Candid Diabetes

Change of Plans

So it looks like the move from Typepad may not be happening. And boy, I am MaD. After all of the work that I did importing the blog and fixing links and pictures, I went to set up my domain on the new blog software and could've cried.

Wordpress (dot com) supports domain forwarding but apparently not domain email - though there is a google app, the move itself supposedly results in lost emails. Since I use this domain email for everything, even the forums, that is a big problem. A huge problem.

A Wordpress-won't-work problem.

I'm evaluating my options (and would welcome any suggestions!) but for now, Candid Diabetes will remain here. I'll continue to pay too much for this blog that I don't post enough on, while hoping that the Canadian dollar goes back up to par (yeah.......right).

*sigh*

Iris Surprise

The blog transfer is moving along. Every single link is broken, and every picture I inserted is stored on the typepad blog...meaning that when it's been canceled, unless I have everything fixed, links and pictures will disappear. What a PITA.

But hey, I'm taking a holiday! To Vancouver, British Columbia for three days. I leave on Friday, which cannot come soon enough.

And since that's about all I have to say....I leave you with the supreme coolness that I found when I went outside in my backyard tonight. To check on my Siberian Iris's.

Aren't they beautiful? Except wait, what is that, under there...?

Hello, my pretty!

When faced with the demise of an established Iris or the murder of poisonous-looking-butprobablyharmless spider, well......

Holy creepy Spiderman!

.....the iris won.

But not before I knocked seriously-cool-spider off of the iris onto a leaf in the sunlight. And proceeded to take nineteen pictures. I was foiled by wicked spider, who scuttled under the leaf...and was in turn foiled by me. Or, my foot, to be exact.

And if you're wondering, I didn't take any pictures of smooshed-spider. May he rest in peace.

Candid Diabetes Turned Four (And I Didn't Even Notice)

On May 9, this blog celebrated its fourth birthday. And I didn't even know it.

(Of course, I'm the one who forgets anniversaries and birthdays and Mother's Day...yes, I forgot Mother's Day this year. I should be flogged with a wet noodle, I am a horrible daughter.)

I'm not going to reminisce oh-so-dramatically (as is my habit heh) about the past four years. They were awesome. They also sucked. Life. Too little too late at this point, if you ask me. I'll try to make five the magic number.

But are you at all interested in how I found out that Candid-D passed a fourth blogging birthday?

I'm moving Candid Diabetes. To Wordpress. Because I'm sick and freaking tired of spending ten dollars a month (!) on blogging software. Especially one I don't use every day. And it very recently occurred to me that Candid Diabetes has cost me almost five hundred dollars over the past four years.

FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. What the bleeping-bleep was I thinking?? 

While importing 145 posts and over 600 comments, I noticed the date of my very first post. And Wow. Four years and a month and some days or so....but who's counting? Definitely not me. Heh.

The domain will stay the same, so any current links will continue to work (yay). But it's going to take me some time to transfer everything over to Wordpress (boo). In an effort to KISS and save some more money I'm going with the free version, plus a few upgrades. So the format isn't going to look so fab but hey, no more wasting money!

Did I mention that I'm saving up for a downpayment for a house?

Anyway, I'm going to try to have everything transferred and this Typepad account closed by the end of the month. 

Who knows, maybe I'll actually find time to do some posting now....

CGMS - Three Years Later

This past Tuesday, June 2, marked year three of my adventure with Minimed's Paradigm 522 continuous glucose monitoring system.

Three years seems too short - it feels more like ten years ago when I inserted my very first sensor, connected my beloved old Gen 1 transmitter and began blogging about trying to figure this system out. All by myself. I bled copious amounts in the beginning; I can remember worrying anxiously that the blood would ruin the transmitter. But that never happened. I figured out that I could change the angle of insertion, in spite of what my trainer said, and that doing so was often crucial to having a successful sensor. I learned, the hard way, that the sensor/transmitter had to be taped down, really really well. And, thanks to the little angel who was so briefly in my life, whose colostomy bag I covered with Opsite Flexifix for years, I found a tape that worked like glue.

But what I've really gotten, over the past three years, is normalcy.

I hate the word 'normal'; it is and indefinable word that puts individuality in a box. But it is the only word that can properly describe how I've felt for the last 1100 days. Normal. I can go for long walks now without having to make sure I have my glucometer, and I no longer get interrupted by spaghetti leg-lows...just like everyone else. When I go out for drinks with girlfriends after work, I don't have to check my blood sugar in public or in hiding - I just glance at my pump, eat and bolus accordingly. When I get horribly ill, I don't have to end up in the hospital on an IV.

