Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
All I Want for Christmas
Met with my pod educator tonight to go over how I'm doing. My numbers have improved dramatically, and it looks like I'm evening out. She went through some more advanced things, like programming an extended bolus and temp basal, which eluded me (apparently some folks find that doing a 30%/70% bolus split for pizza does wonders. That is, you can program it to give you 30% of the amount you take to cover pizza up front and the other 70% over the next 3-4 hours as your sugar starts to *really* spike. God, could you imagine if I could figure out a way to eat pizza again without being sick?). So I'll be playing around with those.
She also gave me a few tips for keeping the pod on during exercise. Some people actually apply extra super glue between the pod and the adhesive (it's actually made to move a little bit with your body, but you can secure it tighter) or to stick it on just below my arm, towards my back and underneath my bra - so my sports bra would, effectively, also serve as my pod bra. Ha.
I've dated some guys who are pretty squeamish and easily weirded out, so I was concerned, at first, about having the pod on my stomach. When I realized you could wear it on the back of your arm, well, hell, there goes the last squeamish thing I had about the pod. Stuck to the back of your arm, it's less likely to get in the way, and less likely to make a partner squeamish or weirded out.
Also, she showed me how the backlight works! Oh, man, you have no idea how fucking sweet this is. All these nighttime sugar checks are a bitch with no backlight. I have to use my cell phone. Back in the day, I'd have to turn on my book light or a bedside light, which isn't bad when you're sleeping alone, but I do hate it when I have a partner and have to bug them.
She cautioned me about my tight target. My target is set at 85-95, and damned it all if the damn thing doesn't fucking keep me there. Today's numbers:
5:33 am: 98
12:13 pm: 81
3:00 pm: 121 (post-lunch correction, look, I'm getting better!)
7:48 pm: 80
With a tight target, though, you do have a better chance of going low, so I need to be aware of it. You're also at risk for developing hypoglycemia unawareness, which I need to watch out for (hasn't been a problem yet, but some people have it right off the bat). I *have* noticed that I feel low more often now when I'm not low at all. I tested twice with this meter and again with my old meter a couple of times when I could have sworn I was low, but was at a respectable 90-something. So it'll be interesting to see how that pans out. I assume that as my body gets used to being constantly at 80-100, that'll happen less often.
I want an A1c under 6. I just do. Under 6 is normal. Under 7 is "target" for a diabetic. But I don't want to be a diabetic. I want to be as normal as possible while living abnormally.
I was dancing around in the hallway today at work for no reason, and realized how great I've been feeling. I can't just bottle this stuff up. I have to work hard for it, everyday, and you know...? It's worth it.
So. Fucking. Worth it.
Mmmm Equality
Personally, I've been striving toward equality to empower my fellow women with the desire and opportunity to get boob jobs. Also, cardio strip classes are waaaay more practical than kickboxing. The moon is also made of cheese and Jesus rode a T-Rex to school, which makes me happy.
No?
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Killing Us Softly
Women and "women" in advertising.
A touch dated in presentation ("they now use computer imaging to make fake women!") but the ads - and the messages - are still the same.
(it's all good, but be sure to check out the Special K ad at the end)
Omnipod By the Numbers
5:34 am: 96
12:12 pm: 95
3:15 pm: 155 (still working on that post-lunch correction)
6:51 pm: 95
No fucking shit.
The bitch is back, yo.
Catherynne says..
"In the days before I got the bright idea to start writing novels, I ran that particular obstacle course. I dutifully ate the scorpions and walked the highwire, dredging up my childhood abuse and past relationships and anything else that seemed suitably dire to please a professor. It really makes for an alarming personality type: someone who has lost all notion of appropriate social filters, and views their private pain as public discourse.
You know, a blogger."
Read the rest
WoW No More
My WoW account expired yesterday, much to the delight of my book contract and my waistline. I suspect the 5 lbs I've gained over the last three months have just as much to do with too much WoW as they do with too many flourless peanut butter cookies.
Now that I'm on the pump, I'm paying even more attention to what I'm eating. Again, as I discovered back when I did my health assessment, it's funny that I'm one of those people who can't let things slip for a few months. A few months of WoW and cookies and it's all over. Sucks to be me, but that's the way it is. At least I catch myself now.
Still working at fine-tuning the insulin for workouts. I hate having to re-calibrate everything again after just getting it down. Not doing well on that front. Continuing to do my workouts at work, but not my additional 2 at the gym. I need to face my fear and just fucking do it.
Just do it.
Personally, I always like the "No Fear" slogan a lot better.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Omnipodding Week 3
Is this week three? The beginning of week 3, in any case.
Things have largely settled down and evened out. I'm still trying to figure out the boluses for meals. I used to calculate these entirely differently; the onboard calculator they have seems to usually work so long as you have an accurate carb count. I'm used to dosing certain ways for center food items, and all those previous calcs are kinda fucked.
How can I explain?
Let's say I test before a meal and my blood sugar is 134. According to my little chart, I would take 4 units of insulin to "correct" for that 134 [to get it back to 80] *plus* 1 unit for every 15 carbs I was eating (this 4 unit "base" changes depending on that number. If I test at 80, my base is 2. If I test at 160, it's 6, and on up the scale, up to a 14 unit "base" when your sugar hits 400 and you should prob'ly be phoning a doc).
So if I'm eating, say, eggs and veggies, I'll just take the 4 units of insulin. Afterall, there's no "hard carbs" in those. No bread, sugary items, nothing with more than 15 units of carbs, really.
But if I'm eating eggs and veggies and toast, I'll take 5 units (the base 4 plus 1 for the toast).
Well, the pod doesn't calculate carbs the way I used to. Maybe I've set this up incorrectly. I'm meeting with the local nurse educator tomorrow for a check up about how I'm doing. Thing is, the morning calculator works fine. I know that if I dial in 17 carbs for my berries, then whatever the PDM says to give me is good.
