Just Because You Have to Laugh Sometimes

So recently, diabetes has just made me laugh. I've had it for going on 14 years, and after being frustrated and angry and all of those bad emotions, sometimes it's good to laugh, right? Right. Like most situations, you can usually find some type of comic relief in diabetes. Nine times out of ten I find it from my own stupidity or boredom during lows. But hey, whatever works right?

For example, the other day around 2 am my pump starts alarming that I'm out of insulin. "Super" was my initial thought as I made the long walk to the refrigerator. After grabbing everything I needed (still half asleep) I continue the process of changing out the insulin cartridge, like I've done how many times (2008 times but who's counting anyway?).

So anyway, since it was in fact 2 am and I was losing precious sleep time, I tried to rush the process. For some reason the cartridge wasn't going into my pump so I just jammed it in and closed my pump, primed, and went back to bed. For those of you who don't know what priming is, it is a process when you tell the pump to give insulin to check and make sure the tubing and everything is working.

When I wake up the next morning, my blood sugars are in the upper 300s and I have ketones. I go to correct the high, and then I started smelling insulin, which isn't normal. I go to check the cartridge, and sure enough, genius here cracked the insulin cartridge. I was not aware, nor were any of my other diabetic friends, that these insulin cartridges crack. We've all decided I should become an insulin pump product tester, and Hannah-proof everything from this point on. Moral of the story, don't rush the cartridge changing process at 2 am.

I think all the best moments of diabetes come early in the morning. Like challenging Ryan Locthe to a juice pouch drinking contest (20.5 seconds, Ryan. Bring it.), solved the whole 2012 Mayan calendar scandal (it already happened people...leap year wasn't invented yet), and most importantly I discovered that 2 boxes of sweet tarts, a tasty cake, and a juice pouch does in fact bring your blood sugar up to 395. Without my late night lows, life would be miserable.

On a side note, did we all know that one tablespoon of nerds fits the 15 grams of carb when your low? And if you take your old test strip canisters and fill them with nerds that's a tablespoon? Because I didn't and my life just got SO much better. Thank you Pinterest.

-Hannah
 

On Moms and Ex-boyfriends

I'm going to start this post out with a disclaimer. I love my mother. I really, truly completely love my mother. Anything I say here to make you feel otherwise is just me being sixteen and her being her age. See, I love her so much that I won't even reveal her age on the internet! Yay!

Today is Monday. I hate Mondays, but not for the reason most people may think. On three Mondays out of the month, I have after school activities that I absolutely love. And plus, I have all my classes on Mondays (usually I have three long period classes a day). So that means there's usually a lot of homework. I'm just usually a grump on Mondays because I'm always so freaking busy.

This weekend, I had my diaversary party on Friday. It was the most fun thing in a long time, and it was completely worth it. I had a great time, and I can't believe that it's been fifteen years since I was diagnosed, and I'm only sixteen. So that was Friday night. And my friend Aquene slept over, and it was so much fun :) We're insanely weird.

So Saturday morning after bringing her back to school (because she lives there) I sat on my ass, and ate cake. That's literally all I did. I ate cake, brisket, and a microwave burrito, and watched movies. It was probably the single most unproductive day in sixteen years. Like, seriously. At about 11:30pm, SNL with Seth Macfarlane was on, and I flipped my burgers. I love Seth Macfarlane, and I love SNL, so it was pretty much the best thing ever. I also decided that doing my lab report at midnight on Saturday/Sunday was a fantastic idea. So I did a bunch of my lab report, and that was done. I also made that video, and posted it before going to bed at around 3am.

Got up at 8ish, and did my homework. Now, when I say I "did my homework" read that I "did the bare minimum of homework to be able to get through class on Monday."Which made sense, because I had to shower and we were going to see family later that afternoon. Which was awesome. My cousin Max is four and a half months old, and he's so adorable. I love that kid to pieces.

He is just such a cutie :) But we saw him, as well as other family, and it was just such a good day. So it was completely and totally worth it. But there's one thing I didn't have a chance to do this weekend. And that's laundry.

