We made it back to the car. My feet were rubbed raw, and we could both feel blisters coming on. It felt as if we had spent the whole day walking through Disney!

We started the car and drove on through the city, wandering past old buildings, hotels and underground Atlanta as we made our way back to the Interstate. We stopped in McDonough on the trip back, the only one's in the restaraunt eating Zaxby's as the world began to wind down around us. I tested my blood sugar and bolused - all routine now- and then we started on the long trip home after we had finished our meals. My heart was full of happiness and my eyes all the more traveled for counting all of the new sights - not calories - that I had seen that afternoon. It had been a marvelous adventure. By the time we made it home, we had exhausted our energy - I slept well that night.

Florida Adventure

I've been in Florida one week now. I'm going up to Liveoak Thursday to see my grandparents for a brief visit, and then it's back up to Georgia! I've missed Georgia a lot, which surprises me quite a bit. The quiet country highway roads, winding through cotton fields and through groves of ancient oaks where old family graveyards, housing tombstones made of weathered rock, lie in the shade, full of their secrets. Tiny, two-stop sign towns with shady old gas stations, perhaps a diner and an aged vintage consignment shop. The towns all looking more or less the same but all with their own personality: A large, grand brick courthouse in the middle, a statue in the town square bearing some Civil War Hero of long ago, and downtown nestled all around it. The sleepy, slow-paced feel of the deep south that makes you think you are the only person in the world as you drive down seldom-traveled roads and highways you've never heard of. Those beautiful groves of pecan trees, little ponds dug into patches of green farmland. Atlanta's fast-paced flow, the feel of the city that envelops you as you find yourself traveling down I-75 through downtown, watching as the cars weave in and out 6-lane roads. It's terrifying, but you learn your way if you travel it enough.

Georgia is sleepy, and not the same as where I grew up. Shopping has become something you plan, a trip you look forward to, because there's not that many places close by. Eating out is only once in a while when the nearest nice restaurant is over 30 minutes away. People know who you are, in fact, it's all about who you are. Who you know matters.

The cold winters, the hot hot summers, the falls where the leaves turn gold and red and yellow and the sky is a cloudless blue, the spring where cold rains drench the landscape and bring multicolored flowers to life all around you.

It's different to me, and I've come to love Georgia.

It's been a fun trip, though. I enjoyed the break, seeing my family after so long, my mom and Dad who I never get to see as often as I'd like. It hasn't been about Diabetes this week, or stressing out about school, or worrying about work being slower than I'd like it to be. It's been about seeing old friends, traveling to all of my old favorite places, spending quality time with people. Sleeping in my old bed, in my old room, now painted a light, neutral green instead of the bright, vibrant shade of blue that I'd made mom promise not to paint over - I don't mind though. I've missed petting my cat and greeting her at the door, her soft fur rubbing against my ankle and hearing her purr by my head as she sleeps on my pillow with me at night. It's a comfortable fit for me here, full of nostalgia and my childhood and old memories. I'll miss it when I go.

Never Take Insulin For Granted

I felt numb, and cold and scared. As if my entire world was crumbling to pieces over my head. Any security I might have lulled myself into believing this past year felt obsolete, gone. None. Nothing. Zero. I am a college student, I am Type 1 Diabetic, and I do not have insurance.

The shock is like re-discovering I have Diabetes. I don't know what to expect, and it's scary. Any freedom of mind and carefree lifestyle seems obsolete. It's hard to not have the security of knowing how I'm getting insulin or test strips each month. What if I get sent to the hospital? I'll never get an insulin pump now, not until I graduate college in 4 years and hopefully get a job with health benefits.

I'm sad. I'm so upset at this disease. I feel so many emotions, but most of all just a strong sense of hopelessness and anger at what Diabetes has done to me. I know this is a terrible way to feel, and I shouldn't pity myself. But I'm just so angry. I'm in college! I should have this nice, carefree College life, but Diabetes took that away from me. I'm forever resigned to being DD, I can't dive into the chip bowl at parties, and my meter is practically attached at the hip wherever I go. Now I have to worry about paying for medical supplies and care. I hate the worry and stress that this disease has put me through. My life would be so much simpler without it....

