Shaken Stirred & Standing

For Amber Waves of Grain

2011-07-04T06:18:00.000-07:00

If you're like many Americans, you'll enjoy a picnic or cook-out this weekend with family and friends. This weekend, my husband and I went back to his hometown to be together with his family. My father-in-law is from a big farm family of 11, including 4 brothers. His "baby brother" was home from South Carolina, so we got together to enjoy steaks and sizzling conversation:)

Neither my father-in-law or his brothers went into farming, so after their mother passed away, the farm was sold. But, it doesn't take much when you're from Iowa to still be close to where your food is grown, or in the words from an advertising gentleman I used to work with, from "farm gate to dinner plate."

Since I had a long and winding rode to get to the in-laws, I thought I would share a few photos along the way to share the fields of "amber grain" this beautiful Fourth of July Day.

Enjoy...from sea...

to shining sea.

In northern Iowa, you can see corn for as far as the eye can see, as they say. I was struck how the roadside cat-tails, the corn and the trees, all blended together in an ocean of green:)

and I kept seeing lots of red, white and blue among the countryside, from the farm buildings, to the farm houses...that is quite a blue:)

4 for the Fourth: Food, Family, Fun, Freedom

2011-07-02T05:51:00.001-07:00

The Fourth of July weekend is here. Time to celebrate a few of our favorite things.

Food: There's still time to take in my city's Farmer's Market...one of my favorite things...you can get everything from fresh vegetables to help in growing your own. Check out the mushroom kit you can buy there!

Or there's always popcorn. A local stand even has red, white and blue popcorn (cherry, vanilla and blueberry flavored).

Family & Fun in one: Time to celebrate another great camp week for my son. While I'd like him to go to "D" camp. He's not interested (yet). So, since he's all things sports, he attended the local Drake basketball camp. The photo shows him at the awards ceremony where he got a "Mr Defense" medal. While the camp is about improving skills for the game, one thing I love about this camp is that Coach Phelps also teaches them about having an "attitude of gratitude".

Back to Food....it takes alot to keep this teen growing...I've been loading up on gluten-free pasta from the farmer's market or the store. He's been eating lots of pasta to keep him going in football and basketball practice.

As it seems like I'm always running to the grocery store now, I saw this last night:

it's a sign asking people to think about signing up for the local triathalon,

asking if anyone would be swimming up, tuning up or lacing up...My market research of 1 says not many in the store last night were in training. With prices of $1.77 chips and $2.50 twelve-packs of pop, I think more were "stocking" up like this:

Whatever your tradition is, including traveling this holiday,

while it would be easy to complain about the cost of gas for these big SUV's and trucks, to the heat and humidity here in Iowa, I'm going to take Coach Phelps advice and practice an "attitude of gratitude" and remember it's because we live in the land of the free that we can choose the food, family and fun we partake in. Let freedom ring!

Our house

2011-05-03T04:51:00.000-07:00

At our house, there is a teen with:

a wicked ripstick skateboard...but that isn't the biggest balancing act he faces.
airsoft guns...but they don't deliver the "shots" that hurt the most. Those would be administered by the super thin II insulin syringes, "comfort assured".
an iTouch and an iPod...but the technology that he turns to the most is an insulin meter that pricks his fingers 6-8x a day.

I woke up today and find out from @CureType1Diabetes that another teen has been lost to this war and I'm tired, but will keep fighting.

For in this house is also a teen with:

honor roll grades and dreams of college...despite spending precious minutes in the nurse's office over the last 9 years to test his blood sugar or treat a low.

awesome friends...who have went with him to the nurse's office or fetched a juice for him when he's went low playing basketball at their house.

a tired dad...but he'll work another day/week/...years hopfully for the little brown truck company because it has the most awesome health insurance.

a tired mom...but one who has the DOC, including all the awesome D-Moms, to keep me sane through it all.

(Thanks to @Sugar_Nova for the idea for this blog today. It's been almost a year since I blogged...Oy!)

Track Helps Son Stay on Track

2010-05-14T18:35:00.000-07:00

Today's DiabetesBlogWeek topic is Exercise. For myself, I would call it the exorcist...I seriously just need to get all the excuses out of my system for not exercising. Since my son's diagnosis, I myself have gained 30 lbs. from the stress of juggling the disease, its demands and a full-time job. But enough about that, this is supposed to be about him...

My son knows exercise is key to keeping his blood sugars in check. Today, we had his 3 month check up, which was actually a 5 month check up since we let it slide. My son and I were both dreading the A1C results. We were both happy last Sept. when his A1C came in at 6.7. That was one of his best averages. Then at his December visit, it had crept up to 8.0. The endo said it could be the start of teen hormones starting to wreak chaos on his blood sugar. So, we were surprised and happy today to see it start creeping back down to 7.7.

I told the endo we were both surprised since his numbers have been trending upwards. And, then, I said, thank goodness for track. I think all the running helped balance out the highs. And, of course she agreed. This summer, we have basketball camp and football camps as well as swimming planned, so I hope his A1C will "keep on a keepin on" coming down so we can see how low can you go...which leads me to take the easy way out about addressing lows.

I didn't have time to write a blog earlier this week about lows. Short story: he likes candy to treat a low. BUT, he knows candy doesn't always kick in right away, so for most lows, he uses a Capri Sun juice pack. I read other blogs this week where people talked about juice "boxes." For the past several years, he's used the soft juice packs since they seem to be more portable since they're soft. In fact, most days during track, he ran with a Capri Sun lemondade in his shorts pocket in case he went low. I think he only needed it once. And, the only bad thing he had happen during track was during a practice. He had left the juice packet on the grass beside the field. When he came back during a break, he found that someone had opened up the straw and drank 1/2 of it! Thank goodness he didn't need it that day...yuck!

