Ketones and covid

Ketones.  The word has a  lyrical sound.....It makes me think of a music flowing pleasantly from appealing chords to melody, or of soft palettes of colour for creative expression. Ketones are not benevolent or pleasant though.  At least not for people with type 1 diabetes. (There are some  pancreatic-enabled people who choose a ketogenic diet of low or no carbs and high fat.as a weight control method) 

Essentially ketones are toxic acids.   Glucose is our usual source of energy, but if that glucose can't be used in the blood (that's the role of insulin), the body looks for an alternative source of fuel - fat. The liver processes fat into ketones and sends them into the bloodstream. People without diabetes can handle this acid in the blood, but for people with Type 1, the acidic build up  together with high glucose that can't be processed, is a life threatening situation.  It leads to DKA - diabetic ketoacidosis.  DKA can  cause damage to the lungs, brain and kidneys. It is to be avoided at all costs - it can be deadly and requires hospitalization.  

TD's glucose levels have been on the high side for the last while.  At the end of the year we met with the endocrinologist who thought TD was doing a good job of handling the stress of a pandemic, exams and diabetes.  2021 has not been the new start so many were hoping for, it seems to be a continuation of the 2020 mess with the promise of some light at the end of the tunnel.   TD's glucose numbers started to rise ....and rise... until last Saturday she was feeling lethargic, tired and couldn't bring down the glucose from 20s.  We needed to test for ketones. 

TD's glucose meter has the facility to test for ketones using a different test strip.  These strips are fairly expensive, and not covered by medical aid, so we don't keep too many in the house.  As luck would have it, the few we did have had expired, so TD (exhausted and dejected) and I  (anxious and flustered) went in search of more.  (I could not leave her at home in case she deteriorated and needed help).  The first pharmacy offered to order some in, and I could fetch them in a few days time.  The next had a ticket queue of at least 90 minutes wait.  It was quicker to drive the 15 minutes to a pharmacy that I know stocks  them on the open shelf.

A safe ketone reading!

Long story short, there were only trace ketones in TD's blood and we could relax a bit.  Getting the glucose down took a lot of patience, jugs of water and more insulin than she would usually inject in 2 days. 

But it worked, eventually, and the lethargy, dizziness, anxiety and fatigue subsided, and TD could carry on with her weekend.  This will always be a part of TD's life.  She will always have to keep control of her glucose, and avoid the highs as much as the lows. 

 I wish type 1 diabetes were preventable, but it is not. 

I wish avoiding it were as easy as obeying a few rules, like wearing a mask, washing your hands and social distancing, but it is not.

. Life throws us so many things we are completely unable to control.  So when we are given a challenge (like covid) that allows some measure of being able to keep ourselves safe, grab the opportunity to stay healthy with both hands. Please.

TD was in DKA at diagnosis.The build up of ketones and glucose was so high that she was in critical danger.  She survived because a dedicated pathologist ran her tests at night and phoned me at 2am to urge me to rush her to Emergency. She is alive because the insulin that was dripped into her saved her life. The kindness of the doctors and nurses surrounded us when we were  overwhelmed and bewildered. 

It is our turn to show that same dedication and responsibility towards the medical community.  Most of them are feeling overwhelmed and bewildered at the sheer number of people who need their care, and of the loss of life they see daily.  Keep being aware of the dangers of covid.  Keep the preventative measures as daily habits.  Keep safe.  Please.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of year blues

In the digital age, this family still relies on a paper calendar.  Each year, usually in October or November, I print out 13 A4 sheets of different coloured papers and create a write-on calendar for the following year.  Each day gets a block, and the family knows - if an event is not filled in on this paper calendar, it isn't happening. (The 13th page is for January the following year - I like being prepared).  I finally managed to motivate myself to do this task today, and I filled in all the recurring important days like birthdays and anniversaries, added the public holidays, and tentatively filled in the school terms in pencil.

I am not particularly hopeful that next year will be a smooth ride - certainly the end of this one has been a train crash, covid speaking. The numbers are alarming.  (Statistics are theoretical and so removed from feelings; having a sibling in hospital on oxygen fighting to get his breath is a real game changer, emotionally speaking.) 

It has been a year when not much has worked.  The permanence and reality of life circumstances, including covid and diabetes, really got to to me a while ago. I think everyone gets end of year fatigue, and this year it is compounded with worry and loss.  One startlingly good thing has happened to my family in the last week: R managed to get home for a  holiday from the UK.   It feels so good to all be together for a short while.

Something else that didn't work towards the end of this year were the Libre sensors that TD uses to read her glucose.  Apparently a bad batch  had been manufactured, and we got 4 of them.  As a result (we think), the MiaoMiao alarm system we were hoping would allow us some extra hours of sleep, did not work either.  Abbotts replaced the sensors - after a lot of questions from their call centre, including did the patient need hospitalization or go into a coma because of the failure.  The MiaoMiao rep was kindly and concerned, but thought it must be a software problem. The upshot of this tech failure has been some high glucose numbers, some sleepless nights and a general mistrust of  reliability of tech.  Bad tech can be worse than no tech, in some cases. 

Next year is round the corner.  I feel I will be starting the year with an energy deficit created by the general upheaval of 2020.  I have read  the Facebook posts that say it is ok not to be ok, or that not everyone is cut out to make banana bread, and I find I am past platitudes.   They lack honesty and simplify complex matters to the lowest common denominator.

I think I need to fill in some Breathing Space days on my new calendar.  Covid, diabetes, tiredness are long term situations. with no end dates. They are situations that need to be managed. 

I wish us all a better 2021.  

An update on Tolstoy the tiny tortoise:  The antibiotic drops prescribed by a kindly vet have worked wonders.  Tolstoy can eat again and his eye is so much better - almost back to normal.  He is able to wander around the Fynbos garden, and is living his Best Tortoise Life.

 

 

 

 

 

Learning to Idle

Many moons ago, before the TD era, I was involved with  teaching adults who had been denied an education because of the apartheid system, how to read.  It was immensely rewarding to meet these strong, determined people and share my love of reading and writing with them.  I might have taught them how to read, but they taught me so much more about life.   The slogan adopted by the forum I belonged to was "You're never too old to learn".  Learners ranged in age from 30- 85, each one inspired me with  their tenacity and determination.

It is never too late to learn, but as I age, I think it may become more difficult.  We may have to unlearn stuff first, or we may have to put aside the many distractions that "adulting" requires.  We may have to unsettle ourselves from a comfort zone, or gain some courage to find self confidence.

