Pump transitions, and insurance things- ANGSTY ISSUES

At the end of Sept. 2011 (about 3.5 months into my pump infusion transition) I went for another doctor consultation and HBa1c test. I was irate to learn I reached an 8.6; a reading higher than I’ve had since 1995. (Picture angry Hemme tantrum here.)



I sat in a medical office chair wondering why I had shelled out so much money for a pump, spent so much time and money for extra medical visits, given so much energy to convince myself that this change would make me better. Fighting back tears, and a sense of helplessness; I counted down backwards from twenty to fight off an in office tantrum.  I wanted to THROW things, to cry hysterically and most of all I wanted to NOT FEEL what I was feeling!  I just want to be OVER F'N DIABETES, to be OVER this constant vigil already.


It is so frustrating to try to improve your glucose control, only to have a test show you...oh, you were better off before you did ALL THIS WORK!

The people I am paying to help me improve keep telling me the pump will make things better, and I hear it and believe it, but have yet to realize it and the tension is mounting inside me.  It is likely that my feelings are adding stress only compounding my glucose control problems, but even that acknowledgment doesn't make it any easier.  At least my new gym has a punching bag, I like the punching bag....punching is GOOD. 

I just want to realize some success, I want to see a return on investment, but my pump investment seems to reflect my stock portfolio right now……..it doesn’t look so good.


I show up at Endo appointments hoping for new information, guidance, some epiphany, and try to ignore my belief that I already know whatever it is they can say……I still believe I know more about type 1 Diabetes than any practitioner I’ve ever encountered; outside of Dr. Richard Mauseth that I worked with as a child.  (He made me the know it all I am now...lol)

I am frustrated with practitioners that keep telling me to dose up more insulin which makes me eat more as well as have more frequent lows, and then I don’t work out as much; I would be 250lbs if I dosed the way a couple practitioners have suggested I try.  The funny thing is, the more insulin I give the higher my HBa1c goes because I am bouncing around even more than I did when I was skimping on my insulin.  I wish that doctors would suggest more exercise rather than more insulin when it comes to hyperglycemic issues with me.  I don't know if I am missing something or the advisers are or...it's all just a gamble as I've tried to explain insulin dosing before.

I wouldn't feel like I was wasting money on doctor consultations if I could get the sense a doctor was trying to understand me, and could relate to how hard my battle is.  I think my greatest frustration is the patronizing talk (or at least perceived patronizing talk) I get during a Doctor consultation....."Do you know how to count carbs?  Do you think your insulin sensitivity ratio is right?"  Of course I KNOW HOW to count carbs, and maybe I could focus harder on my sensitivity ratio, but I want a Doctor to look at me and say, "Okay, you're SCREWING UP real bad, do something or die.." 

Maybe try acknowledging the successes I have in making it this long with Diabetes, and then whip me for not doing what is expected.  My greatest frustration is the awkward encounter I have with a doctor when I explain to them how uber sensitive to insulin and stress my body is, how diabetes impacts mental health and how my anxieties are impacting my control, how a lot of Diabetics don't sleep well (me especially), how TIRED sick people are of being SICK and being patronized by people that are more focused on money than our health.

This dis-ease impacts every aspect of someone’s life, and it needs a holistic treatment approach.  I am frustrated by a medical world that wants to isolate Diabetes care from general care. I am supposed to see one doctor for primary care issues, another doctor for Diabetes issues, been suggested to see a psychiatrist for mental issues and heaven forbid you have a complication and need a nephrologist for kidney issues or an ophthalmologist for Diabetic retinopathy. ARGHHHHHH!!! Just shoot me already. Nobody has the time or energy to live healthy in this country, it is just SILLY!  I should be able to get a pap smear, get meds for a cold AND get Diabetes care from one doctor, or at least in one medical office during the same appointment.


The US med system has made things into silos, for money issues. I am ranting here because IT IS SO FRUSTRATING. I don’t expect to change things, but just want to document what it is that makes me SO DAMN ANGSTY!!

Oh, and as a lovely bonus, I got new insurance this year so I will have to max out a deductible AGAIN!  Yeah, 2011 is gonna be a BIG SPENDA med wise, which is just adding to my pissy tude about all the changes.  ROOOOOAAAARRRRHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Now that I got that out, I feel a little better.  Glucose reading is 156, we're (pissy Sarah & happy Sarah) okay.

