Long Time No See

So it's been over a year since I posted on here. I always felt like I needed to make my posts worthy of being read by strangers. Only, what do I have to say that a stranger would want to read about?

But no one actually reads this. So I decided to make it into a diary. An online diary, that maybe 2 people will ever read. More people read my diary as a teen, so I should feel free to say whatever I like!!

First order of business. A very short overview of the last year.
1- Hubby got transferred to Regina.
2- House sold after we lowered our asking price $50,000. Ouch.
3- Bought a new house and moved to a bedroom community.
4- Girls started a new school which is quite diabetes friendly.
5- Actually started making friends. People I can stand being around for more that 5 minutes, yay!
6- I'm down to having to go to the school only every second day.
7- Joined a performance bellydance class. I'm going to get up on stage, dressed in a fun costume, and dance. With people watching. On purpose.
8- Between the amazing way dancing makes me feel, the extra time on my hands, and the adult conversation, I am dying to sew and create.

And that brings me to why I'm posting. I am going to start experimenting with patterns, fabrics, and construction techniques. I thought that using this blog as a record of my attempts, both successful and unsuccessful, would be a handy reference for myself. And anyone else interested in similar things.

The girls are out of school for the week and we're hanging out creating and playing. The girls are trying to play Munchkin alone (10 and 7 isn't quite old enough to do it without help) as I write. There are 2 corset patterns on the floor beside me. One modern one and one historical one I'm trying to adjust to my measurements. Since I have a broad back, straight figure, and a small bust, that is harder than it could be. I've been reading a lot of articles over at Foundations Revealed. I'm a member, but there are some great free articles, too. I need to do an order at Farthingales soon, and I don't really have a place to sew in my unfinished basement yet, but I can play with the patterns and styles, and sew in the floor if need be. I need to make some parts of my dance costumes anyway, so I can play at least a little before I get some busks. Now that we're all caught up, I just need to get to it and post my progress. To work, and see you soon!

First Plane Trip With A Diabetic

We started our first trip since DX by getting up at 6am to go to the city early with T. We didn't eat until 8:30am when we got to the city, but E still managed good BG tests. As usual, she was high for a lot of the day. I took her to the indoor play place, so she wasn't as high as she normally was on city days, but she was getting 10+ all day.

We finally picked up my hubby and got to the airport around 4ish. E had Tim Horton's chili for supper, so we knew the carbs and treated for it all. At 6pm we headed through security.

Security never even blinked at the needles and pump supplies. Or at her juice box (200mL). Her pump didn't set off the metal detector, but my sandals did. The kids were pretty excited at this point, and maybe that explains what happened next.

I removed and suspended her pump as we taxied out to the runway. She loved taking off, and getting to altitude. She loved how she had to pop her ears so much. But when I put her pump back on and tested her, she was 6. With over a unit on board. A unit takes her down 12, so a low treatment was in order. She had her snack, I calculated so her carbs matched how far she was over, and I was careful about her carb intake the rest of the flight. Only, she was 30 the rest of the flight. I took the pump off again while we landed.

I thought perhaps the chili was just slow to digest, or my calculations were off. We arrived in Toronto shortly after midnight, and headed for the lounge in Q to sleep. The girls got a couple hours sleep on a bench, and we got them up just before 6 for breakfast.

E was still a little high, 13, but we gave her a bolus and some fruit. We were careful, and bolused for her high GI fruit. It was an international flight, but security still didn't even blink at the diabetic supplies, juice box included. We were there for an hour, and finally boarded just before 9.

We taxied out, again, I removed her pump, again, and she grinned as we took off, again. And she was 6 with way too much on board when I put her pump back on. Again. This time I knew that her food would be digesting quickly. So I treated with less than she needed, and kept careful track after. But she was still above 20 for the rest of the flight.

After landing and getting to the condo, she was okay. With all the activity and sun, she was almost always low early afternoon, and then high in the evening and before bed. Of course, rating carbs on street food is always a guessing game, and she sat on the bus for an hour and then played all at random times. But the flight was the one we can't understand.

D-28

We are headed out on our first big trip since DX. I think we are over prepping. Emails with scans of everyone's passports and our itinerary have been sent. Enough supplies to do MDIs if the pump fails are in the cupboard. One of our bags is already packed. All 4 of us are wearing our new shoes around the house to break them in. We have all our own snorkel gear.

Flying with a small diabetic is surprisingly nerve wracking. Not because anything is going to happen, just because I have an overactive imagination. I can SEE her pump giving her a massive dose and the Glucagon shot not working and the plane not having enough juice and.... It will all be fine. Nothing will go wrong. No one is going to catch Dengue fever. No one is going to get bit by a shark. And the diabetes won't be a big deal either.

But I'm still the type to panic. So T and I both spend all of our time both looking forward to the wide, warm beaches of Barbados, and freaking out over all the things that could go wrong. When I get back, I highly anticipate all of the I-told-you-so comments. I am sure I won't WANT to come back, but at least I have that to look forward to.

Pants to send to YG

I kept thinking about these pants. So I did a sketch. I never intended it to be any particular person, but I failed. It's just pencil- which is why it isn't really clear- but I'll finish it later. And yes, I already made these pants.

Boxer Brief Jeans

DX-iversary

It has been 5 years since my baby was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. 2 years of 5+ needles a day. Almost 3 years on a pump. More blood glucose toe and finger pricks than I could ever count.