TD is hard at work as I write this, studying for her Grade 11 physics exam, paper 1, which she writes tomorrow.  She has tackled this work head on, and should be proud of her resilience and determination.  It has been a difficult academic year for most kids.

I like to think I am still open to learning, even if I haven't tackled big subjects - like learning Swedish or where to find the unmute button on a zoom chat(!).  Diabetes certainly provided (and keeps on giving...) our family with many learning opportunities. Some of it is obvious, like learning the basics of what the pancreas does, why insulin is needed to "unlock" the cell walls to allow glucose to be absorbed from the blood to the cells to give energy... Some of it is more subtle, like learning which are long acting, which are fast acting carbs, and some of it is learning how to read one's own body and how life and emotions affect us physiologically.

Although TD has had diabetes for 6 years now, we need to keep learning and adjusting so that she can live her best life.  I am learning to step back more into the shadows as TD leaps into adulthood. We will always be here for her, but she must have all the tools and confidence at her disposal to nag herself about checking her glucose level, and decide for herself if the extra treat is worth the toll it will take on her body.

 But enough about us.  Here is a new word for you to learn :  Aylyak.  There is a village in Bulgaria called Plovdiv that has adopted an aylvak life style, and has become famous for it. This was brought to my attention by Pam, a gentle house guest who stayed with us for a few days recently, and who shares my love of reading, writing, gardening and creativity.  She forwarded a BBC travel article she had read, and it fascinated me.

The word itself is not easily translated into English : happily idle seems to be the closest definition. We so often put a negative slant on being idle, but here it is venerated as a way to live your best life.  Slow down, don't get flustered, enjoy where you are, listen to the inner and outer worlds you inhabit.  Be happy.  It is, apparently, about finding time to just be, without expectation or judgement.  I so like that.

 

 

TD having a break from physics!

 

International travel is still a bit tricky, so going to Bulgaria might be a challenge.  But learning to live Aylvak style will work anywhere if we let it.  But we may have to unlearn many bad habits.  We may have to lose the cell phone, or at least not be ruled by it. Work may have to fit in into our schedule instead of the other way round.  We may have to accept who we are, warts, worry, diabetes and all.  We may have to relearn to listen to our thoughts more carefully, we may have to accept that sometimes doing nothing is a healthy activity in itself. 

Are you keen to journey with me to a virtual  Plovdiv? It's never too late to learn.....

Here is the link to the BBC article:  http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20201104-europes-city-of-dawdlers-and-loafers

What the Elves say

 

 2020 is being stubbornly relentless. No one knew how things would pan out when Covid 19 hit the world, and it has been a long, tough season of readjustment. Some people predicted it would come and go, and life would return to what it had been.  Others suspected it would be a long term, on-going change to our way of life.  Most people are just taking it in small chunks, because that makes it all manageable. I think it is the uncertainty that can be the most stressful - the social, economic and personal unsettling cause tensions to rise.

And just when you think you might be getting the hang of  whatever is going on, things change again, and new regulations are promulgated and safety precautions are suggested.

You know all this, because you are living through it. 

But everything I have written above is just what a Type 1 diabetes diagnosis feels like - stubbornly relentless, a huge readjustment, a hope it will go away, acceptance that this is for life, and managing it in small bites.  Covid 19 had a familiar feel to it for our household.

It takes time to adjust to living with a chronic illness, and just when you think you are getting a handle on it all, things change.  TD does an amazing job of navigating the course. 

Lock down has given people a chance to try new things, or catch up on some chores . I eventually made Banana Bread.  TD tidied her room.  It was like an archaeological dig in some places, and  she uncovered lost mementos and buried treasure.  This included two tubes of henna bought in Sedgefield many months ago.  I watched in fascination as she beautifully scripted some words on her wrist, in characters I could not decipher.  It was, apparently, Elvish, Tolkien's made up language from the Lord of the Rings. 

When she offered her calligraphy skills to decorate my wrist, I was delighted.  Here is what I chose to have hennaed on my wrist:

 

 

 

 

For those of you whose Elvish is a little rusty, it says Serenity and Courage.  I think those two concepts are helpful when dealing with everything that is thrown at us - the big and the little stuff, the permanent and the transient. Covid and diabetes.

Tolkien's writings are full of wisdom and advice.  One of TD's favourite quotes is "Not all those who wander are lost."  I love the idea of purposeful wandering, or even purposeless wandering.  It is calming and leads to creativity.

 The Tolkien quote most appropriate during a pandemic might be:

"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

Live courageously, Find serenity. Decide wisely how you want to live. Wander aimlessly for a while....

 

The Big Picture

We get great pleasure from wandering around our little garden every day, looking at which new plants are popping up, which are flowering and which are flourishing. Some, of course, have decided that this new environment is not for them, but the majority have been nurtured and talked to most days, and are growing despite our enthusiastic ignorance of horticulture.  Weeds abound too, as do mushrooms, as it has been damp (and we put down a mushroom top dressing). 

To get the best view, you need to sit on the bench in the shady corner and squint a bit.  That way you can see the whole picture, and the weeds and mushrooms blend into the greenery and fill the gaps.

I am finding it more and more important to look at the big picture these day.  There is no longer any point in getting hung up on the little details that don't have big consequences. Like traffic, or untidy rooms, and brusque strangers. This is probably one of my reactions to Covid.  The important things to concentrate on are Life and Living.

TD is back at school.  She goes every second day, having one week of two full days at school, followed by 3 days the next week.  Inbetween she does her school assignments and learning at home. So far - and it is early days- this is working well.  I can see the shift in TD's attitude to life as she is able to engage with her friends, and her work, on a more personal level.  It suits her not to have to rush in the mornings (school starts an hour later, and the traffic is light) and in the afternoons (all extra murals are cancelled.) At the beginning of the year, we asked TD to take a serious look at all her commitments and choose which she could let go, in order to calm the rushing stress.  She had trouble deciding, but Covid sorted that one out for her.  The only after school activity she does is her double bass lesson, and that is something she loves.

You have probably read all the news reports about people with comorbidities needing to be extra careful about avoiding the virus.  Sadly, statistics are showing the the most deaths happen to people who also have diabetes.  The following infographic was supplied by the Western Cape Government on the 9th June.

Supplied Western Cape government

You can see how scary this is for the T1 community. TD's endocrinologist, and the paediatric endos agree, that it is as safe for TD to go to school as it is for anyone else her age.  The bigger picture is that young people have a definite advantage  - they are likely to only have mild symptoms and recover quickly.  The other mitigating factor is that the diabetes needs to be well controlled.  This means we need to be extra vigilant to keep TD's average below 10.  This is a huge challenge in such a stressful, unusual time, so we need to be extra vigilant.  I am very grateful that we have resources and abilities to help TD manage her glucose levels.  She will just have to be patient with me forever asking her to check she is not too high/too low.  Moms worry.

