Turning the page

 

 

 

 

 

As one chapter ends, another begins.

 

This week ends the 27 year journey I have had with mothering my two offspring as children.  From Saturday on, I will be the mom of two wonderful, capable,  ......adults.  TD turns 18 - that magic age when childhood steps through an invisible veil into a new adventure of independence.  It is a process of course, and I will always fiercely be their protective mother ready to swoop in, when invited.  They are part of me, and turning 18 will not change any of our history, present or future.

But becoming an adult does open some exciting doors - it is the legal age for voting, for example.  And for driving.  And for drinking alcohol. TD has been studying for her learner's licence - the precursor to getting her driving licence. It has been a useful reminder to us of the more obscure road rules ( if you are carrying a load on your roof, it may not stick out more than 30 cm  from the bonnet, and must be decorated with a red flag sized 30 cm by 30 cm. No bigger, no smaller.)  I had... ummm... forgotten that.

 

Most parents will be a little anxious letting new drivers borrow the car.  Lack of experience, recklessness of some teenagers, and the notion of indestructibility that youth brings, means most of us stay up late and bite our nails until the teenagers have trained us to trust them.  It goes without saying that the drinking freedom holds the same fears.  Are our teenagers responsible enough to make good judgements?  We will find out soon enough I suppose.  TD will have extra responsibilities - checking her glucose before any decisions can be made.  (Alcohol has the double whammy of high sugars and diminished responsibility.  Driving and going low will be dangerous to all road users.) It is all part of growing up and letting go.

Happy birthday, TD.  You fill the world with compassion and kindness.  You are tough and determined.  You are gentle and humble. The world is yours, and I know you will continue to make it a better place for all of us.

And here I say goodbye to you and my blog.  Thank you for the company these last few years.  Thank you for taking an interest and making this a less lonely journey.  I will miss writing to you - it has been my grounding and thought space, but it is time to let go. My next chapter begins too.

                                                            But first....It's Time for Tea

Addendum! My new blog is at Comingback4seconds.blogspot.com if you are interested!!

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”

T.S. Eliot

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.

 

 

 

 

 

Betrayal

⏹ Not for sensitive readers.  I am banging this blog out on a Sunday morning because the words are tumbling inside me and curdling my sense of peace.  Betrayal is a strong word, but it sums up what I have been feeling the past few days.

Speedy attacked Tolstoy with an intent to kill.  (For any new readers to this blog, I am referring to two of the free range tortoises that allow us to live in the house in their garden.).  It was Friday morning, and TD was taking a study break (chemistry this time) and wandering around the garden.  I heard anguished cries which got more and more desperate sounding.  TD was standing with tiny Tolstoy in her hand, tears streaming down her cheek.  He looked limp, with his head lolling to one side.  She choked out what she had found - the older, larger tortoise, Speedy, had turned Tolstoy on his back, and was biting at his neck.  The strong beak had bitten the eye and mouth and both looked beyond healing.  The immediate action was clear.  I gently held Tolstoy, and TD put a very angry Speedy in a confined space.  She put him in her fenced off veggie patch.  

Poor little Tolstoy.  Poor TD.  Both needed a lot of calming, and soothing before we could even assess the damage.  The swollen face and offset jaw and damaged neck didn't give us much hope for his survival. But he pulled through.  The eye is still too swollen to see if he will have sight again, and the jaw seems to be healing.  We made a "nest"  home for him in a cardboard box, and brought him inside to watch over him. Over the weekend, TD upgraded his home to a larger wooden crate that she made, and put some homely plants and gravel in it.  This tortoise is going to need intensive  care for a while still.

Tolstoy in the ICU TD made

Initially all TD could feel towards Speedy was Anger with a capital A.  I think the feeling was mutual.  Speedy ripped up the herbs in her garden, and trampled the leeks.  Too angry to look at him, we left him there overnight and concentrated on helping Tolstoy.  On Saturday morning, I prepared a portion of the garden for Speedy to live in by himself.

TD and I agreed that this incident was raw nature.  We tend to personify things some times - Speedy was obeying some natural instinct to defend territory, or assert dominance. But it felt like a betrayal.  What if TD hadn't been there at the right moment?  What if Tolstoy never completely recovers?  The garden, which has recently brought us so much pleasure, went gray in a mist of the betrayal of nature.

