Diabetes? Yes? No? Pre?

About ten years ago I received in the mail a letter from one of my many trusted doctors. It said: "You now have Adult Onset Diabetes." I was shocked and distraught. Why there must be some mistake, I told myself. I am not an adult and how could anyone possibly perceive me as such? I resented the implication. Now after about nine years of denial and evasion I know that I now have a full blown case of Type II Diabetes. I understand that the term Adult Onset has been abandoned, due to our fat children in this country, in favor of the more encompassing Type II. Now, thanks in great part to my friend Tia, I have begun to understand all the medical jargon/babble about Diabetes and can now make informed choices about my personal health. Tia confirmed for me, for example, that while neither choice is healthy, it would be much better to consume a pound of blueberries rather than a pound of Skittles. Who knew? Of late, on the topic of Type II Diabetes, I have become, what one of my bosses once referred to me as, "a voracious reader and investigator." Every day I become a tad more enlightened, about this vile affliction, which may help me make it to my 60th birthday. Yesterday while I was reading about the "sugar sickness" on the internet (so it must be true!) I kept coming across the term "pre-diabetes." People can now be labeled as pre-diabetic. In reference to my all around not so healthy self I will now think of myself as pre-dead.

How I Loved and Lost Candy

Twice this summer Candy has been taken from my life. The first being in a rabid plea to my doctor that if he would let me stave off diabetes medication for just three more months, no piece of candy or sugar or simple carbohydrate would cross my lips. The second time was when a woman whom I loved passed away after a courageous battle with cancer. Her name was Candy and cancer won.

I have been diagnosed with Type II Diabetes for ten years and for nearly ten years I have been in denial about it. Partly because there is a part of me that just doesn't care if I wake up tomorrow or not. And partly because I have no self-control and moderation means nothing to me. And partly because I just plain love candy. Well, the wake up call came a few weeks ago in the form of a stern form letter from my doctor in which he angrily (I assume) and hastily scribbled that I needed to come in AT ONCE to discuss my exorbitantly high lab numbers. I obeyed, made an appointment and was berated but I badgered right back and now I am officially off candy and in the category of "diet and exercise controlled" Diabetes. (I always laugh when I think of that cuz in the past ten years I have done nothing of the sort.) If my will to live was not the strongest in the past ten years imagine how I feel now with my friend, candy, out of the picture. Well, I would like to dance at my son's wedding so I am going to give it a try!

And now for a far more precious Candy. Candice Calkins. I knew her briefly but she was wonderful. She was a maniacal evangelical christian who never missed a day telling me I was going to burn in hell! I loved her and she loved me. We could not have been more opposite in the religious arena yet more alike in so many things. She had a twinkle in her eye that would not quit. I only knew her briefly. We worked together for about six months in 2004. We worked in a classroom called the "Emotional Growth Center." Nine boys, four teachers. Our classroom was kinda of a last chance stop for these boys. The other adults in this classroom were a man named Larry and an angel named Elaine. It was a short chunk in my life but will forever remain one of my most joyous and fulfilling. The four of us were quite a team. Candy was beautiful, smart, loving and funny. She did everything and loved everyone with a passion that I seldom see. I loved her after knowing her only a few hours. I think she loved me from the moment she was born....as she did everybody. Candy, I know you are exactly where you wanted to be. Send me a sign if that's possible.

Goldilocks and the Three Pools

I have been swimming quite alot this summer. I am on what Richard Simmons would would call a "live-it" which in his mind is the opposite of diet. I swam a bit over the winter and spring which in Oregon must be done inside. One of my health clubs has two indoor pools. One is the lap pool and the other is called the warm pool. The lap pool is too cold. The warm pool is too hot. During the summer in Oregon, most days swimming can comfortably be engaged in outside. My second health club membership has an outdoor pool. And this one is just right. Not only is the temperature perfect but it is surrounded be trees. Everywhere you look....beautiful trees. So I can dog paddle to my hearts content and all is well.

Warren and Sue

Warren and Sue. Those names are music to my ears. I know many people who bounce around from friend to friend. Raising and lowering the status of their "best friends" according to behavior of the day. I am not one of those people. While I love my family and they love me, the love I have for Warren and Sue is not mandatory nor a "given." Yet I adore them. They are ALWAYS there for me, no matter what, day after day after day. I could not get rid of them if I wanted to. (What an absurd thought.) My behavior can be abhorrent. I can have an acid tongue and they love me. I can be a big lump of quivering crazy and they love me. I have friends who love me period. I need not say anything more.....but I will. And they will love me. Family members have to love me. Warren and Sue want to. (Now, when I say family I am not referring to my husband, my father or my son....those three men in my life are a gift and easy to love. Had I not been related to them I would have chosen them as best friends.) Okay....the underlying current here is (and always will be) when referring to family, is my Mom. I don't feel from her the much touted unconditional love. I feel the love most of the time but not every single minute of every single day, which is what, in my often unrealistic and grandiose mind I think a mother's love should provide. I love Warren and Sue. They are perfect in every way...
just like me! :)

Too Fat to Ride a Horse?

My mom says I'm too fat to ride a horse. She says it would be a mean thing to do to a horse. But apparently saying mean things to your daughter is okay. Cuz who's gonna tell you if your own mother doesn't? Funny, I think I could have gone my whole life without the knowledge that I am too fat to ride a horse. Surely somewhere on this planet there must be a cowboy that weighs more than I do. Or a corpulent sheriff ? I'll bet Hoss (may he rest in peace) weighed more than I did. His horse seemed fine. Aren't horses classified as "beasts of burden" anyway?

In Scotland, at the Queens summer residence, Balmoral Castle, you can rent a cottage and a mountain pony. They have a weight limit for riders of their ponies (and these are PONIES, mind you) of 14 stones. This is about 215 pounds I believe. So the Queen of England thinks I'm not too fat to ride one of her own personal horses! I had better get there fast because I don't know how much time I have left before I am to fat to ride a queen's pony. If I go today there will be no issue...but in two years...well, I can't be held responsible for what happens between now and then.

What's Eating You?

There is a saying. "It's not what you eat but rather what's eating you." It's an attempt to put meaning to why people are fat. Folks used to think that people were fat because they were lazy. Then Oprah attempted to change that by attaching some inner emotional turmoil as the reason. Today on my favorite web page that I read every Sunday (www.postsecret.blogspot.com) a woman shared her secret and it was this "I am eating myself to death because I don't own a gun." That is a turbo-charged version of my own reason. I am fat and getting fatter because part of me just doesn't care.

Swim or Die? Nah! Swim or Dye!

A few months ago I blogged in an entry titled "Swim or Die", about my desire to take better care of my earthly vessel. Because of some health issues, swimming is about the only fitness activity that doesn't make me cringe in pain. I am fat and sick and I am sick of being fat. So, in January with the best of intentions, I wrote out a check for a one-year membership in a health club with wonderful swimming facilities. I went every day for nearly 30. Then I went a coupla days a week. Then I went one day in a coupla weeks. Last week I thought I had gotten my mojo back and went two days in a row. Yesterday my reason (read: lame excuse) for not going was that I HAD to dye my hair (Hate that gray? Wash is away!) and could not expose the few precious strands of hair that I have left to the chlorine. (Remember I make a choice every day to pull out many of strands of what used to be my luxurious mane.) So here I sit fat as ever but man does my hair look good!