Now I'm gonna come right out and say I'm freaking insane. I am VERY particular about how my laundry is done. I actually take some small amount of joy out of doing laundry. I'm THAT weird. Like seriously. I wash things particularly. Some stuff gets fabric softener, some doesn't ever get it, and some only gets fabric softener of a certain smell. I fold them in a certain way, too. When my mother decides to be "helpful" (read: OCD) and fold everything, and come and put everything in my room, I freak. I mean, legitimately freak. "WHY ARE YOU PUTTING MY LAUNDRY AWAY?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!? I'VE TOLD YOU A MILLION TIMES JUST LET ME DO IT!"

Most normal, properly functioning people would just let it happen. They would be like, whatever, she's doing it. I'll do it next time. Not me. I have to do it all, from start to finish. My closet is color organized by sleeve length for crying out loud. You'd think she'd just leave it alone. But tonight, she did my laundry. I was planning on doing it myself, but she just jumped on it before I had the chance to. And even though I had a shit-ton of homework (yes, a shit-ton. It's an actual unit of measurement in my universe), I wanted to do it myself. I would've stayed up until 3am again just to be able to do it myself. I am just so particular about that one thing, and my insanity got the best of me. 

And after I had cooled down a little, I saw this tiny, little bump in my blood sugars. It wasn't something like, I went from 125 to 434 in two minutes flat. I went from about 100 to 140 in fifteen minutes, and then in another thirty, after I had cooled down, I was back down to around 110. I just had to laugh at myself, because who the hell gets that worked up over laundry?!

And then in comes the ex-boyfriend. I really would prefer he didn't talk to me. After all, he's kind of the world's biggest toolbox, and if I ever see him in the flesh, someone is going to need to tazer me because I am about 99% sure I would walk right up to him and smack him across his face. Nothing against his face, just him. And he knows I really want him to spontaneously combust, or for gravity to stop working just especially for him. I really wish he'd respect that. Like, at this point, it's not even an issue of him talking to me, it's just the flat out disrespect he has for my feelings. But whatever, he's a toolbox. 

He contacted me today, and I'm pretty sure if I didn't have the fan blowing in my room I would've singed the sheets. He just makes my blood boil. And my sugar did a really sharp spike when he talked to me. LIKE I REALLY NEEDED THAT. I was cruising nicely at 132 (I checked Bentley before I checked my facebook mail) and about 10 minutes later, I was 263! Which, naturally made me even more mad. So I sort of rage bolused. I put the number into the bolus wizard, and so it was a correctly calculated rage bolus, but it could've taken care of itself like the rage bump earlier in the evening, then I would've been up a creek without a paddle. And that's always awesome. 

Anyways, that was my Monday. I maintain that Monday's suck. My favorite days of the week are Wednesdays and Saturdays because Jenna Marbles makes videos on Wednesdays, and Katelyn and I skype every Wednesday to watch them together. Saturdays because I can sleep in nice and late, and stay up really late as well. It's just something I like to do, like most teenagers. 

Have a great week everyone! I'll see you later this week. I'll post about something happy, too. Maybe I'll even do a cooking video this weekend. Or one of me changing my sensor. Weeeeeeeee!

Much love, 

Alexa

DIABETIC CALL TO ACTION

I was going to write a great blog post about a diaversary party I had on Friday because it had been fifteen years that I'd had diabetes. But something else came up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvubyoR2XnQ

THIS CAME UP.

This guy (under the alias of Professor Cramulus) made a video entitled "DIABETICS ARE ASSHOLES."

This lunatic sits there with a ridiculous fake mustache and a pipe, and says things that are untrue about diabetes and diabetics in general. He sits here and insults PWD and frankly makes me want to punch him in the face. But that would be unladylike, so I'm going to settle for an all-out internet brawl.

I invite you, people with diabetes and your mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, pet fishes, and anyone else you can think of to make a youtube video. Just sit in front of a camera, or have someone record you. Send it to me and I'll post it up on my youtube channel that I'm going to link with this blog. Or, if you'd like to, upload it to your own youtube channel and post it as a response to this raving lunatic.