The big picture is that the whole world -well, most of it- is fighting the fear of an unknown future. There is always the minority fringe who reject the unpalatable science for a more comforting fiction.

Our front garden is a contemplative space for me.  The weeds don't bother me, nor do the fallen leaves or the mole tunnels.  The whole picture, weeds and all, speaks to me of Life in adversity.

My thinking spot

Virus alert

I am not sure about you, but to me it feels as if the world is holding it's breath and waiting for better days. A lot of that hope is focused on the development of a COVID 19 vaccine that will allow us to become immune to this devastating virus. 

And it seems possible and probable that the medical community will be able to pull that rabbit out of the hat soon.  Or is that wishful thinking?

I have been trawling the internet to see what has been done about a vaccine for type 1 diabetes.  There have been claims or rumours of trial vaccines being "close", but reading between the lines, that is not actually possible.  This is mostly because no one knows exactly WHY some children suddenly develop T1.  From studies, it can be seen that there can be a genetic component, but it is mostly attributed to a virus attack.  TD's endo, when we first spoke to her shortly after diagnosis, asked if TD had recently broken any bones, or if there had been a major social or emotional upheaval.  (The answer was no to both these questions in TD's case.) Studies regarding stress as a contributing factor are inconclusive - some research pointing towards a nod and others stating this is not plausible.  The upshot is that it is impossible to prevent something if you don't know what causes it.

A vaccine to prevent anyone else getting T1 would, of course, change the world, especially as T1 diabetes seems to be on the rise.  The "risk" ages are 4 to 7 and 10 to 12 (who knows why) and strangely the further away from the equator, the more cases are diagnosed.   TD fell plonk in the 10 to 12 age group, and a fair distance from the equator. If a cure could be found., along with a vaccine, I would be even happier.

Type 1 diabetes involves a lot of needles, injections, food control and vigilance. It is a full time job around which everything else must fit in.  There are things that TD is not able to do when she is experiencing a hypo- or hyper- glycaemic episode.  These include, but are not limited to, exercising, concentrating or anything involving fine motor skills precision. So, keeping the glucose line at an even, flat 6 or 7 is a goal that needs to be strived for daily, just to get on with regular stuff.

Viruses are big news at the moment - understandably - as COVID 19 has affected everyone worldwide in some way.  A virus can be defined as  "a disease -producing organism, capable of growing and multiplying within living cells" (according to my Pocket Oxford dictionary which was printed before computer viruses existed!!) or "moral poison, malignity". 

All the viruses floating around present challenges that need to be addressed head on.  Currently the moral poison of prejudice is being held up in the spotlight, and it is a dismal virus.  There is no vaccine for intolerance and hatred, and we need to find a cure to moral blindness as fast as possible before the system of society is too corrupt to recover.

Just like TD's diabetes diagnosis highlighted for us the impact a virus can have, COVID 19 has exposed the vulnerability of everyone.  It has reminded us to appreciate what we have and why we have it. It reminds us to be human and to be kind.

The art of masking

We are all learning new skills from this Corona virus.  South Africa has just shifted from level 5 to level 4 lock down, and it is now mandatory to wear a face mask .  So, our challenge is to make suitable, comfortable, effective masks, and to learn the art of wearing them.

The making was not too difficult.  There are plenty of instructions on YouTube, and being the hoarder that I am, I just happened to have quilting cotton, the lining filter material, and a softer cotton for comfort on the skin side.  And some elastic. (Should the virus require us to make anything out of old buttons, different length zips, beads, bits of coloured glass, scraps of ribbon and wool or anything else of that genre, I will be ready too....I really MUST do a clean out sometime soon.)

The wearing of them is where the real skill lies. President Ramaphosa shared the first challenge with the nation (and the world) when he struggled to put his mask on during a live TV screening.

He was gently teased, and, showing off true leadership skills, managed to get the country laughing together with him. The top down approach works best for me.  I put the elastic around my ears, and place the mask over my eyes, and wiggle it down to cover my nose and mouth.  I quite enjoy wearing my mask.  It makes communicating with ones eyes all the more important, or not communicating at all quite acceptable.  It is also a bit like playing the broken telephone game, where words get distorted through the layers, and you have to guess what is being said, or you can pretend to hear whatever you want to hear.  It also, I find, helps me concentrate on mindful breathing.  The in and out are more audible to the self, and I can feel the air going in and out, in and out, slow-it-down- in and lonnng out.

 It is not all a bed of roses though.  Sometimes we need to be heard properly, say, for example when I was collecting TDs meds from the pharmacy. ( I have taken to writing it all down, and shoving the piece of paper on the counter.)  Or sometimes we need to sneeze, and then there is a mask-full of trouble.  The nose drip is a challenge too, as is the unscratchable itch. I am sure as we get more used to wearing these masks we will conquer these challenges.

The challenges I  am struggling with at the moment that can't be adjusted with elastic or practise, are things like the schooling situation.  There have been so many iterations of when the schools will be opened, that nobody knows what is happening.  It is time, maybe, to separate schooling from education.  I am doubting TD will be able to go back to the classroom any time soon.... Diabetes T1 is high risk, as elevated Hblc levels (long term glucose control) seem to play a part in hindering recovery from COVID 19.  Anything above 6.5 is considered risky.  TD's latest level is considerably higher.  But that doesn't mean her education must be compromised.  I think I read somewhere that education is all the bits of the school curricula that you remember 10 years later - the important stuff.  We will have to concentrate on that.  The fact that she is missing the fun aspects of school is very sad indeed, but we choose life.  Giving up concerts and dances and outings is a small price to pay.

Our first masked walk!

As we greet each other through masks, please look deeply into other people's eyes.  People are difficult to read if we can't see smiles or frowns or worried looks, and some people find it hard to ask for help.  And not all masks are made from cloth either - people are often good at hiding what is bothering them.  If you can, support each other, especially those with sad eyes.  And to those with shiny eyes, hiding the tears - risk taking off your mask for a moment and let others know what would help. We are all learning new skills from this Corona virus.

The silence of sadness

Nothing is simple at the moment. Our world is in disarray.  We are bombarded by statistics and warnings and news broadcasts that make me want to cower in the corner.   We have been isolating for a bit longer than the government mandated time period, because we are very aware that TD falls into the vulnerable category should she come into contact with the COVID 19 virus. Oceans separate us from R;  I so want us all to be together to weather this storm, but the best we can do is (and I am very grateful) chat on Whatsapp.  Home, at the moment, is a Whatsapp group.