Who's your biggest supporter?

2010-05-12T08:48:00.000-07:00

My biggest supporter has been my mom. She's a retired, registered nurse and has been the one who has been at my side the most through the ups and downs of diabetes.

I guess it's only fitting that she was there the day my son was diagnosed since she was also there the day he was born. She was the one who held my hand during my C-section, rather than my husband. She's my "matter-0f-fact" mom. For example, when my husband walked into the hospital after my C-Section and wanted to know if it was a girl or boy, she said, "Well, you'll have to go find out yourself." It was her way of chiding him for taking the easy way out and letting her be there during surgery while he calmed his nerves with a cigarette outside.

Like I said, she was there on the day we got the diagnosis. For that story, see my very first post on this blog. Short version: she was in town to help us pack/move across town...yes, which was scheduled for the next day. Instead of packing the day before our move, we were at the hospital for about 7 hrs and when we returned home at 4 p.m. my mother was waiting in the driveway wondering what had happened. It didn't take more than one look at the large red sharps container to figure it out. It was shortly after that when my "matter-of-fact" mom who IS my biggest supporter caused me to gasp when she uttered the words, "Did you ever get life insurance on him?" I know she didn't think she was being negative, but I wanted to hit the ground and cry because I thought she was saying the gig was already up.

She wasn't and we moved on. Literally.

She was there that first night to pack up my kitchen things and get a carload of those things over to our new house.
She was there at 6 a.m. as I rattled around packing more items since I couldn't sleep to say, "You know he will live and he WILL be o.k."
She was there when I did the first injection at our new house and my 5 year old son threw a chair against our new patio door in anger.
She was there to say I was doing a good job when I told her it was o.k., the Child Life Specialist said to stay calm to help him through the storm.
She was there to stay for a few more hours so I could go back to the old house and close it up and say goodbye not only to the house I had lived in for 7 years but goodbye to life as I had come to know it.

Books about mother/daughter relationships fill library shelves. It's hard to put into a blog. Ours is as complicated as any. By the years, here are the Cliff Notes:

At 64, she was there for my son's birth.
At 65, she was there to relieve me as I battled thru his first year of life and colic! I've always worked full time, and during that year, I would literally count the days until she came to relieve me and I could sleep.
At 66, she was there as I started a new job where I traveled from Nashville to Alburquerque to San Antonio in the course of one month to handle media relations and trade shows with a 2 year old at home. She was great support for my husband in these adventures.
At 68, she was the one my husband and I left our son with as we escaped to Florida for a well-needed vacation...just the two of us.
At 69, she was there when we got his diabetes diagnosis and our world came crashing down.
At 70, she was there as I now traveled with my job at an ad agency that had me meeting clients on their home turfs of Alabama and North Carolina and trade shows in Atlanta.
At 71, she was there as I continued to travel from Connecticut to Chicago.
At 72, she was there as our son started Little League. She traveled 3 hours to see many of his games that summer.
At 75, she was there as our son played in the All Star Baseball game. She witnessed his adrenaline rush, his subsequent extra shot of insulin and his winning pitches.
At 76, she was there beside me freezing her bottom as we watched her grandson play in the 6th grade championship football.
And at 77, she's been there to see him make 7th grade honor roll with straight A's. She also stayed with our son this past year when I finally escaped to Vegas for a much needed 5 day break.

As I mentioned, it hasn't always been a bed of roses...I'll leave that for another blog. For now, I'm counting on her:

to be there at 82 to see her grandson graduate from high school
to be there at 86 to see her grandson graduate from college and
to be there at 94 when he conquers the world:)

So, it should be no surprise that when a few other D-moms talked about getting together for a cruise a few weeks ago, I said I would want my mom along. She's been there for me during the high seas and the low tides of diabetes...so she needs to go cruisin with us to celebrate how far we've come!

