S is for Seabiscuit
sea·bis·cuit [see-bis-kit]
-horse
A champion thoroughbred race horse in the United States. From an inauspicious start, Seabiscuit became an unlikely champion and a symbol of hope to many US citizens during the Great Depression.
as per wikipedia
No, I’m not a horse, sometimes I may think I’m a little piggy, but never a horse. And if I were a horse, I’d never say that I’m Seabiscuit. But I will say that I’m like Seabiscuit.
The thought came to me while I was riding the second leg of the Las Vegas, NV Tour de Cure. I was all alone, no one in front of me no one behind me, and I was cursing because I hate hills. And then someone passed me, she went speeding along at speeds I was incapable of while on a hill but I got passed, and I tried to catch up to her, I never did catch up to her, but I did manage to pass this one guy who when I started out on the second leg, I couldn’t see him.
So I’m riding along cursing the hills shortly after I pass that guy and I think to myself, “I’m like Seabiscuit”. And the part of the movie that comes to my mind is when Red is talking to Georgie and telling him how to ride Seabiscuit and he says:
“He fights for it, Georgie.
If you bring him head to head
with that other horse,
and he looks him in the eye,
there’s no way
he loses that race.”
Ok, so, I’m like Seabiscuit in the loosest sense of the term “like”. You can bring me head to head with another cyclist, and I’ll fight to keep up with them, sometimes, I’ll even fight to pass them and get in front of them. But here’s where I’m not like Seabiscuit, once I’ve got my lead back, and I deem myself far enough in front of them, I slack off and go back into “cruise” mode.
But if they pass me again, the race is on. I’ll fight to get my lead back.
R is for Rebel
reb·el [reb-uhl]
1. a person who refuses allegiance to, resists, or rises in arms against the government or ruler of his or her country.
2. a person who resists any authority, control, or tradition.
I am a bit of a rebel, well, probably not so much a bit as much as I am a rebel. And I will fight for then reasons that I rebel against things. In fact, I wrote my senior thesis on rebellion and why it’s good. I used examples from history to support my thesis. When I go back and read it now, I think it’s crap, from a writing stand point, but as a high school senior, I got an A, I can’t complain about that.) It was kindof crazy.
I started my paper with a quote from President Thomas Jefferson. He said “A little rebellion every now and then is a good thing.” Now, I’ve taken that quote and run with it, give me an inch and I’m gonna go a mile kindof deal. I defined rebellion all the way from a dictionary definition to that of what famous people have said right down to what people in my life thought. I ended up summarizing rebellion with “to go against what is right.”
In the conclusion I said that rebellion was all about opinions. What was rebellion to one person may not be rebellion to another person. It was all a matter of perspective. It’s a matter of relativism. I closed my 50 page paper by saying: “My definition, anything that goes against the grain.”
I’ve rebelled more than my fair share during the last 26 years of my life. I started young too. At age 2 I refused to take a nap and I ended up falling a sleep on the coffee table, mom got a good picture of it.
I have been a rebel all though my life though, it started at age 2 and didn’t end. It hasn’t ended. I have a case of record breaking rebellion going on though right now. Well, record breaking in my life. Each day adds a day to the length of my epic rebellion. I’ve got a 16 year rebellion going on right now. A rebellion against my diabetes. I fight it daily, I refuse to accept it. I mean, I’m learning to live with it, but I don’t think that living with it is accepting it. And actually, diabetes isn’t something that I should have to accept, because I want a cure. And I’m not just going to reside myself to my current predicament (read: diabetes). And thus, I rebel against it.
Q is for Quality Control
I’m going to take a break here from discussing a word that fits me to discuss a word that is directly related to my diabetes at this point and time.
qual·i·ty con·trol [kwol-i-tee] [kuhn-trohl]
–noun
a system for verifying and maintaining a desired level of quality in a product or process by careful planning, use of proper equipment, continued inspection, and corrective action as required.
Yes, that’s right, Quality Control. Last year was all about obtaining control of my diabetes (instead of letting it control me), this year is all about improving that control.
I had a phone conversation last week with a couple of friends (who coincidentally are also diabetics) and they gave me some questions to go in and ask my CDE so that I can go about getting some things straightened out. In particular those low blood sugars that constantly plague me (the ones I’m afraid are going to kill me in the middle of the night).
Part of my quality control procedures was to try and get 8-10 checks a day into my schedule. I’m getting 6.5 checks a day in because I’m not diligent in checking every 2 hours (I hate being connected to the clock, it pisses me off, why should I have to run my schedule around a 2 hour blood check? EXACTLY, I SHOULDN’T!) Regardless of my lack of due diligence in testing my blood as often as I really probably should, my A1C is 6.5 (which is down .5 from the 7 that it was back in January.) That’s progress for me, it’s the lowest A1C that I’ve ever had in almost 16 years. Granted, it’s mostly due to all the low blood sugars that I have, but still, it’s a good A1C.