Amidst the chaos, TD turned 17.  It was a more subdued celebration than usual, and the party has had to be postponed.  As her birthday was just before lockdown, the four of us (the fourth being O, TD's boyfriend) had a picnic on one of the world's most beautiful beaches.  It is a lovely memory of celebrating TD's TDness.

Sunset at Clifton

Sadness is a silencer.  Words become difficult, amid the sameness of everyday, the magnitude of privilege and the world speaking repetitively about things that are difficult to hear.  So I am silent, as I have nothing new to add.  The best we can do is stay in our bubbles of isolation and feel thankful for all we have.  Except I feel other things as well.  I feel anxious about the health of my family.  I feel restricted and restless, tinged with the guilt I shouldn't be so ungrateful.  The Shouldn't Feelings.  I shouldn't feel sick - I am not as sick as others.  I shouldn't feel tired - I have all the time to sleep, and soft surroundings to comfort me.  I shouldn't feel restless - I have a garden to potter in, and a space I have taken as mine in the house.  Trying not to feel these things creates a silence around me that is exhausting to maintain.  I know - all feelings are valid.  I just have to accept that this is how the world presents itself at the moment.

South Africa's three week lock down aims at flattening the curve.  So far, it seems to be working, but I fear three weeks may just delay the onset of the worst, and we can't stay like this forever.  The economy is crumbling, and I fear that will spark even bigger flames of resentment.

We are doing our part to flatten the curve, conscious that this is a group effort if it is to succeed.  And we are very familiar with the concept of needing to flatten the curve - it is a daily practice here with TD's glucose line.  Every day, we try to iron out the sweeping highs and the dipping lows and on the odd occasion even manage a short period of a steady, straight line on the graph.  It is not easy, particularly now, as TD's stress levels are high, her routines are disrupted, and her social support system is more difficult to connect with.  But we know to keep her healthy, we need to flatten the curve.  (Admittedly the midnight waffles on Wednesday were probably not a great idea diabetically speaking, but what fun!).  Although we aim at a straight steady glucose line around the 7 mark, we know it is unachievable 100 per cent of the time. Life doesn't work like that - things are not linear.  More often they are circular, or triangulate or lets face it, a unnamed squiggly shape unique to every person.

I am not one of those people who say that the COVID19 virus is good for the world - a time for reflection, and to reconnect with nature and other people.  Tell that to the families of those who have died. There are other ways to learn important lessons, and only those who have to endure great loss have the right to tell others to look at the good in the silence of  their sadness.

Load Shedding

After a couple of weeks of constant electricity supply, hope made us put away our gas camping cookers, candles and torches.  We were lulled into a sense of lightness.  But it was not to be.  My phone app told me on Sunday that we would be starting Stage 1 load shedding again.  It is the one function where the government is punctual to the minute, and at 12 that afternoon the power went off.

For those of you who are scratching your head, wondering about what on earth I am talking about, South Africa has introduced a time share scheme for electricity on days when the grid is under strain.  (due to lack of maintenance and bad management, but that is a topic for a different forum.)  We take it in turns to have electricity available.  Stage 1 is the least destructive – our area was off for just over two hours.  Things get progressively worse the higher the number.  To use a phrase that is quintessentially South African, stage 6 is “nag” *

We all understand that load shedding is the lesser of two evils.  If the grid were to collapse, life would be very dire indeed, so we need to share the load, to make things manageable.

When resources are thin, sharing the load is indeed a good idea.  Whether that concerns work, parenting, house maintenance or any other task really, if the tasks are shared, the benefit is not only that more than one person helps, but more importantly (for me) , the idea of responsibility is not left up to one person.  We need partners in tough times, to understand, care and lend their energy. 

Dealing with any chronic illness is stressful, particularly if that illness has no chance of recovery.  Type 1 diabetes is one of these.  The best that can be hoped for is good glucose control, so that the other complications/illnesses don’t kick in.The grid is constantly under strain, so to speak.  This is where load shedding comes in.  We, as a family, need to work as a team so that the day to day,( and night to night, ) diabetes management does not put one of us, especially TD, straining to melt down point. 

My personal load shedding techniques include writing, talking and allowing myself to spend time in nurturing spaces. These help restore sapped energy.  That is my way of re fueling myself when times are tough..  So to those of you who offer support to us as a family and me in particular - thank you for giving strength and stability to our grid. 

 

Load shedding is a lot easier if it is predictable.  We have print outs of when our electricity supply will be cut depending of what stage we are on.  We have apps.  But every so often unexpected breakages occur at South Africa's power stations, and our best laid plans are disrupted.  It is very frustrating.  In the middle of a carefully planned schedule of when to do what, we are once again plunged into darkness, losing whatever we haven't backed up on the computer, the clothes washing half washed, and garage doors that won't open. 

 

Optimally, maintenance and repair should be on going, so that nothing breaks down.  Money should be spent on creating new power sources, preferably renewable, but life of a T1 doesn't always work that way.  Sometimes it seems there isn't time for some maintenance down time, and we rush from crisis to crisis.  This needs to change.  If we spend more time planning for long term health and happiness, things will be calmer. 

We had an unexpected interruption last week.  TD was diagnosed with glandular fever.  As her immune system is compromised. (T1 is an auto immune disease.)  she catches a lot of illnesses that float around.  That’s what makes the current COVID 19 virus threat even more scary.  The virus is worse, I believe, for those people with existing medical conditions, so you can understand that our alarm bells clang a little louder than they would if TD were completely healthy.

Personal load shedding can be a good thing  if you have the right support structures. We can take it in turns to be switched on or powered off. 

I am off to get the camping gas stove out of the garage again.  It's time for tea.

* "nag" is an Afrikaans word, that literally means night, and colloquially means Very Bad

Holidays, henna and poetry

 Last week, TD and I were discussing some of our favourite sayings and/or quotes. One of mine is the first line of a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins : " The world is charged with grandeur of God."  I love the energy and responsibility that single word, "charge" gives.  We have just returned from a 5 day break in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  Sedgefield is a sleepy village along the East coast of South Africa, and has been a second home to my family for all of my life.  I think Manley's poetry is fitting for such a splendid place.

Sedgefield reflections

As children, my siblings and I would stroll down to the lagoon, fetch firewood from the surrounding wooded areas to makes fires, pump our own water out of the ground, and read by paraffin lights once the sun had gone down.  These were simple holidays, where the important stuff was the rhythm of light and darkness, high and low tide, and using resources with care.  All of this has been replaced, many years ago, with municipal services of electricity and water, shopping centres and huge expansion.  Beautiful places attract crowds.  And yet, for me, the delight of Sedgefield is the nostalgia of a different, alternative type of life.