I reacted strongly too.  I felt broken.  This beautiful creature was damaged by a phenomenon of nature under my watch.  I hadn't picked up any signs or been quick enough to avoid the damage.  I felt drained.  But as with all crises, one copes and deals with circumstances to stabilize the situation.  The recrimination comes later.  The what ifs.  The anger.  The acceptance that there is no fault to assign.  The "we can live with this" attitude, and Gratitude for life.  Diabetes feels like a betrayal.  One expects a body to function properly, and out of nowhere, suddenly it attacks.  Nature can be so cruel. But we learn to trust again, to accept, to be grateful.   Tolstoy survived.  TD survived.  We will be OK.

 

Speedy's new garden of isolation.

"We called him Tortoise because he taught us."

 A promise is a promise - it's tortoise time.  One of our family rituals, is playing Hide and Seek with 5 of the 6 reptile members of our family.  Well, just Seek really.  They are incredibly good at "disappearing", sometimes only letting us find them after a few days.  I love how when they know they have been found, they simply stop, completely still, and retract their heads into their shells.  It's the "if I can't see you, you can't see me" defense mechanism that a lot of species, especially humans, employ.

This is Olaf

  Speedy keeping safe

So - some introductions:  Thadeus (who strictly speaking is a Thadea) grew up in Andrew's childhood household, and has been part of the family longer than I have.  She is a gentle soul, a bit of a leader, confident and comfortable in her own shell.  Speedy was rescued by my sister when he was so very tiny.  A dog had damaged his shell in several places and so he is more vulnerable and
exposed.  He hides a lot, and is skittish, and is only just now venturing further into his fynbos buffet garden.  Tolstoy - you have already met - and Olaf are the babies of the group, and heart meltingly gorgeous.  Tostoy is the tiniest, and the friendliest of them all.  Olaf is the best hider of the group. And then there are Bruin and Brown.  These two were rescued from a boutique hotel that was closing, and rehoused with us by American friends who were staying there and concerned for their well being.  Bruin is an easy going, get-on-with-everyone type.  Brown is not.  He is so aggressive that we have had to give him a separate patch of garden away from the others.  Every now and then we try to integrate him back into society, but his physical aggression is nasty, and he tries to hurt the others.  He hisses at us, and clearly had an unhappy childhoood.

TD once had to wear a tortoise for a week. Before technology had become so sophisticated and accessible- way back in 2017- TD's endocrinologist was worried that some hypoglycemic events (low glucose) were being missed and this could put TD's life in danger.  So she attached a "tortoise" to TD (her terminology, not ours).  This was a closed system Continuous Glucose Monitor, meaning it gathered and stored glucose information in the sensor, but was only read by the endo at the end of the trial period .  She could study the data, together with a food and activity diary, and give feedback.  These days, technology has moved so fast that the CGM gives immediate feedback, and TD can adjust her insulin accordingly. The 2017 device was called a tortoise because of it's shape.(and to make it less scary to children....)  And maybe because of the slowness of getting data.

I know tortoises are thought of as slow animals, but in my experience, if they want to, they can rumble over rough terrain at quite at pace.  Aesop's fable of the hare and the tortoise has the slow and determined tortoise plodding on to win over the overconfident faster competitor.  Consistent effort leads to winning the race is the supposed moral of the story.  But life isn't a race to be won, is it.  And we are not competing with anyone.  Diabetes has taught me that there are times to be slow and methodical, and there are times when speed is essential.  Yet again, it is all about balance and context, I suppose.

If you want a fix of gorgeousness, we can organise a Zoom meeting between you and a tortoise....although for most of the meeting you may just be staring at some fynbos, until a tortoise appears.  Trust me, it's not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Thadeus

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The MiaoMiao

TD is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a clove of garlic as if warding off evil spirits or fleas, and we are discussing this blog.  I initially was going to tell you all about the MiaoMiao, but she thinks it is too soon.  So she was suggesting other topics :  the garden, Andrew and my 30th wedding anniversary,  tortoises, our mother/daughter relationship, the weird dreams we had last night, arum lilies and water systems of plants.  Meanwhile Andrew is bringing freshly baked cheese biscuits for us to sample  - they are delicious - and I realize that there is beauty in the mundane.

So - the MiaoMiao.  This strangely named device is new to our household, so maybe TD is right - it is a bit soon to write about it, but I will give you some background.  TD uses the Libre Monitoring System for measuring glucose, and it has changed her life.  It replaces the 12+ finger prick tests she had to do for all those years (can you imagine inflicting that sort of pain on your child day after day, year after year with no possible holiday to let her fingers recover?) The Libre is a sensor that is placed on her upper arm and has a filament that sits 5 mm beneath the skin to measure interstitial fluid.  It needs no calibration (finger pricking) - unless something major is going on, and it reads the glucose every 5 minutes and can be read via a hand held scanner.  The sensor gets replaced every two weeks. Sounds good, doesn't it!

