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 Just Maintenance!

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 long before I was through the process. Still, it's the kind of thing we might dream of doing when we're tired of being "good."

The Adventure Of Low Blood Sugar

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.

But since 2008, when I was first diagnosed, I've had a number of adventures with low 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.

Denial Is Not A River In Egypt

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, Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun.

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.

Learning To Self-Parent For Fun And Profit

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.

But my father was a pedophile and my mother was psychotic, so my childhood was right up there with "Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?" 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.

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."

"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.

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.

Oh, SNAP!

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.

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.

Managing Diabetes Is Like Managing A Business

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."

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.

Age Ain't Nuthin' But A Number

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, really 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.

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 nearly ready to get dead yet."

Acting Like Grown Ups Because We Are

Twice this week, I was greatly appreciated for behaving in a kind manner. In both cases, the people involved compared my actions to those of others they had recently come into contact with. And in 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.

A Day Late, But Richer Than Ever

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.

Practice Makes Progess, Not Perfect

Last week, I told you I was kicking my exercise regimen up a notch, so I'm reporting today on how that went. I don't know how things work for you, but I tend to think that if I'm not totally on top of my game, I've failed miserably. This is not the case, of course. But it's how I feel. And it's easier to drop a commitment if I think I've already let myself down. You may feel the same. So I'm going to share my week with you to encourage us both to keep going.

"The Sky Is Falling! The Sky Is Falling!"

Therapists call it "catastrophizing" and I used to be really good at it. It means going into a panic about any little thing. A flat tire? That would be good enough to convince me the Universe was crashing. Being unable to find a parking spot? I just knew it was going to cost me my job. Locking my keys in the car would send me over the edge in a New York minute. Spilling a quart of orange juice on the kitchen floor when I'm late for an appointment would make me suicidal. And don't even think about having some restaurant worker overcook my eggs! I could go into a tizzy over anything -- big or small -- and the amount of emotion was pretty much the same. The word had been rubbed right off my panic button a long time ago.

Over the years, I made some progress with not jumping to the conclusion that my life was over every time I had a bad day. But what really helped me get the hang of breathing through minor (or even not so minor) difficulties was being diagnosed with diabetes. All of a sudden, my uncontrolled emotions could -- and generally did -- send my blood glucose levels through the roof. And now, instead of just a flat tire, I was dealing with something that could turn into a real catastrophe.

Five Things I Hate About Being Diabetic

I try to be upbeat as much as I can. It isn't always easy, but I've been around long enough to have already tried many of the possible responses to life. At one point or another, I've used rage, whining, and liquor; eating until I was stupefied; buying things nobody needs; working until I just couldn't anymore; and throwing myself headfirst off the cliff of a highly questionable romance. None of those methods ever fixed anything for more than a minute. And all of them left me with some kind of negative fallout to deal with. So whether I feel like it or not, I try hard to take the road less traveled: seeing the glass half full (or whatever platitude comes to mind at the time).

But that doesn't change the fact that there are just some things I don't like -- or even hate -- no matter how positive I try to keep my attitude. Today, just to prove I'm not really made of sugar and spice and everything unrealistic, I'm going to admit to five of them.

I Can Do It My-SELF!

When children are small, one of the first signs they're becoming a little person is their declaration -- usually loud and clear -- that they want to do something. "I can do it my-self!" they announce. And at that point, if those within earshot want to avoid a meltdown, they will back up and let the child try (or at least help the little one to do so).

Somewhere along the line as I matured, I reached a point where I lost some of that commitment to myself. I live alone. I support myself financially. I negotiate my own car deals. And God help the poor soul who tries to debate me on anything I know much about. But when it comes to self-care, I've had to learn some things in recent years.