Lunch is trickier, because I don't have an accurate count. I know about what I *used* to take, but every time I try to guess and then plug in the carb amount and test 2-3 hours later to see how I did, I'm always off by 2-3 units. I don't think this is a basal problem. Maybe?
My best numbers of the day (which, strangely enough, used to be my worst) are now my morning numbers. I've consistently woken up with 78-112 all last week. On days I don't exercise, my noon number is usually 100ish as well (I'm trying to figure out how to account for the new exercise routine at work. Because we do intervals, my blood sugar invariably goes up, not down (like it would during cardio), so I'm trying to figure out the best basal rate for the hour; I'm getting closer [I'll test at 134-164 after exercising], but it's not ideal yet).
I've been doing a lot of mid-afternoon tests because of aforementioned inability to get my lunch carb ratio correct. Or whatever is messed up. I even altered the basal for the afternoon so it's a little higher (and then it comes down again around 5pm when I'm less insulin resistant). The mid-afternoon numbers all suck (187, today, three hours after I ate, was the best mid-afternoon I've had).
Thing is, I figure that with a pump you should be more stable more of the time. If you're not, what's the point? So, shouldn't my mid-afternoon number be better than it used to be? 187 is what I'd test at during mid-afternoon *before* the pump.
So I'm working hard at fine tuning it.
I've turned off all the annoying beeps, and the only alarm I get is the one I set for two hours before the pod should expire and the one built into the pod for when the pod actually expires. It does still click when it delivers insulin, which is annoying, but something you just have to live with, apparently.
I'm still not sure if I'm sold on it, but I'm happy and sane and the numbers seem to be leveling out. Now it's just a matter of refining it, which I'll be doing with the educator and my endo next month.
Being diabetic is fun!
I was eating this brown rice and vegetable medley thing tonight that I used to eat all the time in Alaska (it's really good, actually; it has bacon and parmesan cheese and tomatoes and all sorts of great stuff), and thinking, "Man, remember in Alaska when you could eat as much of this as you wanted without really thinking about it?"
Remember when I could eat really, anything I wanted at any time, in whatever amount that caught my fancy, without thinking about it?
It's become such a foreign idea, eating without thinking. At least I don't have to take a shot *after* I think about it now, tho? Just plug some numbers into a PDA-looking thing and click for awhile?
Could be worse. Far worse. Big needles and death worse, but there are time when I think I minimize how much this stuff really eats up you life, your thinking. How much it consumes your day. Little stuff adds up.
People who whine annoy the crap out of me. Hell, I'm alive! It's fucking great! I could be injecting pig insulin into my thigh with a giant needle I had to sharpen myself!
But there's a lot that goes into it. Living, yeah, staying living (and sane living) takes a great deal of effort, and math, and forethought these days. I minimize it as much as I can. It's nearly invisible (which is probably why it's so fucking agonizing to me when it *isn't* as invisible). Because, you know, when we choose places to go out to eat at work, when we have a work gaming day, when Steph and the Old Man invite me over for dinner... it's something that not only I'm aware of, but stuff that other people become aware of, too. I have to have diet pop. I can't be living on Doritoes and Mountain Dew like the guys (I couldn't do that anyway without being 300 lbs, but I can't even do it just for a Saturday, you know?).
And running around, exercise without planning and forethought (impulsive sex can also be a lot less fun), and then there's that 1am sugar check, which I do still have to do with the pod. Every am. At least I don't have to take a shot at 5:30 am, tho?
Three steps forward, two steps back.
It's a lot of work, yeah, but it's my life. It's the price I pay to live. Not a bad price at all, but it eats at you sometimes. I can't pretend it doesn't. Especially when I want to eat bagels and order pizza. I hate that more than 2-3 pieces of pizza makes me sick. Hate it. I hate being broken.
It's not the end of the world, just a different world. And sometimes it can piss you off.
But it can't keep you from doing anything.
And that's the part you have to remember.
Guess Who's Coming to Town?
Scalzi and Toby will be reading at the Books & Co. across the parking lot from my digs next month (I nearly - NEARLY - said, "Fellow writers Scalzi and Toby...." But I'm going to reserve that particular weirdness for after the first of the three books is out next year, at least, thanks).
That should be a fun reading.
Blog Review
You know, I'm not actually a very brutal person, but I seem to play one on the internet:
"Kameron seems to be a very active and independent person. She does what she wants and does not care too much about what people will think of her. She may have relationship issues. Some of her posts talk about how she needs to be more in touch with her feelings and how she needs to be more open with people.
Brutal Women was a very interesting blog and I'm glad I read it. I just hope I never come across Ms. Hurley and get her mad because I will get my ass kicked with her martial arts/boxing skills and then she could potentially shoot me. That would prevent me from further posts."
I almost laughed til I cried.
(from here)
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Blogging Break
Not sure when I'll be back, but for the two whole readers who come here regularly, do not despair:
I am probably not dead.
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Day that Blew By
Wow, that was fast.
Today, I learned that a cup of fat-free half and half is 143 calories, whereas a cup of peanut butter is 520 calories.
Which means eating half a bowl of sugar free, fat free pudding is about 143 calories, whereas eating half a batch of flourless peanut butter cookies is only 260.
Dammit man. In any case, those calorie counts are a lot better than I thought they'd be. I think these are nighttime snacks I should stick with.
On a related note:
OMFG sugar free, fat free eggnog!!! OMG!!!! A DIABETIC'S DELIGHT!!!
You have no idea how much I've missed eggnog the last two Christmases.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Zen
On the one hand, feeling neutral is so great. There are no gigantic emotional swings, no depression, no pressing need to do do do go go go, no crazy sugar-swinging hysterics.
