The Darker Days of Fall

Autumn is usually my favorite season. It's the time of year when the chill that I so love comes back into the air, when everything feels crisp, and rich colors dress the trees. I am one of those people who's into pumpkin spice lattes and chai, fresh seasonal apples and of course, cider. Halloween is usually a treat for me because I adore dressing up in costumes. 

But you may notice I've been absent from blogging about how it's okay to eat candy at Halloween with diabetes. You haven't yet seen any silly posts wherein I dress up my insulin vials. Actually, you haven't seen any posts from me at all since mid-September.

I'm still in the midst of a job search, applying, hoping, going through the motions. I try to be excited while attempting to not get hopes up too high at the same time. It's a competitive market out there, especially in the city. I've seen so many of you getting new job and career opportunities, and I'm so happy for all of you, but trying to manage a twinge of jealousy at the same time. I've looked at my Facebook feed and more than once whined at the laptop screen, "When's it going to be my turn?"

I shouldn't whine. I know better than that.

I think it's easier to whine when things have just been difficult all year. A grandparent-in-law's passing, a broken humerus, surgery, losing my job. What's really been keeping me away from blogging are two things I haven't had the words to talk about.

That better A1C I bragged about a little while back? It may have temporarily been a fluke, either of office equipment or my body itself. At my most recent endo visit, it was right back up again. That sucks, but it's not the part that's been weighing on me. I saw a retina specialist because it was discovered that I have DME in the right eye. The left eye isn't perfect either, but it doesn't have the severity of problems that my right eye does. I've had an Avastin injection, and my first follow-up visit after that is this coming Monday. I want to write about my eye in more detail, but I figured I should come out about it first.

The next thing that is difficult for me actually just hit yesterday. A good friend of mine from the Philadelphia poetry community passed away yesterday morning. He helped us run the slam I work with--he was like family to all of us. He was one of the hardest-working people I knew, pursuing his artistic dreams on the page and on the stage. He did spoken word and theater. He acted, directed, wrote, and was a hip-hop artist. Earlier this year, he turned 30. He was diagnosed with cancer right about the same time. At the slam, we opted to not send a team to the National Poetry Slam this year so we could donate a portion of the proceeds of our shows directly to him. Even through his illness, he looked forward to getting back to coaching youth poetry teams and making next year's NPS squad. I am going to miss MJ in numerous ways, some I'm sure I haven't even realized yet. I do hope that soon, in the coming days, we can give this NOLA son and renaissance man the jazz funeral he deserves.

Teaching an Old Dork New Tricks

My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth again. It wasn't the same kind of stuck you get when you eat a peanut butter sandwich with no drink.  It was that dry-yet-syrupy cling that comes along with a high blood sugar.  My Dexcom sensor had failed in the morning (more on that later), so I pulled out my kit, tested, and clocked in at about 350 mg/dl.

I'd been crusing between 117 mg/dl and 160 mg/dl all morning, which were good-looking numbers for me compared to some I'd seen lately.  The culprit for the high, I believe, was putting sugar in my coffee and forgetting that fact.  (Cringe all you want, I freely admit I choose my vices and consume artificial sweeteners.)

I knew I needed to correct this bad boy before I felt any more gross, so I pulled out a syringe and drew up my correction by hand.  I was wearing a thick sweater and couldn't inject through my clothes.  I know my boss likes to watch the security camera from time to time, and I was not in the mood for her to be asking what I was doing with my shirt, and if I was feeling okay.  I was, however, wearing a thin skirt.

I looked down at my thigh.  Hmm.  How bad could it be?  My abdomen has always been, and genetically will forever be, plump and squishy to some degree.  It just makes me more fun to cuddle.  My thighs are mostly muscle.  Aren't you supposed to be able to pinch up an inch of fat where you inject?  Do I even have that much on my legs?  Maybe I'll just do this.  I mean, I've had diabetes for how long now? HALP OH GAWD I THINK I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO TRY THIS.

So that's when I did my first-ever thigh injection.

Note--I am not complaining about my body or trying to body-shame anybody else here.  It's merely fact: I come from a line of women with fat stored around the midsection.  I have slender arms, and legs, and I'm busty, which gives me more opportunities to hide my insulin pump.  I see this as a win.  I've never used my arms either, and for the record, my mom is too weirded out to do insulin shots on arms or legs too, so I know for a fact I'm not alone.  What a digression....).

It stung like hell for a few seconds, and then it was over.  I don't think it worked any better or faster than my usual injection/infusion sites, but it did work.  I'm not sure it's something I'd want to repeat terribly often, but after 23 and a half years with Type 1, I guess it shows you can learn and try new things all the time.  People talk about using their thighs, their arms, their bellies, their "side-butt" for sites.  It's purely a personal choice thing, with the exception of problems with absorption or other issues.

Where do you like to inject?  Where do you put your infusion sets and glucose sensors?  Do you think I should keep trying new things, or just stick with what's working?