And I am no longer worried that I won't wake up in the morning. That I'll have a hypo overnight, while I'm sleeping, that will put me out of commission. I don't have to feel that way anymore. I don't wake up in the morning a seriously high blood sugars and a migraine anymore - I haven't in three years. I don't have to feel that way anymore.

I was gardening a few nights ago. I'd taken my sensor and Minilink off and hadn't inserted a new one because I was feeling lazy. Knees in the dirt, weeding my perennial garden, I suddenly started to feel light headed and weak. And mad at myself, for so many reasons. Because now I had to get up, walk all the way inside the house, walk all the way to the fridge, to get some juice. Sheesh, I just didn't have the energy! All because I'd been too lazy to put a new sensor in...a sensor that would've warned me that my BG was dropping, so that I could've prevented it.

So that I wouldn't have to feel that way. So I could just be a normal woman, weeding her garden.Instead of a lazy diabetic crying in self-pity as she drank a glass of juice.* Even just the absence of those interruptions has been a blessing.

And the best part: the CGMS has helped me to get my A1c's under 6.0 again.

Here's to three years, and whatever the future may bring. I'll face it head on, as normal as possible, Minilink on my thigh and pump on my hip!

*Hypo's make me extremely emotional, and it can go either way: bitch or baby. There's no rhyme or reason.

Technology Whore

If I liked Christmas, I’d say that it was better than December 25. But  I’m a dyed in the wool grinch, so I’ll say that it was better than getting a DQ ice cream cake for my birthday. And almost as good as finding a pair of Arturo Chiang spike heels that make my short-person legs look miles long. For Half price.  Just in time for the office Christmas party (AKA that event where Tiffany, in spite of various warnings, gets hammered, becomes a giggling fool and almost exposes her breasts in public).

Two big boxes came from Purolator. I opened the one that was clearly marked “Medtronic” and squealed. Four FREE sensors. My very own brand spanking new 522, a new glucometer, reservoirs and infusion sets and pump clips – Oh My!

And the cherry: a Toshiba Satellite Laptop. I’m not ashamed to admit that I squealed and bounced when I saw that box; what can I say, I’m a technology whore. And this is my very first laptop computer, my foray into wireless. I am sitting in bed as I type this – how cool is that?? Of course my expanding ass won’t thank me but hey, everything needs a purpose! I even have the perfect case in mind! Eeeeeeh!!

It’s even more exciting than my first digital camera (which I purchased three years ago and regret to this day – Cybershot sucks my big toe), and my first flat screen LCD television. Though when I finally get my Canon Xsi it’ll definitely be the coolest thing on the block. ‘Cause hey, I’m fickle like that.  But back to what I was saying.

Did I happen to mention that I’m WiFi-ing at this very moment? (I don't know how Wifi is spelled and I'm too lazy to google it, so whatev) Writing my second, yes you read that right - Second post of the day. Two posts in one day. Guiness beer book, here I come!

As for the pump and related paraphernalia, well, they remain unopened and will until my insurance claim is approved. Which will hopefully be finalized within the week - fingers and toes crossed, people. (Yeah, I opened the laptop and booted it up – sympathy please; it was too much!)

In the meantime, my new little laptop and I are going to head on over to The Best Blog. Ever. Why don’t you join us?

 

It's Not The Pork On Your Fork

It snowed last week, for three days straight. An appropriate setting for The Sickest Of Sickness. Ever.

On Monday, I sank to my knees, bowed my head, and prayed fervently to the gods of the porcelain yak-bowl. For hours. A communion which lasted through Tuesday; at one point, I fell into a fever-induced sleep during which I dreamed that I gave birth to sextuplets after a feverish (heh) affair with Commander Charles Tucker the Third*. What a Trip! 

And she slams it out of the park! (Whatever, it's punny to me!! Bahah!)

My blood sugars were predictably stubborn, sitting between 12 (during bad moments) and 8 with little relief. I played the same old tune - I overbolused, I temped my basal up to 180% (!!). Nothing helped. In an extremely frustrating way, this trend has a helpful side; I can often predict a sinus infection by how my blood sugar levels are behaving. I can tell when a virus or infection 'breaks' by the sudden drop in blood sugars. Of course, when one is vomiting every internal organ out of her body on top of a fever, this whole trend isn't much fun. Luckily, I've always been able to avoid DKA.