I found out I am not getting Medicaid renewed this year. As soon as the end of this month, and certainly by my 19th birthday this year, I will have no means of getting care except for out of pocket. Endocrinologist visits, blood testing that cannot be afforded, insulin, test strips, lancets and syringes are expensive, now self-paid necessities.

I was angry at first. I do not understand how people can cheat the system, get welfare, get food stamps even when they do not need them... and yet I am hard working, and trying to make something of my life, but have no access to health care simply because I found out one day that I had this disease. It's a helpless feeling. I am still angry. I feel trapped in this nightmare, and robbed of my life. My life wasn't supposed to be like this! I shouldn't even have this disease! Diabetes has stolen my freedom. I do not have a normal life as I wish I could. But most of all I am just plain scared. Scared my parents and I won't be able to afford the care that I need to stay alive and healthy. Scared one day I will have to choose insulin over education. (Scared I can't afford college too.) Scared to be a burden on my mother and father.

This week I just feel the overwhelming need to cry and cry. How will things work out and be okay now?

Especially now, I will never take having insulin for granted...

Would You Prefer Treatment A.) Get Pricked By Needle, Or Treatment B.) Get Pricked By Needle

Summer is finally here, and I've spent the last week being happily lazy and carefree as can be. My dorm was packed, I said my farewells to Hightower 119, and bid goodbye to all of my friends until the Fall.

And I have more time to blog!


I think this Summer will be great. I'm spending a good amount of time in both Georgia and Florida, and I can't wait until I can see my friends again. It will be nice to sit out by the pool and get tan, and not be scoffed at for my perfectly-conservative-by-Floridian-terms short shorts.

There's also some business to get down to once I am in Florida again. I will be seeing my endocrinologist, and I'm considering asking her about the insulin pump for the first time ever. I have spent my entire Diabetes career anti-pump but now I feel like I might be ready to take a leap of faith. Or maybe it's because I'm sick of feeling pressured by everyone into getting one, and they tell me how great and easy it will apparently make my life. I just don't see it quite yet. Maybe I lack vision. But I am willing to at least give the pump a try. I don't know if it will change my life greatly, and I don't know if it will change my life for better or worse. I don't ever know if I am going to get the pump. But I suppose I owe it to myself to try the available options of treatment and, while the pump is not a CGM (what I really want), maybe it will improve my treatment.

Will the pump be annoying? What about at princess or clown parties? As a Florida girl, will it affect swimming? Will it be annoying to have something attached to me? Will it hurt? My mind swims with worries, but also with curiosity. Either way, I'm still getting pricked by needles. Which I still loathe ( I hate how I have little light red pinpricks visible all over my skin), but maybe I'll loathe one less than the other. I guess I won't know until I try.

Happy Sunday...In April...Absolutely Could Not Think Of A Title

To say it's been forever since I've posted anything is an understatement! Finals and the last few weeks of school have just managed to consume all my time completely. However, Monday is my last final, and then I'll be free for the summer! Can't wait! I'm done with the bulk of my studying now, though, have gleefully removed the dozens of sticky notes from my textbooks, and am in the process of packing up all of my belongings. It feels like a repeat from last year and I can't believe my "first" (third) year of college is nearly over.

My life has been so busy, especially these past 3.5 months, I feel I've scarcely had a chance to breathe. My life has been one perpetual study session, and when I wasn't studying, I felt guilty that I wasn't studying. That, or I was running my business, balancing phone calls with class lectures and driving up to Atlanta on the weekends to go be a princess.

Diabetes has kind of taken the backburner during this time. I think I've hardly had time to think about it! It hasn't really played a particularly large part in my life. It's easy to get caught up in the daily grind - wake up, test my Blood Sugar, go to the dining hall for breakfast. I keep my school ID in my meter case out of convenience. Have a snack before lunch, eat, snack in the afternoon, dinner, and snack before bed. That's a lot of snacks, so thank goodness the 100-calorie (and ironically more low-carb than the sugar free) Klondike bars are usually buy one get one free. I'm kind of happy to report that nothing major has happened. I've had relatively few lows, and with the exception of the 347 last night (yeah... there was baking involved) my sugars have been kept relatively under control.

