tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13255395316089860432024-03-13T16:31:50.997-05:00Your Life Isn't Over ~ The Bloghow a woman diagnosed with diabetes in 2008 learned to get on with her life and enjoys living more every dayRebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-73272912584466884972016-10-16T13:09:00.000-05:002016-10-16T13:17:22.810-05:00Listening To My Body<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's been four weeks since I posted on this blog -- something you may or may not have noticed. To say I've been "busy" and even "overwhelmed" would be a fairly substantial understatement. Sometimes, life is like that. And I think I can reasonably assume that you (each and every one of you that read this) </span><i style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">have</i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> noticed </span><b style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>that</i></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I won't bore you with the gory details. Suffice it to say, they've been pretty gory. Emotionally, not physically, but gory nonetheless. Yet here I am, still standing (so far) and back for another round. Or another year. Or another dance around the floor of being useful. It's my mission.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the things I did while I was among the missing (as it were) was to see my endocrinologist for the first time in a year. I have a primary doctor who is very good at doctoring people with our condition. Which is a good thing because my endocrinologist has thousands of patients (trust me, you don't want to think about how many). But I like to touch base from time to time and so I had a bunch of blood work done, made a list of the supplements I take, and showed up at his door for our annual conversation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">He was pleased with my "numbers." My A1C was 6.7. Not great, but good. Some believe that being above 6 is acceptable and maybe even preferable for those over 70, such as myself. I'd like to be at 6.2, but with no more exercise than I'm getting (an hour 2 or 3 times per week), 6.7 is probably as good as it's gonna get.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My other numbers were good as well. My LDL ("bad" cholesterol) was up just a little because I've been eating more cheese since I quit eating meat. <b><i>And</i></b> I quit taking my statin drug, too. But more exercise and a little Red Yeast Rice will help with that. Especially since my HDL ("good" cholesterol) is through the roof. In any case, he didn't seem worried. In fact, <b><i>he</i></b> suggested replacing the statin drug with the Red Yeast Rice, since I'm otherwise doing very well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What pleased me even more than my numbers, though, was what he said to me as we were getting ready to part ways. "You listen to your body," he said, looking at me pointedly. "You pay attention to what your body is telling you. So I work with you."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, he gave me a number I can use to text him with any questions I have between our visits. And some samples of a new insulin and a new thyroid replacement drug he's favoring. And waved good-bye until next time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What's my point? If your doctor visits don't sound like this and you wish they did, maybe you should pick up a copy of my book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1476640519&sr=8-1&keywords=your+life+isn%27t+over+it+may+have+just+begun">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a>, and try what I've done to reach this point. It's just a suggestion. But it's working for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">_____________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Note: </b><i>Do not take or stop taking anything just because you read about it on this blog. I am not a medical professional of any kind. Only your own doctor can responsibly prescribe your treatment. If you doubt your doctor for any reason, shop around, but diabetes is nothing to play with. </i></span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-30760399003050411702016-09-18T19:47:00.002-05:002016-09-19T07:54:15.273-05:00It's Just Maintenance!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I once had a friend who became one of my heroes when she systematically dirtied all her dishes, cups and glasses, pots and pans, silverware and cooking utensils, took one look at the mess she had made, and then boxed it all up and lugged it to the curb. I would never do something like that myself, you understand. I can't afford it, for one thing. But I'd get tired of living with it all </span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>long </i></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">before I was through the process. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Still, it's the kind of thing we might dream of doing when we're tired of being "good."</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The thing is, from the time I was eleven until I moved out when I was eighteen, I washed every dirty dish in our house for a family of seven after every evening meal and every Sunday after church, when we often had company. I washed and my younger sister dried. That's upwards of 2,500 meals worth of dishes. We got good at it. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Little did I realize that it was preparing me for a lifetime of things you "have to" do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Washing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming the rugs, sweeping off the porch, taking out the garbage, cutting the grass, buying the groceries, cooking the meals, washing the car, checking the tires, doing the laundry. (Stop me when I've made my point because you know I've only just gotten started.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We all know you don't actually <b><i>have</i></b> to do any of this, right? If you can afford it, you can get somebody else to do at least some of it for you -- though certainly not all. And some people (as we can tell by looking around) simply don't bother with any of it. In which case, of course, they live in dirty sweat pants, they often run out of gas, and </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">critters show up in the weeds and the leftover food</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">. Which can be inconvenient, uncomfortable, and/or dangerous from time to time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So most of us have a whole list of things we do that we feel stuck with. It's not the end of the world. They just need to get done. And we're grown-ups, so we do them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I like food in my fridge, gas in my car, my bills paid, and my favorite jeans clean. And in the end, though I may sometimes feel crabby about "having to" do one thing or another, once I decide to do it, few tasks take a long, long time and all of them get finished at some point.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Managing my diabetes is no different. If I check my glucose, get my blood work done, see my doctor regularly, make exercise a habit, eat right, take my meds like I'm supposed to, drink plenty of water, get enough sleep, and have some fun once in a while, my body will take as good a care of me as I take of it. It's just maintenance!</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-68359489303283343492016-09-11T16:02:00.000-05:002016-09-11T16:23:28.019-05:00The Best Laid Plans...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some things can be planned and some resist you like a two-year-old full of birthday cake. And you can't always tell which are going to be which.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One thing that seems to be working pretty well for me right now is coming home after I shop at my favorite grocery store and remembering to do their online survey. I've mentioned this before because, while I have a few friends who are <b><i>so</i></b> much better off financially than I am that it really doesn't matter (within reason) <i>how</i> much they spend -- on groceries or anything else -- most of the people I know have to count their pennies more or less.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not sure when the store implemented the practice of offering a five-dollar coupon for filling out the survey. I mean, by the time I spend an hour reading labels at the end of a long day and go through the process of checking out, I'm pretty brain dead. So past the perfunctory "thank yous" I trade with the cashier, there's little real communication going on at that stage.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One evening, though, I heard a quickly delivered, "...and </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">if you take our survey online you can get a $5 coupon to use the next time you buy $40 worth of groceries." Though my brain had already shut down at that point, the idea intrigued me enough that I tagged it for later attention. And the following day, I went on the internet, completed the survey, and downloaded the coupon to my phone (so I didn't even have to print it out).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since it's insanely easy to spend forty dollars on groceries these days, when I reached the cashier on my next trip to the store, I had her scan my coupon and my bill was suddenly five dollars less. I liked it. Five dollars isn't a fortune, but it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. So I got to thinking...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I live by myself, so I don't do a lot of cooking in the old school sense. I eat "right." I eat fairly well. But I don't need recipes to get through the week, as a rule. So it occurred to me that I could probably make it a point to fill out a survey every time I come home from the grocery, spending just over forty dollars on each trip and, over time, I could save a respectable amount.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've been following my plan for about four months now, and if I keep up what I'm doing and they keep offering the coupons, I should save more than two hundred dollars over the next year! Not bad, huh?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's also worth noting that when I'm tallying my groceries on my cell phone calculator as I go along, trying to stay close to forty dollars, I tend not to make those "impulse" purchases that may not do either my purse strings or my blood glucose numbers any good. Which means I'm simultaneously saving my money and my health. Win-win!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, on Friday night, my best laid plans about another matter let me down. I had looked forward all week to going to an art exhibit where I expected to see a number of my friends. I knew that exhibits at that gallery typically involve hors d'oeuvres and treats. I took my insulin and then ate an early dinner of various salads (including pasta), deliberately not eating as many carbohydrate grams as I usually do so I could enjoy the tasties at the gallery without feeling guilty. I took a shower, did my hair and make-up, and went downtown only to discover as I started perusing the art pieces that there was no food. At all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My mind said, "Weeeell, maybe the pasta will be enough." And my body said, "You better get your two Werther's Original caramel-filled candies out of your purse and into your mouth. <i><b>Now</b></i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Friends wanting to tell me what felt like interminably long stories kept me in the gallery for thirty minutes, but after that, it was break-for-the-door time. And the only question was, am I going to go straight home or grab something quick before I drive?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since I had also planned to pick up some pico de gallo before I went home, I decided to treat myself to one scoop of Jamocha Almond Fudge ice cream in a cup at Baskin Robbins to lessen my disappointment at having my evening ruined after getting myself all gussied up for nothing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. We plan because we can. But people with diabetes learn to think fast on their feet and have more than one plan. Just in case.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">__________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Note: </b>Today marks my 52nd blog post on managing diabetes. It's been one year today since I started writing it. It doesn't have a lot of readers, but I've gotten used to doing it. Do you think I should keep it up or give it up?</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-54153322963405882062016-09-04T07:00:00.000-05:002016-09-04T12:55:13.815-05:00The Adventure Of Low Blood Sugar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Those of us who have diabetes may get a lot of finger-wagging from medical professionals, family members, and even friends about high blood sugar. And it's absolutely true that if we're not managing our condition, if we're eating more than we should, forgetting to take our medication, or eating the wrong things, our blood glucose will be high and our risk of developing complications -- like blindness or strokes or heart attacks or neuropathy (which can cause us to lose an arm or a leg) -- are greatly increased. So I take this really seriously and try very hard to keep my numbers down where they belong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But since 2008, when I was first diagnosed, I've had a number of adventures with <b><i>low</i></b> blood sugar, which can come on fast, is sometimes no fun to deal with, and can be dangerous itself. Low blood sugar can occur if we get busy and forget or don't take time to eat. It can occur if we accidentally take more medication (especially insulin) than we need. And it can occur if we exercise even moderately for a half hour or more. And those are just a few of the examples.