On the other hand, it's kind of annoying that I find it difficult to get worked up over much of anything when I go from spiky crazy to normal again.
Dark Knight
Too long. By about half an hour. A typical problem with summer movies.
Also had one too many bad guys (why do they ALWAYS try and pack a *another* one in at the end instead of fleshing out the one they have?).
Extra bad wasn't necessary, as Ledger's joker was terrifying enough.
Not a happy superhero movie.
Just the way I like it.
Things to Look Forward To
Red Sonja (will anyone ever make a kick-ass warrior woman without making a point of saying she has a "vulnerable" side? Did they make a point of saying that Bale was a great, dark, brutal Batman but also had a "vulnerable" side? Is this really a superhero selling point?). But aside from that, yeah, sweet beans.
Terminator 4 with... Christian Bale. Everything else about it looks iffy, but they've got bodies hanging from telephone poles in the teaser trailer, so maybe there will be some kind of substance that doesn't suck? Let me keep my delusions.
Thoughts on the Pod
The Good:
1) I can keep my blood sugar more constant, by testing and correcting easily every... two to three hours.
2) No more shots. No more 5:30 am Lantus shot on weekends, in particular.
3) There is a handy bolus calculator that tells you how much insulin you've injected within the last three hours and automatically calculates how much insulin you need based on the carb amount you enter and some other presets you've given it.
4) I can adjust my basal rate for exercise on the fly, so I don't have to take less insulin at lunch to make sure I can work out before dinner. All I have to do is program a lower basal rate during that hour workout.
5) No shots means no bruises on my thighs, which isn't a huge deal, but which I found vaguely annoying.
The Bad:
1) Note that in order to keep that blood sugar consistency, I have to test and correct... every two or three hours. This is substantially more than the 4-5 times a day testing I was doing before.
2) The online bolus calculator doesn't work for me at all. I've been dialing in an extra unit or two and juggling the presets to see if I can get it to work correctly, but no dice. I don't think it adds in the basal rates correctly. Yes, I programmed all the settings i.e. carb lowering amounts and target blood sugar.
The Ugly:
1) Workouts that involve jumping around? Like tuck jumps and jumping jacks? Totally out, unless I want to tape or bandage the thing in place. It also hurts when you jump around, cause you can feel the needle bumping up and down uncomfortably. I already own a sports bra. I don't want one for my medical hardware, too.
2) It beeps. It beeps 12 hours before you need to replace it and again when you need to replace it. This would not be so bad, only it also beeps when it's finished delivering your bolus insulin, too, so that's more beeping 3-6 times a day.
3) It generally takes upwards of two minutes to inject 6 or 7 units of insulin. Two minutes? What the hell is it so slow for? Since it clicks as it delivers insulin, I can only imagine that it's because it's literally clocking it out at .10 unit increments.
4) It clicks every time it delivers insulin. Every. Damn. Time. I emit clicking sounds like a fucking clock.
5) The PDM is easy to use, but clunky, especially in a device you're using at least 10 - count `em 10 - times a day to check blood sugar and deliver boluses.
6) 1 in 7 pods fail, so you always have to bring a backup and your pens.... so, all that "gear" I figured I could ditch cause I was on the pump? I have to fucking carry it all around *anyway.*
I can see the advantage of a pump for people who hate needles or who have trouble with control, but my A1c runs 5.9-6.5 while using the pens, and I've figured out how to live with them. Sure, the pod makes insulin delivery more discreet, but you still have to stab your finger and bleed on a stick 10 - count `em 10 - times a day.
So again, really, what's the point?
I keep reading about all these folks who say insulin pumps really changed their lives (especially the pod), and I just don't see it. Granted, I've never been squeamish about stabbing myself at the table or telling people I have diabetes. So maybe these are more for squeamish people who have a hard time getting their blood sugar under control and don't like needles?
I admit, the beeping, clicking, knocking around cyborg thing really annoys me. I'm thinking I'll ditch it Monday morning and talk with my endo about it during our appointment in August. This was really the only pump option I was excited about (the idea of having tubing hanging off me isn't all that appealing either), and honestly, I really like the pens. I feel like they've given me a lot of freedom and flexibility, and I don't have to worry about jumping up and down during exercise and hurting myself/dislodging something. The insulin's already in there.
I am not terribly impressed, so far. I mean, when I first got it it was "Oh neat shiny and cool!" and now I'm like, "Was taking a Lantus shot at 5:30 am really so bad that I have to pack around two additional pieces of hardware?"
I just don't think it was.
I don't know. I'll take some time off and revisit it, maybe. So far I'm pretty wishy-washy.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Out and About
Still feeling too anti-social and tired to get out and about tonight. Hoping to at least go see a movie tomorrow.
Now I am faced with the fact that I do not want to cook but do not want to go out and should not be spending money on carry out food.
Pancakes and video games tonight is about all I'm up for.
Much better day than yesterday, tho. Once I switched out the pod things leveled off again and after a few spikes, I'm leveling off again. Give me another night and some exercise, and things should be much better.
But tonight: pancakes and video games.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Home Again, Jiggety Jig
Came home, changed out to a new omnipod (I keep wanting to say ipod heh heh heh), cried for awhile.
Tested at 35. Ate some graham crackers and cried some more.
I hate being broken.
I hate it more than anything in the whole world. I hate being dead already, just limping along with the help of synthetic insulin.
I hate being broken.
Crying some more.
Tomorrow will be better.
That's all living with chronic illness is for me, really: that stubborn conviction that tomorrow will be better.
Getting the sweats and the shakes at the sugar comes back up.
Fucked up cyborg, I am.
Limping along.
Tomorrow will be better.
