Fuzzy Running

I've been running since the sixth grade.  I absolutely love running.  It's my way to relieve stress.  I get up at the crack of "even the early bird is still sleeping" so I can go for a morning run.   Crazy, no?
 

What keeps me motivated?  Deciding now is a good time in your life to have a puppy with more energy than a power plant. My distance went from a few consistent miles to I'm ready for a half marathon.  No joking.  My boy Fuzz the Golden-doodle loves to run. 

I spent months leash training him in the yard, then on the driveway, and finally the country roads.  When we run he knows where I want him to move if a car is coming.  Four door car: move a foot over.  Four door truck: move two feet over.  Stupid fast dump truck that doesn't know how to follow the speed limit: hit the ditch (country roads = a lot of ditch running).

I used to run my consistent miles at my consistent pace and just could not break the consistent.  Then Fuzz came.

There is no consistent with Fuzz.  From the moment we hit the road, it's full on speed work until he decides an immediate stop is required, to which I have to hurdle his body to avoid a collision.  He will then proceed to either smell the roses (not really roses), or leave a rose (not really a rose).  When all the gardening is done, we're back to full speed.

We eventually fall into an agreed upon pace and just cruise.  Best. Running. Partner. Ever.

I think he may actually be smiling in our after run selfie:)

When we brought Fuzz home we were actually hoping we could train him to be a diabetic service dog to Madeline. Sure.  I hadn't trained a puppy in a looooong time, so just getting through the basic training was enough.  Fuzz is still in his silly puppy stage (one and a half years old) and has the attention span of a flea.  He could still amaze us.  Then again, I have the attention span of a flea, and I'm sure not one and a half years old.

Life with our Fuzz is never dull.  He does something everyday to make us laugh, yell, or just shake our heads.

I have just started to teach him to chase the geese that have decided to take up residence on our road, driveway and yard.  Geese multiple faster than rabbits and leave a trail of mess everywhere they go.  Fuzz loves to clean up after them.....yeah, I'm a lucky girl.  So instead of clean up duty, he's now in charge of running full speed until every goose is airborne and honking obscenities at him. 

We love our Fuzz and all his quirkiness.  He's a family member, a protector and a great fuzzy friend.

A fuzzy friend that could use a couple mints once in awhile. 


 

 



    



  








 



   

My little Calapitter

It's been a long time since I've blogged.  I have blog posts rolling around my brain constantly, but you know, life.  Writing my thoughts and concerns helped me get through a pretty rough time.  I could still easily post a crazy WTF blog post daily about our regular day, but our diabetic world has changed so much in the last couple years, it has just become "normal" to us.

Madeline will be 8 in just a few short weeks.  Wow.  My little baby is almost finished with second grade and heading to college soon.  Ok, I exaggerate a bit, but where did that time go?  June will mark 6 years since she was diagnosed.  Looking back just makes me tired and irritable.  Or is that premenopause?  Whatever, moving on.

There will always be diabetes care.  Madeline has taken on the responsibility of testing, learning to count carbs, and entering numbers into her insulin pump.  There is still so much more she needs to learn before my little calapitter (as she says) can fly away from the cocoon (that's me apparently) as a butterfly.  She needs to learn pump set and insulin changes.  Insulin dosage via syringe in case of pump failure.  She will need to learn how to S.W.A.G. bolus (scientific wild ass guess), even though I never do this myself......cough, cough.  Night time alarm clocks to test, prescription orders and doctor appointments.  So, so much more to learn.  I need a nap just thinking about it.

My cell phone has become Madeline's freedom.  Play dates are actually happening.  I no longer need to rely on the adult in charge to freak out take care of the diabetic kid.  My instructions are simple: Madeline just needs to call me.  No more "Now at 3:00 she needs to test and, what?  No, she can't have super fudge extra chocolate double scoop ice cream for a small treat ....".  Now it goes down as "Hey sweetie!  What was your number?  Ok, snack carb in pump and have FUN!".  My little calapitter is growing her wings.  Unless it's a sleepover.  The thought of her going away on a sleepover scares the bajeesus out of me, so " we would love your child to sleep over!".  Again.


School is a big love of Madeline's.  She is an exceptional student and loves learning.  We have been blessed with the best school nurse we could have ever asked for too.   Madeline is allowed to test in the classroom and calls the nurse with her numbers (less health room = less germs= Mama happy).  Lunch is just a pop in and out of the nurses office for the supervised lunch insulin dose.  No more missing important class time.  