 Libre sensor and reader    

 

     But the thing the Libre does not do, is alert TD (or us) if she is in danger.  And not to hammer home the point, but all type 1s live with the daily danger of losing consciousness and going into a coma.  Hyper vigilance is key to good management and safety, but I am sure you can imagine how exhausting that can be over a sustained period. 

Introducing the MiaoMiao.  This device sits on top of the Libre sensor and has a Bluetooth connection to any smart phone.  Several apps have been developed which interpret the data that is conveyed from the Libre through the MiaoMiao and onto the phone.  And it sends out alarms when the glucose is too high or too low. 

The MiaoMiao sits on top of the Libre Sensor

We are still figuring out all the processes  and best usage.  One of its strong points is that it can be used as much or as little as liked; TD is using a sweatband to hold it in place, so that she can take it off  and put it on with no fuss. Andrew and I have been routinely checking TD's glucose at around 2am, and an alarm system will allow us to sleep longer and respond to emergencies.

Not yet, of course.  We still need to learn how trustworthy the device is, because complacency is not an option.  There have been a few hiccoughs - The Libre readings (which we trust) and the MiaoMiao readings have not always correlated - sometimes being wildly different. 

TD is happy to try this new tech.  She was delighted with how small the device is, and the ease of use.  She does not want us, as parents, to have constant access to her glucose numbers, so the app is on her phone only.  We respect that.  

It is early days.  We are holding thumbs this will be a great success and that technology will do some of the hyper vigilance for us.

And the idea of writing about tortoises is growing on me, so to whet your appetite for the next blog, here is a picture of Tolstoy for you: 

Tolstoy the tiny tortoise

 

 

 

 

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

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

The voices in my head

TD's playlist has some songs on it with most annoying lyrics - the type that get stuck in my head and play on silent repeat in my mind until I am forced to do something drastic, like listen to some of my own style of music, or distract myself with a book.  TD's generation has a lot of angst in the lyrics that are used, and I wonder if that repeats in their subconscious and adds to a collective melancholy.  I wonder if song lyrics (like Teen Idle or Ocean Eyes ) add to the voices in their heads.

We all have voices in our head. ( I hope...do we?? Perhaps I am speaking for myself here!) They are the ghosts of childhood, the constrictions of societal norms or the self imposed opinions of self.  Or sometimes they are just lists of things that need to be done.

My early morning checklist includes things like changing the needles on both insulin pens, giving a very sleepy TD the correct type of insulin at the correct time, making sure she eats within a certain time frame of injecting, and packing an ice pack in the insulin kit for school.

 The last couple of weeks have been diabetically challenging.  On one occasion, TD did not take her insulin kit to school.  For some reason, I didn't pack it or leave it with her lunchbox, and as her glucose had been too low at breakfast time, she hadn't taken any Apidra (short acting insulin) when she woke up.

The voices in my head did a little admonishing speech - the what ifs looping around (the emergency injection for severe hypos lives in the kit and should be on TD's person at all times).  I whatsapped her and dropped the cooler case at the school's front office.  Crisis averted.

TD checked in with me back much later, towards the end of the school day.  She thanked me for bringing the insulin through.......but I hadn't checked properly and the Apidra pen did not have a needle on it.  It is absolutely no use whatsoever without the needle.  Oops.

No insulin equals glucose spike.  High glucose equals headaches, tiredness, blurred vision and inability to concentrate.  Inability to concentrate equals a hard day at school.

Shortly after this, TD caught the bug going round.  The doctor booked her off school for the best part of a week.  She slept for most of it, and she tried to stabilize those glucose levels.  But guess what - pretty much any illness causes sugar levels to rise as cortisol ( glucose) and adrenalin are released into the blood stream to help with fighting infections.  Even a minor cold can be a major challenge for anyone with diabetes.

Enough, say the voices in my head.  How about some positive news.

TD has a fascination with, and love of, old cars.  She recently had the opportunity  to be a passenger in an 1916/17 Dodge Brothers on a rally from Wynberg to Simonstown. (The date discrepancy relates to the addition of a part in 1917....)

The 1916/17 Dodge Brothers

It is a beautiful coastal route, and TD waved like royalty from the back seat at the many admirers along the way.  It was a lovely day,  celebrating nostalgia and fine craftsmanship, the carefree feeling of wind in your hair and sun on your shoulders.

Our inner voices play an important role in how we live life.  Sometimes it is hard to drown out the picky voices of criticism and or the bass notes of self doubt.  Sometimes these voices need to surface so that things can be made better and easier, or so that we can make longer check lists.  Sometimes the voices need to be overlayed by the kindness of people we trust, who encourage us and tell us we are doing ok, even in the diabetically challenging weeks.