On Wednesday morning, after finally having enough gravol in my system to prevent even the smallest of gags, I dragged myself to work (whomever said that copious amounts of gravol, advil and driving don't mix was bang on) for three hours, polished the floor with my knees in the bathroom there (a more ignoble experience even than revealing one of my most guarded secret to the whole world wide web) and drove back home after finally breaking down and calling my doctor's office. I couldn't get in to see her, they told me, which was no surprise. So I booked to see a random stand-in Right Away.

I got poked, prodded, and sacrificed my boobs on the alter of an X-ray. Stand-in Dr. sent me home with nothing but my barf bag after assurances that it was not the swine flu (it's so much more melodic than H1N1, I just can't help myself) but sounded like it might possibly be Pneumonia. Wham. Bam. Thank you ma'am. This is what I get for living in a redneck town with a population of zero, in the country, in good ol' redneck Alberta. Two days later, I was still sick as a dog with the added bonus of Not. Being. Able to. BREATHE. And dizzy, so dizzy. It was time to see Stand-In Doctor number Two. It had morphed from the flu into a lung infection and this time I was sent home with the requisite drugs after I demeaned myself by kissing SID#2's feet and offering my first born.

I slept. And slept. And just when I thought that the Sandman would surely desert me for someone with better breath, I slept some more. And, though I'm still not bouncing off the walls in typical Tiffany-fashion, I did manage to drag my sorry ass in to work this week.

But I've gotten a rare and minute glimpse into the hell that people with lung problems must have. I Couldn't Breathe. Is there anything scarier? The slightest of physical exertion would wind me. I didn't even have the strength to put my garden in this weekend and there is little that I enjoy more. Wearing a bra, an unfortunate requisite of working in an office and being BoobEd, has been somewhat restricting. But the pure and utter panic of not being able to breathe...the feeling that I can't get enough oxygen when I'm simply walking...it has reminded me how human I am. Somewhat ironic, isn't it, considering the whole chronic disease thing? Funny how something pretty damn significant can also be so mundane....

And yet, it's times like these that remind me of how far we've come, and how lucky I am to have access to technologies that I couldn't even have imagined 18 years ago. My pump and CGMS kept me out of the hospital last week, and I am extremely grateful for that because I Hate. Hate. HATE. hospitals. Without my trusty smoke sidekick that let me temp basals, without the CGMS (our relationship will hit three years on June 2!) that warned me when I needed to bolus Right Now or when I Had to choke down some Ginger Ale, I probably would've ended up in a hospital bed.

Puking into bed pans. Can we imagine anything more fun?

Next time, somebody just flay me to death with a wet noodle, wouldja?

*I just admitted one of my biggest secret to the internets. I have officially come out of the closet. Though not my favourite of sagas, he's extra smoking hot. And apparently my libido will not be stopped even by near-death experiences.

Eighteen Years

18 years.

Today.

I'm not sure why this year is different. Or if it even is. All I know is that this year the anniversary of my 18th year with Type 1 diabetes didn't pass quietly. This year it was remarkable, whereas each year leading to now I've gotten through April 23rd without even realizing the significance of the day.

And now I'm wondering at its significance.

Why do we 'celebrate' or commemorate or even keep a mental reminder of the date of our diagnosis? Unlike birthdays or marriage anniversaries, the date of diagnosis is not a happy day. For me, it was an awful day; the skies were not blue, the sun was not shining, and though I received gifts, I could well have done without them. Sure, the following days had some fun mixed in - sitting on my bed with Mom, sucking water into syringes and shooting it at unsuspecting passing nurses (instead of injecting the practice oranges, we ate them). Making a parrot that I named Kira, in honour of my little roomie, watching Disney movies and Eating. In Bed.

But April the 23rd itself was tears. From the skies, as though the grey clouds cried in sympathy, and from me, in the car on the way to the hospital as I tried to understand my life. Life. You know, I had to ask my Mom what date I'd been officially diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. That was a few years ago, after which I proceeded to forget again. If she hadn't made an offhand remark this week after I mentioned that Moo is turning 4 on April 22 ("that's the day after the date you were diagnosed") I'd have erroneously written April 28 in this post.

Would it have mattered?