Sugar Death
You know, just seeing how much insulin I have to take just to stay under 300 because the pump's fucked and basal's not working, I have to say that I'm reducing my, "I could live for at least 3 days without insulin after the apocalypse!" to "I'd be lucky to make it 24 fucking hours."
Glad I took them seriously about those emergency supplies, or I would have had to go home a hell of a lot earlier.
Depressing, to be dying all the time.
Pod Failure
Had my first pod failure this morning when I went to switch out my omnipod. I'd read about this in the omnipod forums - apparently 1 in 7 actually fail out of the box. The good news is that this is supposed to mostly happen immediately, as soon as you put it on. I kept getting communication error messages, so I switched out the pod and successfully activated a new one.
Well, it looks like they "usually" only fail out of the box, because this second one I've had one has kept me at a steady 300 all fucking day long. I have no idea what's going on with it. Checked the cannula, which is in place. It still clicks when it delivers a bolus, the proper basal program is on, it just... wants to keep me at 300.
As recommended, I kept my pens on hand for just such emergencies (I would have had the extra pod, too, but this *was* my backup pod, and I forgot to replace the backup this morning, figuring that the chances of having 2 bad pods weren't high ha haah 1 in 7, do the math).
I suppose it's possible this is also a leveling issue, but I doubt it. I switched out sites and pods, so I'm thinking there's some kind of blockage or bad cannula or something.
I took a 6 unit correction hit with my pens, which should help. I'll just need to manually finagle it until I get home and change out the pod.
Fucking annoying. Seriously, 1 in 7? Don't they have some rigorous quality check for these things?
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Man, My Life is Boring
...and it's going to stay that way for at least another year. On the one hand: kind of depressing. On the other hand: this is what you get when you cross wild, roaring 20s with chronic illness and job layoffs:
A year of boring suck.
Ah well, I'm making the most of it. And the upside is, once my boring year of suck is overwith, I'll be ready for my roaring 30s!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
By the Numbers, redux
Actual thought tonight, as I prepared for a pre-8:30 bedtime:
"Gee, I don't know why I'm so wiped out and exhausted."
Gee, I wonder.
Numbers this morning were a lot better, but I was running high this afternoon, in part because I think I underestimated the carb count on today's black beans at lunch. So I was running 170-190 pretty much all afternoon, which is less than ideal.
Morning was awesome, though, a nice clean 86-123 until noon, with a 136, which still isn't too bad.
I'm setting my 1am alarm tonight, but not the 3am (yes, I set a 3am alarm last night. What can I say? I'm very cautious with new toys).
I'm already looking forward to Thursday when I get to change the site. They recommend that you keep the omnipod on your stomach/hip/torso area the first week or two, but I really hate having it there. I'd much prefer my arm. Bending over, wearing jeans, situps, etc... it's just not the most convenient place for it. And I can only use one side anyway, because I sleep on my right side.
Anyway, going to bed. Only one sugar check alarm tonight. Huzzah.
Monday, July 14, 2008
What do you want?
I sat up tonight watching the last half of The Notebook. This is one of my favorite romance movies (and not just because I have crushes on both of the leads). I generally hate smarmy, gendered romance movies where some dashing, moneyed guy saves some poor but pretty abused Cinderella from her dead-end life. Excuse me, but I'd like to think that there was more drawing two people together than her desperation to escape a life of abuse and poverty. That's not romance. Call me not old fashioned.
And The Notebook does something else that I also found interesting in Sweet Home Alabama, a trend I wouldn't mind seeing more of.
It's not that the girl needs saving in either of these movies. In fact, she's quite successful and well-off all on her own. And it's not that her current boyfriend is an asshole. In fact, her current boyfriend is pretty perfect. Her life is great. It's just that... it's that... something's missing. And she needs to figure out what it is, or just learn how to live without it.
Most of us make the choice to live without it. It's often easier that way.
There's this big myth that women like assholes and bad boys, people who treat them like crap. This is a a misreading of something else, I think (though there are, certainly, people who are drawn into or just plain stuck in abusive relationships). In fact, what I think some people are looking for - what I realized I was looking for - is somebody who challenges them. Somebody who doesn't put up with their bullshit.
There's a reason I was more broken up about the not-Boyfriend than I have been about any other breakup I've had. And that's because he challenged me. He stood up to me. I can be a scary bitch sometimes, I get that. I've dated people who don't like conflict, and especially don't like to argue with me. So then you just don't talk, or you avoid certain subjects, or stuff breaks down, and then one day one of you wakes up and you realize you've spent all of your time never talking about anything that matters, and you don't actually know each other at all.
Go too far one way and you end up dating an asshole (which I did in highschool). Go too far the other way and you get the NY boyfriend, who refused to get into an argument with me about anything. He found conflict of any kind terrifying, which made that whole jokey sarcasm thing that I do when I really like people kind of... well, it didn't work.
We all need that special someone in our lives who calls us on all our bullshit.
Noah: It's not about following your heart and it's not about keeping your promises. It's about security.
Allie: What's that supposed to mean?
Noah: [yelling] Money. He's got a lot of money!
Allie: You smug bastard. I hate you for saying that.
Noah: You're bored Allie. You're bored and you know it. You wouldn't be here if there wasn't something missing.
Allie: You arrogant son of a bitch.
Noah: Would you just stay with me?
Allie: Stay with you? What for? Look at us, we're already fighting.
Noah: Well that's what we do, we fight... You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing.
Allie: So what?
Noah: So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What's it look like? If it's with him, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I can do it again. If I thought that's what you really wanted. But don't you take the easy way out.
Allie: What easy way? There is no easy way, no matter what I do, somebody gets hurt.
Noah: Would you stop thinking about what everyone wants? Stop thinking about what I want, what he wants, what your parents want. What do YOU want? What do you WANT?
Allie: It's not that simple.
Noah: What... do... you... want? Whaddaya want?