The angst of weight gain and insulin management

The issue of weight is often in the thoughts of those around me.  Especially my female friends spend hours watching it, obsessing over it and diligently managing it; plenty of guys I know do too. My brother in law has commented that, "Americans behave as if having fat is a sin, something so deplorable it shouldn’t be done." He speaks Spanish as his first language so his statements often translate somewhat dramatically in English. Yet, his comment is very on point when I reflect on my friend's beliefs and our media messages.


Type 2 Diabetes is a North American epidemic, Canadians and US citizens especially in colder climates are not only obese, but many are approaching morbidly obese body index rates. “Morbidly obese”, how could being this not be a sin, it sounds TERRIBLE. I’m aware that there are many folks that might be approaching “obese” per medical charts, but their cholesterol, blood pressure and other health measures are otherwise normal or healthy. Yet, our media and much of our culture seems to want to send the message that we all should be jiggle free. Then again, is that just what me and many of my women friends perceive due to our own predispositions?!

Either way, I’m currently pretty embarrassed about my body mass index, weight and reduced muscle tone. I’m more embarrassed about this physical failing than a number of other things I could be ashamed about, i.e. rising HBA1C tests or higher cholesterol.  I may be more aware of these issues with my Diabetes, but I know this obsession is shared by many folks...with or without a chronic challenge.


I’ve known several T1 Diabetic men and women that have quit taking their insulin for brief periods. Some were trying drastic measures to see if they could live without it, and some were taking huge risks to drop weight. Without insulin to convert your food to energy then fat, your body will certainly drop some pounds while pumping acid through your blood. It’s an effective method, but certainly not a smart thing to do for any length of time. Diabetes and eating disorders are inevitably linked, as a kid you’re told carbs make your blood sugar high; your perception is that food is your enemy much of the time. (See, I have very good reason for being so anxiety ridden…this was tough growing up with.) I would guess that most T1 females dealt with a bout of what is called Diabulimia. Some eat and then puke, and some chew on food for a few moments to taste it and never swallow it, or others decide to not give insulin.  I've read about a couple teenager girls that died from diabetic ketoacidosis after skipping their insulin too often to lose weight.  This disorder is more risky than one might think, and the variations on insulin and eating disorders can be pretty extreme in the teen years and well into adulthood.  (Keep a close eye on your teens, and if you think they're lying about what they eat....they likely are.)  There is a book about Diabetes and eating disorders written by Maryjeanne Hunt that is a very good read, and will provide insight on how to turn your Diabetic loved ones on to fitness as a coping method (T1 Diabetes focused, more than T2).

I thought that going on the pump might help me lose weight after I had put on quite a few pounds while taking Lantus and Humalog. Well, perhaps the freedom to eat more easily on the pump resulted in the weight gain, or my sugars are lower all the time and I’m gaining weight due to that. In the 2 months of pump therapy I climbed about 6 pounds, I was horrified! Now in the third month, I’ve decided to give up one of my best friends, beer, and have been jumping on my home elliptical machine a minimum of 2 miles a day. I’m back down 4 pounds, and am seeing more muscle so feeling better. What is a challenge now is that I started seeing some lows when I workout hard, doing 4 or more miles. I start messing with my basal rates, and DOAH, the blood sugars do start bouncing back up. I find it so crazy how some days I need a ton more insulin, and others very little and I can’t really make any sense of it or identify patterns (well, monthly cycles are the one exception, massive insulin needed during those swings)….I feel like taking insulin can be like gambling; it's just luck sometimes.


Whether or not chubbiness is good or bad, I’m not happy with it and I'm about to commit to a 6 week long fitness challenge. Fortunately, it starts right after I get back from vacation so I should be all fat and happy as I start it. No diabulimia for me!! I'm going to do tons of cardio, make healthy choices and I’ll keep working with the pump to dial up the right amount of insulin to keep my sugars level and rebuild lost muscles.  My challenge starts October 10th at Freedom Fitness in Burien, anyone else in?

TSA patdowns, and longing for pump breaks

I have had a couple trips to Phoenix, AZ during August as a result of landing a new job.  (Picture me doing goofy endzone celebration dance celebrating that I finally found an awesome firm to join, and am feeling the support of a sound infrastructure to enable me to better serve clients.)  It's been a very exciting end to summer 2011, and if it weren't for the 10lbs I packed on I'd probably be angst free at least until the fall rains come.