Every year is another year that I've grabbed my Type 1 diabetes by the tail and kicked it's ass. I have always tried my best, and when that wasn't enough, I tried harder. And I've always succeeded. I could care less what the exact date is - but ask me what year, and I will tell you proudly.

Eighteen.

Today is April 23rd and I have been Type 1 diabetic for Eighteen years. I am healthy and have no related complications.

And tomorrow I'll be a healthy, complication-free Type 1 diabetic for Eighteen years.

And one day.

Comedy of Errors

During a lunch hour, a co-worker and I went shopping. Technically, she went shopping - I went along for the ride. Any excuse to leave the office for an hour!

 

Ye old trusty CGMS warned me before leaving that my BG was slowly dropping, one arrow pointing down towards 4.0 mmol, which led to a 30 minute temporary decreased basal. An almost faultless fix-all.

 

It should've worked. But the best laid plans....

 

We were in London Drugs when the pump cop started blaring: BEEP Beep beep. 3.6 mmol and dropping fast. Two arrows down on a roller coaster of spaghetti legs. I opened up my purse and dunh dunh dunh duuuuuuuu-OH - glucose tablet tube empty. For the first time in I don't know how many years, I had no glucose tabs (Idiot).

 

Luckily, I (Idiot) was saved by the juice cooler sitting at the checkout registers. I grabbed a grape juice and drank it as I stood in line, *Gulp* rationalizing that even though I hadn't paid for it yet, it better mine then I fall anywhere. Right? *Gulp*

 

(F&*# when is this stuff gonna kick in)

 

I paid. I stumbled over my tongue and my feet. *Gulp* I dropped my shopping bag and in a hypo-induced fog, leaned over to pick it up from the floor....... 

 

.......and proceeded to dump something liquid all over. After which I stood up, looking at the bag in my right hand, and wondering what on earth had leaked from my shopping bag. I mean, honestly, there isn't even anything containing fluid in there!

 

Ish thish a trick?

 

I actually walked away. I could feel my blood sugar rising and my brain clearing, but it wasn't until I was outside, drinking the remaining dregs of juice, that logic snapped the pieces together in my brain.

 

The cap was off the juice when I leaned over. And I had walked away in a daze, leaving the girl at the register to clean up after me as the other customers gave me strange looks.

 

Right.

 

I think there's a blonde joke in here somewhere...

Sharing The Burden: Married To A Type 1 Diabetic

When I was a child, my mom used to tell me that being the loved one of a type 1 diabetic is harder than being the diabetic. Most times, I think she's right. Nobody understands me quite so well as my type 1 diabetic friends; they know the spaghetti-legs of lows and the Hyperphobia of highs. Family, friends, past boyfriends...all are on the outside looking in - and I have no idea how that feels.

But Laurie does, and she posted the following in response to Linda's Story:

I have been married to a type 1 diabetic for 32 years. He does not take good care of himself and I know more about diabetes than he does. I have read the books, he has not and will not read even one of them. 5 years ago, he was very sick and almost died dr.'s could not find out what was wrong, finally they found out he has gastroparesis and he had to get a gastric pacemaker put in his stomach to help digest his food. This is common in diabetics.
So if any of your diabetics are vomiting uncontrollably, and can't keep food down it is probably gastroparesis. He has been in and out of the hospital so many times that I have lost count. We had a home that we built and lived in for 14 years on 3 acres but we lost it, because of hospital bills, and him not being able to work. I can't tell all of you how important it is to take care or your diabetes! My husband fights me when I ask him to do his test, or eat when I know he needs to. It is a constant battle to keep him half way healthy and it is about to do me in. I am depressed because of it and don't care much about myself. I have told him for so many years that it is bad that he has diabetes, but he is also lucky that he does not have a disease like cancer, that he has NO control over! He can control his diabetes, especially if he would take good care of himself!
Linda, I know exactly how you feel! I/we can't go on a trip or a weekend away, if I go away for the afternoon, he will go work in the yard and not stop to eat and he will have a sugar low. If we go on a trip he will more than likely end up in the hospital, I don't know why? I is something about going away?
I have called from a store and had to rush home to find him doing flip flops on the front porch with his sugars at 37!
With what I have gone through with this man, I would guess that it has taken a good 10 to 20 years off of my life and it just keeps on going as of yesterday when he had a low of 40 because I wasn't home for 2 hours while I went to the grocery store and he couldn't take the time to get himself some lunch! He scared our 14 year old daughter half to death and I almost got in an accident driving about 80 mph to get home.
OK, I am done complaining, I wish so bad that I knew a way to get him to take care of himself? I have tried everything I can think of. I don't know what to do.
Thanks for listening. Lauri

Lauri, thank you so much for sharing your story. And please, remember to take care of you.