This short holiday was even more meaningful, as R is here for a few weeks from the UK.  The four of us have not all been at Sedgefield together for a very long time.  We spent many hours on the stoep, playing variants on the game Bananagram, eating simple, delicious food, reading and chatting.  We went to the beach and swam in the sea water gently rolling into the lagoon. We shopped at the farmers' market and walked every day.  It is a poetic sort of place.

Andrew got poetic too, in the form of henna art on TD's arm.  Henna is a perfect medium for trying out body art, as it fades and disappears within two weeks, leaving space for new ideas or back to school regulation art-free arms.

Andrew is very good at this sort of thing and asked TD what she would like have drawn on her this holiday. She chose a full arm design to feature her CGM.  Technology can be body art too, and TD wanted to embrace her uniqueness.  So the centre of a flower is her CGM censor, with petals radiating out from it.  That is sort of how diabetes management works - the glucose number is at the centre of everything, and all other treatments and management radiate from that number.

Too high? - add more insulin.  Too low? - give more glucose.  Too stressed? - work on calmness.  Too tired? - sleep. This was the holiday of LO appearing on the sensor reader - TD went so low several times it didn't register on her CGM at all. This means her glucose number was below 2.2. This is not safe.   The rest of TD's arm has other important information about her in henna: where she lives, her name in code, a "this way up" arrow and other such vital details.  For good measure, Andrew added a traditional anchor and a "I love Mom." and of course, it goes without saying, a dragon. 

Instead of hiding the CGM, TD decided to celebrate it.  Diabetes (or any illness) does not need to be covered up.  The pancreas is not going to heal itself, so she might as well deal with the fact that she will forever need to monitor her glucose and celebrate that technology can help her.

TD's quote last week was "How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."  This was written by A.A. Milne and said by Winnie the Pooh.  It is smart choice of wisdom for a 16 year old to cherish.  I think that is how we all felt when we left Sedgefield on Monday to come home to do the Christmas preparations.

It's a nostalgic time of year for me, and as we round the corner into the last week of 2019, I intend looking for poetry in every undusted corner of my thoughts, every smile, and in all the kindness that is dispensed at this time of year, so that 2020 starts with a sense of gratitude. And may we all be charged with the grandeur that is around us.

It's National Peanut Butter month

Note to self:  Schedule hair appointment for 14 November 2020.

Not that I am suggesting I won't have a trim in between, but I think I need a definite appointment on that particular day.  The 14th of November, as you well know, has been set aside as World Diabetes Day.  The International Diabetes Federation chose that date - Prince Charles' birthday (oh alright, Mr Banting's birthday too) - to encourage the world to become more aware of, and concerned about, diabetes.

Awareness is always a good thing, especially around preventable and curable diseases.  It warns and encourages people to check various body parts and take the necessary action.  I am most grateful that Andrew's cancer was caught early and treated.  Type 2 diabetes can be prevented and controlled.  But Type 1 can't.  It is an autoimmune disease, and strikes for no known reason, and very quickly too.  All it takes is a few days to go from a carefree 11 year old (in TD's case) to a insulin-dependent-for-ever PWD (Person with diabetes). Just this week and not for the first time, someone benignly told TD to "get better soon."  It doesn't work like that - the diabetes club offers life long memberships only.

There was a gathering of mothers of T1 kids this Thursday, because that can be a kind of club too.  Shared experiences can make us stronger.  Community can be less lonely.  Connectivity can be helpful.  I didn't go.  TD was home studying for exams, and stress overwhelmed her at about the time I was going to set off for the tea.

A beautiful and calm place to visualize

Instead we went for a walk, did some breathing exercises, visualized her happy place, and got back on track.  I am grateful I was there when she needed me.

So, back to World Diabetes Day and my hair appointment.  I am thinking that next diabetes day I will do something that is both ordinary and nourishing: a hair cut fits the bill.  It will be a nod to myself that life goes on regardless of mothering diabetes, but sometimes it is lovely to take time out to let someone pamper you.

 These days there seems to be a month for everything.  November alone celebrates, according to one website,

#Aviation history month
#International drum month
#Caregivers appreciation month
#Diabetes awareness month
#Model railroad month
#Novel writing month
#Peanut butter lovers month
#Jewelry month
#Sleep comfort month
#National Grumpy month


It's all a bit much.  I guess we can pick and choose which to celebrate.  But it makes me uncomfortable to have to celebrate T1 as it is unpreventable and incurable.

Of course, the above list is incomplete.  It fails to mention that it is also MOVEMBER, to bring awareness and support for men dealing with testicular and prostate cancer, suicide and mental health issues.  That means Andrew is cultivating his hairy upper lip look.  This year he is going for the handlebar moustache. Sigh.

But if even one person is helped by all these awareness campaigns, they will have served their purpose.

Note to self:  Schedule all my own health checkups early in the new year.  And don't forget to book Bronwyn for 14 November.

Note to reader:  I made up the National Grumpy Month.  It just fitted my mood.

For the geraniums....

The tree had to go.  Our beautiful, climbable, hammock-swinging tree had grown too large for our plot, and the roots were threatening to cause even more cracks in the house.  It was a sad, but not difficult, decision as we simply could not live with a beautiful tree but no home.  A few Saturdays ago, with the help of a wandering band of tree-fellers, we cut the tree down, and then cut it up.

Sunlight flooded into our lounge , and immediately lifted our spirits (and showed the dirt on the carpet). There is usually a bright side to even a sad decision, if we care to look for it.

In my head I envisioned a change in the garden lay-out.  Grass is SO before-drought these days, so we dug it up.  We have decided to make little gardens instead of one big patch of lawn, and to create a number of flower beds using the tree logs to border garden or wood chip paths.  It is hard work, digging, axing roots, laying paths, planting geraniums, planning where the tea mug stumps go.  In my mind I can see the future garden, but at the moment you will have to graciously use your imagination when you come to visit.

Changes require a certain amount of bravery - we can get (too) comfortable with things that are familiar, and change can show things in a different light. It is also a realization that things could work better. (The engineer husband always says "If it's not broke, don't fix it") I felt, and I think TD did too, that we needed to make some changes in her diabetes management.  The last few months have been difficult, glucose numbers wise.  We had, I think, built solid foundations for diabetes management over the past few years, but some encroaching issues were causing cracks.  Safe guarding TD's health is not as simple as uprooting a tree however -Oh I wish it were - so we needed to see where things are not working optimally and how we can redesign a system that helps create a calmer glucose experience for TD.

