Z is for Zealous
I’ve been waiting for the end of the alphabet because I knew what letter I was going to use for “Z”, zealous.
zeal·ous [zel-uhs]
–adjective
full of, characterized by, or due to zeal; ardently active, devoted, or diligent.
But now that I’m here at the end of the alphabet and I’m armed with the word zealous, I don’t know what to say about. I just know that people use that word in reference to me.
If you’re one of those people that think this word fits me, feel free to chime in…
A Very Cool Interview
I had an interview tonight, it was about me and the Tour de Cure. It was straight forward. I had the questions, I had thought about them, jotted down some notes. I know me, if there’s one thing I should be able to talk about with no problems, it’s me.
But like I do everytime I get put on the spot, I fail. I get the jitters, I can’t think, my thoughts just stop, I say “uh” a lot, I start to speak fast and my breathing changes. The most infamous time was in Ethics class in college when I was told to present what I thought about corporate responsibility. I had argued my point all semester and had finally had the chance to put it on paper. I couldn’t present it though. I got up there, handed my paper to the professor, got 1 sentence into my speech, and locked up. I looked at the professor and said “I can’t do this.” He told me to talk about what’s in my paper (which I was supposed to be doing anyways) and I told him “it’s all in my paper.” His response was “Have a seat Ms. Benefiel.”
It doesn’t matter how well I know my subject, I just have problems being put on the spot (even with full knowledge of what I’m doing). I know that I could’ve done better, but she said that I did well.
It was funny when she called because she asked if I had a couple moments, now, I had said when I was available to speak so I knew I had a couple moments, but I was all “no, I don’t have much time at all” and I sounded not as spunky as usual”, and she’s all “oh…” and then I started giggling, I had all kinds of time. I had been expecting this call.
She told me how she had googled my name and asked if I had a pet bobcat. I had to laugh, all I could think was that she had seen this morph:
I told her that I’m like a bobcat, speeding along. I have this thing for speed when I ride, I can’t help it, I crave it, I didn’t tell her that. I also didn’t say “I’m like a bobcat, speeding towards not my next meal, but a cure that will keep me alive.” That’s originally what that picture was all about.
When I get more information about when and where this interview can be found I’ll give ya a heads up. In the meantime, be excited, I am 
Y is for Yonder
yon·der [yon-der]
–adjective
1. being in that place or over there; being that or those over there
2. being the more distant or farther
I’m not always present, it doesn’t take much to distract me or send me off into a different place completely opposite from whatever was going on around me. I’d sit in class in elementary school and day dream about using pencils as triggers for traps and other stuff…
My about page on TravelingThoughts.com says:
It happens often. A conversation, a movie, a book…one word, a phrase, a sentence, or perhaps a couple. A concept is gleaned, my brain turns a corner, and I’m off in another land. I’m no longer involved in the conversation at hand, the movie I’m watching is no longer relevant, the book I was reading is no longer the story I’m following.
X is for x
If it weren’t for math, x would be the most useless letter in the alphabet (in my very own personal opinion of course, as perhaps you have a reason that x isn’t the most useless letter in the alphabet and it has nothing to do with math). My 2007 copy of Webster’s New Explorer Dictionary had exactly 75 entries for the letter x (yes I counted them, one by one) and not one of them was worthy as a word that could describe me (and not many of them were adjectives anyhow).
As such, we’re going to look at x in terms of my favorite subject, math. I had problems spelling/writing/reading in school, but math was never a problem. In seventh grade I entered my first enriched (I think it was called) math class. I was excited when I got to 8th grade and got to take high school level algebra, I believe it was then that I learned about the letter x as a representative for a number in a equation and I got to solve for it. x held so much power. You know what, I take it back, it wasn’t algebra where I learned about x, it was in enriched math I think where I learned about x because I’m thinking that we learned about slope at that time…or maybe it’s not necessarily valid that x be valued in that equation because really that’s just x as the x intercept on the graph (you know, x and y axis).
But x in an equation like 4x+7=2(x-3) now that’s when I learned about x, of course it was probably something easier like 4x+7=19 solve for x. That was really when the concept of x was introduced. I loved solving those and doing the math and my love for x really just grew from there. All the way to Calc 2 in college where I threw in the towel because I was frustrated and not learning as fast as the other students and I couldn’t understand my english as a second language professor.
If it weren’t for x being in math equations, we’d really have no need for x (or at least I wouldn’t.)