It feels so different from a year ago, when everything was so new and different to me. I used to carry around my little green JDRF cooler with everything inside - carb counting book, glucagon emergency kit, an entire box of syringes, test strips, lancets, log books, the works. Now I just carry my little meter case with Novolog attached. I don't bring my carb book as often, because I can guess carbs very well on my own now. I remember my first attempt at bolusing based on carb counting - one big, epic disaster in which I ended up giving myself random shots every 15 minutes when I decided to scarf down another large chocolate chip cookie. Yep, I've come far since then. Simple and discreet, I live as normal a life as possible as long as I have those two powerful, lifesaving tools by my side... at all times. Freedom? Maybe not, I think a little sadly. But as close to it as I feel I will ever get.

It's been over a year now - April 3rd was my "Diabetes Anniversary". One year with Diabetes, and life has changed, but I've settled down. Sometimes, I wonder how Diabetes will play into my future. Will it affect how many kids I can have? Will I ever have to choose between affording insulin over something else that I need? Will I ever get health insurance? Will there ever be a cure?

Time flies. I'm a different person than who I was a year ago. More mature (?) (I like to think - or maybe I just feel that possessing a credit card finally gives me "adult" rights). It just makes me wondering, where will I be in another year? Two, when I graduate Wesleyan (changed my mind again - staying two more years. I promise, guys.) Three? Four to five, when I finish grad school? I don't know. It's easy at first glance to think you know where you're going with your future, but then crazy things happen like you get Diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.

So I don't know. But I won't think about it too hard now, or I'll drive myself crazy. For now, I'll settle with a brief summer to-do list:

- Read a book (textbooks don't count)
- Use Rosetta Stone
- Run. At least once.
- SWIM. I haven't been in a pool for AGES.
- Play Sims. (lol. Did I just write that?)
- Get a tan.
- Wash my car. (The last time I washed it, I was in Florida..................a year ago................)
- BLOG MORE! I PROMISE!

I'd say that's about it for now.
So, Happy Sunday all!

I guess I'll attach some narcissistic pictures since I don't take very many of those out of costume these days. :)

Comfort Food

The weekend was wonderful. It was my first weekend off, and I took full advantage of it. The first thing I did: sleep in. What a sweet, blessed word. I went shopping for prom dresses with Joshua's sister Marleigh and her cousin Kelsey, took photos, went on a date out to dinner and to see The Hunger Games with Joshua Kuckuck, laughed so hard I cried, stayed up talking with the girls until 4 AM Saturday, and had a picnic Sunday with Joshua.

But I forgot to do something over the weekend, which was to buy snacks. I happened to be all out, and I'd found myself digging up old candy bars back from Halloween to shove into my purse and backpack just in case I happened to be low.

It made me aware of my vulnerability, all of a sudden.
With my meter, insulin and a snack at hand, I feel confident and in control of my life. I can handle Diabetes - it can't beat me.
But take away just one of those things, and suddenly, surviving Diabetes becomes part of an unwelcome game - one where I never know what to expect.
I found myself slightly afraid. 
I've always been okay, but I've had close calls. Mid-Spanish class lows, or just yesterday, when Joshua and I went on a wonderful date to Indian Springs. We ate Subway, took pictures and had a great hike through the woods, and I figured I'd be fine, but was a little worried because I'd still forgotten that damn snack. I drove all the way back to Forsyth, but when we stepped into the house I felt a slight shake of hand and tested to find that I was at 44. We'd been in the middle of nowhere. What would have happened if we'd waited just a few minutes longer, stayed another hour, unknowing? The consequences could have been disastrous.

Today in Spanish we had out exam, and I still lacked my snack. I hoped, hoped, hoped I wouldn't be low during the Exam but knew that the time my Spanish Class was at was a trouble time for me. Surely enough, as soon as class began I felt the all-too familiar tingle, the shakiness, the weakness come over me. But I was petrified. No Professor would allow a student to just leave the class during a test. I was Diabetic, I argued. Maybe I had an exception. But I hadn't filed any paperwork or anything, hadn't been responsible enough to remember to bring a snack when I should have. It was my fault. Any change I had was in my room, so I'd have to beg for money or ask to go all the way back there, then back to the vending machine, to get a snack. I would interrupt everyone testing in the room. I might get failed on my exam if I chose to leave. I felt trapped, and so I pushed the low down to the bottom of my conscious, as far as it would go, and finished my test, although my concentration eluded me and my my mind was met with fuzziness where Spanish grammar and vocabulary was meant to be.