Day in the Life of a Type 3 - #Diabetes

2010-05-10T17:45:00.000-07:00

6:45 Wake son to get ready for school. Remind him to check ketones since he has had them off and on for the last week.
6:55 He finally gets up, goes to the bathroom and tells me the ketones are "negative." Yeah! Good way to start the day. He is 13 and suddenly has an aversion to the shower/bath, so remind him he needs to take one before school. Usually he goes straight to the tub. But, today, he asks if he can have breakfast first. Remind him that he can't, because if I give his insulin and then he eats and then takes a bath, he might go low since the insulin will go into his system quicker. Routine, routine.
7:15 Done with his bath, he checks his blood sugar and it's 160. Ready for his Chocolate Rice Krispies and milk. I pour exactly 1 cup of each. We've got this breakfast down. Takes 3 1/2 units of Humalog to cover the cereal and milk. I draw up that amount in the syringe and then mix it with 11 units of Humulin N to get him to dinner time.
10:00 Call endo and make his 3 month checkup appt which is now 2 months late. Never fails, if I don't make the appt when we leave the office, I put it off for awhile. The nurse first tells me that the doctor is booked out until August. I stay on hold and she says the endo has actually opened up some May dates and we can get in this Friday. That's good. I'm already feeling guilty that we haven't been there since Christmas and after a week of ketones off and on, wonder if he's going through a growth spurt and they'll want to adjust his Humulin N dose for morning and night.
10:14 Email my boss to let her know I'll be out most of Fri. morning.
10:15 Email son's teachers to let him know he'll be out most of Fri. morning.
Start dreading telling my soon he has a dr. appt this Friday.
Noon: With diabetes on the brain, check out the local summer camp I wish he would attend. He turned 13 a few weeks ago, and I would really like him to be doing more of his shots. The goal this year, was for him to do the fast acting shots at dinner, but that has not been happening.
1:00 Start thinking about some grocery ads I need to develop and flip thru the latest Food Network magazine for inspiration. The Oscar Meyer "Deli Fresh" ad catches my eye. The guy is sitting on the counter with a few slices of shaved turkey breast, licking his fingers and the headline says, "Who needs bread?" When you're always thinking of diabetes and Celiac's, of course this ad speaks to me. "That's right," I think. "Who needs bread?" Not us when we eat gluten free.
6:00 Get home from work and see 3 wrappings from cheese squares and a can of Diet Coke by the TV....my son's after school snack that's gluten and carb free.
7:00 Son tests blood glucose and he's 100. What? That NEVER happens. This Diabetes Blog Week has brought us good Karma. After asking about son's lunch, discover he didn't like the grilled cheese sandwich the school made on gluten-free bread and find out he had milk and a serving of mashed potatoes. Son is very hungry and now I know why. My husband gets the roast he's made out of the crock pot. I get potatoes out of the oven and sweet corn out of the microwave. I estimate the needed insulin...4 1/2 units of Humalog, draw it up, give it to son, and we eat dinner. Most nights are like this...homecooked meal around our table.
At 10:00, I'll draw up insulin for my son's bedtime shot. It will be 9 units of HumulinN and any fast acting he wants if he needs to cover a bedtime snack.

And in the back of my mind all day will run 3 things:
1) Mother's Day was yesterday. I'm so thankful to have had these 7 1/2 years post diabetes diagnosis. I don't take any day for granted.
2) I'm sad to have heard last night from my mom that my 50 year old cousin has just been diagnosed with diabetetes and that
3) a different cousin's grandson has been having digestive problems and they wonder if he also has Celiac's....
Yes, diabetes, you are ALWAYS on my mind....

When you want to keep a brand promise..."There's a Way"

2010-01-04T14:20:00.000-08:00

Walgreens proved to me this past Saturday that their new ad campaign, unleashed last fall, lives up to its brand promise.

The numbing weather in the Midwest this past week can be life threatening...especially if you get stranded somewhere without your necessary medical supplies. For my son, that means all the gear that goes with diabetes. And for an overnight trip out of town, that means having more than enough supplies on hand....which of course I noticed were not in my cupboard Friday night as I prepared to leave town the next morning.

The Walgreens location I regularly visit is not open 24/7. Between the time the store was scheduled to open (8:00 a.m.) and the time we hoped to leave town (2 hours later), I still had to order the prescription, give the pharmacy an hour to fill it, return some rented video games, pick up my son from a sleepover, grab him a quick breakfast, get back home and give him his morning insulin.

Everything needed to run like clockwork. My destination was a 3 hour drive into the frozen tundra of northern Iowa. I wanted to have time to visit with my mother for a few hours before heading back on roads covered with sheets of ice to my husband's hometown where we were spending the night. I at least wanted my return drive to start before the sun went down.

So, you can imagine my panic when I pulled up in the drive thru lane at Walgreens and the store was dark at 9:15 a.m. I had even made sure to speak to a "live" person when I ordered the prescription to make sure they would have it ready. The friendly woman on the other end said, "We'll try our best."

As I had turned off the Interstate onto the street where both the video store and Walgreens are located, I noticed that the street lights weren't working. I didn't think too much of it. But when I got to the pharmacy and saw the darkened store, I figured the two were connected.

I waited outside the pharmacy window for a few minutes thinking about all the scenarios that could play out if I didn't get my new supply. Then, the pharmacist walked up to the window. She asked, "Can I help you?" I gave her my son's name and the information on the prescription I was picking up.

I also asked, "Don't you have power?" Her response was that they did not and that they didn't even have heat. She then went to get my prescription, verified my address and opened up the window to slide out my son's month's supply of syringes.

It's Monday now, and I still don't know if the lack of electricity was from snow and ice taking down a power line or something else. And, I don't need to. The pharmacy made sure I had what I needed. I now wonder how they printed off the prescription labels, etc., but I guess I won't know until the next time I go inside to ask.

In a September 2009 Brandweek article, Walgreen's Chief Marketing Officer talked about the company's efforts to truly understand their customers in an effort to make sure their services and messaging are relevant. They found that patrons such as myself enjoy that they are "truly accessible healthcare. If their baby has an earache or headache in the middle of the night, we are there for them...."

She went on to say that we count on them to be a trusted resource, including complicated things like "assisting a newly diagnosed diabetic. This all lead to the development of our new communication program, which is truly a...new slogan for the Walgreens brand: Walgreens: There's a Way."

In Iowa Saturday, that meant a "Winter Wonderland Way"...electricity or not.

From Wicked City to Sin City, Looking for Joy Rising

2009-12-28T11:59:00.001-08:00

In the past 7 years of dealing with my son's challenges with diabetes, I've counted on two things to help get me through the low times...books and music.