Back to school

I have to laugh.  I have just spent the last half hour trying to unlock our oven from its child SAFE mode.  I had accidentally locked it this morning when I cleaned a little more enthusiastically than usual, and wiped the display face with a flourish and hit, it seems, a clever combination of buttons that activated the Safe mode.  No problem - Google is my friend, and I simply typed it in to a search.  I have to assume the designers of these ovens either have sadistic streaks, or very clever children who have cracked all their previous attempts at safety locks.  I trawled the internet, even putting in the exact model (which comes in two versions it seems, both with different instructions.)  Any way , the long and short of it is, after I had stopped to drink a mug of tea, I finally managed to unlock it, and start reheating the leftovers which will be supper.

It was frustrating.  And I wouldn't tell even my best friend how long that took, and how many times I tried to guess the combinations of key presses before looking it up and how I had to laugh at my foolishness.

It came on top of a frustrating interaction with Walton's Stationers, suppliers of TD's stationery requirements for grade 11 (Grade 11 ! - how did that happen so fast!) We ordered and paid for the books last November, as requested, blissfully expecting to pick up the cardboard suitcase they are packed in at school last Tuesday.  Ah no, it was not to be.  They had received the payment, but not the list of items ordered.  No problem, mistakes happen, and I sent off a copy of the form to the email address supplied.  TD could fetch them the next day, and she would just delay the covering until the next afternoon.  No luck with that either.  I phoned, and was promised the parcel the next day.  It didn't arrive.  And so on.... I won't bore you with the daily dash of expectations.  Waltons promised today  1pm would be the real thing.  Sadly, the driver saw the school initial W, and decided to take it to the Waterfront instead.

I had to laugh. The person in charge offered to fetch it and deliver it herself, and because I was dashing about this afternoon, we decided to meet half way in a deserted parking area.  She apologised, and handed me not only the stationery box, but a little brown packet with the following label for me to give to TD:

"We're sorry for making you feel blue.  We're going to keep working on being sharper but, for now, here are some treats for you."

(The fact that they had a nifty little rhyming label shows that TD was certainly not the only person who had started the school year writing her notes on pieces of paper that will need to be rewritten into the books.)  The gift was a kind gesture - TD loves stationery, and a few gel pens or a rainbow eraser with the little brush on the other end that smells of bubblegum  (remember those?) would have delighted her.  But no, the treats inside were chocolates and a sucker. So it was an insulin heavy gift, which TD consumed on the way to orchestra rehearsal. She came home with a high glucose reading.

This year looks as though it may be as chaotic as last year.  TD has hit the first term running, and has very little down time this week.  On Friday, she and a large number of fellow musicians, go away on the school's  annual band camp.  This is one of the highlights of her year, and is much anticipated.  It was on this camp a couple of years ago that a discussion about Star Wars led to a friendship and romance with O, who feels like part of the family now.

I have started stocking up with some provisions to supplement camp food.  TD is confident and adept at the diabetes management.  She has many friends who know what to look out for in lows and highs.  All should be fine.

Should.

That shadow follows me everywhere. 

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.

Hello World

Well.....it's been a while.  When I sit down to write, something whispers in my ear that I should be doing something else.  Procrastination is an art, if properly done, and needs practice to perfect.  I am getting there.  In the meantime, TD has become my Digital Media Manager and has signed me up for Facebook.  Who would have thought I would ever venture willingly into such a public space.  To be honest, it is not under my name, but I can use it as a vehicle for telling the world  about a little cottage industry I am dabbling in, so there are no personal revelations about our household.  No, I do all of that here, in this blog. (😏) TD is somewhat of a pro at this social media stuff,  and takes very nice photos to add to the presentation. Arty.  Different.  Creative. Expressive.

It is exam time again, so TD has removed herself from Instagram for the duration of the study period. (and she does not do Facebook.)  She needs to sleep.  Digital distractions are time consuming, so I am pleased that she made the decision to limit them, and concentrate on what needs to be done.

Not to overemphasize this whole sleep thing, but it really is getting to crunch time.  Like eating and expecting your pancreas to compensate for your carb intake, we often take sleeping for granted as an expected working body function.  T1 is vicious: it not only restricts your sugar intake, it also restricts your sleep patterns.  It is not safe for TD to sleep 8 or 9 straight hours without testing her glucose level.  My alarm is set for 2am every morning.  Things are easier with the CGM (Continuous Glucose Monitor) as TD does not have to do a blood test.  It is a quick swipe of her arm, and hopefully she doesn't even wake up.  If things are wobbly, I check her again at 3.  And then I make a judgement call if it is safe to leave her until the next reading that Andrew does at 5.45.  Most nights are fine, but the few nights when we pick up lows remind us that we cannot get complacent. It is a matter of life and death.