Comments, as always, are open.

Pimp My Pump

Just after Christmas I had to buy my very first box of glucose sensors. Well, not my very first box considering I've been using the Paradigm RT for almost three years; but the very first box that I've actually had to pay for myself. My insurance reimbursed me for 80% - it was a hard thing to swallow since I'm used to having them covered direct at 100%.

So I decided to buy myself a little apres-Christmas present for being such a good girl all year (what Santa doesn't know won't hurt him, I always say).

Pimp My Pump

A little Hawaiian flavour for my plain old grey pump. I've been impressed by how nice the skin looks - not cheap or phony - and how well it's standing up to daily wear. It was also a cinch to put on!

I'm even considering buying another one...maybe the bubble skin. Though it's so girly that I'd have to give it the title of prom queen rather than a pimp job...

Of course, given that I will likely have a new pump shortly I may have to do a little gender reassignment which gives me the opportunity for a cool new skin. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention, I am in the hellishprocessinwhichtheinsurancecompanywantsmyfirstborn process of getting a new pump to replace good old Mad Max (the cross-dresser) who has been out of warranty for two years-ish and decided to up and die on me one night when I was changing batteries.... Fortunately, a new battery cap fixed that problem, but practicality insists that it's time to get a new pump with a spanky new warranty. Just. In. Case. Unfortunately, word on the streets is my insurance company will only pay 80% of reasonable costs of the new pump. Leaving me to foot the bill for about $1400.

To make matters worse, my Minilink is officially kicking the bucket after an astonishing 21 months of continuous use (the longest I didn't wear it was ten days). The test plug ISIG value tonight was 190 point something. They call this Bad Timing. Because according to my insurance company, that little piece of technology that I rely on so much, that has saved my butt more times than I can even remember over the past three years, is not a reasonable cost. They are immovable. We tried. Others have tried before us. We are all big fat failures. Medtronic of Canada will give me a new transmitter with the purchase of a box of four sensors. For half the price. $350. Gah. And we mustn't forget the 20% I'll have to pay for that box of sensors. Gah Gah. Oh, and the $50 I pay into that benefit plan every month. Gah Gah Gah.

But life is not only about insulin pumps and rotten insurance plans - it's also about the tires that I have to purchase in the spring when I take my winter treads off, the money I'm trying to save for a downpayment for a house, the increasing and disgusting price of groceries, vet bills and car payments and mortgages and possible second jobs and blah-de-blah-blah. It's also the package that I received from the Alberta Diabetes Institute for the Edmonton Protocol that I opened, read through, and have not looked at since. I have a strange mental aversion to the whole thing right now and am playing the avoidance game.

The winter blues have hit me extra hard this year, leaving behind a whiny, motivation-lacking downer of a lifeless pessimist in place. Since that all means I'm even more bitchy than normal, there will be no apologies.

Instead, a gratuitous dog picture will follow. Because even through all of this, I must remember to smile.

Border Collies To The Rescue!

No Words Necessary

Nothing to Lose

Well, I did it. Today I called the Alberta Diabetes Institute and spoke to an extremely helpful woman about The Edmonton Protocol and the broadcast done by Dr. Shapiro.

I want to have my own child (or children), and that in itself is pretty much the deciding factor as it is a cardinal rule that pregnancy after the islet cell transplant is Not Allowed. In fact, even males who've received the transplant and are on immunosuppressants should not procreate.

Yep, knew all that. Surprisingly, though, the extremely helpful woman suggested - even urged - that I fill out an application, complete the necessary twelve-steps-of-hell (AKA GP visit and labwork and questionnaires and blood glucose documentation) and come in for an assessment. Make the time to talk to the experts, no commitment required, and it gets me in their system should I decide to take the plunge in the future. At least this way I'd be making an informed decision rather than just an emotional one.

So an application package is on the way to my house.

And my Mom (those of you who've read my previous posts about her will appreciate this) has made a point of mentioning to me, twice, that there are lots of babies who are looking for parents.

She wants me to be as healthy as I can be (weighing in all risks involved) for a hundred years or more.

Or maybe she's just getting too old to run....

...Nah.

The Edmonton Protocol - Looking for Patients

I said "Jeez", out loud, while I was watching it.