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You would think that after eight years of diabetes management, I would never let this happen, but nobody's perfect and you can't always predict when it will happen either. Low blood sugar is considered anything below 70 and the lowest I've ever gone before I caught it was 39! (That time, I found myself standing in front of my kitchen cabinet eating with both hands as if I couldn't stop.) Low blood sugar is dangerous because you can go into a coma and die. So obviously, it's nothing to play with. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is why I carry a card in my wallet right in the front that says, "I am an insulin-dependent diabetic." And when I travel, I tend to wear the bracelet I bought to identify me the same way. I always -- <b><i>always!</i></b> -- carry two Werther's Originals caramel candies (the kind with the chewy center) in my insulin kit, two in my briefcase, and another two in my purse. That way, wherever I am and whatever I reach into first, I will find them right away. They have 5 grams of carbohydrate each, just like the glucose tablets we can buy at the store, but I think they taste better. Just make sure whatever you carry for this purpose dissolves quickly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What are the symptoms? Some people get a headache, but my low blood sugar usually shows up first as a tremor in my hands, which will get stronger if I don't get some juice, a piece of candy, or some food into my body immediately. I might feel sleepy or hungry or a little funny in my stomach. I might feel a prickly sensation in my scalp or a heat rush. And if it goes low enough, sweat starts to pour down my face. But sometimes, I've gone as low as 59 without feeling <i>anything</i>. So I take a glucose reading periodically just on general principle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because of this, some people with our condition like to use a continuous glucose monitor that sort of plugs into your abdomen and stays there, but so far, I do well enough without it not to want to go that direction.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What do I do if I suspect my glucose is low? First, I check it to be sure. Maybe that tremor or that little rush of warmth was caused by a cup of coffee. I may be tired from going to bed late the night before. Or maybe the air conditioning isn't running right. So I check my BG (blood glucose) to find out. But if it's low, I move quickly to make sure I don't "crash." Crashing can result in losing consciousness, taking a fall, or having an automobile accident -- any of which I want to avoid, of course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Moving quickly when you're out in public might mean eating a couple of candies or drinking 4 ounces of fruit juice or regular (not diet) soda. Once when I crashed on the way to eat dinner with a friend, I walked into the restaurant and when the waitress brought our menus, I said, "I'm diabetic and my blood sugar has crashed. I need you to bring me half a small glass of regular soda right this minute." Which she did and when she brought it, I ordered an appetizer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Restaurants can be tricky for those of us on insulin because, if you take your insulin and then the food doesn't come out to the table within ten to fifteen minutes, you can crash. So I tend to wait until my food arrives -- or is absolutely about to -- before I excuse myself and take my insulin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Once when I crashed while watching a movie, I ran out of the theater to the popcorn counter "rattling" so badly a customer about to be helped said, "Diabetes, huh? What can I do?" I asked the worker behind the counter for a Hagen Daz vanilla milk chocolate almond ice cream bar (with 21 grams of carb), thanked the man for helping me out, and returned to my movie where I enjoyed a treat like all the other movie goers. So a panicky situation turned into a happy one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Actor and comedian Jim Turner, who has successfully lived with diabetes for forty-six years, can be found at <a href="http://www.dlife.com/dlife_media/tv/jim_turner_index">dlife.com</a> (one of my favorite diabetes websites). Here, the Jim Turner Diabetes Theater presents their version of how low blood sugar can affect a diabetic person's day:</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AE-Hlw_4r1w?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>
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Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-10475510940786967472016-08-28T14:27:00.005-05:002016-08-28T14:36:11.793-05:00Denial Is Not A River In Egypt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week, I told you about an event where I sold ten books in thirty minutes -- a very unusual experience in my process to interest people in the book I published a year ago, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1472407900&sr=8-1&keywords=your+life+isn%27t+over+it+may+have+just+begun" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This week, my story is vastly different. I stood (or perched on a stool) for three hours while literally hundreds of people strolled by at a huge downtown event and sold...wait for it...none. I was just outside the door of a popular bookstore, had a snappy double poster on an easel to catch the attention of passers-by, and tried to make sure I wore an inviting smile. But no dice.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I <b><i>did</i></b> have one serious nibble from a woman who said her husband had been diagnosed "pre-diabetic" and that his glucose numbers have been going up and up, but he just swears that the doctor is wrong. She was obviously concerned and when she called him over, I did my best to beguile him into seeing that his life isn't over. But I could tell from the vaguely sour look on his face that he wasn't buying what I said and was certainly not buying the book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">She hustled him into the shop where the book could be purchased for me to sign, but when they left some time later, he slid out the door with his back resolutely toward me. And she threw me an apologetic glance over her shoulder as she followed him away. I'm sure the conversation between them about his condition has been going on for a while and will continue. But there was nothing I could do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mulling this over since that night, it occurs to me that this is particularly interesting when you consider how different our cultural (and personal) response is to the diagnosis of any type of cancer. The day hardly passes without someone I know or some friend of a friend or even someone famous going public with their diagnosis of cancer. Instead of keeping it a secret or slinking away into a closet, they take it on like a public challenge -- along with their family and often most of their friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few weeks ago, I saw a woman I don't know personally but have a lot of respect for professionally announce on Facebook that she was about to start chemo therapy to fight a condition of cancer. Her response? She'd gotten a snappy new almost bald haircut and paired it with a cosmetic and fashion make-over that would have done Vogue proud. The grin on her face and her many friends' encouraging comments accompanying the photos she posted painted a very different picture than the one most people diagnosed with diabetes present.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can't get my brain around why this difference exists other than to imagine that maybe it has to do with the speed the situation demands. A diagnosis of cancer is typically met with an immediate response and aggressive treatment. Some individuals refuse the treatment, but many (if not most) fight to the end like warriors with their family and friends fighting right along side them. There isn't much time to spare or play in the wheel. Using this approach, a good many are ultimately cured or at least blessed with years and years of additional quality life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, though, far too many of those who, like me, have received a diagnosis as diabetic seem determined to roll the dice and hope for the best, leaving loved ones heartbroken and helpless as they wait for the long slow physical and emotional degeneration to commence. What makes those with cancer stand up and fight while those with diabetes go into denial?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A person with diabetes has the real ability to affect the condition of their body and the quality of their life to ensure <i>more</i> days, <i>more</i> love, and <i>more</i> fun than most people will necessarily <i><b>ever</b></i> have. As I wrote in my book, I enjoy being alive and, to the extent that I have anything to do with it, I don't intend to give up living until I'm damned good and ready. How about you?</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-50253237213206100882016-08-21T07:00:00.000-05:002016-08-21T07:00:07.261-05:00This Time Next Year...?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This time last year, I had just brought out my book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1471728232&sr=8-1&keywords=your+life+isn%27t+over+it+may+have+just+begun">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a>, I had an official launch event scheduled for October (National Diabetes Awareness Month), and I was feeling my oats. Everyday, I did something to promote my new book -- handing out flyers, attending and speaking at health fairs, talking to medical professionals, giving away book after autographed book (that I was <i>paying</i> for) -- and I just <b><i>knew </i></b>I was going to help all kinds of people suffering with diabetes. After all, there are thirty million of us and an additional five thousand new cases diagnosed every day! How could I go wrong?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the weeks and then months went by, however, I slowly but surely realized that most folks that share my condition don't want to think about it and <i>certainly</i> won't pay to read about how they could (let alone need to) change how they are dealing with it -- or not. I shook my head sadly, admitting that I should have expected this disappointment, but the fact is that had I done so, I quite possibly wouldn't have written the book at all. It was a lot of work and cost me money to publish and distribute. And while I was proud of my accomplishment, I didn't have much to show for it.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I threw myself into another book and another year of teaching college and some other projects I was committed to. And I made sure I posted to this blog every week in an attempt to encourage, inspire, and form a community dialogue if I could. But this is my 49th post and I have yet to earn even one comment, though I know there are a few readers out there starting to pay attention. And believe you me, I appreciate you more than you can know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In any case, I got invited to speak about managing diabetes at a Kiwanis club lunch on Tuesday. And despite the floods we're dealing with right now where I live, there were about thirty-five or so in attendance. The man that introduced me did such a bang-up job of it, I wasn't sure I had anything left to say, but when my talk drew to a close, I was bombarded and, almost before I knew it, I had sold ten books.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What made it so remarkable to me was that the response I got from those who bought it was exactly what I was hoping for when I wrote the book last year. They told me they were struggling with some specific aspect of their management program. Or they were arm-wrestling depression. Or they were trying to avoid going from "pre-diabetic" to "diabetic." Or they had hit a weight plateau they wanted to break through. But they were <b><i>talking</i></b> about it. They were admitting their concerns and reaching out for help. That's been part of my journey, too. I didn't get here by myself. And I am far, far from being a guru. I still need input often.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The point I hope I'm making is that I most definitely did not know when I went to that luncheon how it was going to go. Given the way this last year has unfolded, I could have walked away from the whole process by now. There are only so many hours in the day, after all. But people who have read the book have told me it was helpful. In fact, several have written little reviews on Amazon.com about it. So I kept on keepin' on (as we used to say back in the day). Doing the next right thing. Keeping up my commitment to the effort I had already expended, if nothing else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm a grown up. I know full well that last Tuesday may be only day I ever get that kind of an energy boost with my mini-manual on managing diabetes. But as I write this today, I'm remembering the faces of those who rushed up to buy my book to read. They weren't looking for pixie dust. They were looking for hope. And aren't we all?