Edit:
———-
I take it back, x is needed, x is needed for x-ray which I’ve had a few in my life. If we didn’t have x we wouldn’t have x-ray, I’m sure some other word would’ve been created to mean the same thing, but we can’t just get rid of x now that it’s used in words like x-ray…and xylophone, some musical instrument something or other…x is more important than I thought it was…there’s just no x word that fits me.
W is for Writer
writ·er [rahy-ter]
–noun
1. a person engaged in writing books, articles, stories, etc., esp. as an occupation or profession; an author or journalist.
2. a person who commits his or her thoughts, ideas, etc., to writing
3. a person who writes or is able to write
It’s kindof funny, because people tell me that I have a talent, that I can write. I argue about how I can’t write, that I’m not a writer, I’m a blogger. And I’ll fight about how it’s different. They tell me it’s no different.
I can think back to when I was in high school and college and how I struggled with my papers. Freshman year in college, English 101; there was a paper the the professor and I argued over for 5 different drafts. It was over the point of a short story in our book. 5 times over she said “you’re not getting it, if you turn in this paper I’ll be forced to fail you, write it again”. The day before the portfolio was due I was in my room at the computer reading the story again, crying because I didn’t see things the way the professor saw them. Each draft I had written was essentially my view of the story written differently. The professor had even told me what the point of the story was (as she saw it) and told me to write about it. I couldn’t. Mom came into my room and told me to let her write my paper. Mom can write, she’s always edited my school papers. I told her that I couldn’t let her write my paper because everyone would know that it wasn’t mine, because she could write and I couldn’t. I got a C- in that class. My portfolio said on it “minimal passing”.
Writing has been like that for me my entire life. I don’t do well when it comes to writing papers. Out of all the papers I ever wrote, the best ones were where I got to argue my points.
Maybe that’s why people read my blogs and translate it into me being a good writer. My blogs are normally easily written because they’re my thoughts. And even though I sometimes reread them and think to myself that my punctuation sucks or I used the wrong word in some place, my blogs are good because they reflect something, they reflect me and my point of view and my experiences. (and that’s why the papers where I got to argue points were my best, because I got to fully support what I was writing about, as opposed to writing just because I was told to.)
I think I may have told the reader that told me “you have quite a gift for writing informative, entertaining and educational articles on your experiences. You may have missed your calling.” that I couldn’t write, but you know what, I can, all the people that say I’m a great writer are right. I can write, I just need the right subject matter.
V is for Vehement
Every year for the past 4 or so I’ve chosen a word for the year. It’s something that my Journaling Mentor turned me onto. The word that I choose for the year is a word that would work both consciously and subconsciously in my life. A word that would be my focus or essence of the coming year. This year’s word is Vehement.
ve·he·ment [vee-uh-muhnt]
–adjective
1. zealous; ardent; impassioned: a vehement defense; vehement enthusiasm.
2. characterized by rancor or anger; violent: vehement hostility.
3. strongly emotional; intense or passionate: vehement desire.
4. marked by great energy or exertion; strenuous: vehement clapping.
Vehement has many meanings (obviously, as seen above), and of them, the one meaning I don’t want it to mean for me this year is “characterized by rancor or anger”. The meanings I do want it to have are: zealous; ardent; impassioned. I want to be vehement about everything that I do and everything that I’m involved in.
U is for Undying Commitment
There’s really only one thing that I have Undying Commitment for, but it’s worth writing about. Of course, if you read this blog at all you already may have an idea of what my “undying commitment” surrounds and that’s finding a cure for diabetes.
I can remember when I was younger, I’d tell my mom and dad that I was going to find a cure for diabetes. But I never did anything to even remotely contribute to finding a cure for diabetes. That was until last year when I started cycling in the Tour de Cures.
Last year I decided that I was going to ride in a Tour de Cure in every state. 50 Tour de Cures. That’s what I wanted to do. Sadly, there isn’t a Tour de Cure in every state (yet). But there is 84 different Tour de Cures across the nation. As such, I’ve upped my goal, I want to ride in all (currently) 84 Tour de Cures.
Ultimately, I hope that a cure is found long before I finish my last ride, but until then, I ride.
T is for Triathlon
tri·ath·lon [trahy-ath-luhn]
-noun
An athletic contest comprising three consecutive events, usually swimming, bicycling, and distance running.