Regarding books, I tried reading the following, but didn't finish most: Angry with God, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, On Death and Dying (since the stages of grief apply to dealing with disease as well, at least for me) to Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis. Yes, there were some dark days and nights. Then I turned to memoirs others had written about living with illness. So far, Richard Cohen's memoir called blindsided: Lifting a Life Above Illness is the book I liked best.

But always, I've turned to music. Music has always been the underlying "soundtrack" to whatever is going on in my life. I usually have music playing on a CD, the radio or my iPod, whether I'm working, driving or doing housework.

This year, I also read Anne Rice's Called Out of Darkness about her spiritual journey. In it, she discusses how the music of the church is one of the things that tugged at her heart as she made her way back into the fold. I haven't had that experience yet, but I did attend Catholic school like Anne. In grade school, each day started with Mass and the music of the Word.

My mother had all four of her children take piano and guitar lessons from the nuns at the school. In third grade, we started with piano lessons and then proceeded to at least 2 years of guitar lessons. My brother and I went on to play the church organ for Masses for probably 6 years. At home, I quickly learned that banging on the keyboard of an old upright piano was a good way to relieve stress. One of my memories is of a particular fiesty nun who would hit my fingers with a pen if I hit the wrong notes while I was playing a piece during a lesson. Think of her saying, "Practice much, my little pretty?" (Oops, straying into wicked territory.)

So where do the Wicked City and Sin City fit into those thoughts? Well, the past two years, I've made a conscious effort to bring the experience of "live" music back into my life by sharing "fellowship" with my family and friends in alternative houses of "worship".

It all started when I attended Bon Jovi's concert last year with my friend Kathy. Neither her boyfriend or my husband wanted to attend since they thought Jon had "gone country." They were wrong. Jon played his songs from different eras and "Always" was a highlight for many.

The month before we attended the concert, Kathy had lost her brother to a quick 3-week fight with cancer. Before that, he had endured a long battle with physical challenges stemming from a car accident 30 years prior. The night of the concert, the auditorium was mainly filled with other women sans husbands and boyfriends enjoying the evening. Afterwards, my friend said she felt it was finally o.k. - and remembered how - to have fun again after her brother died.

Next up was taking my mother to see The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. A solo performance of "Rock-a-My Soul" did just that.

In October, my sister and I took our mom to see the musical "Wicked" as a belated birthday gift. We had a great afternoon out. When I was researching the musical online, I got a kick out of the fact that they listed all the cities where they were performing as a "Wicked City." I don't think Des Moines has ever made that list before.

Other live performances I've seen this year have been solo acoustic performances by Bryan Adams and Jackson Browne. Bryan easily filled the venue with his one man show and was sometimes accompanied by another musician on the piano. Jackson ticked me off from the start when he said he was glad to be in Davenport (he was in Des Moines.) He made it even worse than the Boss's fumble of not knowing which city he was in when he said something to the affect of, "You really don't want to hear this, but after so many days on the road, all the cities are the same." Between that, his weak voice at times and obnoxious patrons shouting for him to play their favorites during the show, it was my least favorite show this year. I did enjoy his last song played with his guitar tech. They played "Take it Easy", a song he wrote for the Eagles, since he said he no longer worried about people thinking he was trying to cover their song.

The next week, I took a long needed vacation with my friend Kathy to Vegas for five days. During my vacation, I decided to "Let Go and Let God" and not have every day and night planned. It worked in my favor.

One morning, we stopped at the Venetian's Concierge desk to inquire about tickets for that night's performance of "Jersey Boys", the musical about Frankie Valli's life. They did and they were middle of the house... and fantastic. I loved finding out the story behind each song - where the inspiration came from in his life or that of other members of The Four Seasons.

The next morning I called after seeing an ad in a magazine for "Human Nature". It's a group from Australia that is backed by Smokey Robinson and they play Motown hits. The gentleman on the phone couldn't believe he still had two tickets for a front table. Several times during the performance, the singers danced and sang their way onto our table. At one point, they brought up on stage a woman sitting across from us who was celebrating her friend's birthday. It was a great night of memories.

When I got back from vacation, I took the next day off and caught the Oprah show that afternoon. She showed the clip of The Black Eyed Peas and the "flash mob of synchronized dance" to their live performance of "I Gotta Feeling."

She interviewed a gentleman in the audience who had been there. He said the experience was life transforming and when she asked him to describe it, he said it was like "Joy Rising." I love that saying! So, here's to finding more "Joy Rising" in the New Year. And yes, I have tickets to The Black Eyed Peas in March!

The Dog Days of Texting and Tweens

2009-10-01T10:48:00.001-07:00

I finally caved! I bought a cell phone for my "tween". It only took one day at football practice this fall for me to drive as fast as I could to the nearest retail location of my cell phone provider and sign him up on a family calling/texting plan. There was a medical reason I wanted to be in touch with my son while he was out of my sight. We had reached the age were he is out of the "rec" leagues for sports and now playing Middle School sports. I no longer would always be on the sidelines at practice to help with his high and low blood sugars that go along with diabetes, but I did want to be one phone call away.

I went into the cell phone store knowing I also needed to upgrade to a phone that made it easier for me to text. Yes, I am not a "digital native" like my son. He looked at me funny when I told him that's how we classify his age group in marketing. And, my cell phone was no longer holding a good charge.

In a previous lifetime, in a previous job, I traveled from Des Moines to Delaware to the Dakotas and to the sand dunes of Nebraska without a cellphone. So I really couldn't fathom why my son needed this accessory for just traveling within a five mile radius of our home on most days.