</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-13671975528167273702016-08-14T07:00:00.000-05:002016-08-14T12:38:13.260-05:00It's The Little Things That Count<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was first diagnosed with diabetes in 2008, I was 5 foot 6 inches tall and weighed 168 pounds. I was put on oral medications. I started counting carbohydrate grams like my life depended on it (because I was convinced that it did). I started hitting the gym regularly. And six months later, I weighed 118. The weight had just melted off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nobody was more surprised than me. I went from a size 14 to a size 2. I was rocking long form-fitting sweaters and skinny jeans. And I was <b><i>almost</i> </b>glad I was diabetic. But the diabetic nurse educators took one look at my tiny body and told me I was borderline underweight, not good at my age. And I stayed that way for five years.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, in 2013, an endocrinologist switched my diagnosis from Type 2 to Type 1.5 (called Latent Autoimmune Diabetes in Adults or LADA for short) and I walked out of his office on insulin. My first reaction was panic, which is not uncommon. It's a lot to figure out right at first. And by the time I got my insulin dosage right, I was up eleven pounds and out of all my clothes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rather than going into overdrive to lose the weight again, though, I hit Goodwill for some new duds, took a look in the mirror and decided I liked what I saw. In fact, I liked it so much I let myself gain some more until -- at 138 -- I was in a size 6/8. Still small. Still in my appropriate Body Mass Index range. But looking "healthier" and a little fuller in the face (not a bad thing at 70).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The thing is: insulin gives you </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">some play in the wheel. Once you get your brain around using it, the insulin -- which is a bit of a bother and admittedly less than fun -- gives you the ability to control your glucose in a new way. But <b><i>that</i></b> can encourage you to take eating risks, ultimately making your weight creep up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The other day, I noticed my jeans were a little tight. So I got on my scale, and -- sure enough -- I had packed on five new pounds. I was <i>not</i> thrilled. I can't afford different clothes right now (even at Goodwill). And that five pounds put me dangerously close to the top edge of my BMI range.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I stepped up my physical activity commitment. I pinched back the size of the portions on my plate. I brought home some celery to snack on with peanut butter or cheese. And I marched past the items at the grocery that I knew weren't doing me any good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">They bake a coconut pecan cookie at my favorite grocery store, for example, and I had developed an affection for having one with my coffee after the big salad I often eat for lunch. I've now replaced it with three ginger snaps (at 4 grams of carb each and a tasty, satisfying crunch).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another practice I've embraced since becoming diabetic is eating a Greek yogurt at bedtime to keep myself from crashing during the night. But, if I ate my dinner a little later than usual or didn't work out that day, I may not need it. So I make sure to check my glucose now before eating the yogurt and sometimes discover I should leave it in the fridge. In other words, that one little</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> habit can not only affect my glucose, it can affect my weight. Not good for my waistline. Not good for my heart. Not good for my emotional well-being.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because I watch what I eat pretty carefully and I stay active, there aren't a lot of ways I can cut down my food intake and still get the nutrients I need. But instead of this being a problem, it actually makes it easier to know exactly what to do when the scale gives me a heads-up. In life, little things can make a big, big difference. When I follow through, that is.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-52420619084068457932016-08-07T10:34:00.000-05:002016-08-07T17:12:44.452-05:00Learning To Self-Parent For Fun And Profit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I readily admit that my orientation to family (unfortunately, perhaps) is less than warm and fuzzy. I realize I wouldn't even be here if my father and mother hadn't...well...you know. And I'm glad they did, of course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But my father was a pedophile and my mother was psychotic, so my childhood was right up there with <i>"Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?"</i> on steroids. I don't even like to imagine what happened to my two younger brothers and two younger sisters after I ran for my life at eighteen. It has taken me seven decades to reach a point where I'm not dragging the wreckage of my past around behind me like a dirty blanket -- often for all the world to see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">At some point in my adulthood, however, I came across a book that I found helpful in processing my "issues" and some of its ideas have remained useful over time. It was a book on "self-parenting."</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't think I really understood when I first read the book the extent to which my parents' problems had undermined my ability to live as a functional and happy adult myself. So I limped through my life -- mentally, emotionally, and physically -- not knowing what was missing and not knowing what to do about it. But all these years later, the ultimate take-away from the book for me has been the term "self-parenting" because that's a process that still continues, a process included in what some would call part of the broader area of "self care."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It appears to me that many of us in the U.S. were born into a culture where we are expected to take orders without question. We're told that this protects us from our innocence, our lack of knowledge, and the likelihood of our poor decision-making. The initial premise for most parents seems to be that, if doing "the right thing" can become a habit, their children will never go wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But life is much more complicated that that. And part of the complication is that the parents that ran our lives for so long were not necessarily correct in their reasoning. They meant to be (we hope). Or at least they did the best they could (we assume). But the world we live in is a demonstration of the end result of a culture on autopilot. A culture unquestioned by the bulk of the population. And a population made up of people who were not taught to think for and take care of themselves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, many of us were raised to take orders no matter what and to expect (and take) our punishment if caught not doing so. This did <i><b>not</b></i> stop us from crossing the line. It taught us how to lie -- to others and to ourselves -- to get away with it. Which brings us to the part about managing diabetes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If we never learned how to do what's in our own best interests because we're <b><i>worth</i></b> it, managing our diabetic condition can help us develop that skill. If we never learned how to ask the right questions to better understand what we're really dealing with in a situation, if we never learned how to say "no" to an impulse without somebody present every second to police our choices, if we were taught to make decisions <b><i>only </i></b>in response to the threat of eminent punishment, we are acting like a dysfunctional child -- and calling it "independence." Socrates said, "An unexamined life is not worth living."</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-46163762048643912792016-08-01T14:03:00.001-05:002016-08-01T15:13:49.715-05:00"Yes, Doctor..."<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I declare inside the front cover of my book, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1470057028&sr=8-1&keywords=your+life+isn%27t+over+it+may+have+just+begun" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">, that I am </span><b style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>not</i></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> a medical professional. I can't diagnose or treat illness (my own or anybody else's). And furthermore, each body is different, so what works for me may not work for you. Having said that, however, there are some things I've learned about managing diabetes -- and health in general -- that are valuable information. Playing an active role in your health care process is one of them.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I first realized this soon after I was diagnosed diabetic in 2007. I called my Diabetic Educator's office with a question I considered life-threatening (though I admit that, at that point, I considered </span><b style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>all</i></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> my questions life-threatening), only to find that the nurse educator I was used to wasn't in. Convinced I couldn't wait for an answer, I reluctantly queried the educator who answered the phone. But it was one of those questions that doesn't have an easy answer. "Well, then," I said in a panic, "How am I supposed to know what to do?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"<i>You'll </i>figure it out," she said brightly. And I lost my grip completely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"You people tell me I have a condition that can <i>kill</i> me" I bellowed over the phone, "and then you tell me <i>I</i> have to figure out how to stay <i>alive</i>. What if I <b><i>die </i></b>before I figure it out?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Needless to say, this was not a good moment for either of us. That I eventually dedicated my book to this woman, however, gives testimony to the fact that she was 100% correct. I did, over time, figure out a lot of things about how to manage my diabetic condition. But I had to do the figuring. I had to learn to pay attention to my body. I had to learn how to make a plan, follow it, and modify as necessary. Right at first, that's more than a little scary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Through the years, I figured out how my medication interacted with the food I was eating. I figured out how much metformin I could take before I careened into full-tilt and continual diarrhea (which I lived with for months before I thought to mention it to the doctor). I figured out which kinds of exercise work best to maintain my weight and my glucose level. I figured out how to read and compare my lab work numbers so I know when there's a problem that hasn't been noticed by the professionals yet. And on and on it goes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A great example of how intense the situation can get occurred when I was first put on insulin. My endocrinologist is brilliant, but he had no idea how my particular body, my activity level, my food intake, etc., would interface with the insulin, so he prescribed a certain amount of two different insulins (one slow-acting and one fast-acting) and left me on a little metformin just for good measure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A week later, I had gained eleven pounds because I was eating all day long to prevent my passing out from a low glucose level. A phone call to the endocrinologist's office told me that this was one of those "figuring out" type situations. So I listened to what they had to say, got them to drop the metformin altogether, read up on insulin, seriously upped the number of times I checked my glucose, and kept a detailed insulin/carb grams/glucose/exercise log until I could help my body stabilize. By that stage of my development, this kind of process didn't scare me anymore. I mean, I was taking baby steps and monitoring the results. And it's <i>my</i> body...right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This doesn't mean I make it all up as I go along. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I eat carefully, exercise often, and get plenty of sleep. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I test my glucose 5 to 8 times a day. I have regular blood work done and read my lab results carefully, going through them with my doctor to ask any questions I might have about what they mean. I check my weight daily to catch it quickly if it starts to rise. I read the side effects list for any medications I'm prescribed so I will recognize them because -- to the extent possible -- I want to avoid taking medications that cause me problems. (For example, eating smart and getting regular exercise helps me to avoid the need for cholesterol medication that makes my hands shake.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I write down a list of questions when I go to see my doctor and I make sure we talk about every one. More to the point, I learn everything I can about managing diabetes so I can knowledgeably discuss topics with my doctor before we decide <b><i>together </i></b>what is best for me and my body.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My most recent health care triumph was when I realized that my thyroid replacement hormone was not the right dose. I was having symptoms of hypothyroidism (inordinate fatigue, sensitivity to cold, depression, fuzzy thinking), but I thought "age" or "overwork" or the air conditioning at work were causing the symptoms. It wasn't until I compared my hormone level from <i>before </i>my surgery to my hormone level 18 months <i>afterward</i>, that I identified the problem and contacted my doctor, who changed my thyroid medication dosage immediately. Two weeks later, I'm almost back to my usual robust self (after a <b><i>year</i></b> of needless suffering!).