Our world is getting easier for us.  Routine is super important and Post-it Notes are the bomb.  What did the world do without those bad boys?  I used to have the memory of an elephant.  I retained everything like an encyclopedia.  Age?  Hormones?  Just don't give a shat syndrome?  I can't quite pinpoint the problem, but I have a lot of sticky notes.   An outsider looking in would think "how can you possibly do that every single day?".

My answer?  I'll get back to you as soon as I find that particular Post-it.  

  



             

Taking The Good With The Bad

The Good:  Madeline wears a Revel Medtronic insulin pump that does an incredible job!

The Bad:  Due to insurance changes, Madeline will be losing her current pump.

The Good:  Medtronic told me to give them a call with updated insurance information and they will make sure she quickly transitions to her new pump with no down time!

The Bad:  My new insurance company is so completely unorganized with all the health care changes, I may never see my new insurance cards.  Or my initial premium payment.  Three words: WTF.

The Good:  My snipped gray hair has not grown back!

The Bad:  I'm pretty sure I have found a new gray hair (see "insurance" above).

The Good:  I have officially signed Madeline up for kindergarten in the fall!

The Bad:  Suffering Succotash!  Madeline will be in school and our whole diabetes management routine will be completely changed.  I don't do well with drastic diabetes changes (see "gray hair" above).

The Good:  Madeline is able to do her own blood sugar tests now!

The Bad:  Some days Madeline has trouble with getting enough blood on the test strip and we end up throwing out quite a few strips.  I try to keep my twitching eye under control when she says "oops, guess I just need to do it again!".  Twitch.

The Good:  Rick was able to get away on a crazy relaxing weekend snowmobile trip with the guys!

The Bad:  Since I was not on this trip to keep an eye on the diabetes care,  I made him let all parties involved know that he was a Type 1 diabetic.  Safety first.  And to pack some Elmo or Big Bird juice boxes.  He could pick which he preferred.

The Good:  My girlfriend is picking me up for a crazy relaxing girls night out this weekend!

The Bad:  When I get home, hopefully past my bedtime, I will be going straight to bed.  And setting my alarm for Madeline's 3 night time blood sugar checks.

Twitch.

The Silver Fox

I am going to take the first step in admitting I have been in denial.......I can no longer keep such a deep, dark secret.  Well technically it's not really deep, it's right on top for the world to see, and it's not dark, it is really a pretty shade of silver.

Hi, my name is Suzanne, and I have a gray hair.

Wow, I feel like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders!  That should really help my lower back that has been having spasms for the last week.

Two weeks ago I noticed my first official gray hair.  At first I thought it was just an unruly highlighted blond hair waving at me, but upon further inspection, I could see silver right down to my scalp.  You can imagine my extreme horror at this incredible discovery.

I have two questions for this unwelcome visitor:  First, why did you choose to pop out at the top of my forehead, and second, why are you so such a strong little hair?  I have had thin, fly away hair my whole life, but you, little gray friend, are quite thick and stubborn.

As a woman, I needed to hear some encouragement, so I shared my secret with my loving husband.  I'm not sure if being called "The Silver Fox" is exactly what I was looking for, but I'm sure he meant well.

I called my wonderful hairstylist  immediately, and  walked out of the salon feeling like a new woman.

Can you believe that damn silver hair survived bleach, foil and a hairdryer?  Curse you little hair.

Out came the scissors, and with just one little snip, The Silver Fox is no more.

Now that the gray hair is gone, my back spasms stopped, and I can once again walk in an upright position.

Maybe the that was the root of my problem.............

   

Me, My Selfie, and I

I'm not sure how it starts, but when all the negative little things start adding up in my life, I can feel the depression take over my mind, and body.  There must be some kind of internal scale inside of me, that once it goes past the half way point of " I can handle this", it starts teetering toward the "I cannot do this anymore".  I know when it happens.  I can feel the scale tipping and the depression starting to pour into me.

I am not alone with these feelings.  Everyone has a way of coping with their scale.  Some people take a vacation to clear their minds, some people choose to eat the entire ice cream container in one sitting, or still others choose a much lonelier, and addicting , escape from their depression.  I on the other hand, have found there is only one way I feel better, inside and out, and helps balance my scale.