On my request, we have gone back to writing a food diary.  It helps.  Somehow recording the day's insulin shots and food intake along with any notable activities makes the process of glucose control more mindful.  TD has increased the basal (long acting) insulin dose - only by one unit, but that is how finicky glucose control is.  Her bolus (short acting) insulin at breakfast is taken 18 minutes before she eats.  Not 10, not 20 - 18 seems to be best.  You can see how much attention to detail your body wants you to take.

This all helps, but still does not eliminate the waves of highs and lows that TD surfs daily.  Some of her lows have been extreme lately.  Did you know that hot water can cause someone with diabetes to go low?  (The blood vessels dilate from the heat and cause insulin to be more rapidly absorbed than usual.) So taking insulin just before a lovely bath or hot shower can cause a hypoglycemic event.  Last weekend TD generously offered to have a rare and sacred bath, as the geraniums were looking a bit droopy and needed watering (we recycle of course!) She went low, and called me in to help.  As I wrapped a towel around her, fed her glucose and waited until it was possible to lift her out the bath, we both wished for a magic wand that would make this horrible disease go away. 

But in the absence of magic, we will look for shafts of sunlight, and embrace helpful changes.  Things may look a bit wild and unkempt at the moment, but just wait until next year when the fruits/flower of our labour will create a beautiful environment.  Well, That's the hope, anyway.  And if not - we can try again.

It takes a village to do the homework......

And breathe......


Greyton is a pictuesque village about an hour and a half drive from Cape Town.  It nestles quietly in its green surroundings in the the shade of the Riviersonderend mountains.  The word I most associate with the place  is Tranquility.  TD's grandparents had a thatched cottage there some years ago, so I am familiar with the beauty of the area. I took TD to see the house (which has changed a great deal since my parents lived there)  on our first Mother/Daughter getaway a few years ago.  Quaintly, the new owners kept the name : Snail Morning.  That gives you an idea of the pace and focus of the area.

But, once a year, around this time, Greyton swarms with teenagers.  TD's school sends all the grade 10s on a camp to Greyton.  Luckily, they go in three batches of about 70 at a time, and after 20years, the townsfolk are used to them.  In fact, they help the learners with the questionnaire about the place that hasn't changed in all the years that the school has been visiting, even though some of the questions are now irrelevant.  It is part of the quaintness of the village that they embrace the invasion and kindly help to share the homework.

Of course I did my usual scare/educate routine for the teacher a week before they left, trotting out the same old info sheets that I have been using since grade 6, modifying a few details along the way.  And as usual, the teacher was eager to hear, learn and inject the grapefuit with an expired emergency kit.  TD's numbers have been all the place (I might have mentioned that once or twice recently 😏), so the practice round was very necessary.

The run up to the trip was epic.  The Saturday night was the much anticipated Grade 10 dance.  Ah, TD and all her friends looked beautiful, and had a magical night. On Sunday, after a sleep in,  we celebrated our wedding anniversary in Wellington and then needed to play Settlers of Catan, so we did. On Monday, TD had a regular school day, followed by extra murals and stayed to see the dress rehearsal of her friends one act plays. (Her school day lasted from 7.30am to 10pm)  So when Tuesday rolled round, TD was somewhat tired.

Breathe....

I was a bit anxious about this time away, more so than other times.  From my chat with the teacher, I knew TD was going on a hike into the mountains in a small group with no adult accompanying them.  I feared a low.  And sure enough, TD had a 3 half way into the mountain.  Luckily she caught it early enough (she could still think rationally and open her glucose) and dosed herself with sweets, and some  friends helped her.  She had several more hypoglycaemic events over the next 24 hours, and  even more hypers.

The highs seemed to concern the teacher more than the lows. TD went very high during the night - above 20.  Although this is dangerous, it is not as dangerous as 3 in the mountains, but I think maybe the teacher was mixing up the hypos and hypers.  A very easy thing to do when all this diabetes stuff is new and overwhelming.  She kindly checked TD at 2am and suggested TD take insulin to bring the level down.  TD phoned me to chat, and both she and the teacher messaged me a number of times during the early hours of the morning, and by breakfast time, TD had stabilized.  I bought the teacher a big box of chocolates, because I thought it might be going overboard to buy her the Superhero cloak she deserves.

And breathe...

TD came home safely, having had a wonderful time.  I thought she might be worried about all the highs and lows. "How was it?" I asked.  "The chocolate shop was closed"  she said.

And breathe.

The picturesque village of Greyton

Thursday 5 September - A day for change

It's been an Elgar sort of week for me.**  Today TD, Andrew and I are dressed in black, along with thousands of South Africans who have had enough of the gender based violence that is destroying the fabric of every day life. It has been a devastating week with daily reports of women and girls being raped, killed and kidnapped.  A heaviness settled over me that even Elgar could not dissipate.

TD's school responded to this tide of anger and emotion by allowing the pupils a day of silent protest yesterday, and by allowing the school community to protest on Main Road outside the school today.  Yesterday TD penned large black Xs on both hands to show people that she had chosen not to speak;  the silence was to represent the many voices of victims who have been silenced by force.  Today Andrew and I joined in the public protests - he before school and I during lunch hour.  Today was anything but silent.  The air was filled with slogans like "Enough is enough" , "No means no".  Cars hooted in affirmation of the protest.  The teenagers made sure that they were both seen and heard.  It was empowering to be part of the group, and quite healing to hear the anger and determination of the upcoming generation.  Perhaps, at last, this group of young adults will be the power of change we all need.

Today also happened to be the day that TD was scheduled to speak in front of her grade in the final round of a public speaking competition. She had chosen to speak about Athos - the Greek monastic island which prohibits all female beings (except cats, insects and birds) from stepping on this sacred ground.  It is well worth a quick Wikki read if you are interested in this bizarre sense of entitlement and superiority of men that is entrenched and policed.  How apt that she was dressed in black whilst delivering this speech.  And she used the opportunity to reinforce the need for gender attitude changes that are so long overdue. She may have been preaching to the converted but sexism is so entrenched in society that even the highest level of government thoughtlessly told women to stop letting men abuse them, instead of admitting that that abuse by men is the real problem.