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Obviously, none of this would work if I wasn't fully engaged with managing my health needs. But because I know my stuff and I make it a practice to do what's best for me and my body, my primary physician respects my input. I want to live the best quality life possible and he knows it. So he listens to me. And I listen to him. We're partners in this adventure. And when I stay healthy, everybody wins.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-2304528275746103032016-07-24T15:27:00.000-05:002016-07-24T15:31:57.373-05:00Pushing Through<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Few of us will ever run a marathon. Several years ago, I won a 5K run for women in my age range (coming within a hair's breadth of beating the first place male) and I'm still bragging about it. I haven't run competitively since because there's nowhere to go from there but down. And I get older every day that I stay alive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My point is that running 27 miles is more than most of us are up to, especially as we age. People do it, but it takes a lot of training. It takes a lot of commitment of both time and energy. And it takes the willingness to push through the wall you hit when your body say "no." From what I understand, it's that last factor that really makes the difference. And that's the topic of today's post.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most of us would reject out of hand the suggestion that we could push through such a wall. But the reality is that we've all done it in one way or the other many times in our lives -- some of us daily -- yet we don't give ourselves credit for it and don't recognize our own strength.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not to bring you down, but since my life is the only one I'm completely familiar with, I'm going to list a few examples of occasions when just getting out of bed took a lot for me. There was the time some of my high school "friends" played a cruel and humiliating "joke" on me, the time I went without food for five days because somebody stole my grocery money and I was too ashamed to admit it, and the time I got drugged and raped by two men I met in a club in Palm Beach. There have been jobs I lost and jobs I didn't get (when I <b><i>really</i></b> believed I should have). There was the little matter of my being pushed out of grad school in the middle of my dissertation after working for five years toward a PhD. And there was the day I got the phone call that my 22-year-old son was dead.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Are you shocked yet? These things happen to people. Not to mention car wrecks and medical problems you weren't prepared to pay for, relationships that ended and relationships that should have but didn't, and children you didn't expect (sometimes bringing their own problems over which you have no control). Life is just full to the brim with challenges. They come to all of us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you take a walk down your own memory lane, I'm sure you'll come up with a number of situations you're still unclear about how you pushed through. But you did. And that's my point.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Managing diabetes and all it may require -- losing weight and keeping it off, exercising when you're not in the mood, developing coping skills that will keep you moving until you get out of the dumps we all wind up in sometimes, and all the other nine million details that get added to your life the day you get the news of your diagnosis -- some days you feel on top of the world (more or less) and some days you just gotta push through it. But we <i>have </i>and we <i><b>can</b></i>. Remembering that can help us to do it.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-76140554721084267302016-07-18T14:39:00.002-05:002016-07-18T14:55:35.772-05:00More Good Stuff I've Learned From Managing Diabetes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you're one of my regular readers, you know that I often write about ways my diabetic condition has actually helped me. It got me down to a healthier (and cuter) weight. It kind of semi-forces me to exercise, which I would definitely </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">not</i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> do if I wasn't diabetic. And it has introduced me to some delicious foods I probably would never have even tried if I was still gorging on fried everything and washing it all down with big gulps of sweet tea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But there are more subtle ways learning how to manage diabetes has served me well and today's post is going to feature a couple of them.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For starters, managing diabetes has taught me to problem-solve issues. It used to be that if something problematic came up, I either immediately assumed the worst possible scenario or ignored it completely. Neither choice was helpful and sometimes they made things worse. Now that I have learned to pause, throw fear out the window, keep an open mind, and follow through with a possibility, I've discovered that almost anything has a solution.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A recent example that comes to mind is that I've been suffering this summer with allergies. Runny, stuffy, itchy nose. Sneezing. Pressure behind the eyes. The usual. And I was going crazy, but didn't want to take medications because I'm very sensitive to meds and I already know that the ones for allergies make me drowzy, but keep me awake.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I kept blaming my troubles on Louisiana greenery and thought there was nothing I could do, becoming more frustrated and miserable by the day. Then, sitting in a waiting room on Friday, I read a little article about dust mites and bedding. When I got a chance over the weekend, I bought a new pillow, put a new anti-allergen pillow cover on it, washed my bedding (including the mattress cover) in hot water, and <i>voila! </i>my symptoms went from unbearable to almost gone overnight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jumping straight to the medications out of desperation would have made me almost as miserable as the allergy symptoms. But not reading the article or telling myself that it "probably" wouldn't work anyway so there's no point in trying what it suggested would have left me continuing to blow my nose like it was a competitive sport.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another thing managing diabetes has done for me was mentioned by somebody else recently in a casual conversation when they exclaimed, "You are <b><i>so</i></b> disciplined!" I looked behind me, thinking they must <i>surely</i> be talking about somebody else. After all, I've known me a long time and while I have some strong suits, I've never thought of "discipline" as one of them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the fact is that we get good at what we practice. And the more we practice, the better we get. Tennis. Typing. Video games. Diabetes management. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Who knew? Next thing you know, somebody will call me a "grown up." Scary thought.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-90331412906613073042016-07-10T14:25:00.000-05:002016-07-10T19:56:10.595-05:00Connecting The Dots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was a little girl, my mother used to sing a song I only vaguely remember. It went something like: "The thigh bone's connected to the leg bone and the leg bone's connected to the ankle bone..." and on and on from there. It had a catchy tune, so I liked it. But it also taught me an idea that has become very important to me as a person living with diabetes: things that don't necessarily appear to be connected often are, so everything I do (or don't do) affects my body and, ultimately, affects my condition, as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today's post is going to feature some of the connections I've discovered since I was first diagnosed eight and a half years ago. Since each body is different, yours may not work just like mine in a particular way, but hopefully, you will find some useful information in what I've learned. Or at least, you may begin to look for the things that are connected for you.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One connection I discovered after I was diagnosed was that my emotions (especially over-the-top emotions like excitement, fear, or anger) spiked my blood glucose. Maybe you're one of those folks that rolls like the tide. But I was always one of those folks subject to go from zero to sixty in a hot minute in one way or the other for almost any reason. And I thought there was nothing I could do about it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It turned out, though, that my desire to keep my glucose steady was strong enough to send me searching for coping mechanisms that would control my roller coaster emotions. Deep breaths with long slow exhales slow down my heart, my thoughts, and my responses. Which usually gives me the time to ask myself, "Do I <b><i>really</i></b> want to bounce off the ceiling over this?" or sometimes "Is this trip even <i>necessary</i>?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Over time and with practice, I found myself more amused by life and far, far less likely to get caught up in other people's dramas. It has been marvelously freeing. And in fact, I'm now complimented from time to time on how calm I am when others have lost their grip (something that amazes me when I remember the way I used to be). I enjoy being cool under fire. My days are easier. I get more done because I'm not wasting my energy spinning my wheels over nothing. And, while my glucose level may spike, it's not typically over my emotions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I mentioned another connection in last week's blog post: fiber and water make for healthy digestion (as demonstrated by healthy poops). If this topic is too much for you, skip the paragraph, but if you're currently using laxatives, Metamucil (or some similar product), a stool softener, or anything else to help "regulate" your digestion, I encourage you to think about this. Most of us think we get enough fluid. We drink coffee or tea with our meals. We might drink a diet soda (all of which contain aspartame, by the way, which is poison, in case you care). And we might or might not drink a glass of water once or twice a day. At least, this sounds about average.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the fact is: at 5'6" and 138 pounds, I should be drinking between 8 and 17 8-oz glasses of fluid a day and what I just described above might be as little as 5 glasses. An easy gauge of how you're doing is to look at your pee. If it's fairly strongly yellow, you're probably not getting enough fluid. If you're consistently getting enough, your pee will be almost completely clear.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another connection I recently discovered that surprised me is that my left knee hurts sometimes because I'm sitting at my desk too much. I thought it was from exercise because it seemed as though that was when it would flare. So I started using an elastic brace. But then I heard a fitness expert say something about movement bringing "fluid to the joints" and I realized that my knee hurts most when I haven't been using it as much because I'm only occasionally exercising.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I went back to my regimen of exercising nearly every day and <i>voila!</i> no more pain -- even without the brace. (Getting plenty of water also helps this problem, by the way. Our bodies are 70% water -- unless, of course, we're not replacing what we lose, in which case our body doesn't get what it needs to function at peak efficiency.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our bodies are like fine-tuned machines. They're made to require attention to certain details. If you drive your car around without enough oil in the engine, it's going to let you know, but if you ignore it, it may quit on you. Your body's like that car. It's trying to tell you what it needs with indicators we're supposed to listen to. Yes, getting older feels different, but if I'm any indication, it doesn't have to feel as bad as we thought it would.</span><br />
