Highlights!

I'm going to camp this year!!!!
Alright, I know that it's not until July, but I'm already so excited. What's 4 months, really? It's not that long...
But anyway, I am going to camp for two weeks! AND I am already confirmed to be roomed with my friend! WHAT COULD BE BETTER?
If it wasn't really obvious, life has gotten better since the last post. (Ignore the sad feeling of that post. It was socials class. I hate socials class. Enough said.)
I'm already reflecting on the memories I'll make, the people I'll meet, the things I'll learn. Can't. Wait.

And Z, if you're reading this - I can't wait to see you again! Shakespeare!
(If you're not Z, then just dismiss it with a wave or a shake of the head. Or a sigh. It's an inside joke. :P)

Negatives? Or positives?

Life seems to be very drab as of late.
It feels like I'm going through the motions - Poke. Needle. Bolus. Poke. Poke. Bleed. Correct the number.
I just want to sigh and make it go away.
I don't know what happened. It used to be okay, but now it's like it's too much. Like I would do anything to get rid of it.
I had a competition with a friend, and that was SO much fun. But then it kind of fell apart. It's like I'm lost now.
School is incredibly boring, and that's not helping much. I need something, anything, to make me smile, to give me some hope.

Part of this is that I probably can't go to camp this year. Looking forward to it and then being told that your dreams have been crushed is a dissappointment, to say the least.
But why am I dwelling on the negative? I'm fine. I'm good. I need to look at the good things, like I say everyone should do. Like the perfect number in a batch of bad ones. That's always good. A laugh with a friend.

Maybe I just need something else to think about other than...SHERLOCK! (Giggle)

Anyway. I'm good. *Goes to laugh with friends.*

Rockin' the blue: WDD 2011

Today is World Diabetes Day (WDD)!
I went full-out blue today to encourage awareness. Blue jeans, blue shirt, blue smiley earrings (well, one was yellow, but still...the idea was there), partially blue socks, blue hoodie...completely blue. Oh, and the crowning blueness: a blue ring necklace that I found! I was ecstatic. I mean, can you get any more perfect?

Anyway, so today rocked. Oh yeah, blue nail polish too. I tried to do blue circles on white, but it didn't work. Ah well - there's still the rest of the month. Oh, and the year after, and the year after, and the year after...

Because this post looks too short, here's another poem. (I've been writing lots of poems lately...not sure why...)
This one is loosely based on my diagnosis, but it could be whatever.

Feeling

Crying, crying
Not knowing what to do
Alone, alone
So small in a big world
Scared, so scared
Not knowing how to feel
Questioning, questioning
What to do, what to say, why me?
Sad, so sad
Fragile as glass
Angry, angry
Why me? Why me?
Depressed, depressed
Just want it to go and stay away
Convinced, convinced
I will live my life and I'll be just fine
Knowing, knowing
That nothing will ever get in my way.

Just a random blurb that was jotted down on a random piece of paper at the back of my binder. I thought it seemed appropriate to put here.

Thanks for reading and putting up with my random poetry (which I hope you enjoy)! :)

Imagine.

Imagine having to poke a hole in your finger ten times a day, every day.
Imagine being attached to a metal box 24/7. Don't like that one? Imagine instead having to stick yourself with needles at least four times a day, every day.
Imagine never being able to go anywhere without sugar and a bulky glucose tester.
Imagine having to tell people that you weren't normal, that there was something that set you apart.
Imagine that you had to be on your guard all the time.
Imagine having to refuse some things sometimes, like candy and active games.
Imagine that all this was a reality.
Imagine knowing that you would never be able to live without this reality.

Now, imagine that this was all okay.
Imagine that you aren't different, that you don't have to deal with this all the time.
Isn't that a nicer picture?
Now, imagine that you could help us make this into that nice picture.
No, don't imagine it.
Make it a reality.

You can help us find a cure.
November is diabetes awareness month.
Spread the word.

Diabetes Month!

With Halloween come and gone, it's a new month. November, in fact. Which also happens to be diabetes awareness month.
This is a very important month. It's when money is raised (via those "Change for Diabetes"cans) and we spread awareness about this disease.
I'm going to do my part for diabetes month by wearing blue on every November friday and then November 14th, which is a monday. (Diabetes day! Also Frederick Banting's birthday!) I'm also going to donate to the research fund and I'm going to tell people about diabetes. I'm going to take the mis- out of any misconceptions that I hear about this disease, and I'm going to explain to people what it's really all about.
I'm also going to try to post more on this blog this month. If not every day, then at least once or twice a week.
I'd also like to ask something of you, readers (who I thank, and continue to thank for reading this blog).
I'd like to ask that you support this month as well. You don't have to donate, or even wear blue. I'm just asking one thing of you.
Spread this awareness around.

Thank you, now and forever.

Story, take two.

In English class, we had to write about an incident that changed us somehow. Naturally, I chose my diagnosis because that is probably the thing that has changed me the most in my lifetime (so far). Does this story sound familiar? If you've been following this blog from the beginning, it should. Very soon after my diagnosis, I wrote a personal narrative story with the same subject. I re-read it recently and I was surprised how different my writing voice was two years ago. This new story is written over a shorter period of time - an hour or two rather than a few weeks - and it seems to me that it is more serious and more detailed. What can I say? I've changed since then.

 * * *

It’s okay to cry

It was 9:30 pm on a Tuesday night. October 13^th, 2009. I was twelve, and my life was fairly good. No problems, lots of friends, doing well in school. But my life was about to change.