TD is a warrior.  Discrimination, language use, respectful pronouns, are some of the issues she champions.  I admire her for this.  It gives me hope that things don't have to stay the same.  She champions the T1 cause too, answering questions on her Instagram account from people who just want to know more about how she feels about living with diabetes, or how she got sick, or her everyday routines for keeping alive.  In between all this she has had a horrible few glucose weeks - the graph of glucose numbers looks like a theme park hell-ride. She had to be put on a drip a couple of weeks ago, she has had to have a  three day restricted diet to try to figure out what is going on.  It has been scary and exhausting and draining.   And yet, she stands up and fights for a better world.

Perhaps the time for silence is over.  We need new voices to fight for humanity - loudly, passionately, coherently, persistently.   Silence is passive.  Let's actively seek to fight to stop male on female violence.  No means No.  Enough is Enough. Leave our daughters alone.

**   From my blog in April 2018   "Elgar's music - particularly his cello concerto (in E minor, opus 85) speaks to me in a deeply profound way.  The tempo and mood resonate with something in the tension I feel, and externalizes it for me.  And once it is out, it can dissipate and leave me calmer."

Finding water

Water is a great restorer of balance. My rather whacky theory is that since we, as humans, are 60 per cent water in our body, the best remedy for relaxation is to float, listen and surround ourselves in that life sustaining  substance to balance the outer and inner environments.  So, being the mid year school break, TD and I went in search of the seaside. This is the second Mom/Daughter trip we have taken, and I regard these short breaks as a huge privilege, a time to relax and to catch up.  Above all else we just have fun.  Besides, Andrew had a business trip to Taiwan, and R is in the UK, so we wanted to explore a bit too. We didn't go far: Hermanus is about a two hour leisurely drive from home.

There was water aplenty!  Everyday we strolled down to the rocky water's edge and walked, or sat on  rocks, and talked and listened.  Mostly we sat and watched the waves roll in and listened to the power of the sea. It stills my thoughts.  TD loves the water as much as I do.   And her love of rocks is even greater.  She clambers over to cliff edges, hops from rock pool to rock pool, and I sit biting my tongue, wanting to yell, "Be careful! Not so far! Don't slip!"  She knows all that, and I need to trust her that she knows her abilities and limits.  She is ,after all, on the brink of adulthood.  More importantly, I don't want to project my fears onto her, and create an unnecessary caution.  When children are little and have not figured out what is safe and what is not, holding their hands while they explore is completely necessary. But TD knows what she is doing and is a competent adventurer. I felt a bit wistful watching my beautiful daughter contemplating life so far away, and also so proud that she was comfortable to do so, and that I am able to let her.

Our fears can be great teachers if we let them.  It shows our vulnerability, our hopes (what we fear losing), our coping mechanisms.  It is not always comfortable facing these fears, and like human teachers, some fears are approachable and we can befriend them, and others demand respect quite justifiably, and one should keep a distance.

I think fears surrounding T1 diabetes have

elements of both types of teachers.  While we were in Hermanus the food/insulin diary got a bit neglected.  This book has been completely in TD's control since January, and sitting on the rocks one day we chatted about whether it was still necessary.  TD suggested it has served its purpose and we can stop.  I think she is right, but some little niggle of fear creeps in that we may lose control if we have no record of insulin dosages and food and activities.  But, with the wisdom of youth, TD reminded me we can always start again if numbers go pear shaped.  That is a fear for me to befriend.

The fear I respect- and justifiably so- regarding diabetes, is its vicious unpredictability.  Testing every few hours is a non negotiable for me.  This is the other type of fear that keeps us safe.

Hermanus has many other excellent attractions apart from the sea.  We popped into art galleries, craft markets, coffee shops and some historical points of interest.  We indulged in Massages at the Serenity Spa. (A great idea if you are in the area!)  We had a walk and tea with a family friend who was mom's bridesmaid 60 years ago, and felt encircled with threads of history, creativity and compassion. We browsed the local bookshops and soaked up the musty, mindful atmosphere .We ate sandwiches. We bathed. We knitted.  We window shopped. We slept.  We laughed. We sang loudly.

This trip was not only time well spent,

 It also restored balance.

Of course we had tea

sunset contemplation

The Blue Door

I have gone over to the Dark Side.  It has been a gradual journey, and began a few years ago.  First I painted the eaves, then TD's window frame (all the others are varnished wood!) and lately I decided to paint the sliding car gate and smaller side gate that allows access to the property.  I am not sure which experts decide on paint names, but this lot excelled themselves.  I rather like the name  that the Plascon panel chose.  The colour is a dark, sombre blue that darkens significantly when the paint dries.  I finished the second coat on the gate this past weekend and the result is pleasing.

It makes the house stand out a bit.  Painted wood was a complete no-no for me in my youth.  I was all for the natural beauty of the grain  speaking for itself, but as I have got older and more world wise, I embrace the paint.  It covers a multitude of sins, like dents and rotten bits, doesn't show the dirt so much and makes the wood last longer.  And it looks respectable.

 

Covering things up with an additional protective layer is a survival mechanism for most people.  It is neither appropriate nor comfortable to be a completely open book.  I guess we choose which bits of ourselves to show certain people and judge where it is safe to be vulnerable.  So although this blog gives snippets of my experiences - Mothering Diabetes and Living my Life- it is such a partial exposure.  I am writing this because if you have been reading this and feel I am not always hitting the mark, you may be right.  TD has her right to privacy too, and I need to respect that.

So although I protect us with layers of soul paint, the very fact that I do makes us stand out a bit.  That is the paradox of privacy.

It is school holidays and we are enjoying the much needed break.  For various reasons, TD's glucose numbers are looking better.  One of those reasons is TD taking a more thoughtful approach to diabetes.  And she doesn't compromise on the fun. In between the school holiday projects, she is seeing friends, enjoying the warm lie ins on cold mornings and being creative.  It is a good mix.

I mentioned to TD that this post was about the Dark Side, and she thought I should have at least one quote from Star Wars.  So Google and I chose this one, and I suggest, with a few modifications, it could be speaking to anyone with T1!


"There is no escape. Don’t make me destroy you. Luke, you do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy.”

– The Empire Strikes Back.

There is no escape from diabetes relentlessness, but with our combined strength we can bring order.

Live long and prosper!  (Oops apparently that is Star Trek. My bad.😂😂 )

Epic Fail

If something stops working completely, that is a clear indication that something is wrong or it is broken.  But if something still functions, but gives incorrect data that looks feasible and correct, that is an epic fail. That is what happened last week with TD's Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM), and I was not best pleased with that piece of technology.

