Diabetes? I'm Ok With That.

Nearly 4 years ago, I was a bitter, resentful and terrified 17 year old sitting in a sunny room with both of my parents sitting in the room beside me. The fact that both of my parents were in the same room together merits enough rarity in and of itself to indicate that this situation was one out of the ordinary. An orange and a syringe sat on the table, and a dietitian and an endocrinologist in the chairs across from us. "Will it be harder?" I asked the two of them. "To live life?"
All I could think about then was my dreams, the things I could achieve, my life going right out the window. Frustrated, I couldn't imagine life, difficult and busy as it was now, having to get compressed even more together to make room for an unwelcome autoimmune disease. These words I write about here often, and forever echo in my head:
"Diabetes will never stop you or limit you. Will it makes things harder? Yes. But you can still do anything."

And time dictates clarity. In truth, they lied. Diabetes does limit me. But you have to see that everyone in life does have some limits. We can't do everything we want to, all the time. We have commitments, school, job. And when I look at Diabetes in that respect - as something I have to balance with the rest of my life - well, suddenly the outlook is a lot better than if I see it as impending doom constantly hovering over me. It doesn't have to be a sentence. Is it something I have to carefully manage, day in and day out, the the same as I do for finances or eating healthy or planning study time? Yes. All day, every day, and sometimes, like some commitments, it has to take the forefront when I don't want it to. There are some things I can't do. I can't join the army, or fly a commercial plane or bus.
But that's alright, because I still maintain this: Diabetes may be a part of me, but it will never or stop or limit me. I have to work with it, and when I work with it because it is a part of me, my goals can work with it, too.

And from that respect, limited as it may seem at times, I can do anything. I am doing anything. I am living in a city greater than I ever imagined, with endless opportunities and fulfilling my dream of training for a profession, not just a job.

When I return to Atlanta after a trip away, especially at night, I gaze at the city lights with a quiet sense of pride, of belonging. I reflect on my future with excitement, not fear. I love the present now just as much as the fond memories of the past or the longing for my future.

Just 6 short months ago, I left my life behind in Macon to live in Atlanta. I still can't believe it's been so long. I feel that I belong here now. Life is hectic amidst an 8-5 schedule of classes, constant studying to stay afloat the flood of information, and working birthday parties on the weekend. Basic activities have to be budgeted for time-wise, such as doing laundry and going grocery shopping, but I have no shortage of friends or things to do. I feel as though the studying has purpose when it all comes together. When I can help patients in the clinic, or give some sort of education to someone, or actually start feeling the muscle fibers, tension and tightness underneath the skin when I'm palpating individuals.
I know places here. I know people! I have favourite restaraunts, favourite places to grab a drink and favourite areas of the park. I know the fastest way to school without hitting too much traffic, know that the creamer is always in the fridge off to the side in my favourite coffee store, and which Kroger to not go to. I go swing dancing on Mondays and it's the coolest thing I've ever started to learn to do. I'm still a pretty bad driver, but at least Atlanta traffic no longer fazes me the way I'm used to.
And it's all at my fingertips - Atlanta, this glittering city, this place of light and shadow, this city where no matter how well I know it or think I know it, it will always hold endless mysteries for me.

And it is the kind of adventure in life that I've always hoped for.
All my life, I feel I've been waiting to leave home and experience new things, be on my own, support myself and truly become the person I'm supposed to be. I feel blessed all the time that I have gotten the opportunity to do that, starting during my time at Wesleyan and leading up to now. School is harder than I ever could have imagined, but I wake up every day with a sense of purpose, of feeling capable, and proud to be able to work all those long tired night of studying, the hectic back and forth - what I have to show for myself are the things I have worked hard for, and despite it having its unglamorous side (and several espresso-fueled days) well, there's merit in that.

Ringing in this new year has been bittersweet for me. It's another year, just another holiday, but in my head I'm always trying to think of how I can do better, how I can improve, how I can manage my time better, speak to others better, get to know more people and do new things.

So. Here I am, 2 semesters in to PT school, never well rested enough, and completely exhilarated to be living the life I currently am. Busy but so happy with the things I spend my 24 hours a day on.

And I can't help but look back on that day so long ago now (almost 4 years!) when I sat in the office at my first endocrinologist appointment, scared and alone and frustrated and utterly angry. And how right it does turn out my endo and dietician were. Diabetes never limited me. I've had - and have, my bad days, and my long days, and days where I'm totally sweaty, exasperated and mad that Diabetes is interfering in my life. Matter of fact, as I write this I can feel a low coming on right now, and that feeling is as unsettling now as it has ever been.
But I've done it. I've achieved. I've overcome. And I'm doing it every day. And even though I live with this disease, it's taught me what I can overcome each and every day that I fight - not against it, as much as it feels like it so much of the time, but with it. Like it or not, Diabetes is a part of me, and while it doesn't limit me, while it isn't me, it will change me, and has changed me.

And for the first time in a long time, I'm starting to realize I'm ok with that.