My thought though is that I shouldn’t have to be having all those low blood sugars to get my A1C that low. I theoretically think that I should just be able to run normal sugars 100% of the time and BAM! I’ll have a perfect A1C. (is there really a perfect A1C or just a desired one?)
For me to even have a chance at seeing this work, or come close to working, I have to get rid of the low blood sugars *rolls eyes* One thought thanks to my lovely friends was to do some basal testing to make sure that my basal rates are right. So far, I’ve done 1 night of basal testing. The worksheets that were mailed to me say I need 3 and that they don’t need to be consecutive (we’re looking for patterns here I think). I have yet to do a morning, noontime, or evening basal test simply because I can’t be doing something like that on a weekday (no food = grouchy Courtney). At this rate, it’s going to take me 3 weeks to get all my basal testing in.
But basal testing is step 1. After basal testing then I need to make sure my bolus rates are correct. When all that is said and done, then I’m gonna have to start doing something I loathe and that’s measuring food to determine the carbs in it if it’s not marked on some kind of packaging (which in my opinion is a royal pain in the ass and well, just a royal pain in the ass, I hate it).
Once I have all my rates in proper order and I’m counting carbs with insane accuracy, by my calculations, my numbers should run perfectly (on a non-exercise day). Now the reality of this happening is pretty slim to none, I have no problems with getting my basal and bolus rates correct, but beyond that, well, everything else is just a load of malarky. I really have no desire to be checking around the clock and I really have no desire to be measuring my food perfectly so that I get an exact carb count.
As I write and think about all this, I can’t help but thing about Six Sigma. Six Sigma is a concept I learned in Operations Management in college. Six Sigma is basically the measure of quality that strives for near perfection. I could get really geeky and go into how it’s all about trying to get no more than six standard deviations between the mean and the nearest specification limit (which in my case, the specification limit would be a blood sugar of 100). I think if I remember correctly there was a lot of qualifications that went along with six sigma but it was all about the processes that go into place in an attempt of achieving Six Sigma that made me think of it.
P is for Persistent
per·sist·ent [per-sis-tuhnt, -zis-]
–adjective
1. persisting, esp. in spite of opposition, obstacles, discouragement, etc.; persevering
2. lasting or enduring tenaciously
Persistent is another word that came from the same friend that gave me “O is for Opinionated“. She would know about my persistence considering the fact that she’s had to endure it time after time after time. There are some things that I just won’t give up on or I just won’t let go. I’m very much like the energizer bunny in this respect, there are some things that I will just keep going and going and going after until I reach the end result. This isn’t always good, but for the majority of the time, I can’t say that it’s bad.
I think a lot of the time, me being persistent is driven by my level of motivation. I’m persistent when I think I’m right (or I may not be right, but I think someone else is wrong), this has been most evident at work lately.
But there are times where my persistence is driven by my slight OCDness. Things need to be completed, and they need to be done properly. This for me is a hit or miss type of persistence, because it doesn’t always happen. There are a lot of things that I’m like “eh, whatever” and they don’t get completed or if they do get completed it’s a half ass job. Currently, an example of persistence driven by OCDness is being exhibited in playing The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. I don’t want to just beat the game, but I want to complete all the sidequests and make sure that I get and do everything possible (I’m strange like that some of the time).
You know, the more I think about this, and the more I write, I think that really me being persistent is completely driven by motivation, there’s something at the end of the line that I want when I’m being persistent.
O is for Opinionated
Have I mentioned that it’s getting harder and harder to write these entries? I’m having to go to other people to find words that describe me. Tonight I sought the opinion of someone that has seen me grow over the last 5 years. A very good friend. I told her I needed a word for “O” among the words she thought of were obstinate, objective, and observation. But she thought of the perfect word when she was thinking of a “Q” word. She said “oh! I have the perfect word for the letter O” and thus we got, opinionated.
o·pin·ion·at·ed [uh-pin-yuh-ney-tid]
–adjective
obstinate or conceited with regard to the merit of one’s own opinions; conceitedly dogmatic
Opinionated fits me rather well. I am one heck of an opinionated person, and I’m not afraid to share it. It’s gotten me into trouble occassionally, well, that occassionally probably happens more often than not, but I can’t help it sometimes. What I think, needs to be heard especially when it’s over some heated something or other (but there are times when I don’t say a word or I speak very little, and yes, I’m aware that those times don’t happen very often.)
I think my opinion is most famous from when I was in college (I think). I had quite the reputation in college because I wasn’t afraid to tell professors what I thought. It was kindof funny sometimes, students were afraid to speak because they knew that I’d have something to say. I had a job where I got told that whenever I wanted to talk about something I had to have the data/facts to support it. I applied it in school, so, professors/students would say something and I’d battle it if I had a good reason and something to support it.