Late Wednesday night/ early hours of Thursday morning, the CGM graph line looked astoundingly impressive.  The number were in the perfect zone (5 -6) and the line was steady, flat and consistent.  But then things took a dip for the worse, and TD's glucose plummeted to the 3s, then 2s  (so the graph told us later...) and finally when Andrew did the 6am reading, the display just said "LOW" i.e. no positive number at all.  That means that TD's glucose level was so low that she should have been unconscious or dead.  But she said she was feeling fine.  Talking is definitely a sign of being undead, so that was reassuring for us.  She ate Super Cs, and then she tested using the old fashioned way - by pricking her finger and testing the blood sample.  This reading said her glucose level was 12 - a little high, no doubt from those Super Cs.  We compared that reading to the new techno CGM.  It came up with 2.6.  You can see the problem - this is misinformation at its worst.  The sensor in her arm continued giving false readings all day, until TD decided to rip it out, as it was causing more worry than it was worth.  (And it is worth quite a lot - each sensor, which is supposed to last two weeks, costs just shy of R1K).

Symptoms of a severe glucose low (hypoglycemia)

We waited until the usual switch over day - Saturday - to replace the sensor, and touch wood, it seems to be working fine.  When it read 2.3 today at lunch time, TD really was horribly low, shaking, unable to function and felt awful.  It really was an emergency.

Sometimes I think we rely on technology too much.  TD's reason for delaying the use of technology and the CGM was so that she could learn to listen to her body more. And that has served her well.  She knew she wasn't low on Wednesday when the meter told her she was, and she knew today that she was in trouble, and for that I am very grateful.

It shook me up a bit.  We have to trust this technology to know what TD's body is doing, so malfunctions confuse me and knock confidence levels.  I needed to keep an eye on TD last Thursday - I didn't trust the universe at all that day.  It was a school free day (exams) so she and I had a quiet day here.

I wonder about my own life at times.  I need to function optimally - not display false readings of situations or misjudge which direction things are going.  Writing has become my old fashioned way of checking myself.  It is like fitting a working sensor. And new technology allows me to connect with a community.  Your reading my blog encourages me, and I thank you.

The Rabbit under the bed

Arriving late to a funeral is bad form.  Our timing was all off on Sunday, and we were running spectacularly late for a lunch in celebration of Andrew’s Aunt’s life.  The family are the kindest, gentlest, most welcoming people in the world, and they were not bothered by our tardiness at all.

One of the reasons (but not the only…) we were behind schedule was because TD had a low.  She plummeted from 3.5 (which is already low) to a staggering (literally) 2.3.  The Super Cs didn’t touch it, so she had a Chocolate Gu (a brand name for flavoured glucose).  Barely able to walk, she staggered to the car and we set off.  The effects of a low can last a long time – much longer than it takes for the glucose number to rise.  She was feeling off well into the afternoon.

There was a lot of emotion flowing at the luncheon.  Aunt Hazel had died surrounded by her family, in a home she loved, with a bunny under the bed. (It’s a free range rabbit I was told, and often naps on the bed in the afternoon sunshine.)  Andrew’s cousins and some of the grandchildren spoke of this remarkable lady who set out to enjoy every minute of her 92 years.  It was a profoundly simple and honest celebration.

Death is a difficult topic to broach on the best of days, and yet it shapes so much of our lives, and how we see ourselves.  Time becomes consciously precious, a limited resource.  A gift if you like.   

To be brutally honest, one of the consequences of a person with diabetes going too low is Death.  It does not happen to many people, but it does happen.  How do you not frighten a teenager with this thought while still imploring them to look after themselves?  Yes – teenagers die of many things – accidents, abuse, illness, the proverbial bus…. Diabetes just adds one more liability to the list.  I have told TD it will not happen on my watch, and I am determined to keep that promise.  And she will play her part in looking after herself and asking for help when she needs it.  You see, when she is low, her behaviour can be erratic – a mixture of utter fatigue, shakiness and silliness.  And at night when she is low, she is asleep and looks just the same as when she is not low and asleep. 

I imagine any parent cannot bear the thought of anything awful happening to their child.  I know I can’t.  And while I can live my life and carry on with daily routines, diabetes lurks under the surface of our family, like a monster under a child’s bed.

The fear of monsters is the fear of the unknown and dangerous.  If we can acknowledge our fears, and drag them out into the open, maybe the monsters will turn into something softer and more comforting.  When TD and I needed a little space at the celebration lunch, we went to talk to the rabbit under the bed.  I think looking for the rabbit instead of the monster might just be a calmer way of living.

 And to Hazel : your legendary zest for life is an inspiration.

Adulting

Well, there went January.  All of a sudden the year has truly and properly started.  TD's annual school band camp has come and gone, and she handles these times away with growing confidence.  I am getting a bit better too, and once she and I had set out a plan (SMS her glucose number to us at 6.30am, 9pm and 1.30am...) I felt, if not completely confident, more reassured that the weekend would be ok.

The view from our stoep at Wellington

Andrew and I decamped nearby in Wellington and caught up with our reading, chatting, knitting and relaxing, spending long lazy hours near the pool or admiring the calm surrounding. It was just what we needed. Especially the chatting.

Energy is still in short supply here, and on Monday the T-shirt slogan that became popular a few years ago, suddenly made sense :  "I can't Adult today." When I first saw it, I had to ask the kids what it meant and they patiently explained that the youth of today are quite happy to use nouns as verbs. I find a lot of grammar usage strange these days.  But it all made sense on Monday :  I could do with a patch where I don't have to shoulder quite so many responsibilities, where I can doodle pictures, play in the garden, nap in the afternoon and have frank discussions with other children about bugs and whose cat has the louder purr.

TD's year has started with gusto - her extramurals keep her busy everyday.  She is taking the academic year with the seriousness that grade 10 demands, and she is handling it all with grace and wonky sugar levels.  There are so many factors that affect her glucose number - tiredness and stress being two of the major ones.  But this is life -warts and all, so everyday we try to balance the scales of insulin and glucose.  Some days we triumph more than others.

This week the new Gucci campaign was launched.  It is called the Future is Fluid, and it features youngsters from around the world who are hoping to create a more tolerant society, particularly around gender issues.  If you know who you are looking for, you may spot TD in the background.
Here is a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFUvLNL7E8Q.   I am beyond proud of TD and her desire to be part of a better world.

So I thought I would like to offer my campaign for a better world too.  I have decided that on those days that I "can't Adult"  I am going to change the definition of what it means to be an adult.

Andrew getting into the swing of Adulting

Who says care-free doodling, playing, napping and frank discussions are only for children.  I know I will be able to handle the hard stuff a whole lot better if I spend more time doing the playful stuff.  Keen to join me? - I am happy to share the box of crayons with you, and while we are colouring in outside the lines we can chat about the serious business of being an adult.  Or bugs and cats if you prefer!