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.

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

A Sharp Decline

We have just been to Hel and back.  There is only one way in – a treacherous, seemingly never-ending, winding road with dangerous corners and ledges that are too close for comfort, and there is only one way out – returning up that self same dangerous route.

We journeyed there for a few reasons.  The scenery was, apparently, breathtakingly beautiful and the destination promised to be an oasis of tranquillity.  We were lured with images of complete sanctity, and of a challenge to travel a road fuelled by adrenalin.

The road to De Hel is only 37 km long.  There is a sign post at the start informing travellers that the route will take over 2 hours to complete. 37 km – that seemed doable.  The road is a rough stone path with a river or two to cross.  We lurched from side to side, inching forward for what seemed forever.  Just as we hopefully crested another pass, hoping to see the river bed, more mountain ranges and winding roads snatched all hope that the journey would ever end.  It did of course, after many false hopes and some despair.

The final pass, called Eland’s Pass, was the most harrowing (and breathtaking) of all.  Sheer cliff faces with hairpin bends made for a rapid descent and a sharp decline.  At this point we were grateful not to meet any other vehicles – someone would have to give way, and there was no place to go.

We stayed in the valley overnight at a Cape Nature cottage.  It was a further 10 kilometres into the reserve, but the end was in sight.  A handful of cottages have been restored sympathetically to their 1800s construction.  It is hard to believe anyone would choose to live there (a couple of families still do).

Cape Nature had left a few books in the living area of the cottage.  One was the visitors’ book, which warned guests about the danger of baboons invading the house if they smell food.  Another was a coffee table type book that explored the Karoo region.  The page about De Hel said something like:- If you have the time to go to De Hel, rather use that time more wisely and go somewhere else!!!

The trek out of the valley was less daunting.  We left behind the cries of the baboons, the arguments the other family staying near us had in loud voices, and the desolate environment.  We were familiar with the route and could look forward to a village stayover that evening in a more comfortable place.

The whole adventure is a metaphor for me.  The road into dark places is uncomfortable and dangerous.  There is no warm welcome at the bottom, and the only way out is to travel back along the same track, clinging on to familiar markers and hope of gentler place to stay when we emerge.

The best, of course, is to take the guide book’s advice and use the time more wisely by going somewhere else, but that is not always possible.  Use the hiking rules if you find yourself embarking on this journey – never ever travel alone, always tell a friend where you are going, keep three points of contact with the ground at all times, and take some warm clothing. 

Winding road down into De Hel valley

I am glad I have seen De Hel.  We can tick it off the bucket list.  It was not kind to glucose numbers (which may have been elevated to start with because of a zip line adventure at the Cango Caves earlier that day…..).But we took some photos of the stunningly beautiful nature and have lived to tell the tale.

In the next blog I will tell you all the wonderful things we did on this road trip.  I just had to get this out of my system first.......!

April

It's been a low energy sort of month for me.  One when I have needed Elgar and Chocolate and Sleep. Luckily it was Easter - so chocolate was everywhere in abundance.  Equally luckily it was school holidays, so we could sleep in an extra hour or two.  TD did not overindulge in Easter chocolate - she ate one treat only. Nevertheless her two weekly download of meter readings, which we send off to her endocrinologist, showed a record number of stubborn highs.  Something needed to change.  We upped the morning Lantus (long acting insulin) dose.  We tried to be more carb - clever : difficult over the Holiday Season, but nothing much helped. 

Until it dawned on me.  The problem might be that it wasn't dawning on me!  We were getting up at 7.30am instead of the usual 5.45.  My theory is that this threw out the whole daily schedule - TD was getting her Lantus too late in the morning, and maybe it was pushing all her numbers high.  It's just a theory - what do you think?  Possible? Probable?  It has been a stressed family time too, so maybe That was the cause of elevated sugars?  TD is growing - could that be the reason? Or is it just a fairly random bodily function that is hard to predict and so hard to control?  Who knows.  (Perhaps you do - in which case please share your thoughts!)

I guess what I am saying is that we simply don't know so much and yet somehow things level out.  TD's numbers are back in the usual range this week. (more or less.)  She was tired of being on a glucose high and took control in getting back on the level.  She made extra efforts to look after herself.

Sometimes I have to remember that when we are on a bumpy ride, things will eventually even out.  I also need to remember that this leveling is both a function of time and a conscious effort to take care.  I can't be completely passive, but nor can I stress about the natural cycle of unpredictability of life.

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.

So both TD and I are starting the week on  more level ground.  She is listening to Emo music (21 Pilots, Imagine Dragons and Panic at the Disco! - and no, I haven't heard of any of these groups)  I am listening to the Love Actually soundtrack...

But if you come to visit and hear Elgar blasting out - please bring chocolate.

Road Trip

There has been a lot going on these past few months : TD was sick, her brother left home to study at Cambridge University, her Gran and Grandad have been unwell and the technology project for the term was to build and race a go kart. (And TD was the only member of the group with a working knowledge of hammers, screwdrivers and washers.)  We were all tired, and needed a change of scenery.

So, during the one week school break, the three of us went road tripping.  Andrew hauled out the big map, looked at which roads we had not yet coloured over in red pen (to signify we had already travelled on them) and plotted a route, exploring a few villages and towns close to Cape Town.
Packing was easy: Jeans, t-shirts, swimming costumes, walking shoes and some warm tops, cellphone chargers and an abundance of books.

And ice blocks, cooler bags, extra insulin, emergency glucogen kit, wholewheat bread and cheese for meal emergencies, extra testing strips, one ketone testing strip (well, you never know...) , quick acting glucose sachets, super c sweets, extra needles....  You know - all the usual stuff everyone takes on holiday.  At least everyone who is travelling with T1.

Diabetes takes no holidays.  It is not something we can relax about for a week (or a day) or just decide to take a break from.  It is a relentless disease, unforgiving of forgetfulness, dangerous to tune out.  Holidays or ordinary days, every morning we test TD at 6am, we wake at 2am if needed to check her sugars, we don't skip meals.  None of this bothers us in the slightest.  I suppose we no longer see diabetes as a disease, rather as a new way of life.

The road trip was lovely.  We stood on the beach at the southern most tip of Africa, we spent a whole day at the natural hot springs soaking up sun and catching up some reading.  We ate delicious foods.  We listened to all the latest trendy music (Thanks TD for the compilation!).  We recharged our batteries, missed our son, basked in the wonderfulness of our surroundings and made memories that will last forever.