A newscast with Dr. James Shapiro, the Director of the clinical islet transplant program here in Edmonton. An announcement on the Alberta Diabetes Institute website on December 1st, that the project is in need of more patients.

And hearing Dr. Shapiro himself say that they've relaxed the requirements for acceptance into the program. One Low. In the past year.

Jeez.

I'm sure you can imagine what has been stewing in my head since I first watched the broadcast. Have I had one low in the past year?

Um, yeah. Hell yeah.

But the bigger question is: do I want to trade the risks of well-controlled Type 1 Diabetes in for the possible risks of the transplant and side effects of immunosuppressant drugs?

I don't know. Which is why I haven't made the call. Part of me is screaming "Go For It!" What's the harm in trying, right? I might not even be accepted. But the other part of me is Scared, and that part has stopped me from reaching for the phone. I can't even remember life without diabetes, it's what I know.....and trading that in for the scary-what-if-of-rejectioninfectionliverproblems is, well, scary.

What would you do?

Have a look at the newscast by clicking this link: Interview with James Shapiro

The Lengthy Post That Cost $35.80

Hello, internets.

It's been over four months since this blog last saw anything resembling a post. There are three half finished musings just waiting to be deleted. I was even considering using Typepad's "Feature a Post" option to make it look like I'd written something. Nobody would notice that I'd dragged an oldie out, dusted it off and stuck it back up at the top of this blog...right? But Candid Diabetes is, first and foremost, for myself and so here I am typing like a fiend while my school work lies dormant. Go slackers of the world!

So much has been going on of the nouveau sort that I don't even know where to start. Or what to tell without turning this into a 411,000 word essay. I guess the beginning (or the end, if you take my last post into account) is as good a place as any...

But first, a well deserved kudos to my pump and CGMS. I wore a sensor during my Florida getaway and it saved my butt numerous times. While walking around parks and attractions all day it helped me to anticipate lows and prevent them. I didn't have one single hyperglycemic episode. The sensor was on and transmitting BG's to my pump during the flight there and back, and my pump got the full force of water from Shamu's splashing tail (the resulting tide wave fried my sister's camera!) and kept on ticking. I swam for a full day with my trusty Paradigm RT, maintained level BG's in spite of the horrible foods I ate as well as the lack of regular meals (I admit, I even had some cotton candy, for the first time in almost 20 years), and I didn't have to worry about stopping every few hours to bleed the finger. The CGMS really helped to make my vacation about seeing and doing things with my sister, without having to worry about Diabetes intruding and getting in the way of fun! And, of course, I could never even imagine going back to shots, especially having to shoot up during that much activity!!

Florida. The vacation hot spot. And I mean, hot. During the almost-week that we were there, it reached 104F. One Hundred and FOUR. Fahrenheit. That's 40 degrees Celsius. Forty. The only forty my body has ever seen has come after a minus sign. And the humidity...my sinuses thrived and my lungs went into shock as soon as I stepped off the plane. Humidity for Albertans is a machine that you plug into the wall when you have a cold. Though I did get used to it, for the first several hours or so the air felt tangibly viscous and seemed to require extra breathing force from my lungs. I won't go into much detail as I think that each day during my vacation would probably require its own post, but I will post a few pictures!

Cinderella's Castle

Day 1: Disney World. Though I love Disney Cartoons (Finding Nemo is one of my all-time fave movies) I wasn't expecting to enjoy Disney as much as I did. Splash Mountain was my favourite ride, and I even shelled out $60 USD for the photo of the last plunge (during which I look rather constipated) and a fancy themed frame. Second in line was Space Mountain. A rollercoaster in the dark. No big loop-de-loops or anything horribly terrifying...except you have no idea when the next turn is coming. Fantastic. The Haunted House was a blast as well and I only wish that I'd been able to take pictures of the ghosts in the dining room. But what amazed me most was how clean it is, and how it really does seem like you're stepping into Mickey's house or walking through a town right out of the cartoons. Thanks to my forgetting the bottle of sunscreen in the hotel room (and having some delusion that my pale, redheaded complexion would weather under the blistering - and I literally mean blistering - sun) one of my first souvenirs was a sunburn of epic proportions.
In the evening, we went to downtown Disney and had dinner with a member from Insulin Pump Forums. I have to say, this was one of the neatest parts of the whole week! We talked pumps, CGMS's and Diabetes, and just got to know one another. After dinner, we walked through the shops looking for a souvenir for one of my girlfriends children (a "My First Mickey T-Shirt" t-shirt!). I wish we could've met up again during another day, as I was tired, jet-lagged and sun-burnt and likely didn't make for a very entertaining new friend! Now, if she likes bright red Zombies.....