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Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-21376266485599479652016-07-03T17:46:00.004-05:002016-07-03T17:57:36.353-05:00Eating Healthy AND Saving Money<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week, I wrote about why we should feel perfectly all right applying for and spending </span><a href="http://www.fns.usda.gov/snap/apply" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> (better known as SNAP) funds. One of the reasons this is on my mind is that in the summer, I don't get paid. And regardless of how much I've put away to cover my basic bills out of the salary I get from September through May, the summer months provide a challenge. Then, if my car battery dies (like it did last week), I find myself stressing not unlike I did in the bad ole days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then I start thinking about those who live on a fixed income because they're retired or collecting disability benefits or unemployed or unable to work for whatever reason. They have to worry every month -- not just in the summer. And at 70 years of age, I could very easily be one of them any time now. So it helps to know that SNAP exists. But I have some other things I'm doing right now to help me get the nutritious food I need and keep my glucose in check.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">First of all, I've kissed meat good-bye. (Don't panic and run. Just hear me out.) You might be surprised to learn how much of your food budget goes into eating meat -- even cheap meat (which isn't all that good for us). I know I was. What do I eat instead? Nuts, dairy foods, eggs, spinach, whole grains, beans, and edamame (roasted soybeans I throw into salads), among other things.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I started this journey, I thought I would be craving meat in no time, but actually, I've discovered that all the problems I thought I'd have turned out not to be problems.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Won't beans make me fart a lot?" I worried. (Not once my body got used to them. It took me about a week.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Won't I get tired of eating the same stuff over and over?" (Most of us eat the same stuff over and over anyway. And not eating meat introduced me to some very tasty other stuff I had been missing.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Will I get enough protein?" (It turns out <b><i>lots</i></b> of things have protein. At 5'6" and 138 pounds, I need about 45-50 grams of protein everyday. Half a cup of cottage cheese has 14 grams. See what I mean?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Choosing not to eat meat required that I learn some things I didn't already know (like how to prepare portabello mushroom caps that taste like meat when they're roasted in the oven). But if you're reading this blog, you already have the skills you need to get that information. Just use google.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And speaking of the internet, this summer, I also realized that I've been missing five dollar coupons for my favorite grocery store. Apparently, for some time, they've been offering the coupons to anyone who goes online and takes a survey answering questions about their most recent shopping trip. It takes five or ten minutes and it's boring as hell, but it's five dollars off your next trip to the store. By not paying attention to the fine print on the tape the cashier gave me when I checked out, I was losing a good fifteen dollars a month -- or more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finally, I don't bring home what I shouldn't be eating in the first place. Nothing saves money like not spending it! And when I feel the need for a snack between meals, I drink a glass of water with a few almonds and win in multiple ways. Almonds provide protein, vitamins and minerals, fiber, and the good kind of fat, while water is super-good for digestion and most of us don't drink <b><i>nearly </i></b>enough of it. Then, we wind up having to take something to treat constipation, when drinking enough water may be all the solution we need. (Don't know how much water you need to drink? Google it. *wink*)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">No matter what my mouth is telling me I crave, the reality is that a 10-ounce glass of water and a low fat mozzarella stick with a chunk of apple will quiet the raging beast. At least long enough to get to dinner.</span><br />
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Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-62705174256344620312016-06-26T09:36:00.002-05:002016-07-10T14:25:42.051-05:00Oh, SNAP!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some of you might be surprised to learn that a woman who teaches college full-time at the age of 70 spent a decade on food stamps earlier in her life. And I make no apology for it. I got my first job at 13, worked in high school, and started paying income tax while I was still an adolescent. Not to mention sales tax and all of the other taxes and fees I've paid through the years to support our system that so often doesn't support us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For my first five years on food stamps, I had two small children, no child support, and no college degree. That was before Bill Clinton ushered in the policies that forced women into jobs that could not begin to keep their kids from going hungry. So I could receive assistance for five years, during which time it helped my kids and me to eat. Not well, but regularly.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I continued to get food stamps through graduate school while we were living on part-time adjunct teacher pay and student loans. However you might feel about this, I would remind you that taxpayers have subsidized far worse investments than me (and others like me). We pay much, much more in taxes once we become professionals than we ever received in assistance as poor struggling students. So it's been a long time since I qualified for help. But you can believe I would accept it -- with no hesitation -- if I qualified.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not everybody feels this way. Especially among those of us who were raised to believe that accepting help means you're a loser, a failure at life, an undeserving mooch who ought to suffer the results of their own bad planning. But the fact is that it's not our bad planning that produced the inflation levels and other social problems we live with. It's vast amounts of tax dollars taken out of our pockets and delivered into the off shore coffers of the Big Banks, multi-national corporations, and Wall Street that has done us in. So exactly why are we apologizing?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I ran a Family Services Program for a major national service provider, I learned a lot you seldom see in books. I met hundreds of people wrestling with insanely large medical bills, balloon mortgage payments, unexpected assessments, and their own -- or their children's -- student loans. As jobs left the country (and millions of workers) behind, the numbers of Americans with no health insurance went through the roof. And retirement accounts sometimes vaporized in the wake of unscrupulous corporate decision-making that left workers who had trusted their employers for decades sitting in stunned and terrified silence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am not at this time one of those workers. But I don't kid myself that I could never someday be one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What does this have to do with managing diabetes? Only the idea that there are, I am absolutely certain, <b><i>millions</i></b> of us out here who do not have enough income to buy the adequate amount of healthy, natural food we need -- but who don't know we can get help or are unwilling to ask for it. And there is an excellent option we have every right as tax payers to access: SNAP (the <a href="http://www.fns.usda.gov/snap/apply">Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program</a>), the new name for "food stamps." Do not imagine that the little bit you'd receive will break the American economy when so much of our tax base goes to rich people in the form of subsidies of all kinds (can we be honest about this?). This is the reason <a href="http://www.aarp.org/aarp-foundation/our-work/hunger/info-2012/snap-food-benefits-help-seniors-enroll.html">AARP</a> is encouraging enrollment in SNAP.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some people don't want to apply because they think the questions they will be asked are invasive. They are. So? Doctors ask invasive questions. Family members and friends ask invasive questions. The main reason we don't like people to "know our business" is that we don't realize there are so many of us struggling with the same issues. Imagine the conversations that might develop if we <b><i>did</i></b> know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some people don't want to apply because they assume they won't qualify or because they once didn't. But the rules change regularly. Let a professional decide. Seek expert input. Sometimes even professionals make mistakes. Appeal your decision. Read the fine print. An extra "paycheck" in the form of what amounts to a "tax rebate" every month could really help out. Couldn't it...?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>(to be continued)</b></span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-2064864103981023522016-06-19T12:00:00.000-05:002016-06-19T12:24:23.743-05:00Managing Diabetes Is Like Managing A Business<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't write much about my father. He had a fatal flaw. Maybe even more than one. But it occurred to me this morning that he gave me one gift that keeps on giving -- in a good way. He was a "management analyst" (whatever that means). Not that he talked about it much. When I asked him as a child what he did when he went to work, he replied with a chuckle that he "pushed papers around."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But what I saw, week after week, month after month, until I left his house at eighteen years of age, was my father sitting at a table with his checkbook, an accounting ledger, and a little red metal bucket full of bills, addressing them one after another. He didn't explain what he doing, let alone how he was doing it, but that image is burned into my mind and it has guided me through the years in ways that never let me down when I followed the guidance.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I grew up and began to take on responsibilities of my own, something I was required to do rather quickly, thanks to the way I left my childhood home, I didn't do much floundering. I paid my bills -- just like he did -- first. I sat down and looked at what I was going to have, compared it to what I was going to need, and made a plan. I ignored nothing. I left out nothing. And as if by magic, I never was evicted. I never went without a meal (once I learned you can't sustain yourself on pride). And during the years my children were depending on me, I met their needs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know things can happen over which you have no control. I've lived for seven decades, after all. I've spent six months (or more) unemployed more than once. I've had to work two jobs at the same time much of my adulthood. I'm well familiar with the food stamp system, though not recently. I've faced life-threatening medical conditions without health insurance. And my oldest child and I celebrated Christmas one year when the only present he received was one the Salvation Army allowed me to pick out for him for free -- or he wouldn't have gotten that. But somehow, I made it through. And I'm convinced (not to go mysterious) that it's at least partly because -- as much as I possibly can -- I make it a point to give to others who need it more than me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, though, thinking about all this, I'm caused to realize that the principles my father taught me about managing money work for managing my diabetes, as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>(1) I gather the information I need, make an actual plan (not just in my head), and I follow it. </b>A plan may not work 100% all the time, but if you're honest with yourself when you make it and you follow the plan once it's made, it often does. More importantly, it's easier to stay on track when you have a track to stay on. I know, for example, that in order to meet my goals for my blood glucose levels and maintain my weight, I need to eat three meals a day in the 50 to 60 grams of carbohydrate range. That's total.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My body has learned to be satisfied with this. I don't walk away hungry. I eat a small "dessert" after most lunches and dinners. And it's based on my weight at 5'6" and 138 pounds (which is <b><i>not</i></b> what I weighed when I was diagnosed diabetic in 2008). If I eat my dinner early, I eat a Greek yogurt before going to bed, but other than that, I stick to my plan. It keeps my life simple. My weight stays where I want it. My A1Cs stay in a good range. I don't have to worry much about complications developing. And I don't agonize long over decisions like, "Should I eat that?" I know better and I find something else to focus on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>(2) I don't kid myself about what's really important and what seems important to me at the time. </b>Supposedly, we learn this as we leave childhood and become adults, but I've demonstrated to myself on more than one occasion that I can make a strong case for the most impractical (and even ill advised) choices one can imagine. But such choices always have consequences, usually consequences that I convinced myself were worth it, but never, never are. If I decide to binge-watch Netflix (or otherwise find myself too busy to do aerobics for too many days in a row), my knees will complain when I get back to it, as I must to properly manage my condition. Or if I decide to eat three slices of homemade whole wheat blueberry nut bread with honey pecan cream cheese at breakfast (because the loaf is small and because -- now that I've bought it -- I don't want it to go to waste), my glucose level will spike and my brain will suggest more insulin, which is a bad, bad practice to set in motion if one doesn't want to put on weight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>(3) When in doubt, I check my glucose level (just like I would check my bank account before making a purchase not already in the budget).