I've been thinking about it for days. Very, very calmly. The first DX-iversary was almost crippling. The second was depressing. Third and fourth were sad. This one barely upsets me. I did have a mild freak out last night while watching Faith. The show was sad, and I got overly upset. Sad scenes with Lee Min Ho get to me every time, but this was excessive.

But it was okay. And I know why. Last night, just as I was soon to lose it, the candoc tweet chat started. So, instead of being in the kitchen alone, baking fish and mashing cauliflower, I was in the kitchen with other people who were dealing with diabetes. Chatting about travelling and flying with diabetes. Instead of thinking about how long and lonely the last 5 years have been as my angel's primary caregiver, about how my husband went to Regina and left me in the hospital for a week with E alone after her DX, about how I am the only one who actually does all her care 90% of the time, I was planning how to fly to Barbados. What to take on the plane, how to go through security with all those needles, and what to watch for from the excitement (read stress).

And so, I made it through with the help of the Canadian diabetes online community (candoc). As I sit here in the park, waiting for some strangers to be done wandering around my house, I realize I have accepted her diabetes. I don't yearn for a cure. I am no longer angry, or bargaining. I am at the acceptance stage. I know my baby won't live as long as the rest of us. I know one wrong insulin dosage could put her in a coma, or kill her. I know she will never feel completely normal, that almost every second of her life she will have to be aware of the big D, lurking inside her. But it is what it is. It doesn't mean she can't be happy, be as healthy as possible. As normal as possible. That's better than a lot of people. So I guess I'm happy. There is no chronic pain. No extended hospital stays, not yet. So we're okay. For now.

Noona Love and Remembering Who We Are

The post I did yesterday was about venting. About getting my childish frustrations on paper, so they wouldn't be in my head anymore. I was a little overwhelmed by the response, though.

All these people messaged me. The outpouring of love was, well, almost embarrassing. Really great, but shocking. And suddenly, missing out on the actual get together is okay. I'm still envious, sad that I won't get to join the fun, but I'm suddenly not feeling left out anymore. Like it's okay, and I'll get to the next one.

Being a caregiver, regardless of what the issues are, takes away from YOU. The online girl time, talking about clothes, and politics, and life philosophies, about guys (husbands) and kids and friends and co-workers, that's all just for me. That IS me. Not me the Mom. Not me the caregiver, or me the wife, just me. The person. And missing out on one get together doesn't mean that has to stop. It did, for a while. Like missing this was just another example of me wanting to have a life of my own, and not getting it.

I don't have any friends here. I had one, several years ago, but her husband got moved to the city. I open my mouth, and people tend to look at me weird. I know that the things I say and do are not like those around me. I have never fit in. I don't like the music on the radio, the clothes in the store, the shows on TV. I don't take my kids to sports games, I don't have neighbourhood barbecues. My husband adores me, but often doesn't understand me.

The problem, in this town where fitting in is so very important, is that I am ahead of my time. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but guaranteed, if I like something, it will become huge in 2 to 3 years. Every time. With everything I become really interested in. And so, in a backwards town that thinks it's all that, I am the weirdo. And "I told you so" is really a hollow phrase.

My girls are in school. Finally. after 9+ years, it's time for me. And with the help of the few people who don't avoid me because I'm strange, I'm going to find MYSELF again.

PS To all the Noonas. LOVE YOU!!

Noonas just wanna have fun (with BigBang)

So I've been thinking about sacrifices we make as parents. I still go to school to do my daughter's insulin at lunch, and sometimes at snack if there's a new person who wants to learn about it. I'm on call all day for questions from the teacher or the aids. And something came up recently that hasn't come up since I was a teenager.

A concert.

That's right, there's a boy band I like. They aren't like the boy bands from when I was a kid. They aren't from Canada or the States. They don't sing in English. With all the hype over Psy these days, I don't think me liking them is weird. What is strange is that the fact that I am not able to go to their concert is making me feel like a teenager with a strict father.

My family started planning our first ever big trip last spring. Before the tour was announced. In February we'll be flying to Barbados. I am really excited, and I know we'll have a lot of fun. However, my pocketbook does not have room for me to fly to New York- by myself- in November, and then have the whole family go to Barbados. I was okay with that at first. Then I started to meet a bunch of other women online, women who I could talk to like I haven't since high school. We talk about husbands, TV, our kids, and yes, that boy band.

And so, as I watch them all getting excited for the tickets to go on sale this Saturday, planning all of the things they are going to do when they meet up before and after the concert, I am feeling a level of envy that astonishes me. I had to stop going online. I had to stop following them. I actually cried.

The real question is, why am I so upset? And then I realized. I have been so isolated for so long, stuck up here where no one is interested in the same things as me, with no one I can really talk to, finding these ladies was like a rainbow after a hurricane. Missing out on the gathering, maybe the only one where everyone is going to get together, is like the hurricane suddenly swept down on me again. I'm feeling all the loneliness, the isolation, all over again. I hadn't realized how sad I really was until it all came back.

Today is my daughter's 9th birthday. I know I need to look happy. On the day of her birthday party, with all the family that's coming out, I will need to look chipper. Knowing that the Noonas (as we call ourselves) will be buying their tickets, planning their trips, and talking about how wonderful it's going to be. Without me. Sometimes I just wish it could be about me.