I couldn’t use “T is for Triathlete” because I’m not a triathlete yet, but I’ll be able to say that I am when I participate in the Rattlesnake Triathlon in August up in Aurora, CO. I’m going to do the Sprint Distance one on the 17th of August. (I might be crazy enough to try and do an event in July, we’ll see.) A sprint distance triathlon is 500m swim, 12 mile bike, 5k run. I know I can do the biking portion. Next Sunday we’re going to find out if I can do the 5k run because I’m doing the Run for the Zoo in Albuquerque, which, coincidentally, is 5k. Swimming, well, I can swim, that’s all I know at this point.
A sprint distance triathlon is my start. The big goal for the next 18 months is to get prepared and be ready for the Square Lake Triathlon in September 2009. That’s what I’m aiming for.
I should actually say, that’s what we’re aiming for, because I’m not alone in this venture. Nope, currently, I’ve got Mari and Nancy (or perhaps they have me) on the team. Our team consists of women that live with Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes. We will be joyfully competing in the September 2009 Square Lake 70.3 triathlon. In the process of training for and competing in this event we will be proving to ourselves and the world that women living with the challenge of diabetes can unite with one another and our medical and coaching support staff to do something magnificent like completing a 70.3 Ironman.
We aim to demonstrate that WOMEN can be active and do intense endurance sports like triathlons. We want to demonstrate the power of women supporting each other to by physically active in general and with diabetes in particular. We want to be an inspiration to girls diagnosed with diabetes. We want to show what it is like to live with magnificence and joy at every turn; even in the face of this ravaging, frightening and very challenging disease.
I’d like to invite you to be part of this team, if you’re a woman with Type 1 or Type 2 diabetes and you have the desire, discipline, and athletic ability to compete in a 70.3 Ironman please contact me.
Scared by Low Blood Sugars
There’s not much that scares me. Low blood sugars scare me to death. I’m afraid that they’re going to kill me. There’s only maybe one other thing that scares me as much, and that’s DKA (diabetic ketoacidosis). I’ve been in DKA less than I’ve encountered the almost death by low blood sugars. Low blood sugars scare me. And they’re just plain annoying to top it off.
It’s really only been in the last couple of years that I’ve become severely scared by low blood sugars. Mostly, I just fear them at night when I’m asleep and they creep up on me and I don’t know it and next thing I do know I open my eyes and the room is all blurry and I can hear my dad saying “you’re ok kid, just relax” and I really have no clue what’s going on other than something bad happened. Low blood sugars scare me.
I can remember the first low that really just shook up my family, I don’t remember my reaction to it, but I remember bits and pieces of the ride to the hospital. My sister found me, sitting on my floor against the window seat in my bedroom. Just sitting there, staring into nothingness. She tried to talk to me and I wouldn’t respond. She got mom and dad, they couldn’t get me out of it. They checked my blood, it was in the 70s. (For those of you that don’t know, 70’s not all that low).
They apparently kept trying to put glucose gel into my mouth and I kept spitting it out, they tried to get me to drink juice and it dribbled down my face. They finally loaded me into the car to take me to the hospital. This is where I start to remember stuff. I was in space, traveling around a space station. There were portals that I kept going through, it was like a scene out of Star Wars where the space craft are jumping to light speed, the lights are a continuous line as you blaze past them. That’s what I remember of my trip to the hospital. I have no clue what they did there, I don’t remember coming home. Other than being in space, I wouldn’t even recall the account of this low blood sugar if I hadn’t been told.
I don’t believe I need to recount the number of times that I’ve had seizures, or how I passed out while driving. Have I mentioned that my blood sugar went low somewhere between the time the plane I was going to jump from left the ground and when I actually let go of the wing of it? Low blood sugars scare me.
Tonight I went low, and it wasn’t really all that low, 74. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered me, I would’ve just drank juice, eaten shot bloks, downed glucose tabs, maybe thought about eating some glucose gel. No big deal really. Tonight was different, I had been high just a hour before that low, 420 to be exact. I also had very large ketones. I dosed 1.5 times my correction for the high and the ketones, drank some water, and went on my way.
An hour later I was sitting on the floor in my room, trying my hardest to focus on the laundry sitting in my duffel bag from my last trip that needed to be put away. It wasn’t happening. My body felt like lead. My brain couldn’t focus. My vision went into a dark tunnel. I knew I was low. I tried to remember what I had done with my machine because I had used it earlier when I checked for the high blood sugar. I finally found it, and checked my blood, 74. What’s up with that, I wasn’t all that low. I reach for the juice box on the shelf below my desk and I fight to get the wrapping off the straw. I finally get it off and start sipping the juice. It really couldn’t make it through the straw fast enough. In the back of my head, I’m reminded of the stomach ache I have most likely a byproduct of the prior high blood sugar and the ketones. I get up to go out to the living room where my parents are. I start to talk to them about work. Mom stops me to ask how low I was. (I’m thinking I was making little to no sense, heck, for all I know, my words could’ve been slurring. Sometimes when I’m low, I just keep talking and talking, tonight was one of those times.)