Yeah, it's not gonna be easy, it's gonna be really hard. But there was a time I believed it was worth it, and there will be a time when I believe it's worth it again.
Until then, the beat goes on.
Magic Numbers
It appears that my magic basal number during the day is somewhere between .45 and .55 units per hour. After a shitty morning, my numbers after noon evened out really well.
I've set myself at .55 for the morning and .45 at night, with adjustments for exercise (.25 for evening cardio, .35 for morning exercise, with an option to just suspend insulin for a workout if I need to. I can go as low as .10 per hour).
I knew that the pump process was going to be two weeks of calibration and bitchiness, and I got all of that today. Starting my morning with rolling lows always fucks me up, and I was weepy and bitchy all day, which is rough to do when you have to be cool and professional and on top of shit at work. I got very little done today. I considered it an accomplishment that I finished our spinning workout without passing out (tested at a very respectable 111 after the workout), and attended all meetings and spoke coherently (I only had to test during one meeting, fearing I was spiking low. Turned out I was just really queasy and jumpy; I fear I wasn't as coherent in that meeting as I should have been either).
I should only have to do this crazy testing-every-two-hours thing for another day. After tomorrow, I should have established a reasonable baseline.
I felt so fucking horrible today, though, you know? It's funny what fucked-up sugar does. I wore a loose shirt today to help mask the pod, which I have to wear on my stomach the first couple of days just until the calibration is done, then I can wear it on my leg or upper arm, but here I am, wearing this frumpy shirt, and my skin looks horrible, and has my bottom half always been so big? Why do I look like I mushroom? Why can't I be skinny and cute and unintimidating? Why does my hair look like shit? I look horrible and frumpy and unlovable. I hate the whole world! I just want to die! No one will ever love me! I look like a frumpy Ohio housewife! I am worthless!
And then I look again and just sigh because hey, yo, I'm just crazy. Because I don't look any different than I did the day before, and I love being able to bash things really hard. It's a relief now, you know, that when I feel that way I can just be like, "Hey, I'm crazy!" and move on.
I think I'll wear something a little less frumpy tomorrow, though, which might just help how I feel. As will a less fucking crazy sugar morning.
For now, I'm absolutely fucking exhausted, and not worth much of anything about now.
This is one of those "I hate being sick!" days, but there's that other part of me, the conscious-of-the-crazy part, that thinks it's pretty cool to be alive, and pretty neat that we have such crazy gadgets to help us stay that way.
Rumor has it there's a new pod coming out next year that's 40% smaller than this one (and this one ain't huge at all), and a smaller PDM (remote control) with a cooler screen coming out next year.
Better yet? They're working on the continuous glucose monitor + omnipod thingie that will automatically take your blood sugar all day long (no more finger pricking 10 times a day!); then you can remote in the correction via the PDM. It's already pretty sweet that my meter is integrated with the remote, but to bring the whole thing together will be really great.
That's a couple years away yet, tho. In the meantime, it's manual testing and calibration.
But, you know, let's put this in perspective:
This was the first time in two years that I didn't have to jab myself with a needle at least four times.
That's gotta be a big leap forward.
Things that Annoy Me
Diabetes.
Started the new insulin pump today. You know, I don't really use a lot of insulin. I've been reading these forums where there are people using something like 80 units of insulin a day. 80 units? Srsly?
I've been adjusting my basal rate all day for lows. I'm going to suspend it altogether for my workout at 10:30. And I already had a pretty low set point (.65 units an hour to start. Have changed to .45 already based on the morning's trending. I'm reading that there are people set at 2 and 3 units an hour who are in the 200s). Of course, this could be because I spent 3 hours moving furniture yesterday, so I'm trending lower than I should.
Watching my numbers this morning was fascinating:
Target is 80
5:30 am: 180 +5 .65 basal
7:08 am: 110
7:33 am: 91
7:56 am: 79
8:13 am: 65
(took 2 lifesavers, adjusted basal to .45)
8:40 am: 92
9:09 am: 70
9:20 am: 61
(OK, srsly, I'm having a fucking bagel)
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Post a Rejection Letter Friday
In honor of Post a Rejection Letter Friday (in response to this crazy), here's an oldie but a goodie:
What's Wrong with This Form Rejection?
Unholy Blight
Unholy Blight - Rank 1/1
A creeping swarm of unholy insects surrounds the caster for a 10 yard radius. All enemies caught in the swarm take 34 damage and are plagued with a disease that can stack up to 3 times. Persists for 1 sec per 10 runic power.
This is so great I can't even say.
Sadly, I just don't see that I'm going to be spending enough WoW-time to ever get there once it's released (books to write and all). Ah well. The possibility EXISTS people, it EXISTS.
(thanks, Tyim!)
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Excess Energy
I've kicked back up my fitness routine the last couple of weeks, and every time I go to the gym I contemplate paying for a couple training sessions a month from the personal trainers there. Thing is, I can't afford another $100 a month in fitness costs (the gym is already $55 a month).
Today as I walked into the gym I started along the same track... and then realized I have two perfectly good personal trainers at work who have been trying to get more people to come to them for additional workout regimes and nutrition advice to step up our health and wellness program at work. And that doesn't cost money!
I've been wanting to kick up this routine for awhile, but I needed a stable homelife in order to do that. That is, when you're not concentrating on things like where your next insulin hit is coming from, you can afford to spent more time thinking about how to get wicked buff again.
I'll outline a set of goals tonight and setup a meeting with one of our trainers for later this week (work is going to be crazy tomorrow and Thursday, but Friday should have a bit of breathing room). Basically, I want to be buff again, and I want it to be *noticeable.* I'm surprisingly strong now, but that's not readily apparent because I'm probably about 30 lbs heavier than I need to be. I don't mind the extra weight - it's quite comfortable, but if I'm going for a wicked buff look, it's not doing me any favors.