Graffiti.

The Atlanta graffiti is some kind of gorgeous. As a child, I guess you're taught to see graffiti as a bad thing. Derelict. Run down. Crime. Disrespectful.

But in Atlanta, it's treated as anything but. Hell, the artists advertise underneath their graffiti - websites of artwork, photos of their graffiti all over the city, for the world to see. It's something to be proud of, and if I had that much talent with a spray can, I sure would be, too. Advertisements for events are given in places such as the Krog Street bridge. The way that Atlanta treats graffiti is some kind of wonderful, and different than anywhere else I've ever lived, and I'm right on board with it. 

Day by day driving through the city, I am stunned by gorgeous designs - cloud breathing dragons, foxes flying on the wind... even an entire rainbow tunnel that is one of the most lovely things I've yet seen. All graffiti.

Bad?

Sometimes, it just takes a little perspective to turn things around.

As I drove down Edgewood downtown last night, I stared at the graffiti and thought,

people are kind of like that.

Graffiti colours our lives. Our experiences, our heartbreak, our joy, our memories, our flashes of experience and hot and cold and beautiful sad lovely and wonderful things in between - are like splashes of graffiti, covering up the blank grey walls that life surrounds us in. 

People tell you to cover up graffiti, paint over it, but what if you did just the opposite? What if you embraced it?

You'd see a world that is beautiful from a whole new perspective, perhaps.

Unlike anything you'd ever seen, and not in a bad way.

My whole life is made up of those splashes of colour. My vibrant mistakes, my emotions, run ragged through life and love, loss and gain - my Diabetes, the pinpricks and bruises that cover this physical and finite body of mine. You think people judge you for your graffiti, but maybe actually, they can see just how beautiful it is, too. 

Because it is. Together, it makes art. Together, it is a beautiful display of colour, originality to the eyes. Something different than the ordinary, something special. It makes you like nothing else on Earth. We spend too much time trying to cover up our mistakes with regret and remorse, too much time worrying what others think. Maybe we shouldn't do that. Maybe we should let our experiences colour us, one by one, for the world, or you, or just a few, to see. 

And I, for one, am happy for my graffiti. I'm happy for the experiences that have shaped and changed my life, and I'm grateful for every day that I get to have new ones. Good or bad, just living life is such a blessing, such an opportunity to find new passion, to realize new things. To embrace yourself while constantly using your experiences to strive for even better is to love life. 

There is so, so much to love.

We all have graffiti. We can't avoid it, and if we try to erase it, there will only be more of it tomorrow. And maybe, if we all embraced it just a little bit more, we'd see ourselves for who we truly are. Past our mistakes, past our scars and pinpricks, past our hurt, our loss, our painful memories:

Beautiful, in our own way.

The Conclusion of That "Pesky Car-Accident Stuff" That Was Supposed to Be Taken Care of Ages Ago

My friends are incredible.
This week is our last week of break before PT school, and I have to say, it has been literally the most blissful, relaxing, busy, wonderful, worthwhile break I have had in a long time. I have had the opportunity to enjoy so many wonderful experiences, parties with friends, visits with families, worthwhile conversations, painting, and not nearly enough reading for my heart's content.
This week has been a beautiful blur of terrarium making, swing dancing, painting, Netflix binging, and experimental cooking, as well as finishing last minute errands before being "shut in" for school for the next few months. I have shamelessly stayed up until 3 a.m. all week and played Munchkins with my friends until the morning light. I have had enlightening conversations and gone on lovely walks and I never want it to end. Sadly it will, but at least now I feel like I am more prepared. It's going to be a rough semester, and hard, but I know what to expect now and I'll make it through, some how.

My friends Robert and Chelsea have been especially good to me this week. It feels like we have spent literally every waking moment together this week, tag teaming for group dinners (and Munchkin playing) and making fun of each other, taking blackmail pictures and singing old emo songs from High School. I literally love those two people to death. Tuesday I was baking banana bread for them and put in Splenda instead of sugar, trying to experiment with making more "healthy" banana bread. "Don't feel too bad for eating so much for it," I told them. "It's sugar free!"
"But it's not carb free," Robert commented. "That's correct," I said.
I felt super proud of him for saying that. Most people don't know the difference. I am delighted that my friends and I have gotten to know each other so well. I feel so blessed to be able to go through PT school with the two of them. God really knew what he was doing when he gave me friends like them.