This man-boy-child needs to be stopped. This is absolutely inexcusable. Make these politically correct, and if you're planning on sending them to me, make sure they don't involve any "swear words." Unless you want to call him professor asshole. I will allow that.

This makes me utterly sick to my stomach, and he needs to be stopped. I've put my response below, and you can do what you'd like. I just talked to my computer, and then edited out all the mistakes. I don't care who you know, who you are, or how you found this blog. You should post the video and make this happen.

I can't stand people like this one iota. I wish I could single-handedly make things better, and make him less ignorant. But I can't. I need your help. There's one thing I don't want you to do, though.

Do NOT flag his video. If we flag it, and it gets taken off of youtube, we have none of this. We need to kind of do what we did to Joseph Kony. We need to make this guy sort of famous. He needs to know what he did was wrong, and that the way he went about saying what he had to say was wrong. So please, leave the video alone, but post your own.

Angry love,
Alexa

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtLqZ79U5dQ&feature=youtu.be

View it. Make it popular. We can make this happen.

Sometimes You're the Windshield, Sometimes You're the Bug

     I like to think that I have a fairly positive outlook on my life with diabetes. I don't complain a lot about it. I do things "normal people" do. I eat, sleep, run, do yoga, go to school, go to the movies. You know, normal stuff. I think the only thing I don't do is consume copious amounts of sugared energy drinks, which probably isn't a bad thing. Overall, my life isn't always terrible because of diabetes. Except for those days where diabetes just drives me crazy for no apparent reason. Those days I just want to sit in my room with a bucket of Ben & Jerry's and watch Arrested Development on Netflix all day. Then I realize that eating Ben & Jerry's by the bucket would probably equal to about 800 million grams of carbohydrate and that makes me even more upset. Because that sounds like a perfect way of coping right???

     I mean really, I try not to complain about having diabetes. I do all those cool things listed above to prove that I run diabetes, and it doesn't run me. But sometimes diabetes catches up to me and says "Hey lady you're still stuck with me!"and then alarm on my pump will start screaming at me that I'm out of insulin. Days like that drive me crazy. I guess when it really bothers me is when I actually sit there and start changing insulin cartridges and realize that I have to take 5-10 minutes out of my day every other day to do that, when I could be doing something else. Or when I clean out the waste basket in my room and realize that there are more test strips in the basket rather than a legitimate piece of garbage.

     What are you supposed to do on days like that? Diabetes is apparently a non-refundable thing, and re-gifting is out of the picture as well. The one thing that keeps me going is supportive friends and family. And the appropriate serving size of Ben & Jerry's. And insulin, that helps too. So that's my venting session for the night.  Hope everyone else is having a fabulous week. On the plus side, Fall is coming and that means I have a legitimate excuse to wear yoga pants and boots in public without feeling like I'm in my pajamas. (:

Hugs,
Hannah

"Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick and pull yourself together." -Liz Taylor

These are the words of a true woman. Of course, at my age, minus the "pour yourself a drink" part.

I don't know what it is, but I've been having some emotionally rough days. I'd like to just say I've got the end of summer blues, and am anxious about my junior year, or my diabetes, or something. But I think it's a lot deeper than that.

I've never been good with emotions. And by emotions, I mean my own emotions. Sure when I'm sad I cry, and when I'm happy I laugh, but that's about all I show on the outside about my own emotions. I've gotten really good about hiding my own emotions and helping my peers--and sometimes adults in my life--sort through their own emotions. I've learned to ignore my own, and I can't tell you why I thought this was an important skill to have. It's something I just picked up from somewhere.

I'm stressed. I'm terrified to start my junior year, and I feel like this is it. If I screw up this year, I can't go anywhere and do anything that I want. It's this pathological fear of failing. I think I get it from being an only child. If I had myself a sibling, then maybe I'd be able to not only have a partner in crime with my parents and continue torturing them in even more fun and exciting ways than I can solo, but I'd also have someone to fall back on if I mess up, or if I need help. People always tell me how lucky I am to be an only child, but I'm pretty sure it's the biggest curse in the entire world.

