Listening To My Body

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) have noticed that.

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.

It's The Little Things That Count

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.

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 almost 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.

"Yes, Doctor..."

I declare inside the front cover of my book, Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!, that I am not 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.

Connecting The Dots

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.

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.

Eating Healthy AND Saving Money

Last week, I wrote about why we should feel perfectly all right applying for and spending Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (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.

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.

Lights! Camera! Action!

When I was diagnosed with diabetes, I was, like most people I knew, not very "active" physically. In fact, taking the stairs at work instead the elevator was pretty much the extent of it. I felt good. I looked okay. I was overweight by thirty pounds, but I saw plenty of people bigger than me. I knew I probably should be more active, but I had no motivation and, frankly, no interest.

Then came The Day, when my doctor said, "I was right. You're diabetic." And when I managed to talk my psyche down off the ceiling long enough to do some homework, it became apparent to me that things were going to have to change. All the information on managing diabetes was telling me to eat less carbs, take my medication, and exercise -- or suffer consequences I did not want to think about.

Rabbit Food

This is my sixth month of writing this blog. Weighing in weekly to mull over my life as a person who has diabetes and will have it, I presume, until I die, I've written on all kinds of emotional and physical issues, on traveling nightmares and triumphs, on loved ones, on what works for me and what doesn't, and when all else fails, what inspires me to keep loving my life and moving forward anyway. So I'm going to take a risk today and write on a topic that -- as important as it is -- most of us agree is not something we would ordinarily talk about in polite society: the trip we all make (or want to make) to the bathroom.

Diabetics who want to manage their condition think a lot about what and how much we put into our mouths. We compute how long it has been since we ate with the rigor of a tech whiz. We check our blood glucose level before we eat and even when we're thinking about eating. Just yesterday, I drove away from the Baskin Robbins store without going in because I checked my BG after I parked and realized that, while I was low enough to have a scoop of ice cream at 4 pm, it would prevent me from having dinner until 7 and I didn't want to wait that long. Many of  us have the food thing down to a science, whether we're happy about it or not.

On the other hand, unfortunately, few of us understand very much about what happens after we digest our food. And it's just as crucial as the eating part.