As opposed to weight numbers, I'd prefer to concentrate on clothing sizes, since weight numbers really don't tell me anything. I'm looking to go from a comfortable 16 to a comfortable 12, which is what I was in Alaska when I was working out six days a week (which is what it's going to take - let's face it).
I honestly really welcome the up tempo. As noted, I have a ton of excess energy to burn off, and I think this is a great way to harness that (and being buffer and sleeker sure won't hurt for the book launch next year).
I tend to work better when I'm in better shape anyway, and that's never been so true as it's been since I got the sugar death, so hey.
Win all around.
Other Things that Annoy Me
People in general.
I'm glad I'm working out tonight.
Now go do a hundred pushups.
I'm starting to think...
... that I may actually be one of those people who only really falls hard for people who don't like them.
Some of this is hard conditioning from grade school, you know? I spent years... YEARS pining after people I knew were impossible crushes. You know, those kinds of guys who never looked twice at you in school. The ones who wanted to be "just friends." I nurtured these crushes for ages and ages. In fact, I can think of maybe three people who took up the entirety of my fantasy crush time from 3rd grade to 10th grade. That's just sad. But it did keep me out of trouble.
And then in high school I didn't have much experience with dating people I pined after or who really liked me because there was, you know, just the one guy for three years. Who, yes, I did get bored with quite often. But everytime I got bored there was some psycho thing going on and some near breakup, and then him in tears and crazy screaming, and so that drug out way too long, because I was like, "Well, look, nobody else likes me!" Then I finally dumped him for the final time and took six years off because if that's what a relationship was, I wanted to fucking part of it.
So when I started dating again three years ago, I generally, you know, dated people who really liked me.
And it was weird. Then I was crazy for a year of that. And crazy shit happened. And I was like, "Dating people who really like you is CRAZY!"
But really, the crazy was just me.
Then suddenly I grew up and got better and realized hey, love is not so scary! It just fucks you up and breaks your heart, but damn, the sex is great! I should just go for it!
And that, of course, freaks people out.
But now I find myself doing my usual routine again, pining after people who just aren't interested in the least and just aren't available. And I'm thinking, "What the hell is the point of this? I've had people want to die over me, and turned down all these marriage proposals, and here I am, pining after jerks and losers again," and then I'm like, "Well, yeah, that sure is a lot easier than having a real relationship, isn't it?" And I'm like, "Why, yes, yes it is!"
I'm in that crappy place right now that good girls get into, which is that I really want to get laid but really don't want to get into a relationship because I'm so fucking tired of bland, passionless first dates and I can't spend any money anyway, but I'm not the type who goes out to a bar looking for a one night stand because, let's be honest, I just can't get off having sex with some random stranger (gee, sucks to be me!). Why am I so boring??
So it's summertime, and I love my life.
It just sucks that I also have a sex drive.
Blast.
But seriously, what a waste of my time. I'm not in gradeschool anymore. I have better things to do with my fantasy time... like, you know, plotting out the first half of Babylon.
Which would actually be a whole hell of a lot more productive.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Books I Will Be Happy to Own
Yumyumyum. Should be out July 22nd.
After I burned myself out on slash-and-hack fantasy, I started looking forward to Abraham's books a whole lot more. They may not always be my cup of tea (more chicks with swords! [ok, really, everybody's books need more of those]) but they are always damn interesting.
I have yet to walk away from one of these books without a whole hell of a lot to think about.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Chipotle or Peru?
When I finally made the decision to try and tackle my finances, after my roaring 20s of pure excess, the concept behind financial freedom sounded incredibly simplistic:
Just don't spend money.
That's it. I didn't have to *do* anything. I didn't have to go to the gym, or set up a writing schedule, or try and find a good kickboxing class. No, all I had to do was just stop spending money.
I live in a big apartment complex, which means we're always getting these random takeout menus tacked to our doors. I spent tonight perusing a very tasty-looking Chinese menu before throwing it away.
What I hate about control over finances is the same thing that I hate about control over my diet. It's that you have to make the right choice time after time after time, multiple times every day.
I went out to write at Caribou Coffee tonight, and had to force myself to bypass Chipotle on the way home. I had to remind myself of all the groceries I just bought today. As I passed The Cheesecake Factory I reminded myself that I'd already gotten a piece of their low carb cheesecake last week to bring home, and July's budget does not have wiggle room for *more* cheesecake. Then I had to come home and peruse the Chinese takeout menu, and then remind myself of how awful I feel after trying to inhale Papa John's pizza.
In fact, diet choices and financial choices are linked pretty heavily for me. If I'm not splurging on lunch or dinner out, then I'm getting a book, or a magazine, or out at a movie, or the comedy club, or trying to find clothes that don't make me look like Raggedy Anne.
I was raised by very impulsive parents; it's gotten them into a lot of trouble too. But it means that budgeting and delayed gratification are really foreign to me. When I come into cash, I feel I "deserve" to spend it. I need to "treat" myself. Well, you know, sure, one "treat" is great, but four or six weeks of treats and you've blown all the money and you're right back where you started with not much to show for it.
I sat down and put together my post-raise budget today, and in big, bold letters across the top it reads, "Budgetry, or how Kameron is going to get a house and go to Peru."
And that's the mantra I'm trying to bring to every one of my decisions now. I need something to keep me on track. I need constant motivation, because it's just not going to happen on its own. Like anything else, I have to retrain myself, and just like training yourself to workout regularly, there's this awful, painful adjustment period where you feel utterly deprived.
I hate it.
I want to go out, and have fun, and live, because dammit, life is fucking short.
But I'm really fucking tired of being in credit card debt. I'm done with it.
So which one wins out?