My A1c is getting way better, but for anyone who is reading and their A1c is high, don't make the only reason that you get your A1c down is so your mom will leave you alone. She doesn't leave you alone. Every time my blood sugar is over 150 (WHICH IS NOT THAT HIGH, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!) she threatens me with "Do you want a shot in the eye?" We recently found out a therapy for diabetic retinopathy is getting shots in your eyeballs. And so that's the newest threat. It was "You're never gonna have kids." before that, and before that "Fine, you can just lose your kidneys/eyes/feet/hands/toes/fingers/any other body part imaginable." I understand where she's coming from, but at the same time it drives me up the wall, and makes me feel terrible about myself. I feel like I can't tell her what my blood sugars are anymore, and when I do tell her on the off chance that they're good, she thinks I'm lying. And yes, I know you're thinking "Ugh, why doesn't she just talk to her mother, things will get better." Believe me, I've tried. She's just stubborn, as I am, so not a lot gets done through that.

My life is nothing short of amazing. And it's nothing short of utterly confusing either. I keep trying to reassure myself that I'm only sixteen, and things will get better. I've been dealt a very mature hand in life, and I just had to grow up a lot earlier than my peers. I hope they catch up sooner or later, because this waiting around stuff totally stinks.

 So back to the words of Liz Taylor. This woman was and is still today a genius. Her words sometimes prove to be more true than I ever thought they would be. Sometimes in life, you just have to put your big girl panties on and deal with the crap you're being fed. And as a firm believe that lipstick can completely turn your day around, and if you just grin and bear it things will get better. So, my dears, if you're having a bad day, just remember:

"Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick and pull yourself together."

Much love,
Alexa

I SWEAR I CAN EAT THAT! And Other Troubles of a Diabetic Teenage Girl

This back surgery thing sucks. Like, REALLLLLLLY sucks. I'm sitting at home alone most of the time, and I'm at the point of recovery where I could drive, but I don't have a permit or a license because my mother didn't want me doing Driver's Ed during the school year, plus my A1c was a little high. So I can't exactly go anywhere or do anything at this point. Which sucks. I've been watching Say Yes to the Dress and pretty much every spin-off series that has resulted from it. So now I'm kind of addicted. IT'S SO GOOD THOUGH. I'm sorry, it's a consequence of being confined to the couch.

I bought candy though. See? Candy!

These are really my all time favorite candies. You obviously know what the Cotton Candy Pop Rocks are, so there's really nothing to explain there. The pile of purple and brown candy is salt water taffy. The purple is a Gig Harbor flavor, Huckleberry. I love berries, and Huckleberries are a big Gig Harbor thing, I've come to understand. The brown flavor is Root Beer Float, because let's face it. Root beer is fabulous. I also have root beer flavored gum, and I recommend that to EVERYONE ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET. Just sayin'. On the right, are four cherry Zotz. And those are freaking delicious semi-exploding candies. There are a few different flavors that are great, but cherry is my favorite :) Then Halva. Halva is basically candied bars of sesame seeds, and they're SO GOOD. It's a delicious candy, and I have an affinity for sesame seeds.

And yes, I can eat everything that is sitting on my kitchen counter. Not all in one sitting, because that would make me sick. But that would make anyone sick, diabetes or not. I hate when people say "You can't eat that. It's got sugar."

I KNOW IT HAS SUGAR, EINSTEIN. I READ THE LABEL 23438234098324 TIMES BEFORE I EVEN DECIDED IF I WAS GOING TO EAT IT OR NOT. THANK YOU FOR PLAYING MY BRAIN, BECAUSE MY MOTHER DOESN'T DO THAT ENOUGH.