Yesterday, I had to go run an errand in Macon that has, unfortunately, been plaguing me a long time.
Last year after my car accident, (read about it here if you haven't already), a very unfortunate turn of events left me with a $7000 hospital bill from my 2 hour stay there. After a year of unexpected bargaining, pleading and trying to apply for charity, as well as trying to get either Florida Medicaid or Geico to cover the costs, I was entirely unsuccessful. Geico told me that they wouldn't cover me because they don't offer Personal Injury Protection in Georgia (PIP), even though I was a FL resident with a Florida car at the time. FL Medicaid doesn't cover out of state costs. Robert and Chels had mentioned going to Macon to visit what we fondly call "the mothership", aka Mercer's home campus in Macon. Having attended Wesleyan for 3 years, I was well familiar with our "mothership". In other words, it was the reason why the Atlanta campus seems so scant and small to me! I asked them if they wanted to come with me to Macon on my errand to the hospital, and we could sightsee Macon in the meantime. Not the most amazing place to sightsee, but I thought it might be a fun day nonetheless. We agreed, and by 11 am we had all met up at my place and were set to go. We started off our trip by walking around my Alma Mater Wesleyan, and then went to lunch at my favourite restaraunt there, The Rookery, where we were attended to by a waiter whose mustache was totally curly and movie-quality.
Next up was Northside Colisum Hospital, where I approached the registration office and explained my situation as nicely as I could to the woman at the front desk. Trying to hide the upset in my voice over the bill, I was shortly called to the back by a nice woman, who I repeated my situation to. She was extremely friendly, but also, unfortunately, unable to help me. "The most I could do is 20% off if you pay in cash today," she said. That still left me with a bill over $5000, and I was desperate not to pay that much. The bill seemed obscene for how much time I had spent at the hospital, and I will still maintain that it was. I tried asking every other option I could. Tears poured down my face a little even though I kept talking, and she sympathetically handed me a tissue box. I blotted at my eyes. "It'll be alright, hun," she said. "I'm so sorry I can't do more, but it'll work out."
I thanked her and left, clutching a number for the billing office in my hand. "Try calling them," she told me. "They might be able to work with you."
I walked out of the office red eyed and sniffly. I shook my head at Rob and Chels defeatedly. They hugged me encouragingly and we walked out into the cold January air back to the car together. I knew it would be alright, but it was still frustrating. But this was yet another bump in the road, and as much as I hated it, things would have to be sorted out. This was part of being an adult, albeit the part that I totally hated. I called billing over the bluetooth in the car as we drove down Vineville towards Mercer.
After a frustrating ten minutes of putting in social security numbers and account numbers we finally had a man on the phone. I explained my situation, again. "Now, what are you able to do for me?" I asked him. "What can you offer me as far as discounts?"

"Well, we don't have any discounts available for you. I'll need to formally state this," he said. My heart sunk a little. "Ok," I said. He asked, "Can you pay the full balance of $6,866 today?" he asked. "No," I said. "What about two payments?" "No." "What about in three?" "No." "Four?" "No." "Five?" "... I'm a student, no."
I cut him off at 24 payments. "No, I can't make 24 payments of $286," I said. "What will you offer me if I pay the balance today?" I'd already told him the hospital had offered me 20% off and it wasn't enough. "What about a one-time offer of 15%?" He asked. ".... No. I'm looking for somewhere along the the lines of 40% off," I said. "I don't know if that's possible...." he said. "What about 20-" "No, I cut him off. "25%?" "30%", I said. "I might be able to do that..." he said. I pushed farther, as Robert egged me on from the front seat and Chels in the back. "What about 35% if I pay in full today?"
"If I pay in full, will you give me 40?%"
"We might be able to go 40%. I have to get approval from my supervisor."
"If I pay today, will you go 50%?" I bargained.I was worried I was pushing too far, but I was desperate. I didn't think I'd get my bill reduced to the $2000 I was going for, but at this point anything was better than $5000.
"No, I know he won't approve 50%", he said.
"Okay, 45. Give me 45% off and I will pay the full balance today. Ask your supervisor."
He did, and about 3 minutes later the man was back on the phone. "We have approved 45% off. Your new balance is $3866" dollars. That would hurt my bank account for sure, but I agreed to the total after consulting my mom on Chelsea's phone. If that's what it took to take care of it and keep the bill off my credit, so be it.
"Haggling at its finest," I remarked to Chels and Robert.

I paid the amount and requested a written statement mailed to me, and that was that. At least the last bill from the accident last year was over and I could finally go on with my life and leave the event in the past where it belongs. Now, if I could get the $400 endocrinologist bill that was supposed to be covered by Florida Medicaid, and is running into issues, off my back, that would be great.
This adulthood thing sucks, it's true. But I guess I've gotten better over the years, and if there is anything I've learned, it's that you can't fixate on the things that pop up in life to bother you. You have to be smart, push on, and take it all as it comes.
If this is adulthood, I don't really care for it - so much responsibility has fallen on my shoulders since starting college as a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed Wesleyanne so long ago and beginning my adventures in Georgia. I have learned so much though, and slowly but surely I have grown before my very eyes.

I have to pay for my past mistakes, but we learn and we get smarter. And I am learning everyday - learning, pushing on, and loving life for all of the good - and bad - that pops up along the way.

Meeting the very expensive "The Bear" statue at Mercer in Macon - we are perfect in a totally, perfectly retarded way. We also can't take proper pictures because Robert is like 14 feet tall and towers over us when he holds the camera.