Day 2: Discovery Cove. This was, flat out, the best day that I've had in years, and it fulfilled a lifelong dream. We swam with dolphins, waded in a huge pool while Rays glided through the water all around us, snorkeled in a man-made reef, took ridiculous underwater pictures of eachother with our top lips pushed out thanks to the masks...it was expensive, and worth every single penny. I could've gone there every day; in fact, if I lived in Florida I'd probably go there every year!

Day 3 was Seaworld Aquatica and shopping. We drove, and drove, and drove. Frankly, I don't understand the freeways down there - even with a GPS I missed a turn-off not once, but THREE times. Seriously. The names of the freeways just don't make sense. Oh, and what is with the having to pay for gas before you fill up the tank?!? Uhhhh???

Seaworld was next. I loved the belt through the glass aquariums, fish above, beside, all around. The Shamu show was not for me, but the penguins were a blast - and small enough to fit in my carry-on!

Rhino's on the Serengeti

Last but not least, Day 5 was Busch Gardens. Two words: Awe. Some. I am a rollercoaster junkie, and that place had the best coasters I've ever been on!The lineups for rides were brutal (we waited in one for almost two hours!) and the Serengeti Plain was amazing. At one point during our ride on the railway (immediately prior to the picture on the right, in fact) two rhino's ran right in front of the train, so close that I thought they would collide! Fortunately, there were no injuries - and we got some pretty cool close-ups!

After a ten hour trip (thanks to two lay-overs) we made it home, both my sister and I generally sick of each others company. I was glad to be home, to my dogs and my house and the everyday parts of living.

For the past two years I've been looking into and talking about putting myself and Miz Moo, the uber-Border Collie, into herding lessons. And for the past two years I have not had the resources or time to even just get started, let alone dedicate myself to it. So it was the best surprise when my mom (who is the one I've talked to about the lessons the most) went behind my back and, as a birthday present, set up and paid for a first lesson with a semi-local trainer in July. We drove an hour and a half to get to the trainers farm and spent four hours working with him. I forgot my camera because, well, I'm like that. Erg. When she went in the pen with the sheep, it was one of those moments when I wished so badly that I could conjure up a camera (oh, and I most conveniently forgot the camera in my cell phone - DOH!) I would've given my pancreas for it! Since I know that 90% of the world goes into a coma when I talk about herding and sheep and stockdog training, I'll keep this one short. OK, semi short.

Moo and the Boo

Mollie, Ken (our trainer) and I went into a large pen with about a dozen head of sheep. At his request, I let Mollie off of the lead and Ken told me to walk towards the flock to get her attention on them. For the first thirty seconds or so, everything else was more interesting, particularly the sheep poop. I pointed towards the flock and said "Go get the sheep Mollie" and off she went, bark bark bark barking behind them. Until the sheep, as a unit, turned towards Ken and I. [Side Bar: Mom goes dashing for the fence to our laughter - it's a little hard for me to be intimidated by sheep after five green-broke horses have raced head on towards you for years lol) I've read about the 'click'. I've heard others describe the click. (If you don't know what the click is, it's that moment when instinct 'kicks' in and seems to take over body and mind of a stockdog) But man, it was nothing like seeing it. A.Maz.Ing. It was so apparent that I could almost hear it happen: "Hey You," said instinct, "Click!" Mollie stopped barking and suddenly she was a 30lb bullet of instinct, tail tucked down, head held low between her withers, Border Collie crouching like a champ. Two of the sheep wandered off from the main group and she ran over to them and drove them back into the flock. She seemed to instinctively know how to circle the flock and drive them towards Ken and I, as he pointed out to me. She has it. We've only been back four times, and while I find it difficult to maintain scheduled lessons (the travel time means I am restricted to weekends, and it's an expensive venture) I'm hoping to be able to go to the lessons on a weekly basis so that we can continue to learn and improve. Who knows, maybe one day you will see us on your TV...in the meantime, I keep trying not to forget my camera and failing miserably. Dammit.