* * *

            I set down my glass of water, not sure what to do or say. My mum had just told me that we’d have to go to the hospital for a night or two. My mind started racing – What had I done? Was something really wrong with me? What had the blood test that I’d had that morning revealed? All of a sudden, I was really scared. I was shaking and life didn’t seem real. I didn’t want this to happen – I would much rather hide in a corner until it was over and done with. I didn’t start crying right then, although I was in a complete daze.

            My mum led me up to my room, all the while talking to me in a soothing voice that scared me more than anything else had so far. If I hadn’t been crying before, I certainly was now. My mum and dad helped me get together a change of clothes, a pair of pyjamas, a toothbrush, and a book. I chose to take a book that I’d already read – Fairest by Gail Carson Levine. It was a spur-of-the-moment-can’t-see-through-my-tears choice.

            I knew that I needed to take a stuffed animal for emotional support. I looked at the pile of teddies for a moment, unable to choose, or think, and then my mum handed me my special teddy. “Why don’t you take this one,” she said. The teddy was immediately subjected to squeezes and wet fur from my tears.

            We went downstairs, dressed for the cool weather, and got in the car – my mum and I in the family van and my dad close behind in his red truck. The date was Tuesday, October 13^th, 2009. It was a day that I would always remember.

            My mum drove along the almost deserted highway towards the city. We were both crying now, both scared. I didn’t want to admit it, but somewhere inside me, I did know what was going on.

            “Whatever happens, whatever this is, we’ll get through it,” my mum said, giving my hand a squeeze and trying to reflect a smile back to me through her mirror.

            As we approached the hospital, I became more scared. My nerves were wild and I didn’t know what to think, what to say, what to do. What was going to happen? I pushed the thought from my mind – right now, I didn’t want to know.

            The concrete building appeared imposing and menacing as we pulled into the parking lot. The dark of the night seemed far away, pushed back by the brightness of the parking lot lights. We walked to the big front doors. I was asking questions, but not questions about what was happening. “Why do patients have to park in the visitor’s lot? How come there are so many cars in the staff lot? Why does this place look so dead?” It did, indeed, look dead. No lights on in windows, no people streaming through the halls. As we approached the admitting desk, there was a sign which directed expectant mothers to the maternity ward and other patients to the Emergency entrance. But my mum knew that we weren’t supposed to go to either of those places. An admitting nurse, looking ready to clock out, came out of the back room, obviously surprised to see us. “M----- E--,” my mum stated. “Her doctor sent us here and told us it was all arranged.” The nurse looked at her papers, and then with a look of recognition, directed us to go to the south elevators, to take them up to the fourth floor, and to find 4-D. We followed her directions, through the halls smelling of antiseptic, up to the fourth floor, but then we had to ask a couple of residents to direct us to 4-D. They did so (it was right around the corner, pointed to by a small sign with a friendly-looking Elmo on it). We approached the nurse’s desk and then we were whisked away to an examining room. Throughout the next hour I cried some more. Many nurses and residents came in – they all blurred together. All except one, who I remember clearly. She was a young nurse – it seemed she was quite recently out of training – by the name of Kristy. She was nice to me – she treated me as a person rather than a patient. She took me on a tour of the paediatric ward where I would stay for the next three nights – the place where my old life would end and my new one would begin.

            Finally, after an hour of talking about family medical history, crying, and trying to perceive what I’d been told, the doctor came in. She told me, very bluntly, that I had a condition known as Type 1 diabetes. After she left, the nurses stabbed me with a few needles and gave me a glass of milk. At last, I was allowed to sleep. I stumbled into the strange bed, falling into a dreamless sleep quickly, regardless of the strange environment. I was woken up several times during the night – bracelets, blankets, needles. I was still scared, but eventually my fear would fade.

* * *

            I remained in the hospital for three days. During those days I was taught how to poke my finger, how to stick myself with needles, how to eat properly, how to take care of myself with this new condition. I cried myself out in those days, but things eventually did get better. I started to be able to see the silver lining in things, the reason to smile.

            It’s been two years – almost exactly – since that day. I’ve become a seasoned pro rather than a nervous beginner. I don’t cry anymore, because only smiles help. I’m still learning and always will be.

            Yes, those days were terrible. But, bad as they were, they taught me something important. Those days, and that diagnosis, taught me that I am strong. They taught me that diabetes is part of me, but it is not who I am. And they taught me that sometimes, it’s okay to cry, but it’s always better to smile.

Accomplishments.

Today is my second diaversary.*

Two years ago, the primary question in my mind was “Why me?” Why was I stuck with diabetes when I still had my whole life ahead of me? I thought that I would never be able to be me again.

But now, I wonder, why not me? I don’t know who I would be without diabetes, and that’s one thing I will never know, or at least not for a while. (Until they find a permanent cure, I’m stuck.) But with this disease I have thrived. Sure, there have been lots of ups and downs, but in the big scheme of things, they all balance out to a flat line.

Two years ago, to this day, I thought my life was over. But now that I’m looking back on those two years I find myself thinking that maybe I can do this. I will need some help along the way, and I know that there will be lots more ups and downs, but I CAN do this. We can all do this. And we will all be doing it every day, whether with a smile or without.

Today, I am looking back on two years of diabetes. And actually, I’m not frowning. I’m smiling.

*Diaversary: for those of you who aren't familiar with diabetes terms, this means diagnosis/diabetes anniversary. :)