New insulin pump or How I hate Holland sometimes...ok, most times

We received a new insulin pump recently.

Let me tell you. I feel like I'm back to the same day as diagnosis day. The fear of the pump, and having to learn how it works. I know how it works. I can use it. But it's the change factor, the new factor. It's making me nauseaus. Or it may be the heat. It's really hot here now. But I think it's the pump.

It takes me back to the day when the nurse came to the hospital room and told us "Here, let's put the insulin pump on your son.". Lovely. Not.

And here we are, over 3 years into this rocky D road, and an insulin pump makes me feel very small. Again.

I guess because it makes me face my biggest enemy - change. The one thing I love. And hate. I love change, but I don't like the process of change. If that makes sense. It does to me, anyway.

And above all it is the symbol that we are still in Holland. Mind you, I've been to Holland, and, besides the food, it is a lovely place. But too much Holland can be hazardous to your sanity.

So, I'm left with pressing buttons on the pump, and adjusting to it. There sure is a lot of button pressing in Holland.

That's a lot of pressure.

I want Italy sometimes. Ok...most times.

Lacking the cavewoman gene

I would not have made a good prehistoric woman. Really. Just the thought of it freaks me out.
Having to live in a cave, wearing fur. Cooking whatever the hubby brought in from the day's battle with scary creatures.

No. I just couldn't. So, I wonder, where is my cavewoman gene. Where is that tiny gene which makes me a descendant from a very fierce and strong cavewoman? Maybe it got lost and gave up finding its way to me? Maybe it found out who it was to be passed onto and laughed and asked for a second draw?

Ok, so basically what I'm saying is that I want some cavewomanshipness in me. The grunting attitude to knock an approaching ferocious animal on the head, drag it to my cave, strip it of its skin, separate the meat (some for drying and some for cooking), and be able to make the perfect LFD (Little Fur Dress), all before the next Ice Age.

But it just sounds like so.much.work.

Wrinkles Anonymous

Hello, my name is Blogger and I have wrinkles.

Welcome Blogger. (*chorus of people*)

Ugh! I didn't want them this early. I am so not ready.

Yeah, yeah. It's just wrinkles, right? WRONG! It's reality playing a practical joke on me.

Yooohooo, Blogger! Look in the mirror...NOW! Yikes! On the sides of my eyes. I see them. I practice the smile-a-meter, going from a weak to the strongest smile, and there they are - smack in the middle of "average smile".

You see, I was expecting to age gracefully. I have looked much younger than my age for the past 20 years, so I was naïvely expecting to continue this for at least 10 more years.

But reality is a biatch!

I have aged more in the past 3 years than in the other 17. Coincidentally, my kid's Type 1 Diabetes was also diagnosed a little over 3 years ago. Go figure...

I have the creams. The cheap, the expensive and the crappy. Nothing works.

But I have found that if I don't smile, I don't see my wrinkles, so others won't see them either, and I may help stabilize their growth. Of course, this will affect my sociability factor. I will be seen as unfriendly. BUT my wrinkles will not be seen.

What to do? What to do?

Embrace them? Pffft...I don't like them, so I can't do that.

Ignore them? Nope, they're there, I know that.

Botox them? Heck no! As much as I hate them, I hate pain even more, even the slightest of it.

So, I guess I'll just have to live with them, for better or for worse.

To selfish or not or U-Turn

I want to be selfish. Really, I do. Not that I am not already, but I think I could brush up on being selfish for real. At least until I don't feel like it anymore.
So, I'm thinking the first step is (and take a seat, this is shocking!) to think of myself for once. Amazing thought, isn't it?
I have not been good to myself. Rather, I have neglected my needs and my wants for several years now. I am a problem-solver, not in the mathematical way (I'm hopeless there, but do well-enough with diabetes related stuff). I solve problems all the time, give feedback all the time when asked, come up with solutions, answers, figure out the why and the how.
Even as a kid, I would make everything right. Why? Because it was expected and because I was like a little hero, coming in to save the day.

I refuse to wear the cape. It doesn't suit me. It's too tight (later post) and I don't like the green. Burgundy or deep orange suite me better. Earth tones too. And flowers. I want it to look like Little-Red Riding Hood's cloak, but my size.

Anyway, forget about the cape. I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE. (I have to repeat that. Self-sublimination, if such a word exists).

So, where do I start on my selfish journey?
Hmmm......
???????
I have no idea where to start. Maybe it's like writing. You either can or you can't.
This is very symbolic. Me, not being able to find my direction. Ha!
I'll just drive around in the meantime.

Oh, and I also want attitude. Not sure which kind yet, but a good one.

PS - Don't be surprised if I don't write too much about life in the D lane from now on. It's normal. I have made a U-turn. Time to get my life back...

...wherever it is.

Lady Gaga

Whaaaaat?

I know.

Out of nowhere comes an oddly-dressed singer and makes my mind go crazy with Po-po-po-poker face. Can't get the darn song out of my head. Not that you would care ("you" being you out there who may read this blog - I wonder who does anyway?), but thought I'd share.

Anyway, Lady Gaga has been invading my brain with her deep voice and catchy beats. That's the problem. The beats ARE catchy. Like that Kylie Minogue song "Can't get you out of my head" (hope I got the title right). I wake up with Lady Gaga and go to sleep with her. Strictly platonic, I promise.

"Poker Face". Cooking to it is quite fun actually. And I don't like cooking...because I suck at it. Cleaning...well, hate that so much than even Lady Gaga can't help.

So, what's the point of sharing this epitome of useless info??

Well, I have other things on my mind than just Type 1 Diabetes.

Nuff said.

Hope for a Cure

Hope is a word which makes me think twice - I can hope forever or I can choose not to hope, and lose that human ability to dream. That is what hope is, isn't it? To dream. And dreaming makes life so much better, because some dreams do come true, as the old adage says.

My hope, my dream is largely driven by one person - my son with Type 1 Diabetes. I hope for a cure for his disease, as I hope for a cure for all children like him.

And one person is continuously lighting the fire to keep that hope alive - Dr. Denise Faustman.

Please take a look at this incredible website:

http://helpcurechildhooddiabetes.org/Home.html

Keep the hope alive and help make a dream come true.

Taking a vacation

Well, finally the time has come when I can take some time off, chill, relax, sit back...I am going on vacation with my family in a couple of days.

Type 1 Diabetes is also coming along. That's how it is. You can't just leave it at home or put it at a Diabetes Hotel while you chill, relax, sit back.

It goes where you go. It has to. It lives inside my child's body. It feels at home there, I guess. But it's a very unwelcome guest.

Anyway, I am happy to go somewhere and see new places and people. I am also in a very odd way interested to know what Diabetes will surprise us with. But guess what? I am so ready!

See you when I get back!