I can’t say that all my opinions are supported by data/facts, but I share them anyways.
N is for Nonsensical
non·sen·si·cal [non-sen-si-kuhl]
-adjective
1. Lacking intelligible meaning
2. Foolish; absurd
This probably very much accompanies “G is for Goofy” but, nonsensicalness is fun. I have no problems joining in nonsensicalness, it’s quite enjoyable in fact.
I think my most favorite moments of nonsensicalness came in February when I was in FL and I got to go on a scavenger hunt. I had a list of things we had to get and a great team of people accompanying me. We took off running to try and get as much as we could off that list in the hour that we had. The funniest thing about it is that I was competing against Alli and there was no, like, no prize. There was no prize, we were just out there doing it for the fun of it. It was excellent.
Running around downtown Orlando with my list and my team (Ashley, Crystal, Veronique, Jamie, Marty, Travis). Talking to strangers to get a picture with them.
Jumping into a fountain (that really didn’t look as deep as it really was).
Lying on the sidewalk to have my outline drawn as though something had happened to me and it was a crime scene. Running into restaurants to get napkins, straws, menus, etc. At one point, I even had sand in my pocket.
To onlookers, it didn’t make sense. To us, we were on a mission. The craziest most nonsense stuff had us laughing and enjoying ourselves.
Nonsense is fun, and as such, I have no problems being nonsensical.
M is for Motivated
mo·ti·vat·ed [moh-tuh-veyt-ed]
-adjective
provided with a motive or given incentive for action
It was a battle to choose to use this word for the letter ‘M’. Mainly because I’m not always motivated. But then, I guess that’s true of all people. We’re not all motivated all the time.
I think I chose this word because of a conversation with my mom, which wasn’t so much a conversation as it was me yelling at her (yes, I know I do that a lot). In my mental breakdown over diabetes last week and this past weekend she had said that I fought for everything I couldn’t have and never took the opportunities that I did have. A day later I asked her what opportunities she thinks I had that I never took in middle/high school. She said “how about we go past high school” and I was like, “I didn’t care about after high school, I was in college because it’s required by life, not because I wanted to be there.” (and I went on about that for a few moments) I said “I didn’t want my diabetes and I didn’t care nor did I think about what was going to happen if I didn’t take care of myself” to which she said “we noticed” (or something close to those lines). I told her there was no reason to take care of it.
This is where it hurt, her saying “so you have to have a reason to take care of yourself?” Harsh reality, I do, there has to be a reason worth living. It’s not enough to just live, I’ve got to be doing something. I’ve got to feel like I’m accomplishing something.
There are times that I fight real hard to keep myself from getting unmotivated, because if I’m unmotivated, that just causes trouble. But when I am motivated, that’s just pure sweetness. I strive to make things happen when I’m motivated. There just has to be a reason for doing it, I’m not normally a person that does things without there being a reason. But there are times when I’m unmotivated and everything just pretty much goes to hell in a hand basket.
Motivation has been a problem in school and in work. In school, if I was bored out of my mind because I wasn’t learning anything, hell would be caused for the professors. I’d question everything and challenge them hoping that they’d challenge me back, only a handful responded to my tactics and actually made their class worth attending. There were several times where I refused to go to class because it was a waste of time. It caused trouble for me down the line because I wasn’t getting A’s I was getting C’s because of lack of attendance and participation (even though I could ace the tests).
If I’m not motivated at work, I’ll bug the hell out of people trying to get new projects. If they don’t give me projects then I come up with my own projects, that can usually be bad as well, because the stuff I decide to do on my own isn’t always in agreement with the bosses (I can’t help that what I think doesn’t align with what they think).
Now adays, I’m mostly motivated, but it all depends on the day. I have my good days and I have my bad days and I have my inbetween days…
Let My Voice Be Heard
I was yelling at mom again this weekend, it seems to have been more of a regularity this week than usual, I was going on and on about how she doesn’t understand. At one point she said something that really hit hard (but I didn’t tell her that) she said “you pushed us away, you wouldn’t talk to us, you wouldn’t let us help.” Of course, I had my reasons, and I readily retorted “you wouldn’t listen. you didn’t understand when I was having a hard time so why should I have shared? Nothing you had to say was useful or constructive…” I went on and on, but in reality, much of what people don’t understand is because I don’t share. There’s no voice to be heard because there’s no talking on my part.
What people usually hear is anger, they see tears, and most of the time they don’t understand why. They don’t understand that it’s not me being hormotional half the time. That half the time what they’re seeing/hearing is the result of low or high blood sugars. Only recently have I started explaining what’s going on and if they’re seeing something they might need to speak up and ask if I’ve checked my blood sugar.