Another thing. My blood sugar seems to spike when I come into contact with my ex boyfriend. He and I split on good terms, and then he started hiding things from me. Any of my "friends" who hide things from me get the boot, and he's no exception, especially because I was basically wasting my time around him. He didn't take it so well, and he still tries to contact me, even to this day. I kicked him to the curb in February. It's kind of ridiculous. He makes my blood boil, honestly. And he can't take a hint.

Blood sugar spiked to 345 when I got an email from him this morning. In about 20 minutes, I went from 128 to 345. I MEAN REALLY, DIABETES!? COME ON. I already hate the experience, do I really need a high blood sugar on top of that?! It made me frustrated. But oh well, things happen. Gotta make it work. That's kind of how my life has been lately, really. Things happen, and you just gotta make the best of it all.

Much love,
Alexa

Bleurghpiffle. Life just sucks.

So I feel like life has decided to smack me in the face. I've been pretty miserable since Thursday because Thursday was just a miserable day. I woke up, and found out that I won't be allowed to be a CIT at camp this year. Camp starts tomorrow, and I've spent about 50% of today crying because camp is my life.

This is diabetes camp. I've been going since I was three years old. I've been a CIT twice, once for the 3-6 year old boys, and once for the 9&10 year old girls. I love doing it, and this year would've been my 13th year. So, you know, there's that. I understand why I'm not allowed to go, seeing as I'm barely three weeks off back surgery, and kids can't jump on me, and if I fall over, I'm toast. With jam. (Sidebar: My new catch-phrase is "that could've ended poorly" in reference to me stumbling over curbs, rugs, stairs, my own feet, and of course, air.) So it makes sense. But I'm still really really REALLY ReAlLy rEalLy super SUPER bummed. I honestly have no idea what I'm gonna do with myself, seeing as all the people I wanted to see are going to be knee-deep in campers while I sit at home, staring at a wall, thinking "I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally need to do my summer reading. Like, now."

Also on Thursday, I had a post-op appointment. Let's preface this story with a clarifying statement. I did not have a pediatric doctor for this surgery. What happened to me doesn't really happen to normal(ish) sixteen year old girls. It happens to adults. Therefore, I had to see an adult doctor. ALRIGHT. Back to the story. So, post-op appointment. First of all, it was called for 11:15. I didn't see the doctor until about 11:55. And as we all know, I've got a bad case of "Only Child Syndrome." My friend Matt, from Store-A-Tooth (I'll inform you about them in a future blog post, I promise) is an only child. And he informed me of this problem I have, Only Child Syndrome. Seeing as that's the case, I HATE BEING MADE TO WAIT. And I sat there, for 40 minutes, waiting for a doctor who I hate.

Now, this man could've been Batman, or Molly freaking Weasley before I had my surgery. I didn't care WHO was operating on me, as long as the pain was gone. And the pain was gone relatively quickly. And now, I'm looking for some bedside manner. And of course, I didn't get any. This guy talks to me like I'm five years old, plus, he asked to see the cut on my back, and he just ripped the bandage off and started touching. No warning about what he was going to do, and when I asked for him to wet the tape around the bandage (it makes the bandage easier to take off, and way less painful), he didn't even respond.

I get it. Adult doctors aren't as gentle as the pediatric ones, and I'm probably his first "young" patient ever, but holy crap. Can we have a little compassion for the sixteen year old who is just having the worst day ever?! When he did that, I nearly jumped into my mom's lap. Like, all composure went straight out the window. It just wasn't happening.

It was probably the most traumatic day of my entire summer. Including surgery day. And on top of all of that, I was getting TOTALLY FREAKING STIR CRAZY sitting at home having nothing to do but watch Futurama on Netflix and text Katelyn (who, by they way, was an AMAZING sport throughout the beginning two weeks of recovery. She listened to me whine, complain, and be a total pain in the butt about being confined to my house).

I made Dad drop me off at the movies, and I went by myself. And then I had a GF cupcake. Which, by the way, was delicious. Drowning my self-pity and worst day ever in Chocolate-Peanut Butter cupcake and Ice Age 4 was probably the best idea ever. So the day was saved.

Much love,
Alexa