I know, as everyone has told me, my son (and I) are living in a different time and place. But, I just couldn't get my head around a 12 year old needing a phone yet.

A recent MediaPost update says Nielsen has the latest tabulation on cellphone use for "tweens" and it is astounding: EACH sent almost 3,000 text messages per month as compared to making only 191 calls in Q4 of last year. Unbelievable!

Well, some of his first texts are priceless! Following is a sampling and they also serve as a good diary of our life right now.

This one cracks me up: "Mom ididn't reach mr stalker can call the school"

No, dear reader, my son was not being followed by a guy named Mr. Stalker. What he meant to type was: "Mom, I didn't reach Mr. (something spelled close to stalker). Can you call the school?"

The story behind the text is that he had missed a class due to his regular 3 month doctor's appointment and he wanted me to possibly call the teacher to work out a time for him to make up a class.

I also decided this is the year to release some of my parental interference. I told him he would have to figure it out himself...and I'm happy to report he did. It only took him one study hall to make up the work.

Two other texts I treasure from his friends are:

1) do u have the dogs?

Explanation: His friend Jack was his partner in science class and Jack wanted to know if my son would be bringing the HOT DOGS to school the next day for their project using solar energy to cook the "dogs".

2) Are you at the bus stop?
His friend's response: Yup. C+C forever!

Those two messages give you a pretty good insight into the mind of 12 year old "tweens" and what's on their mind.

But it's that last one that made me realize in text version the real divide (and it's not a digital divide) that he and his friend's face each day as tweens. Their struggle to leave childhood and enter the real new age...adulthood.

Dear Congressman/Woman...How was your day?

2009-08-18T17:05:00.001-07:00

Dear Sir/Madam,

How was your day? You would like to hear about mine as a parent of a child with diabetes, you say? To put this in context, please know that much of this stems from taking my son for a tetanus shot on Saturday which was required to play middle school football. So here goes:

2:00 a.m. Woke my son to ask him to go to the bathroom to check for ketones (acid which has been building in his body and if the level becomes too high, some parts or systems in the body will not work in this "acid polluted environment" according to "A First Book for Understanding Diabetes"). He was too tired (and so was I) so I let him sleep another 2 hours until 4 a.m.

4:oo a.m. Woke my son for a second time and begged him to test for ketones. He stumbled into the bathroom and the test was negative. He told me, "Thank you very much for making me wake up." He then checked his blood sugar with a finger poke and glucose meter. The meter read 200. With a negative ketone reading and extra insulin in his body from a 10:00 p.m. injection, I figured he would be o.k.

6:30 a.m. I got up to get ready for work

7:30 a.m. Woke son up for a third time and had him repeat steps above. His blood sugar was now 331 and his ketones were large. I returned to my state of confusion with this most confusing disease but I had to get myself out the door for work (as I am trying to be a productive member of society to help our economy get back on track and yeah, to help pay the bills which most one-income families cannot cover these days). So, I loaded up another syringe mixed with long lasting and short acting insulin to hopefully flush the ketones out of his system. I popped a frozen omelet in the microwave, got a bottle of water for him and gave him both before I headed out the door for work.

8:30 a.m. Prepared for meeting with client.

9:40 a.m. Left for client meeting and called son to see how he felt to make sure he didn't crash (lose consciousness or go into a seizure from too low of blood sugar from extra insulin). He was o.k. so I headed into client meeting where I...

10:00 Reviewed digital media plan with healthcare client (go figure, a morning focused on all things health related)

11:10 Back at office to work on various other client ads

Noon Called son to check on blood sugar/ketones to find out that we were back on the rollercoaster ride called "ketones". While his blood sugar was only 119, his body had now produced moderate ketones.

12:20-12:30 Tried to convince son to give himself more extra units of insulin with his lunch to again try to flush them out of his system. I didn't succeed.

12:30 Called staff at local Children's Hospital to confirm extra doseage of insulin I thought I should have him take.

1:00 Left office to take a late lunch at home which would also help me succeed in getting extra insulin into my son. You see, he really, really wants to be a football player and I've told him diabetes will not stop him from anything he wants to do. So, I'm not about to give up just because he doesn't want to do his own shot today. It's only been 2 months since he's gotten up the courage to do his own injections, and today he wasn't up to it.

1:15 Arrive at home, give son extra insulin, grab a quick lunch.

1:30 -2:30 Log into work email at home and do an hour of work before I head to next client meeting

2:30 Call neighbor to ask her to take son to practice (at least to get weighed and fitted with pads, uniform, etc., but not work out since he still has ketones)

2:40 Call local Walgreens on way to client meeting to refill syringes and ketone strips.

3 til EOB day: Attend client meeting

5:10 Head to middle school to pick up son from football practice.

5:40 Son gets into car and I see he's sweating. Worry that he did drills (when I told him not to exercise with ketones) but he informs me that it was very hot in the gym when they were finding pads, pants and helmets and that's why he's sweating. Worry on way home that he'll have ketones again.

5:50 Swing by Walgreens to pick up two prescriptions and thank the Lord that hubby has insurance to cover all costs.

6:05 Drop neighbor kid at his house

6:10 Finally home to discover the pharmacy has given me Novolog pen "needles" rather than syringes. My son is using both pens and needles now, so the pharmacy must have gotten confused, but I do not have enough syringes to make it through the night, so I ...

6:15 Call the pharmacy for correct refill. Meanwhile son tells me he's checked for ketones again and they are negative.

6:35 Go back to pharmacy for syringes. Find out they have "20" in the whole place. They don't have enough for complete refill so I'll be back tomorrow.