That afternoon, the first thing I did after class, work and volunteering was go to the store and buy some snacks. Popcorn and granola bars have never filled me with such comfort, security and a feeling of blanketed safety before. The term "comfort food' has taken on a whole new meaning.

Taking Off My Medical ID Bracelet

There is a heart-shaped bracelet that always rests on my left wrist. On the back inscribed in tiny letters, it reads:

Lacy Ball

DM Type 1

Insulin Dep

It is a sentence for me. I don't mind wearing it, it's necessary - but the bracelet is a reminder, a chain placed on me by a disease known as Diabetes Mellitus Type 1.

I know Diabetes on a much more personal basis than just a name, though. There is so much more to a disease than just the name that labels it. The symptoms, the heavy-hearted worry, the finances, the physical, emotional, and psychological effects of it.

The way it alters your life.

I take off my Medical ID bracelet and stare at my empty wrist. Small indents from where the bracelet had rested still marked the area, but it was the first time that I had taken it off for months.

I was surprised about the feelings that arose from staring at the blank skin where metal, turned warm from my skin, had adorned it but a moment ago. The absence brought back memories - memories that aren't even long ago but feel as if they are remnants of a past life.

When I woke up in the hospital bed at 2AM on April 3rd, 2011, I woke up into a life entirely changed from my own. My world had suddenly expanded to twice its normal capacity, and with it came a flurry of new emotions and struggles and experiences that I never, in all of my childhood dreams or plans made on the cusp of adulthood, thought I'd encounter. I remember thinking the only good thing about getting Diagnosed was that I no longer had to pee 3 times an hour.

Since then, never once have I really looked back on what my life had been like before my diagnosis with Type 1 Diabetes.

It was,

That was my life then -

- This is my life now.

I've been so busy trying to just adjust and learn how to cope with this illness, looking back is an entirely different and foreign experience to me.

It makes me sad, even now, to think about my old life - like the only thing it ever was, was a dream.

I'll always mourn what I lost. Diabetes has had time to sink in now - I don't pity myself, and I don't burst into tears anymore. I take things one day at a time and don't over think things. I don't think about my next shot 3 hours from now, or how much the lancet hurts when the calluses on my fingertips are too tough for a lighter needle setting. I don't think about the discomfort of blood testing, or the Lantus when it stings me, or the bruises the Novolog leaves behind.

But sometimes I get glimpses of daydreams, fragments of both what my life used to be and what I now can only wish it would one day be again. I think of how carefree life would be without my illness. I think, with a wave of immense sadness at this very moment, how I used to go into a restaurant and order whatever I wanted without thinking twice, or take a bite - or two - or three, what did it matter? - of chocolate cake. How did I ever take that for granted? Why, in all of my prayers, had I neglected to thank God for letting me so much as eat a meal, carefree and healthy?
I remember sunny Summer days with chocolate chip cookies dough ice cream, and late night snacks. I remember all-you-can-eat buffets, ice cold soda, Steak n Shake milkshakes, and happy, lighthearted family dinners that didn't consist of begging waiters to let me have vegetables as a substitute for rice and arguing about this entree or that having too many carbs. I miss being able to not worry about skipping a meal and never getting low. I miss being able to wash a car in the hot sun and not worry about the shaky, heart-pounding feeling sneaking up on me. I miss sleeping without fear of not waking up every night, not just some of them. I miss blemish-less skin and unpricked fingertips.

In short, I miss a lot of things. What an experience it would be to eat some meal, just one meal, without the presence of a glucose meter or insulin pen and the worry...!

Lost in daydreams, dreams, hopes, memories, feelings - time all but stopped and faded away in those few moments.

That's what it was like when I took off my Medical ID bracelet.

But of course, those were daydreams only.

I clasp the bracelet back on my wrist and go on with my day.