People sometimes see my pump hanging off my pocket of my jeans. They ask from time to time, “is that a pager? is that a cell phone? man, that’s an odd and bulky looking mp3 player.” In the past, I may have given a sheepish smile, and comment “no, it’s my insulin pump” and quickly steer away from that conversation. I wasn’t one to share what I was wearing an insulin pump for, I didn’t want to hear the words “gee, you must have it bad” (in reference to my diabetes) and have to explain that I didn’t have it bad, I had type 1 diabetes and my pump is pretty much my life line, my life support. No, in the past, I wouldn’t have said much. Now a days, there’s a little bit more of a conversation, I will entertain their questions and their lack of knowledge for a short while. Not for particularly long though, it still annoys me that I have to talk about it.
I used to decline participating in activities. I’d make up some workable excuse as to why I couldn’t do something on some such weekend. At home I’d be yelling at mom because I didn’t go because I didn’t want to have to stop whatever was being done in the name of checking my blood. How uncool would it be to be hanging from the face of a rock and say, “hey can you just hang on to the rope for a minute while I stop and check my blood sugar?”
Now, I’m out there in full force (most of the time), cycling mostly, letting people know about my diabetes, unashamed to share (it helps that the environment in which I’m sharing is centered around finding a cure for diabetes, but hey, at least I’m speaking up).
Now, I write about just about every aspect that diabetes interferes with my life (because that’s exactly what it does, it interferes).
I’m growing when it comes to talking about my diabetes in general. But more often than not, it does get discussed. Of all the things I say though, where my diabetes is concerned, I want this to be heard most:
I may only be one person with Type 1 diabetes, but I’m one person in a group of more than 2 million. Type 1 Diabetics are approximately 10% of the diabetic population. I have lived with Type 1 Diabetes for 16 years even though I don’t always openly discuss it. I’m looking at at least 7 more decades of this disease if a cure is not found. You may not see it, but I feel it every day, every hour, every minute. It’s there with me physically, emotionally, and financially. This is my voice, let it be heard; we deserve to be cured.
RAISE YOUR VOICE and let people know that diabetes is not invisible.
L is for Laughter
laugh·ter [laf-ter, lahf-]
-noun
1. the action or sound of laughing.
2. an inner quality, mood, disposition, etc., suggestive of laughter; mirthfulness
3. an expression or appearance of merriment or amusement.
Laughter is such a good sound. It’s happy if it’s sincere. It doesn’t take much to make me laugh, to through me into a fit of giggles, to make my belly and sides ache and leave me unable to breathe because I was laughing so hard.
It’s the smallest of things sometimes that will make me laugh. In fact, there are days when what’s making me laugh, people don’t get and I can’t explain it to them, but at least I’m laughing, I’m going to live longer for it.
Even though there are days where I’m one heck of a serious person, I’m proud to say that I laugh. Whenever I’m laughing, I think of my sister that doesn’t laugh anymore. I can’t remember the last time she laughed. One day I made a comment: “I don’t think smoking pot would make her laugh”. Everyone in the room agreed with me (at least, that’s how I recall it in my head).
Laughing is good for the soul, I suggest doing it whenever you get a chance.
K is for Krumbs Morrone, err, Kerri Morrone
I spent many years in denial of my diabetes. I spent many years being isolated because of my diabetes (it was easier for me to not deal with people questioning everything if I avoided them). I knew one other diabetic while I was growing up. Her and I didn’t become friends until Juniors in high school and yet we’d gone to school together since elementary. We were first in a class together in the 7th grade. But my Junior year in high school, there was really no connection to other diabetics.
When she switched colleges in 2004ish, I pretty much lost contact with her. In 2005ish, I started surfing the net for blogs of diabetics. The one that sticks out in my head is Kerri Morrone’s SixUntilMe. The first post I ever remember reading was when she told off the paramedics, that was classic. Every couple months or so I’d check back in and see what was going on. The bottle of juice in the shower sticks out as well. There was always the antics Siah cat to keep me entertained. She’d talk about the walks she was doing for the JDRF, her pump, life in general, Superman, Larry Bird, her life with diabetes, etc.
I fell away from the blog sometime in 2006 though. When I came back to it in 2007 the first entry I read was about Crumbs Morrone. From that day in 2007 (which I guess was February 12th given that’s the date on that entry) I have been reading Kerri’s blog daily.
Some of my favorites include when she’s talking about her high blood sugars and she’s got sweaters on her teeth, the antics of Siah Sausage (who I swear, is on her way to ruling the world). I appreciate all the posts that she does where diabetes equipment is concerned. The way Kerri writes is very entertaining, even when she’s not feeling well it’s entertaining.
Kerri’s blog will always stand out in my head as the first diabetic blog that I ever started reading, but through her blog I’ve come to know many other blogs. When she started SixUntilMe there weren’t many other D blogs out there, now they’re all over the place. Her’s is my favorite though.