6:50 Home at last.

7:15 Husband calls to say, "Hey dear, how was your day?" This is usually where until a few years ago, he would have asked, "What's for dinner?" He's learned not to do that. Shortly after our son's diagnosis, he took over the grocery shopping for steak, salad and sides so I could focus on refilling supplies for syringes and sugar tabs.

8:10 Son checks for ketones again and guess what... they're back! My husband is almost through grilling the dinner he's made for us, when I hear/see two F16s buzz over our house as they return to their National Guard base.

Which reminds me...I don't mean to dismiss the war on terror, but I know we said we wouldn't let the enemy invade on our home turf again. I'm sorry I feel this way, but I feel like we've failed. You see, everyday, moms like me fight an enemy called diabetes. We use the tools/weapons we have to protect our kids (glucose meters, insulin pumps, syringes, etc), but in the end, I don't know we've made much progress. I feel like I'm constantly on high alert against the enemy and when I get the energy to get out of my foxhole, the enemy (diabetes) beats me back down. So, if you can spare of dime or two of taxpayers' dollars, please help us find a cure. We're kind of tired of the battle (but don't worry, we signed up for lifetime duty)....and, I sure don't want my son to inherit this debt, too....

Thanks for listening.

An Inspirational Climb

2009-07-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

The blog/Twitter world has been a-buzz today with comments about the recent Roche Summit. A blog by one blogger (who wasn't there) was upsetting to me. Rather than adding to her page views (which mean a lot to her) I'm posting part of my comments here:

I now know after reading what you call these "feel good" bloggers that we're all in the same boat, doing the best we can with the oars and paddles we've been given. There ain't no life boat that's been thrown our way yet. So before you dismiss them because you can't get a reading on the "feel good" aspect through Google Analytics, know that I don't care if I'm their only reader on a given day or their 10,000th reader. On that day, they helped me get through one more day of dealing with the D! That's all anyone who writes anything can ask...to be able to reach one person at a time so they don't feel so alone in the existence of this big, overwhelming disease.

In light of the discussion today, I wanted to share a POSITIVE story since it would be waste of my time to focus on the negative.

This weekend I was blessed to attend a meeting featuring a very moving, inspirational speaker that, drum roll....1) is living with chronic illness 2) is spreading the message that many things are possible while dealing with chronic illness and 3) is receiving money from big Pharma to accomplish new goals (not with oars, paddles or lancets, but with ice picks and oxygen tanks) while living with chronic illness. I thought it would be an interesting time to share more about her.

The woman's name is Wendy Booker and you can read more about how she's raising awareness about living with Multiple Sclerosis here.

What I love about her story is that she has tuned into enjoying, yes enjoying, the journey, no matter WHERE it takes her. She's allowed herself to be open to new opportunities and she admits she never would have believed that after 11 yrs into her journey, it would lead to the most unlikely situations, such as setting up a a non-profit to help the Sherpa children in Nepal.

Here's a quote from Wendy from a recent interview in Women's Running magazine:

"I first began running in 1998 to push back against a devastating Multiple Sclerosis (MS) diagnosis. Today, I continue running to advance the MS cause, and to inspire anyone with an obstacle in his or her life to try a little harder and dig a little deeper."

For her that has meant partaking in nine marathons and picking away at (scaling) six of the Seven Summits since her diagnosis. At the end of her talk, she showed pictures from her climbs as well as the children she has helped in Nepal. The pictures were set to U2's "Beautiful Day." By the end, I was in tears and ready to keep fighting the fight! (As if there is a choice?!)

In the spirit of Wendy Booker and all like her, I say, keep rocking D-OC...raise your voice, raise awareness...all the while raising our spirits!

And that's the way it is

2009-07-17T20:20:00.000-07:00

I just heard (first from Twitter and then watched CNN) that Walter Cronkite has passed away. He defined great journalism. I didn't realize until I just watched the CNN tribute that he retired the year I graduated from high school. I'm sure he's one of the journalists that shaped my decision to study journalism the next four years at college. That was so long ago, I don't remember how I chose that road except that I knew I loved to write.

The CNN tribute showed the footage we've grown to love to hate...the heartbreaking news that JFK had died after being shot in Dallas. I've thought about sharing this story before, and feel it's appropriate tonight.

My story is that my mother recently shared that when this monumental event occurred in 1963, she had no idea it had happened. Her story? My story? She was taking me to the doctor for my six month old immunization shots and had not heard the news. To understand this story, you would have to know that by 1963, she had given birth to her fourth child (me) within a span of five and a half years. I can't even imagine how she kept up with the diapering, the feeding, the clothes washing, etc.

As my mother reflects back, she can't either, and now says that when she showed up at the doctor's office with me in tow for my shots, she didn't understand why the nurse at the front desk looked dumbfounded and asked her, "Why are you here?"

She said, "What do you mean, why am I here? Zita is scheduled for her shots."

The nurse then told her the news that JFK had been shot and they were closing the doctor's office NOW and she could come back later.

When my mother told me this story, my first reaction was, "How could she be this far out of the loop?" However, when I put it in perspective and realize it was in the day that she received news from three T.V. stations and probably only one local radio station AND was cooking, cleaning, and tending to four small children, of course she had not had time to tune in to this news!

Now that I am the caretaker of a boy with Type I diabetes, I get it even more! As a Type 3 mom, we're on alert 24/7 for their needs and we would not have it any other way. Our mother instincts take over and our children come first, breaking news or not...and that's the way it is...Godspeed, Walter.