That's the battle I fight with every one of my stupid daily decisions. I now have $750 a month budgeted toward paying off that fucking credit card (starting in August). That's more than my current rent and utilities combined.
Seriously.
Imagine what I can do when I free that $750 back up? Think about it.
That's what I'm thinking about.
And it's what I'll be thinking about when I'm eating my hot dogs and leftovers from last night's BBQ tonight.
Terrified Waitresses & Chicks Who Kick Ass
"Come on. Do I look like the mother of the future? I mean, am I tough, organized? I CAN'T EVEN BALANCE MY CHECKBOOK."
- Sarah Conner, The Terminator
I have a love/hate relationship with the Sarah Conner of the first Terminator movie. Part of me wants her to be the same tough, kick ass heroine you see in the 2nd one, and so I'm always slightly annoyed when I start re-watching the first one again. Blah blah yeah, she's the holy womb of antioch, whatever. Seriously, is her only worth in the world as the womb that carried John Conner?
Then I sit down and really think about it, and I remember that even though she's the "mother of the future" she's no passive fucking vessel. What I love about the first movie is knowing who she becomes by the second one. Because how many of us are terrified waitresses who can't balance their checkbook and whose biggest heartbreak on a Friday night is getting blown off by some random date? Living that kind of life, how would you really react when you found out you were the one who taught the leader of the human resistance how to fight? That you taught him honor, how to make bombs, shoot straight, and bind a wound? Would you change your life, after that? Would you have the strength to do that? Or run away from it?
What I like seeing in this first movie is a timid nobody finding her strength, and knowing she's got the guts to get there.
The utter tragedy of T3 (I don't even consider it canon, especially after watching the new Sarah Conner Chronicles) was dumping Sarah Conner. These movies are far more about Sarah Conner than they are Arnold Swartzenegger (hence the success of the Chronicles).
It's a much gutsier, gritter version of Titanic (also a James Cameron movie, for those keeping track; he made tough female heroines awesome long before Joss came along). Wallflower with the heart of a fighter tells the world to go fuck itself and finds her voice and her strength and her self-esteem. She finds out what she's really made of.
It's a woman's coming of age story that doesn't involve marriage or being "saved" from her life by a man who does all the work for her followed by a pan-to-the-lamp happily ever after. It's a coming of age that takes work, courage, brute strength. Sure, this realization is kicked off by a hot guy who doesn't generally stick around for the end (just as in The Wanted and other boy coming of age stories have their bland boy's superpowers awakened by the arrival of a mysterious hot chick - who also doesn't generally stick around for the end). He holds out his hand, but she has to take it. And when he steps away, she needs to be able to stand on her own.
I'm always looking at why these particular movies work so well for me (Titanic, the Terminator movies, the first two Alien movies), and you know, it's because they're traditionally masculine coming of age stories. A formerly obscure nobody woman finds out she's the chosen one. She gets to battle evil in its many forms; she gets to slay the monsters. She picks herself up and builds her own life.
At the end of the day, she realizes that nobody is going to save her but herself.
And she becomes the hero of her own life.
That's good shit right there.
Quote of the Day
"All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think we become."
- Buddha
Friday, July 04, 2008
The 4th
Went out to Steph and the Old Man's for a BBQ (always diabetic friendly over there - they take good care of me!) and chatted with them about life, the universe, and everything, including the future. There are future things I don't want to think about just yet, not until the CC debt is under 5k, but that's about the time I'll need to look into whether or not I want to settle here, buy into a house, the cheap but... illfitting? Ohio life.
I like that I can buy a house here. I love my job. But I don't know how long the job will last, and I don't know that I want to marry myself to Dayton, or to the limited jobs in Dayton. I want a better writing job. I want a different town.
I'm a bit of a bad fit here. I always feel like such a misfit. I mean, sure, I grew up a fat geek girl, but this is something different. I just don't feel like I fit out here. Too loud, too opinionated, too interested in books and big ideas, and with utterly and completely different values and expectations than the people around me. It's uncomfortable sometimes, to want something different in a place that is happy and content with a life that I spent most of my life trying like hell to avoid.
I will need to decide at some point, likely at the end of the year. Sink or swim. At some point you have to stop hedging your bets and build a future.
Drank some good whiskey and came home and sat out on my porch in shorts and a tank top, lit a candle, and watched some fireworks. I can hear a lot more out there than I can actually see, but man, it's nice.
Am I the only person to sit out on the porch and think, "Hey, about 10pm on the fourth of July would be a great time to shoot somebody!"
I'm a writer, yo. I have to think of these things.
Steph's coming over for pancakes and coffee tomorrow morning, so I'll play some WoW and call it a night. A good night. Nothing fancy, nothing big, certainly cheap and totally unstressful... just a good night.
Sometimes I can stop running and just be. For a night. Those are good times.
But I just get so damn restless.
Sometimes I think it would be great to have enough. Then I remember that when I have enough, I lose all of my motivation, and it's all take out pizza and sleeping all day.
Restless can be good. Restless keeps you moving.
But, for tonight: a good night.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Sometimes Good Things Happen
Got an unexpected call today from Insulet corporation, the makers of the Omnipod.
Insurance had rejected my claim for one last summer, deeming it "out of network" and requiring me to pay the first $4400 up front.
Well. That wasn't going to happen. I have enough medical bills, thanks.
Back in February, Insulet corporation asked me if they could reopen the claim, as they were partnering with another firm to help them get in-network status with a number of insurance agencies. I said sure, hey, why not.
Six or eight weeks ago, they called and said, hey, no dice, but they were going to try and get some kind of "exception" from the insurance company to get them in-network status because they're the only makers of this kind of pump.
Go for it, I said.
Today, I got the call saying my claim had been approved.
Insurance is paying the whole thing - digital remote/meter, testing strips, insulin pods and all.