As a result of wearing my pump through security, I have had TSA guards coppin feels.  Even though the device doesn't trigger the metal alarm, the pager look-alike triggers much suspicion.  Maybe, just maybe this chubby white girl is carrying a bomb with a tiny tube that goes to her belly, and she is going to blow up her belly and the plane.  Sure, I'd love to blow some fat away, but I'm not your suicide bomber.  I really do wish TSA wouldn't have to be so damned politically correct, and COULD racially and/or demographically profile the folks that are actually a threat.  I don't buy into this bull shit that EVERYONE is a threat to our flights.  No, no, no...there is a very specific subset of the population that is likely to blow themselves up with a plane.  Your frequent business flyer is not part of this subset.  Yes, I'm annoyed that my pump is triggering this slowdown, but even more annoyed that I have to undress and pull out my laptop for this waste of time procedure in the first place.  I don't feel any safer, but I suppose I should be glad that the useless jobs are employing folks.

On a less angsty note, this last weekend the sun showed bright in Seattle and the temperatures rose.  I headed east to Lake Kachess, and went up to Box Canyon Creek for some swimming.  I decided to take some Lantus long acting insulin, and not wear my pump for about 8 hours.  There is some concern that river water could get into the port and cause infections so I had a good reason to choose not to infuse.  When I detached for a few hours, and got to wear my bathing suit without the port I realized how much I was resenting having to wear the thing. 

I am starting to see some improvements in control with the clunky device, but the annoyance of the size of the machine and the itching from the tape and port is causing me to long for breaks.  I suppose the one benefit of having health challenges in life is that they make you REALLY appreciate the most simple moments of feeling okay, and being machine free, even if only for a couple hours.

Yeah, I am doing injections when I go to Maui for sure, the pump is staying home.....no TSA pat down, or open port holes in the ocean, on that trip.

That noise is ME, not my pump...I'm an engine reving up more bravery

It’s been said before, the bravest thing you can do when you are not brave, is to profess courage and act accordingly.  In other words, fake it until you make it.

Ever hear those sales pitches when someone says, “I’m going to give 110%!”?!  It’s one of those so fake over promising lines, but it makes us feel GOOD. 

If we’re talking revenue streams, billable hours, or return on investment……..110% is something that only happens after multiple glasses of wine or cocktails.  When I think of examples of when I’ve heard this line, it is reality television involving Donald Trump or the Bachelor series….a whole lot of bull shit.  I've had a doctor tell me once that living with Diabetes requires people to give 110%.

So many folks over-promise, and under-deliver.  Presidential candidates are a perfect example, but that discussion is beyond the scope of this rant.  This rant is about my promising to take better care of myself, to give 110% or even 75% to my health while I give more than 50% to other areas of my life that are more pleasant.

I’ve already professed my aversion to changing from injection insulin therapy to pump infusion.  The battle inside my head, body and soul I could only attempt to put to words, but the angst, excitement and hope I felt really can’t be expressed.  Most of you read my attempt to feign excitement for the change; while I was internally NOT WANTING TO HAVE TO DO ANYTHING, and hoping this malfunction in my body would go away already.

I keep waking up, and each day I’m still a T1 Diabetic.  Every day, all damn day, despite all physical and spiritual endeavors to alleviate being sick……after healing books I’ve read, spiritual healing pursued, Reiki treatments channeling healing energy taken, back adjustments received, as well as attempts to exercise and not eat carbs, or way back expecting Jesus would take away my need for insulin.  Turns out no matter how much "faking" I attempt; I will ALWAYS need a shot or some infusion of insulin.  I take my need for insulin for granted, but try not to take life for granted.

Unfortunately, the line between gratitude for life and frustration toward the work to live gets blurred, and I grow so tired that my positive attitude flips to inconsolable anger.  Blessed are my acquaintances that see only the high energy exterior, cursed are those that get close to me and see the anger I’m giving 100% to hide, or erase and can't.

I’ve had a detachable organ for about a month now.  It is not the panacea I prayed for, but it is a change worth investing in.  Yes, I still must test my blood glucose levels.  Lately, more than I did in the past to deal with the transition to just fast acting insulin.  Internally I feel uneasy, and the anxiety is intensified. 

However, the change in therapy is making testing new and more interesting.  I’m always enthralled by the new and exciting; even if it has the darkest realities.  Turns out my blood sugar is unusually unpredictable, perhaps my blood sugars and indecisive nature somehow correlate.  All this new testing info is informative and scary.  I feel proud to be gathering it, but am also ridden with anxiety that my blood sugars are not PERFECT just like my other life project that I give my all to, my garden.