Our Entry into the World of Diabetes - Part II

2009-07-14T19:58:00.001-07:00

Yes, our son had started wetting the bed, but I tried not to make anything of it even though he had never done this before, ever! I thought it was unusual but I also knew I was dealing with a child who was very aware of his surroundings. So, my mind filled with questions. Was he worried about moving to a new house? Was he worried about making new friends in a new neighborhood?

The last time he had had a big change in his surroundings, he had been 3. He had been moving from the 2-yr old room at daycare to the 3-year old room. The daycare's procedure for handling the move was to have 5 or 6 kids from a room move together to the next room, so they had a few friends who were also moving at the same time.

My husband and I didn't talk to our son about it much. We figured the less we said, the less he would think about it. However, the weekend before the move, he proved again that at the tender age of 3 that he was very aware of what was going on around him.

That weekend, my company had our annual outing to a local amusement park. We enjoyed a great day riding rides and playing carnival games. At the end of the day, we buckled our son into his car seat and were ready to head out of the park when our son piped up from the backseat and said, "I don't want to go to daycare tomorrow."

"Why is that," I asked as I looked nervously at my husband.

"Because," he said, "none of my friends will be there tomorrow...and my teacher won't be there either." He had somehow put the pieces together that tomorrow would be the big day for the move into a new room at daycare although we had not mentioned it in weeks.

Two years later, in the monumental fall of 2002, our family thought we were just moving across town. But on Oct. 21, 2002, on the day of our son's diagnosis of diabetes, we landed in a foreign country where we didn't even speak the native language. It would be the start of a journey to a new place and once again, none of our son's friends or teachers would be there...or so we thought....

Our Entry into the World of Diabetes - Part I

2009-07-14T19:52:00.000-07:00

It was October 2002 and our lives were filled with much promise. I had been at my new job at an advertising agency for just over a year. At that same time, we had been in our current house - a 1958 blue ranch - for seven years. We felt we had outgrown it even though there were many things we loved about it: the hard wood floors, the cove ceilings, the beautiful tree-lined neighborhood and good neighbors who were friends. But, it didn't seem big enough to hold the future I dreamed of for my family.

The lack of storage in our 1200-square foot house left me using my son's closet to hold my clothes for work. Now that he was five, I thought the time might be coming that he would soon be telling me to get out of his room. Expanding was a word for how I felt about our future. We would get expanded closets to fit our expanding dreams.

But what happened that fall made me feel like my world was collapsing rather than expanding. Our world would soon close in so tightly around my family that sometimes I didn't know if I would be able to breathe.

Looking back, fall is a better word to describe that time....another fall harvest, a feeling of falling from grace, a total free fall...

Fall was always the time of year that my husband made his annual pilgrimage back to his hometown in rural Iowa to help his friend with the corn and soybean harvest. It had become his annual retreat to sanity as he called it. He treasured his time working with friends in something he felt was a calling. He also enjoyed the time alone in a Case I-H tractor late at night when his only company was a harvest moon in a pitch black field, rock music blaring from the tractor's radio and maybe a Bud Light or two.

Back in Des Moines, I was keeping things going while he was gone for two weeks. Our son was in kindergarten, so there was the usual running to daycare twice a day, working a full-time job, grocery shopping, laundry and play dates.

We had found the new location for our expanding dreams, so I should have been packing boxes at night in anticipation of the big move, but I had started to come down with bronchitis and didn't have enough energy to get much done. AND, our son had started to wake me up several nights a week with an odd new occurance. He was wetting the bed.

Reveling in our Independence Day

2009-06-29T19:10:00.001-07:00

This weekend, there were three main events in Des Moines that attracted thousands of people. They included the Arts Festival, the Hy-Vee Triathalon and the first sell-out concert of the year featuring Taylor Swift and Keith Urban. Each event had thousands of fans, admirers, and enthusiasts to witness the fine performance at each.

I did not attend any of these events. But out in the suburbs, away from the crowds and all their glory, something magical happened which only I witnessed. It was a turning point in a young life, my son's life, and it is his next step towards his "Independence Day" when he will be fully in charge of his diabetes care.

My son was diagnosed at a very young age with diabetes. He has had no problems from the start with the finger "poking" to test his blood sugars and over the years the carb counting. But the next step in taking on more responsibility required him to do something he's been working up to for years -- giving himself his own insulin injections.

We started down this path two years ago, but due to his fears, it's been put off. Sports is the incentive I believe he needed to get him to this next step. He's been told by his doctors and mentors that to get to where he wants to go with school sports -- football, basketball, etc. -- he'll need to take over more of his care. For example, when he travels on the bus this fall to an out-of-town game, he'll want to be able to take an insulin pen and give himself a shot as needed.

Our certified diabetes educator has always been good about setting goals for us as a family. In the beginning, it was baby steps...let mom and dad use a different site for an injection...you want to give your arms a break...rotate your fingers for the testing, etc. Our most recent meeting with the CDE was during the second week of June. My son decided that his goal would be to practice giving shots on oranges the rest of the month and then give himself a shot by the end of June.

My mother, a retired nurse, stayed with us all last week. I thought for sure he would want to practice his insulin shots when she was around. She left Saturday at noon and my son still had not tried yet. Around 2:00 p.m. he said he wanted to practice on the lemons grandma bought at Target (yes, she said lemons were cheaper than the oranges and they would work just as well). He practiced about four times and laughed thinking about shooting insulin into a lemon and we said we better make sure to throw it out right away so no one would grab it out of the refrigerator later.