Fifteen or so minutes later I head back to my room to check my blood. 5…4…3…2…1…79. 79, that’s it, I just drank 20 someodd carbs of juice I should’ve been higher. By this time, my stomach was very upset, I was very sure I was going to vomit. I couldn’t afford to vomit, if I did, I was just going to need to drink more juice. At this moment though, I needed more juice anyways. I headed out to the kitchen, told mom what was up. She wasn’t too concerned because I was still above 70. I drank some cranberry juice, took some papaya for my aching belly (at my mom’s suggestion) and headed back to my room.
Here I sit an hour and a half after the last glass of juice, I’m only 84. I should be far higher than that. My brain is still fuzzy, I can feel the vomit in my throat, but I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted. I can almost guarantee I’ll wake up low in the morning. Hopefully I wake up at 6am to my alarm and check my blood to find out that I’m low instead of waking up to my dad’s voice because I woke him up in the middle of the night thanks to a seizure.
Low blood sugars scare me.
Sporting Woman Magazine
A couple weeks ago I got an email from someone asking if they could talk to me because they were writing a newsletter and they wanted to quote me and put a picture of me in it. I was excited, who wouldn’t be? So, a week after I got the email, I had a phone call with the lady and she was telling me how she found me “I saw you in Sporting Woman Magazine“…
me: “I’m sorry, you found me where?”
her: “Sporting Woman Magazine.”
me: “Did you say magazine?”
her: “Yes”
I was completely caught off guard and I was blown away. At first I was perturbed. I kept thinking to myself, me in a magazine without my knowledge is that even legal? I seeked out the advice of my online buddies, did a little research online, contacted a publisher of a local magazine. Yes, I was that bugged by it. The irritation sat in the back of my mind though, at the forefront was, “should I be bugged, this is doing a great thing, people are going to read about me, and the Tour de Cure!”
At that point I didn’t know what was in the magazine. I was worried that something may have been taken out of context. I write so many negative thoughts about me and diabetes that it was freaky. I’m always scared that my words can be taken and depending on the words there can be huge misunderstandings. I have a bad attitude about my diabetes and I express it openly. It can be dangerous and I was worried about what was in the magazine.
But then, I had to think further, it couldn’t have been that bad (if it were bad). I was contacted and asked for photos and a quote to go out in a newsletter concerning the Tour de Cure. That contact was a direct result of me being in Sporting Woman.
When I got an email yesterday from the Editor-in-Chief/Publisher I was put at ease. She sent me the cover of the issue that I was in:
I felt even better about being in Sporting Woman when I received a copy of the issue today. (I’ve been like a kid waiting for Christmas morning all week. Hurrying home to check the mail and see if I had gotten anything.) When I saw the package sitting on my bed face down I immediately grabbed it and flipped it over to see who it was from. By the address, I knew it was my copy of Sporting Woman. I was so excited. I ripped into the package like a bat flies out of hell. I was so excited to finally set my eyes on the magazine.
I knew what I was looking for, it was on the cover “One Woman’s Tour de Cure”. So I opened up to the table of contents to find the page number that I was on. Page 56 in the Sporting Causes section “Tour de Cure - Racing towards the Cure to Diabetes”. I flip to page 56 not knowing what I was going to see, but I was very excited:
I saw the big Yet!, I knew that they had been watching my Diabetes 365 pictures. I had started Diabetes 365, a project where you take a daily photo that illustrates some aspect of daily living with diabetes and help explain what it’s like to live with diabetes every day of the year, back in October. It’s open to any diabetic that’s willing to take pictures of diabetes in their life for a year. It’s been tough lately, but I’m getting caught back up and staying on track now, but I digress.
They picked a picture that showed and described a bad bad day, but all around that indication of a bad bad day, was me, happy, riding, fighting the disease that I let keep me down for so long. I hope that people can look at those two pages in the Spring 2008 issue of Sporting Woman and see what I never saw when I was growing up with diabetes; diabetes can’t keep us down. Well, it can, but we shouldn’t let it. We need to choose to fight it instead of letting it beat us down as it so easily can.
Fighting it from the diabetic’s standpoint being that we can get out there and do anything despite having diabetes; and fighting it from everyone’s standpoint in that we do need a cure.