</b> Sometimes, I take one look at the reading and simply walk away from whatever it is I want. But the other day, I wanted some ice cream in the middle of a hot afternoon. Without giving it a lick of thought, I pulled out my trusty glucometer (which I carry everywhere) and took my reading. I was at 110 three hours before dinner. So I marched into Baskins-Robbins and happily ordered one guilt-free scoop of jamoca almond fudge ice cream in a cup (at 17 grams of carb). Delicious! And by dinner, I was back where I needed to be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>(4) I let the first three become habits so I don't even have to think about them.</b> I don't haggle with myself over them or put them off until tomorrow. Despite my reputation as a bit of a wild card, I know that there is something to be said for ritualized routine. My life is never boring, I assure you. I have a full time job that I love and that I'm good at. I have two different blogs to write. I'm involved in a number of activities that require me to bring my A-game to make the world a better place for everybody. And I believe in fun to balance all the rest. But when I automatically do the right thing (most of the time), my stress level is lower (because I don't feel ashamed of myself and I'm not constantly anticipating or dealing with the arrival of undesired consequences).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I learned how to manage my household and professional finances watching my father. Applying those same principles, it now seems, is saving my sanity and my life by helping me manage my diabetes. So I'll pause today to say, "Thanks, Dad."</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-88774215960285071552016-06-12T09:20:00.001-05:002016-06-12T09:33:01.968-05:00It's Complicated...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since writing </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1465737947&sr=8-1&keywords=your+life+isn%27t+over+it+may+have+just+begun" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">, I will pretty much talk to anybody about diabetes management any time anywhere. I don't claim to be an "expert." I'm no kind of medical professional. And there are lots of folks who have been managing diabetes quite successfully for far longer than I have.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I <b><i>have</i></b> learned a few things through the years since I was diagnosed in February of 2008. And the process of spending an entire summer wading through my memories and writing it all down helped me to organize what I've learned into areas I think are the most obvious (like weight loss) or easiest to implement (like taking the stairs instead of the elevator) or even more crucial to saving one's life (like not giving up as if there is no hope when your life isn't over ~ it <b><i>may</i></b> have just begun).</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have a dear friend a <b><i>lot</i></b> younger than I am who told me casually at some point along the line that she's on oral medication for diabetes. She said it with a slight shrug and an ironic smile. I think she told me because I make it a point to announce my condition with regularity. But it was clear when she told me that it wasn't an invitation to offer input.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I noted the extra weight she carries, the way (and things) she eats, and the almost incredible pace she maintains in a high pressure life that would put most of us on our backs (or in our graves) all by itself. But she's not the kind of person you give instructions to. And besides, she's my friend. I love her. I don't want to lay <b><i>more </i></b>pressure on her already burdened shoulders. So when I wrote my book on managing diabetes, I gave her a signed copy. And I let her interview me about the book on her popular television show. But I didn't push her. She doesn't push easily.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Over the past three months, though, my friend has had two strokes in rapid succession. Two stays in the hospital. Two invasive medical procedures. Two experiences that terrified her and her family and her friends and even her whole community where she works very hard to help other people with their problems. So she has quit shrugging. She is paying attention to her body in a new way. But she has not slowed down a whit. And I'm afraid to ask her what else she is -- or isn't -- doing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I want to gently push my book in her direction. Again. But I already did that. And I suspect that she might be "too busy" to read it, too overwhelmed to trust the process, too worried it's too late, too afraid it won't help. It's not pixie dust, after all. Nothing ever is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I would remind her -- if I had the nerve and the words -- that strokes (and heart attacks) are prime complications of diabetes. Everybody talks about losing limbs or eyesight, but even diabetics treat strokes and heart attacks as if they are separate from our <b><i>other</i></b> condition. When they aren't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Managing our diabetes using the techniques, tips, and hints in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1465737947&sr=8-1&keywords=your+life+isn%27t+over+it+may+have+just+begun">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a> doesn't just address the diabetes, the weight, the way we feel and look and make choices that raise our quality of life to whole new levels of satisfaction. It will dramatically lessen the likelihood of our suffering the complications -- such as strokes and heart attacks -- that can take our lives long before our time.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-91388559708475370312016-06-05T17:59:00.000-05:002016-06-05T20:37:35.735-05:00Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The past couple of weeks have been an adventure. As I told you in my last blog post, I left for Cuba on May 24th to plan a conference there for 2017. That would have been adventure enough, needless to say. I hoped that I would have time before I got on the plane to schedule a post for last Sunday, but that didn't happen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I told myself that I'd jump right on the internet as soon as I was state-side again on June 1st to make up for leaving you hanging. But by the time I got back, I was so wiped out physically, psychologically, and emotionally, that didn't happen either.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, when I sat down to write this eight hours ago, I discovered that, while my connection to the internet was just fine last night, it was non-existent this morning. I thought maybe it would right itself by this afternoon, but it didn't. And I just spent the last four hours figuring out how to fix the problem. I guess. For now. No thanks to the three different tech support people I talked with in-depth, only two of which I could understand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So -- after being under the radar for two weeks -- what do I have to share with you today about managing diabetes while traveling (especially outside the country)?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1) Take an entire duplicate glucometer system to test your glucose levels -- just in case. Day One in Cuba, I dropped my lancing device on the floor, losing a tiny piece of it. But I didn't have to panic because I had another one in the second testing kit I had the common sense to bring. As I watched the lancing device shatter into multiple pieces, I patted myself on the back for that one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2) Carry your insulin, needles, and swabs in your shoulder bag so they're always close at hand. I didn't check my suitcase anyway, but I still felt reassured that if (for any reason), they snatched my suitcase at the door of the plane (the way they sometimes do), I wouldn't have to throw it open in the aisle and dig around for my supplies while the pilot held the plane and all the other passengers watched.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">3) Dig out your medical bracelet and, if you don't have one, get one. This is no time to be stylish. This is a time to be safe. Mine reads "Insulin-dependent Diabetic. I also carry a card in my wallet that says in bold letters: "I AM DIABETIC." And I added a sheet for this trip listing my name, national citizenship, next of kin's contact information, medications with dosages (including insulin), and all the supplements I take (more than a couple, I assure you).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">3) Carry a protein bar (or two or three) for when you need a little something. Especially if you don't speak the language where you're going. This will help you not to grab other edibles that could seriously mess up your eating regimen and maybe even spike your glucose. It's all about peace of mind. And you can't beat peace of mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">4) Don't be shy about asking for what's good for you, even if it's hard to explain. Once I knew how to ask for <i>limonade sin azucar </i>(fresh limade made with sparkling water and no sugar), I was treated to a refreshing beverage to go with my meals so I didn't feel left behind and didn't have to feel guilty or worried either. It was delicious! (The photo above is of this drink with the vegetarian risoto I had for my last lunch in Havana.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">5) Don't eat something your gut instinct tells you not to eat. With all the problems we have on top of the ones everybody else has, we <b><i>know</i></b> better. I wish I didn't have to learn this one the hard way. Enough said?</span><br />
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Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-12608405668039607272016-05-22T08:33:00.000-05:002016-05-22T08:57:01.017-05:00Cuba Bound<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was a time in my life -- sometimes it feels like a million years ago and sometimes it feels like yesterday -- when I would make a decision and run with it into a fire. Nothing could stop me or even necessarily slow me down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It wasn't that I thought I was always right. It was that I didn't think period. Each day was a millennium and I was the sun at the middle of it all. It made for some rough going on occasion. But I wasn't looking back. I was going to live forever. Or die young. And neither gave me great pause.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, things are a bit more complicated. Oh, I'm still jumping off into the Universe in one way or another fairly commonly. I just published my second book. Myself. Which I'll launch in a few weeks (and it's already selling). I intend to publish a third before the new semester starts in the fall. I'm collaborating on a project to make money for my local African-American Heritage Museum. And this time next week, I'll be strolling along the seawall in Havana, Cuba, there to plan a conference for the fall of 2017.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, while I appear to be bustling through my life in much the same way as I always have, the reality is that I'm anxious more often now -- and particularly since I was diagnosed with diabetes. The Diabetes Monster complicates everything. *sigh*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I scanned the internet for input on all the disasters that could happen to me there. And the internet (with its bottomless promise to raise every terrifying likelihood) scared the be-jeezus out of me with a tale of woe posted by a young traveler last year. Her arrival in Cuba, vegetarian diet, lack of immediate funds, and diabetes combined to put her through a nightmare my brain latched onto for a minute like a millstone around my neck in an ocean of dark possibilities.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the take-away for me was that I should (a) wear my medical bracelet (which I haven't worn since the first year I was on this journey); (b) make sure I have enough cash to have the funds I need to pay for food; (c) make a list of all my medications and their dosages, including insulin; and (d) carry with me the address of the Sociedad Cubana de Diabetes in Havana -- just in case. All of these seem pretty obvious, of course, but until I read the post online, I didn't think of doing any of them except for (b).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thinking about all this in the middle of the night (when I would rather have been sleeping), I remembered that I'm better prepared to make the trip than she was and better prepared now than I was before I read her post. Plus I have friends in Cuba who won't abandon me to the elements -- or to my diabetes. And I also reminded myself that, as bad as her adventure went, she lived to write about it. So there is that. "Hasta luego!" ("See you later!") </span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-56290477962462267412016-05-15T22:30:00.000-05:002016-06-26T15:10:06.731-05:00Age Ain't Nuthin' But A Number<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Three weeks ago, I stood in front of an audience of 1900 strangers and admitted that I'm seventy years old. I had to work up to the admission for a month before the event. I had spent some years already telling people, "I'm really, </span><b style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>really</i></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> old." But I couldn't typically find the nerve to casually admit my age in conversations. Except with my doctor. Or a very close friend. And then only in a whisper.