At 6:00 p.m. he asked what he could have for dinner if he didn't want to wait to eat with his dad and me. I found some leftovers. He said he would eat those and one of his favorites, a lemon Italian ice. And, oh by the way, if he did his first shot tonight, could he please have a new video game. This last request threw me for a loop since I had invested in quite a bit of gaming material in April for his birthday. But, if that was the reward he wanted, I decided to do it. Just like that...he was ready to try to give his own shot.

He got the insulin pen set on the units he needed, he washed off his right leg (which he's been saving all summer to use for injections because he knew it would be easiest for him to reach) and he sat with the pen in his hand determined to do it...and then said "oh my god" as if in disbelief that the day had finally come, stopped the downward motion of the pen before it broke the skin and started to cry. I told him it was o.k. and for once I didn't cry. I told him I knew he could do it and that since the pen has a shorter needle, I was sure it wouldn't hurt like the syringes. He wiped his tears away, slowly pushed his hand towards his leg...and did it. Then, the tears really came...for both of us. I hugged him and told him I loved him and that I was SO proud of him. I asked if it hurt and through his sobs he said "no".

About an hour later, our family took a road trip to the local video store. Yes, another big moment rewarded with video games.

Others can judge my parenting and my willingness to spend over $50 on a video game for this act. But they don't know the price this disease has taken on our souls and spirits. The price of one video game is minimal in my book for the lesson my son needed to complete...it's something he needs to learn in order to take care of himself, for it truly is the difference between life and death.

And no, there were no angels singing when this glorious event took place. There were no fans in a grandstand to cheer him to the finish. There were no "wanna be" enthusiasts asking for his autograph. There was just me and him, mother and son, and he will forever be my hero.

Living with circumstances we didn't choose

2009-06-17T16:21:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, I received a lot of parental advice about making good choices...study hard and get into college, pursue a profession you are passionate about, live within your means, etc.

When it came to dealing with life circumstances that we didn't choose (for instance, diabetes) my parents were more about living by example than talking about it. I don't have to look any further than my father.

He was a man who did not choose to:

drop out of school at 13 to help support his parents and 10 siblings during the Great Depression.
serve and get injured in the Korean War
be handed a life sentence of Lou Gehrig's disease

My father did choose to:

not accept a Purple Heart when he was injured in Korea because he didn't want to worry his mother back in Iowa
not complain when he was attached to a ventilator for the last year and a half of his life
greet each visitor at his hospital bed with a smile on his face and the line he became known for, "What's new?"
stay financially solvent during the farm crisis of the 1980's

Yes, this man, after watching his parents lose everything during the Great Depression, chose to make a living again being a farmer. It is probably the ultimate career for someone who is o.k. with letting go and not being in control. My father knew he didn't control the wind, the rain or the storms. Yet, he had faith that each year, with a lot of effort on his part, he would harvest another bountiful crop. It didn't always work out that way, but he would start over each year and try again. The land of farming is where I was also comfortable. For 22 years, I made my living by writing about the supplies that farmers need to make their living.

I was never tempted to follow my mother down her career path. She worked as a nurse in the land of healing -- a land I never, ever intended to wander into. None of the sights, smells or stories of this land appealed to me.

During high school, my parents offered me the "opportunity" to follow my two siblings into work at a nearby nursing home as a nurse's aid. While this was a great choice for my two siblings who eventually became doctors, I was no dummy! I was not tending to bed pans, bed sheets or bed sores.

When my son was diagnosed with Type I diabetes in 2002, I said to myself, what cruel joke is this? My sister, brother and sister-in-law are the doctors in the family. They are the ones prepared to take care of a child with this chronic illness. Who in the world thought I could handle this? Not me! My son was now entrusted to someone who would give him at least three shots a day and who had a distinct fear of needles! I barely made it through the three years of my own childhood when I had to have one allergy shot a week!

Years ago, when our son was first diagnosed, my husband and I were sharing our story with an older woman at a restaurant while we waited for a table. She then shared her life story. She had lost her first husband in a war and raised three boys alone. She unassumingly looked down at the bartop and said, "You know, if we all had to do it over again, and you were put in front of a big closet full of life's problems and you were able to choose which ones you wanted to live with, you would probably pick the problems you already have." I heard her message: you maybe should be thankful that you at least know what you are up against and have been told how to manage it.

Knowing your opponent is half of the battle -- half the heartache before my father was diagnosed was not knowing what he was up against. Once he knew, he never gave up the fight. And, he never gave up his love of life. When he spoke, someone had to hold an artificial larynx next to his throat so that it would vibrate and create sound so we could hear him. I would sometimes get frustrated when trying to interpret what he was saying. But, he would click his tongue and give me a stern look that said, "Don't you dare give up on me."

I owe it to him to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep playing the cards I've been dealt. For, there is no other choice for the blue-eyed boy I've been entrusted with. A boy that inherited my father's eyes, the kind that turn green in just the right light. And, my son has inherited something else from the grandfather he never knew:

He's a fighter like you, dad, and I know together, we'll get through this.

My father would have celebrated his 82nd birthday last month. Comedian Billy Crystal got 700 Sundays with his father. I was lucky enough to get 27 Father's Days with my dad. Happy Father's Day to all the dad's out there. And mom, I'm sorry, but the boy says my shots "don't hurt as much as grandma's" although you had 25 years of practice.