It is such a catch 22 to focus on Diabetes control only to realize you’re NOT IN CONTROL.  I am at a point where I’m succeeding at my career, paying my bills and then some, growing a great garden (with annoying perfection) as well as being a neighborhood volunteer, and none of it is giving me the satisfaction I seek….I still feel like I’m failing...at being happy, satisfied, or something....not even sure just what it is....but this haunting sense of failure is such a "monkey".  I'd have to give 120% to reach the level of perfection I want, but I'm starting to accept that may not be possible.

I feel overwhelmed and anxiety ridden so much of the time, but that is life dealing with illness…..you’re simply used to the one in a million negative thing happening to YOU or other people in your life that we spend time worrying about.

I have so many days when I test my sugars and see another high, and think I should be dead already.  I swallow thankfully saying I’m going to do better, I’m going to embrace and enjoy my life and live as long as I can.  Then my body sits down, I feel tired, and I feel the machine on my stomach and the awkward tubing….I know my soul is trying, and I wish my body would cooperate more often.

I feel thankful for the technology, but I am still resentful of the price and the hardship that it entails.  Reality is, I am just tired of needing the technology, but I still have some bravery left to keep faking that this SHIT doesn’t cause me so much angst.

As long as we are faking bravery, DAMMIT I will succeed because I am a HEMME; strong like the engine.

A trip to Maui in October will surely help fuel the engine to keep on going..... :)

Bionic Woman or Short Bus Special.....

I finally ordered an insulin pump.   I've been taking insulin since I was 5, sick since I was 3 or so, and I'm coming up on 34 and just now ordering a pump.  I feel excited and defeated. 

My indifference is robbing me of the joy of conviction in a decision once again.

I've been able to function on the cheap injection therapy for years, even hid the ailment from many people.  A pump is expensive, and personally invasive from my perspective.  I'm making this change because there are people that need me here, want me here, and I love life when I feel okay.  Just maybe the pump will make okay happen more of the time.

Change is hard, back to that feeling of defeat.  I have traveled much of the US for work, seen foreign beaches, and had a family (not technically mine, but mine).  Most would think that I am the QUEEN at coping with change, and unsual situations.  However, when it comes to my own health, I can be so unflexible it is just downright SILLY!  I don't know why I see this change as defeat, but it feels that way.  I'm willing to admit that I have never been one to process feelings quite so well.  (hahahha.....feelings.....catch me if you can.)

I watched this video recently that had this chick, Jony or Joni....she became paralyzed after a diving accident.  Instead of being sad and bitter she was talking about how she felt the power of God, and that God gave her the power to help others, do art with the strokes of a brush in her mouth, and wheel herself around in her chair.  She glowed in her chair, was beautiful even as she spoke of how much love she felt from God and how gracious God was.  (If she was on a pain-killer or antidepressant to help her cope, man on man, that ish is GOOD.)

I am an ASS, why am I not feeling this love and being as gracious as Joni?  Why can't I be thanking Jesus that I am healthy, defying previous predictions and have achieved nearly every goal I set for myself?!  I'm a selfish bitch, and am shamed by this chick, she is a SUPERwoman.  I may be a selfish ass, but I am humble with much admiration for the strength in a paralyzed woman that can go out and preach that there (still) is a loving God.

I may never have that kind of gratitude, or that faith, but I can appreciate it.

Pray for me to have the strength to embrace change.

Excessive Pits

I have lived a reasonably healthy and very successful life as a Type 1 Diabetic for 30 years now.  This is a prideful statement since I read that many T1 Diabetics last 25-30 years from diagnosis when I was 11.  (Casey Johnson, Betsy Arnst, Liz Rehn, and many other T1s that passed young…..your legacy is remembered.)

 I also had a couple doctors along the way talk to me as if I were a time bomb; my sense of mortality arrived before puberty.  The greatest tragedy is that I would have been a bigger success if I hadn’t lived in my cloud of doubt and fear…..not that it was only MY fear, the expressions I saw when I had to give a shot to eat were like a death sentence.