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I cracked jokes about it in front of my students in class. "I would tell you how old I am," I'd say, "but I'm afraid they'd come make me retire." Or I'd quip on a different occasion, "I'm perfectly fine with getting old. There's only two options, you know: getting old or getting dead -- and I'm not <b><i>nearly</i></b> ready to get dead yet."</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the fact is that we don't any of us know exactly when that red letter day will come. There was a five-month-old baby in the obituary column in the local newspaper this morning. And a 26-year-old victim of a hit-and-run the other day. While I'm still chugging along.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The thing is it's not just staying alive that we hunger for. It's <i>quality</i> of life. That's the reason we love to be in love, to belly laugh, to sing along with the radio in the shower, to smell good food and to eat it if we can. Then along comes the Diabetes Monster and rains on our parade and makes us think there's nothing left to live for.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since I've been diagnosed with diabetes, however, I've created quite a niche for myself in my local community as a social change activist. I've had a marvelously handsome boyfriend -- and gotten over him. I've visited my daughter in New York City four times. I've been to God knows how many plays and jazz concerts and movies and art exhibits. I have a gaggle of adoring college students who run up to me out of nowhere everywhere I go to tell me how much they love me. I've created and maintain three blogs. And I've just published my second book (the first one being on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056?ie=UTF8&keywords=your%20life%20isn%27t%20over%20it%20may%20have%20just%20begun&qid=1463368183&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1">managing diabetes</a> and the new one on race relations in America). I wouldn't miss this life for anything. And certainly not voluntarily.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So what's my point? Don't throw away the gift of your life. Make it better like I did. It's an option or I couldn't have done it.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-17860751320348794272016-05-08T10:19:00.001-05:002016-05-08T10:20:42.248-05:00It All Hangs In The Balance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm no doctor or nurse. In fact, I'm not a trained health professional at all. And I know that each body is different. Some of us are older than others. We represent different genders and body types. Some of us jump out of planes for fun. And some of us can't get out of bed. It's complicated. But I hope that, if I communicate anything at all in these posts, one of the principal messages that comes across is that <b><i>balance </i></b>is key to managing diabetes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was diagnosed with our shared condition in February of 2008, all I heard was, "Here's a list of everything you ever loved about food and drink that you can't ever eat or drink again" (a list four feet long) "and here's a list of what you can eat and drink from this point forward" (a list that fit tidily on one page of a 4" x 6" notebook). New information was coming at me so fast, I couldn't possibly catch it all, let alone understand it. So I got some of it confused. And I got some of it wrong. And I missed some of it altogether. Not to mention brushing some of it aside until later -- years later, actually -- because it was complicated and my brains were already stir-fried.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Learning how to manage diabetes (like learning anything else) is a process. You don't learn how to read in an afternoon. You don't learn how to drive from a book. You don't learn how to play tennis by buying a racket. You don't learn how to make a marriage or build a business overnight (partly because they keep unfolding and you have to adjust). Babies don't come with operating instructions. And you don't learn everything you'll ever need to know about diabetes from the diabetic nurse educator or dietitian you meet when you're diagnosed (assuming you get to meet one).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So how in the hell do we figure it all out?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It might surprise you to know that there's no magic one-size-fits-all answer to that question. That's why so many of us run when we hear the word "diabetes." We duck our head, look over our shoulder, and hustle to the buffet line as if we can stay one step ahead of the Diabetes Monster by just moving fast enough. But the reality is that this choice is right up there with jumping off a bridge -- only slower. It shortens your life. It breaks other people's hearts. And it's unnecessary, no matter how it feels at the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What do I do without? Sweet tea, huge gooey desserts, all-you-can-eat specials, and elevators. But now that I've learned how to balance my diet and my exercise, I'm enjoying such pleasures as rich coffee drinks, bagels with cream cheese and fresh sliced strawberries, granola, cookies, and chocolate -- every day. I talk about this in my book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056?ie=UTF8&keywords=your%20life%20isn%27t%20over%20it%20may%20have%20just%20begun&qid=1462717442&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a> But some of it, I learned just recently when I made the decision to stop eating meat. As I went in this new direction, I thought only of what I was going to lose, not yet realizing that the increased fiber in my diet from all the beans I was going to eat was going to affect the way my body processes carbohydrates. Who knew?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So yes, I'm not eating meat any more, but the whole wheat bagels and Bear Naked Honey Almond soft baked granola mentioned above are recent additions to my menu and happy ones at that. I had missed them both greatly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What am I trying to say here today? That nobody enjoys playing tennis until they get good at it. That being behind the wheel of a car can be frightening until you get the hang of it. And that being a parent (especially a mother) can sometimes be a head butt. Everything is a process and nothing is always fun. But if you stick with it, managing your diabetes <b><i>will</i></b> become easier and, with balance, your life will get better than you ever thought possible. I know because mine has.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-31193641843155448232016-05-01T07:00:00.000-05:002016-05-01T07:52:39.967-05:00Acting Like Grown Ups Because We Are<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Twice this week, I was greatly appreciated for behaving in a kind manner. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In both cases, the people involved compared my actions to those of others they had recently come into contact with. And i</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">n one case, a server actually wouldn't accept my tip because he was so grateful that I had been "nice." It's sad to me that people in public places treat those who serve them badly, so I wound up making a joke about acting like a "grown-up." But later, I got to thinking that -- though all of us grow old -- not all of us grow up.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was in high school, I vaguely remember having so many clothes on the floor of my tiny bedroom, I had to wade through them to get to my closet. In my twenties, the clutter leaned to newspapers and dirty ashtrays. And in my thirties, my kids' toys were added to the mix. But somewhere along the line, I decided clutter made it hard for me to put my hands on something quickly when I wanted it. So I learned to put things away when I used them. Now, I'm teased that I could probably put my hands on anything in my apartment in the dark. I probably could. At least usually.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not everybody feels as I do about a tidy abode. But there are other characteristics that most of us consider indicators of adulthood. Paying bills when they're due, for example. Keeping our teeth and bodies clean enough that we don't smell offensive to others. Trying our best to get and keep a job if we need one (and many of us do). Few of us would applaud someone for doing these things. Yet, when we are diagnosed with diabetes, many of us are so horrified that we become resistant to doing the very things we need to do to manage our condition.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Few of us would say, "The rent is due, but I don't feel like paying it, so I won't." We shower and brush our teeth without even thinking about it -- even if we live alone. And any of us still employed full time (as I am) wouldn't dream of pissing off the boss on purpose as a rule, even when we're quitting. Because all of these things have consequences we don't want. And when we see these behaviors in others, we shake our heads in dismay or disbelief.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yet, millions of us don't check our glucose levels, eat whatever others are eating, blow off the doctors' instructions, sit in a chair in front of a television as if we're glued to it, and "forget" to take our insulin or other meds. Like naughty children daring our bodies to give us a figurative spanking. A very bad idea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why would we be responsible in every area of our lives <b><i>except </i></b>for the most important one? Why would we act like grown-ups one minute and ten-year-olds the next? We can do better.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-71409223677840429972016-04-25T09:24:00.004-05:002016-04-25T09:39:32.152-05:00A Day Late, But Richer Than Ever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This morning, I'm sitting down to write this post on Monday instead of Sunday (as I usually do) because I was out of town all weekend after a week so hectic that I didn't have time to write it in advance. This caused me to remember that, when I was a kid, my mother used to say ruefully when someone would fail to meet her expectations, "A day late and a dollar short..." But, though I'm a day late, I'm richer than I've ever been. Not richer in money, but richer in spirit.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Without going into detail, let me explain a little about what I mean by that. Last summer, I was asked to speak at this weekend's event, which was focused on personal transformation. I had my doubts. I had done similar things before, but felt that, perhaps, I had moved in a different direction and, as busy as I stay, it might be time to start saying no. It stroked my ego to be asked, but I work at not letting my ego make my decisions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To make a long story short, I ultimately agreed to the commitment and the event was held at a popular Florida resort right on the beach this weekend. So there was sun and salt air and white sand and good food and my very first trip on a jet ski (from which my body is still aching) -- all of which was a joy. But everything else about the weekend was unexpectedly wonderful in ways that I could not possibly have imagined or engineered.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was life-changing. I got to spend quality time with another speaker who helped me realize some things I had never understood before. I spoke to an audience of 1900 people (the biggest crowd I've ever faced by far). I was able to see how much my willingness to be honest about my personal journey helped hundreds of widely diverse people from all over North America. I was asked if I would be willing to speak at numerous other locations and events. And I reconnected with some people I hadn't seen since fifteen years ago when I left a city feeling like an abject failure with my tail between my legs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am often inspired to write on this blog about what we shouldn't do. And sometimes (like when we're romancing the idea of eating something we <b><i>kno</i></b></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>w</i></b> is going to spike our blood glucose ridiculously), it's the best decision to say no. But sometimes, we have to listen to our heart or our gut or our best friend or whatever spiritual voice we hear and let it change our mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Believe me -- at this crystal moment -- I am more convinced than ever that, even after diabetes has permanently moved in on us, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056?ie=UTF8&keywords=your%20life%20isn%27t%20over%20~%20it%20may%20have%20just%20begun&qid=1461593630&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a></span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-42426514350026738042016-04-17T14:00:00.000-05:002016-04-17T14:06:57.667-05:00Open Minds Expand Horizons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week, I wrote about the relationship to food that most of us have because, as best I can tell, people (like me) diagnosed with diabetes struggle -- a <b><i>lot</i></b> -- with that relationship. I know that more than twenty thousand people in the world die every day from hunger-related causes. And I don't want to be a whiner. But it sometimes gets tiresome thinking and re-thinking and over-thinking food the way I choose to do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I say "choose to do" because many of us (diabetic or not) certainly don't do so. Vegans who aren't diabetic also need to pay close attention when eating outside their own kitchens. People with allergies, ulcers, lactose intolerance, or problems with gluten tend to monitor their diets, as well, if they want to avoid the immediate negative repercussions of ignoring their conditions. But people with diabetes live in a magical fog where they can eat whatever they want without necessarily experiencing an instantaneous punishment. So, like a dog eyeing a platter of chicken on a picnic table, we regularly arm wrestle our decisions and sometimes make bad ones.