100%
I don't have to pay a goddamn dime.
I admit, I got a little teary eyed. No more 5:30 am Lantus shot, no more shooting up at the table. I can program the whole thing from the remote, which doubles as my meter.
Should get it at work on Monday.
It's funny, you know. You get so used to bad things happening. Every phone call, every text message, every update, is a bad thing. You stop thinking that good things happen. But for the last year? Good things. Such incredibly good things.
And this is what I told myself through the worst of it, when I was running up credit card debt and running out of cashed-out 401(k) in Dayton, living on expired insulin and the good will of my friends. When I was ready to pack it in I just said, hey, you know, remember when you were 18 and living in Bellingham and thinking up ways to kill yourself to get out of a shitty life and shitty relationship? You thought that was the end. That was it. It was always going to be like that.
And when you dumped that loser and took back your life flew to Alaska, you had two of best years of your entire life. You wouldn't have gotten those two years if you gave up then.
So I didn't give up last year, when I hit rock bottom for the second time in my life. I didn't give up because this year was coming.
And I know there will be horrible times to come, dark times, but we live through those dark times for these ones, for the book deal and the great health insurance and the great job and fun coworkers and good friends and amazing apartment.
You keep going because everything changes, and if everything changes, you have a 50/50 chance that it's going to change for the better.
Things That Suck
A holiday weekend in which one has no money. I have $450 to make it to my next paycheck (and that's after just being paid *today*).
After paying off 3 outstanding medical bills and stuffing $700 toward the credit card, I'm out of cash again, and I have groceries and a Verizon bill to pay out of that $450 (and another $100 toward my last outstanding med bill). Did some freelance resume work, which will bring me my $30 in Chipotle money, but not until next week.
::sigh::
Long weekend of beer, video games, novel work, gymming, and peanut butter cookies ahead.
A year and a half of living like an adult to get me out of debt and in my own house.
Just a year and a half.
Man, this sucks.
Long push to get there.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
The Personal Trainers, Oh How They Hate Me
Job Tips
For my buddies in the middle of job searches (including my Daddio!), here's some stuff to keep in mind:
"Here’s why you’ll need humility: If you are like most people, you will get the shit kicked out of you in the job search. Typically, the job search process is a six month-long, broken, politically-biased, ill-conceived, and poorly-executed racket. For most companies, the candidate’s dignity is an afterthought. Some of what will happen to you will not be fair. It will be expensive and frustrating. The injustice of it all will sting, and raging against the machine won’t help. You will need to forgive your transgressors just to maintain your sanity."
More here.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Milestones
It occurred to me today that I'd told my sister many years ago that I'd get a second piercing in my upper ear to match the one I got for Clarion when I sold my first book. I still like this idea for commemorating my first book.
I'm also thinking every writer needs a cool tattoo. And being 30 with a published book is as good an excuse as any.
I'll need to ask the Bad Boy at work if he knows of any good places around Dayton for such shenanigans. I have a feeling that in order to find any place great, I'd need to go to Columbus.
Tra-la
(also, it will not be a stupid ankle tattoo. Or a stupid lower back tattoo. It will not be of a heart, a butterfly, or a fucking flower. I mean, seriously, what's up with that?? If you're gonna do it, it better fucking mean something)
Dying, Not the Worst Thing
My first book comes out next year. Somewhere in all the craziness of my life, I think that has been kind of lost in the crazy, you know? Or maybe it's just been taken for granted all along.
Something else that's been lost during my three months of recovery and bliss in my new digs was that drive to be better, to be the best I can possibly be.
That's the thing that starting to come back.
And that's a pretty awesome feeling, too.
Some of that has been sitting down and going, OK, how hard am I willing to work? How badly do I want it? Because getting the money under control means budgeting for things like my expensive haircut, and Chipotle. More than that, it means a commitment to regular gym going and shunning pizza. Because I'm not really getting anything from pizza or *not* going to the gym. Being better means finishing the damn fucking book, expanding on to other projects. It means getting ready to present myself to the world as, like, a real author. It means a mean haircut and a search for some new kickboxing classes.
I want to be better. The best. My best.
When my drive isn't self-hatred, isn't fear of becoming somebody I hate again, then it's gotta be something better, something more. It's about potential. Some people are afraid of dying alone. Or dying unmarried. Or dying without kids. Or dying in a nursing home. Or just, you know, dying. I'm afraid of dying without living up to what I could be. Having it all end and knowing, there at the end, that I wasn't doing everything in my power to be the best I could be.
That's my real fear.
When I came out of that coma two years ago, as I recovered over the next few weeks, I thought a lot about dying, about how OK I would have been with dying. And you know what? I realized that, at that point in my life, it would have been OK to die. Because I was doing everything I could to be better. I'd traveled around the world. I had a decent job. I was plugging away at my books. I'd been to Clarion, I'd dated a little, I had a great life. I was working toward my goals. I hadn't given in, given up.
And that's the sort of life I want to have every day, that life that says, "Hey, you know, I could die today and be happy."
That's always a pretty good day.
Things That Just Aren't Going to Work
In general, in order to do 45 minutes of cardio after work, I have to take 2 units less insulin at lunch than usual.
Which would be great, except that by 2-3pm, I have the beginnings of a sugar headache and I'm starting to feel sluggish.
Thing is, I need to be at 200+ before working out so I don't fall over afterward. And I'd prefer to do that by taking less insulin at lunch instead of eating *more* right before working out (and *more* after working out just to get me home).
I so much prefer the two-units-less thing. Not sure why it's getting to me more these days. Maybe because I'm used to being so well controlled? Taking two less in Chicago worked pretty well. But then, I tended to work out *directly* after lunch.
Blarg.
Diabetes, yo. It fucking sucks. Expecially if you hate math.
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