(Oh, and the picture is the result of a frustratingly incompetent vet; the initial training visit caused Mollie's pads to peel - which is apparently quite normal and which I didn't even know could occur - I thought her pad had been cut by something. The vet didn't even check her other feet and charged me $10 for the trendy, cute orange bandage with it's little OUCH and flower. When I got her home I inspected all feet, noticed peeling on both front pads, consulted the experts on a stockdog forum I belong to, and learned that I'd wasted $45 on a vet visit. Le Sigh)

And in other news:

I'm starting another blog. My brain is intermittently shrieking "what are you thinking?!? and "ooh fun!" Either I'm psychotic or a sucker for punishment because seriously, I do not have time for this. But listen, this new blog is about my dogs. YeeAH, FUN! And I really want to use it to track my development, as well as Mollie's, with the herding training - that is, if I can ever get it up and running. If you want to see our lack of progress on the new blog so far, have a look at this link: On The Borders of Insanity. The scant three pictures and the links are at least worth the visit!

The weight is still a problem, and in fact has become an ever increasing problem. (Pun intended!) For the first time in my life, I'm actually having to think the word "Diet". What's worse is that the D word is sometimes proceeded by "fad" in my thoughts. I don't do gyms, never have, never needed to - I've always been active, eaten healthy and haven't needed what I like to call 'organized exercise' in the past. I was looking at elliptical trainers on the Sears website a few weekends ago and pricing out Jenny Craig (kill me, now please). That's how badly I've let things get out of control. The Diabetic diet that I self-prescribed some eight (!! How can that be??) months ago died a quick and quiet death that began at the end of May and slipped out of existence not long afterward. I haven't done Pilates since July. I'm still walking every day, but now I'm fighting the deadline for my University course and have cut the walk time to under an hour. I am proud to say that I have vastly improved my eating habits and am enjoying salads, lean meats and healthy home cooked food again, but I know that I've got a lot more work to do.

I am looking into getting back with a riding stable and riding once a week. The cost is rather prohibitive right now as I'd also like to incorporate private lessons, but it's a short-term goal which is being worked into the finances. Oh, I also started going to a Massage Therapist several months ago due to stress headaches (thanks, job) and let me tell you, I wish I'd done it years ago! I'm also considering taking a dog obedience training certification course once the current University course is finished. (again, sucker for punishment)

I'd like to say that's a wrap for the new and current news, but it's not. Lucky for you, I'm wrapping this post up because it's 1:32 am on Saturday morning and I have to go to work in about five hours to put in some overtime and hit all of those things that I haven't had any spare time for (thanks again, job).

But first, a quick question: Does anybody own a Sony Cybershot DSC-S600? I've had mine for about three years and lately it's been a real pain in my butt. It powers off for no reason and then often won't turn on again without my hitting the power button repeatedly. The built-in lens cover sometimes sticks and I have to fiddle with it to get it working. I replaced the batteries, then when that didn't work I bought some Energizer Lithium's and that didn't help. Anybody have any idea what is happening here? Is it on the way to camera heaven? Should I just bite the bullet and buy a new one? And if I should, any recommendations?

Outside the Box

Tomorrow, at about 2 p.m., I'll be stepping onto a plane and flying outside of my country for the first time in my life.

My bags are not packed. I honestly had to check the calendar because I was shocked that it's already Monday, the day before Tuesday. Eep. Still, I am ready to go. I've stocked the requisite pump and diabetes supplies, gathered together prescriptions, tucked my Passport with it's Oh-God-I-Look-Stoned picture into the travel-slash-carry bag I purchased, loaded up my iPod for the flight, and got myself some genuuuwine ugly american money to spend while I am sunning and funning in Florida. 

Thirty-six hours to get it all together. I know that I'm going to forget something because hey, I'm like that. No matter how many lists I check off, I'll leave behind my toothbrush or deodorant or, God forbid, my digital camera. I have plans for that camera!

We are doing Disneyworld on Wednesday, capped off most awesomely by a meet with a member from the forums over dinner and drinks. How cool is that? (on a side note, every time I say 'cool' or 'awesome' or the like, I wonder if those terms are totally passe and I've become my mother LOL) Thursday is Discovery Cove (because I've always always wanted to swim with Dolphins! Mental Note: Don't Forget the Camera Tiffany!), Friday is Seaworld and Saturday is Busch Gardens. Oh, and we're going to try to get some shopping in during all that.

After which, I'll probably need a post-holiday holiday to recuperate.

But I've been work/stress free for the past two days, and I've got another seven days of bliss to go.

Bring it on.