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you've been reading this blog for a while, you already know I'm pretty serious about managing my diabetes. I'm not a saint. I'm not a rule follower by nature. And I'm definitely not a scaredy cat. But I want to live as long and as well as possible. I want to travel and work and play and enjoy the time I have remaining. And I <b><i>don't</i></b> want to spend it in a hospital bed while the rest of the world goes on without me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But sometimes while I'm busy doing the right thing, I get a pleasant surprise. I've started eating more like a vegetarian lately. I'm still eating the occasional egg and a fair amount of yogurt and cheese in an effort to make sure I get enough protein until I get the hang of it all. But about 75% of my daily diet has now changed and I almost never feel nostalgic for the meats I'm not eating. All this change, though, has opened my mind to considering options I didn't know I have. Like this week, for example.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Breakfast matters to me. It jumpstarts my day in a positive direction, soaks up my coffee so I don't get the jitters, and gives me something to do with my mouth while I'm reading the morning paper. So I like "delicious" and "satisfying" and "variation" to make it a pleasant experience. But my new dietary regimen scratched some of my faves off the list, giving me the space to come up with new ones. This is good because I have a tendency to get stuck in ruts if I'm not forced out of them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Making sure I'm getting enough protein has me reading labels more rigorously again and looking up carb grams online. One unexpected result has been the realization that I can have bagels. This is not a minor matter. I've spent a lot of time living in south Florida during my life and I learned a long time ago to appreciate a good bagel, but when I was diagnosed with diabetes eight years ago, I took one look at the 49 grams of carb in a wholewheat bagel, decided half a bagel would never be enough, and wrote them off -- permanently. No kidding. Hadn't eaten a bagel for eight years. Until taking another look at the label this week, that is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Eating an increasingly vegetarian diet has meant getting a better understanding of how dietary fiber works. I'm eating more beans and corn now (for the protein) and combined with the whole grains and salads I've always eaten, my fiber level is now high enough to bring down my blood glucose. So I've begun to subtract the fiber content of my food from the carb grams to get a better read on what to expect my BG level to be after I eat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The 8 grams of fiber in a whole wheat bagel, for example, subtracted from the carb grams leaves 41 grams of carb. So I can spread the bagel with some honey pecan soft cream cheese and add some sliced strawberries for a tasty, beautiful, and healthy breakfast with a total of 54 grams of carb and 13 grams of protein. Change can be luv-leee.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-41219706488360113662016-04-10T14:57:00.000-05:002016-04-10T15:14:23.664-05:00Am I Blue?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week, I wrote about how anxiety interfaces with my diabetes. Then, this morning, while I was thumbing through a magazine for people newly diagnosed with our condition, I noticed a bit of news. Apparently, a new study has found that people with diabetes are disproportionately likely to suffer with both depression and heart attacks. The connection between diabetes and these other two issues is not new news. What came out in the study, however, is that the three separate conditions are a trinity of trouble. So addressing any of them addresses all three. And ignoring any of them ups the likelihood of their making us sicker -- and maybe even killing us -- no matter what our lives are otherwise like.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It reminded me of a page in </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Your-Life-Isnt-Over-Begun/dp/1515068056?ie=UTF8&keywords=your%20life%20isn%27t%20over%20it%20may%20have%20just%20begun&qid=1460315514&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">, the book of tips and hints on managing diabetes I published last year. It reads:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I once knew a man, who, when I asked him what he believed
in, thought for a moment and replied, “I believe…food.” I thought it was a very
clever answer and I never forgot it. Whatever belief systems humans may have
developed over time on this planet, we all certainly believe food. We can’t
live without it. We derive major pleasure from it. We create rituals around it
and the sharing of it. We craft cultural traditions based on it. We grow it. We
prepare it. We talk about it. We even take pictures of it to send out to our
friends on our cell phones. We </span><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>believe</i></b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> food.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"When a newly diagnosed diabetic is introduced to the rigor
of managing his or her food intake, it can feel as if we’re being cut off
permanently from the rest of the human race. We haven’t committed a crime. But
we’re being punished. We still want to eat what others are eating. But we
can’t. Or at least we can’t if we want to keep living. Yet we need to eat to
live. It’s complicated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Our family and friends may be supportive. They may even feel
sorry for us. And they may try to get us to 'stick to our diets.' But they
don’t have to forego the things we can no longer even think about, if we’re
smart. And it <b><i>hurts</i></b>. It’s hard for them to get their brains around it. Just yesterday,
we were all eating smothered chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the
cob, and hot biscuits, washing it down with big glasses of sweet tea and
finishing it all off with apple pie <i>a la mode</i>. And one day later, <b><i>they</i></b> still
can. But we can’t. It’s not their fault. They’re not going to give it all up
just because <i>we</i> have to. We don’t want
to give it all up and we <b><i>need</i></b> to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"So we tell ourselves we’ll be careful tomorrow. Or that this
is a birthday party after all (it would be rude not to partake). Or whatever
comes to mind that allows us to make the decisions that can cost us our lives.
Until we wind up in the hospital and then life goes on as usual for everybody
else. But not for us. It’s no wonder diabetics as a group are said to be the
most depressed people in America."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So far, we have no cure for diabetes. For most of us, the diagnosis is permanent. But there's at least one way to avoid the depression, heart attacks, and strokes: we can manage the diabetes. If we're depressed, though, we don't feel like trying. And the next thing you know, we're lying in the hospital, having suffered a major health crisis on top of our diabetes. And we're more depressed than ever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">How do we shake the blues? We all have our own special remedies. What won't work? Using food as a drug. Because that might feel good for a minute, but then the blood glucose level goes through the roof, the guilt sets in, and -- again -- the depression gets worse. Along with other accompanying problems (like gaining weight).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm going to write some more about depression next week. But in the meantime, I hope you'll come up with a list of things that make you feel happier without feeling unhappier afterward. Taking a walk on a sunny day makes me feel happier. Doing something nice for somebody else (without expecting anything in return) lightens my mood. Watching reruns of America's Funniest Home Videos gets me laughing in spite of myself. And I've discovered many more that work for me. What is something you can do for yourself right now that will lift your mood without negative repercussions? </span></div>
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Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325539531608986043.post-54521164062853501192016-04-03T11:27:00.002-05:002016-04-07T22:46:07.411-05:00On Managing My Anxiety To Manage My Diabetes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most people that know me, especially those that have known me for a while, will tell you that I'm wrapped a little tight. Always have been. Even as a toddler, I was a perfectionist. And being a perfectionist will amp up that anxiety level at a moment's notice over things other folks wouldn't even notice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's not as though I haven't worked on it over the years. And whether or not my efforts were always 100% conscious, I have made progress. The first time I was made aware that my emotional responses had improved was when my daughter (then ten or so) left a quarter size ink spot on my favorite peach-colored spread and I just said, "Well, it's only a blanket." She couldn't believe it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But that was some time ago and I still get more anxious than most. Sometimes out of nowhere. Sometimes when it causes real problems. And sometimes when I'm doing my damnedest not to.</span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes I think getting older has helped. And sometimes I think it's made it worse. But regardless, on any given day, things can happen in my life that can cause anxiety. And how well I deal with it has everything to do with my quality of life that day. What does this have to do with managing my diabetes? Diabetes is an integral part of my life, that's what.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, I woke up at 4 a.m. (two hours before I usually rise) and couldn't go back to sleep because I was thinking about an organizational responsibility I've taken on that is fairly huge and requires work and a lot of thought. After some half-hearted attempts to go back to sleep, I got up and started my day. This raised my anxiety a tad because I know that getting six hours instead of eight hours of sleep generally raises my blood glucose level and makes me feel less well. Which is not fun. Additionally, I knew I was facing a conference call at 9:30 and, while I was trying to remain optimistic, I suspected it might become contentious (which is did), raising my anxiety level further -- on top of the fatigue.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I handled the situation in advance somewhat by refusing to obsess on the call and even doing a thirty-minute aerobic routine to lower my BG level and raise my endorphins before the call started. But sure enough, the call went roughly how I expected it to go and by the time I got off the phone -- after two hours -- my stomach was in a knot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fortunately, the call ran so long that it left me only thirty minutes to grab a quick shower and meet a friend for lunch, leaving no time to stew. But when I got to the coffee shop, I discovered they were completely out of anything to eat other than sweet rolls. By that time, I was working on three layers of anxiety-producing stimuli and flummoxed over what to do about lunch. Though I hated to seem petty, I asked my friend if we could go somewhere else, and we did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, after arriving, getting lunch and coffee on the table, and slipping into the bathroom to take my insulin, I discovered that the insulin pen I had brought only had one unit of insulin left in it while I needed <b><i>four</i></b> units. So here I was, at the restaurant, exhausted, with food on the table, a BG level that was already elevated, and a quarter of the medication I needed so I could eat. What to do? What to do?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I ate. I drank my coffee. I hung out with my friend. And three hours later, I went home, checked my glucose level, took some more insulin, went on with my day, and went to bed early. Some days are just like that. Complicated. Anxiety-producing. Less than stellar. Not my favorite kind. But they pass quicker if I let them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What did I do to get myself through it all? I got up instead of lying in bed being angry because I couldn't sleep. I stuck to my usual regimen to the extent possible. I did aerobics. I didn't spend time worrying. I kept my mind busy with other things instead. I spent time with a friend, doing something I enjoy. I gave myself a free pass for not being better prepared with my insulin. I adjusted my BG as soon as I could. And I went to bed early enough to get a good night's sleep that night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Was I anxious? By fits and starts, at particular moments. But overall, not much. It could have been far, far worse.</span></div>
Rebecca Hensleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16830713142046238393noreply@blogger.com0