I love to run.

Yeah, that's me with the bright pink headband.  Don't laugh, it's warm.

When I run, everything around me goes away, and I'm only left with my wandering thoughts.  And the cars. Why do cars always seem to swerve toward me, even though I'm actually in the gravel, far out of their way?  I'd like to wave a special finger signal to them, but I'm too busy trying to save my life.  I digress.

I control everything when I run.  My legs, my breathing, and most importantly, my music in my I Phone. Everything I do when I run is just for me.  When I feel that I can't run any farther, I just think of all things I have had to overcome these past two years, and can find the strength to push on just a little more.

I continue to set goals for myself.  By next spring I would like to be able to run a half marathon.  Will life allow me to do this?  Pretty uncertain at this point, but it gives me something to help keep my scale even.  It gives me something.

To me, running is just like the tree behind me in the picture.  If you don't take time to look closely at yourself and your needs, you may just forget what the most important thing is.

Strength to hold on.

Stress Pressure

Yesterday I had my wonderful annual health exam.  Not a real fan of these appointments, but then again what woman is?  It's a very important exam, I get that, and I go every year without fail, but if a guy had to go through what we do, there would be tears for sure.

My doctor is a woman, and she's awesome.  When I was in labor with Sophia, she was so calm and in in control, I was at complete ease (except for those lovely labor pains that feel like an alien is about to burst out of you).  When Sophia decided 5 minutes before being pushed out that her heart should start beating irregularly, my doctor turned into a super hero.  The room went from cozy maternity to a full blown scene from a t.v. drama.  Oxygen mask on, bed rails up, and all hands on deck.  I'm pretty sure an alarm started going off in the halls, code "get the hell out of the way".  I didn't have time to process what was going on, but I do know I'm sure they broke some records  running down the maternity halls with me to the OR.  Sophia was delivered safe and sound.

My blood pressure remained perfect.

Madeline's entrance into the world wasn't as dramatic, but diabetes made up for that.

Diabetes takes a huge toll on me physically and mentally.  Some days I can feel the stress running through my veins.  My brain never shuts off, and if it does, the alarm next to my bed reminds it to wake up.  I have not had a full nights sleep in 2 and half years.  Interesting, I don't know if I could sleep a full 8 hours anymore.  I can only imagine what my poor body is going through.

But as of yesterday, my blood pressure remains perfect.  

Uh-may-zing.

I wonder if I should laugh when I hear my doctor say: "just keep doing whatever it is you're doing".

I really don't want to.



 








    

.

Brain Matters

Recently, Madeline had her 3 month diabetes check up. And the dreaded A1C. Madeline has been on an insulin pump since May, so I really had no idea what to expect this time around. I review the numbers, charts and graphs every week, but it's those sneaky numbers that don't get caught that end up biting you in the butt.

I remained calm on the drive in to the hospital. I remained calm in the waiting room. I did not remain calm when I decided to test Madeline 2 minutes before we were called in for her A1C and saw a great big 340 on the meter. How could this happen? Curse you Jimmy Dean breakfast biscuit with sausage!!!

I suppose with anything diabetes, it's just another kick in the arse to remind you why you have to come every 3 months for tests.

Of course we were called in to our appointment before I could even get a correction going on her pump. Damn timely office appointments. The correction was made one minute before she stuck out her finger for that drop of blood. My heart sank.

We head into the exam room and do the ritual of health questions and concerns (Concerns? Who me? Why do you ask?) and how are we doing with Madeline's overall care. My eyes are scanning every piece of paper in front of me, but I can't see the elusive A1C number anywhere. This must be bad. They must be shaking their heads and trying to find a way to break the news to me.

Before my mind could slap me around any further, I was given my diabetic grade (the rule says to not treat A1C's as a report card, but rather a learning tool. Right. Tell that to my abusive brain).

7.4%. Can I have a woot woot!! That is the lowest A1C in over two years for Madeline.

Instead of my brain slapping me around, we were slapping high fives! Any doubt I may have had with Madeline going on an insulin pump is gone. It is very clear the pump has given us so much more control than injections. It hasn't even been 5 months on a pump, so I remain optimistic for even better A1C's in the future.

To Madeline, it was just another number.  She has bigger things to be working on right now, like learning to ride a bike without training wheels.

I am not allowed to help her.

I make her nervous.

How ironic.