 This Sunday the cashier at the local Spar generously gave us a pensioners' discount when we went to buy ice creams after a wander/bike ride around the neighbourhood.  Clearly we look a bit older than we actually are . And when you are a teenager that might be considered a compliment, but at my stage of life it signifies a certain need to schedule more sleep :)

The year is winding down.  Soon we will all be able to exhale, get into holiday mode and allow ourselves the space to rejuvenate.  And sleep of course.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.  There is plenty to do now.  TD needs to update the Facebook page, I need to find some more creativity. We all have projects to complete. We need to be Arty.  Different.  Creative. Expressive.

Strength to you all, as we gallop towards the Busy Season.  May you be sure footed, and stride over the hurdles with ease.


 

My windswept look at the last craft market! If you want a closer look the Facebook page is called Reflections Glass Pendants

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."

Snow White and the 7 Diabetic Dwarfs

TD recently wrote a play about the damaged characters in the fairy tales that we tell our children:  Pinocchio the compulsive liar, Goldilocks with her sense of entitlement, Rumpelstiltskin who has anger management issues...and a few more.  It had a clever setting - a group therapy session - and a good take-home message:  should we still be telling very young children about these dubious characters, or should we rather affirm good morals of real life heroes?

She did not include Snow White as one of her characters, but I think the story deserves some of our attention.  How about Snow White and the Seven Diabetic Dwarfs.

They are, in no particular order:

Sleepy:  A character that needs no introduction to any one in this day and age.  Life is frantic, full of things to do, people to see, YouTube videos to watch... Who can honestly say they consistently get their recommended 8 hours of shut eye? People with T1, and their families, often get less sleep than most - blood sugars need to be tested during the night.  It is easier now that TD wears the CGM (Continuous Glucose Monitor) because at 2am all I have to do is hold the sensor to her arm and check she is "in the zone" (see previous post), correct if low, ignore if a little high, and waddle back to bed to sleep a bit more.  Before the CGM days, TD had to wake up, prick her finger, do the blood test and then proceed with the next steps. CGM for the win!

Grumpy:  Following straight on from Sleepy, we have Grumpy.  It can be hard to function optimally on disturbed sleep, and grumpiness is often a by product of tiredness. 

Dopey:  This is another effect that Sleepy has on us. If it has been a long night, I sometimes walk round in a fug of forgetfulness. I know there is stuff to remember, but I just can't figure out what it is I am forgetting.  The extra testing kit?  Buying more Super Cs? Changing the needles on the pens?  Luckily most of that has become habit now, and the things I forget are less important...like where I left my glasses or how many cups of tea I have consumed...

Sneezy:  Do you also sneeze when you are tired?  It seems to be quite common.  TD takes Allergex nightly to alleviate the symptons....if she forgets, her eyes water, her throat itches and she sneezes.

Bashful:  There are only a few situations where TD prefers not to inject insulin in public spaces.  Mostly she has this Bashful thing under control.  Of course, dresses, dungarees and other clothing that make injecting into the stomach for fast acting insulin impossible, are a problem, and TD excuses herself to inject.  (Never inject through clothing, in case micro fibres are pushed under the skin, leading to possible infection....)

Doc:  Every T1 family's favourite of the Dwarfs.  It is so important to have a good medical team to partner with.  TD has great people on her help list : the endocrinologist is great, the GP is wonderful and most other medical practitioners are kind and understanding.  Quite frankly, if they are not, it is time to move on.  Trust is a huge Doc issue.  We have been very fortunate in the people who help TD.

Happy: Sometimes the challenges are overwhelming, but it is important to allow ourselves to be Happy.  Not all the time, obviously.  Adversity is a great teacher, but happiness is a state that I need around me.  I am happy to be able to share my life with the people I love.  I am not happy that TD has diabetes, but I am happy that she is TD, and that seems to include diabetes, so that is just how we roll.

Fairy tales are flawed.  Snow White is not a particularly positive role model for children today.  I reread the story to refresh the details in my mind, and the whole beauty fixation/role of females/ being saved by a handsome prince  sticks in the throat a lot.  But, seeing as we are all flawed too, perhaps it is important to retell these tales to our children and embrace the notion of happy ever after.  Stories give us a chance to explore villains and heroes, right and wrong, real and fantastic.  The 7 dwarfs are an odd bunch, but rather relatable don't you think!

The Seven Diabetic Dwarfs