Type 1 Diabetes is a disorder that results after your own body decides to kill off pancreas cells that produce insulin.   My own body was self destructing, long before I could reason.  Insulin turns food into energy to live, laugh and love.  Those of us with T1 need pumps or shots to wake up each day.  If only taking the insulin was the end of it.  We also have to be conscious of everything we consume to ensure the insulin we take will convert it.  When we under-dose, we end up hyperglycemic feeling horrible.  When we overdose we are hypoglycemic feeling horrible.  As a Diabetic I would say that I am lucky to feel anything other than horrible 50% of the time.  I have felt tired, had headaches, or been nauseous most of my life.

In the last year I have learned that a friend’s 3 year old son was diagnosed T1, as well as another acquaintance’s 21 year old daughter met the same fate.  This auto-immune disorder can present at different phases, clearly some of us might have a better ability to fight the trigger illness that is the catalyst to developing T1.  As much as this saddens me, I am hopeful that some genius will isolate the stem cells that can survive the attack and we can all make some insulin again with stem cell plants.  Then again, perhaps we are playing god, and I should keep being thankful that technology can keep me feeling okay 50% of the time with injections.

Life is not a bowl of cherries, but life with Diabetes has excessive pits.

Alpha and Omega

The human condition, it is glorious as well as gloriously angst ridden.  We come into the world needing care, and excited family members & friends emphatically embrace us.  Then as we exit needing extensive care, and painful medical treatments, our dearest suffer as we slip away.  Hellos are so much more enjoyable than good-byes, oh the bitter-sweetness of being human. 

My father in law, almost 80 now, was skiing and playing tennis not long ago.  Right now, he rests while in pain in his bed waiting for a peaceful end to his fight with a rare infection, failing heart valve and organ function loss.  It is very unfortunate that as we age each ailment seems to have a domino effect leading to the next health challenge.

There is so much sadness in not being able to be by a loved one’s side when they pass, and yet, remembering them before their suffering may also be a relief.  My step-son that lost his real mom suddenly is very hurt not to be with his Grandpa, and this is breaking my heart too.  (Sighs) 

I try to use the cliché phrases about soon he will be free from pain, and this is for the best.  I do believe that the tears shed when someone in pain dies are for those of us that lost, not for the pained spirit freed.  Yet, there is little peace to be gained at this moment in the grief process.

Peace be with us all, and may my s-son have better coping mechanisms than I have.  J

I got my population communications inc request for money today, and...

I was watching Extreme Home Makeover the other night, and found myself annoyed.  My glass is half empty predilection demonstrates, again.  Instead of being moved by commercial kindness I’m irritated; first by the fact that 100 families could be helped rather than only 1 with the lavishness that is demonstrated in these shows.  And second, a sixteen year old advertising his film, titled “Never Say Never” as our media touts how tough fame is on him.

It’s not that the families that get these extreme  gifts don’t deserve them, but the extremeness of the handouts is almost as ridiculous as a 16 year old having a movie memoir about not saying never when he hasn’t lived a quarter of a life.  Maybe if you’re carrying HIV, and living in Africa, would such a memoir make sense, but here in the USA this movie, IMHO, is non sequitur.

I read today that the adoption of foreign children in the US has dropped 15%.  Granted, Brad and Angelina are allegedly having challenges, and for those of you only reading People magazine, the US economy is nearly in a Chinese toilet.  No one can afford the adoption fees, or the kids. 

Glass is half empty or not, we are not in a good place when over-privileged teenagers are making millions with bubble gum hip hop, and many Americans still can’t afford healthcare.   Add global warming worries, and over-population issues leading to a lack of water and food.  (Sighing with defeat…) Maybe having memoir books and movies before the age of 20 is not quite so damn non sequitur as I first thought.

Humans are breeding a new child every minute while food production drops, and the availability of fresh water declines.  If your glass is still half full, you’re drinking something other than water.

A few good romantic comedies

I'm watching the somewhat depressing movie "Full Frontal" today for the second time, and it is one that should only be watched once.  Although, the painfully realistic complex drama of people's lives falling apart and new relationships budding is making more sense the second round.  I appreciate the mental escape movies provide as well as the perspective.  This particular movie explores the human condition, the impact of pot brownies on humans and a canine, extra-marital affairs and the trauma of suicide.  It's an interesting story if you can handle a documentary on broken people, real people.  Directed by Steven Soderbergh. Starring David Duchovny, Nicky Katt, Catherine Keener as well as Julia Roberts.  A day in the life of a group of men and women in Hollywood, in the hours leading up to a friend's birthday party.  It is listed under romantic comedy, but it isn't until near the end that I have my first giggle. 

One of the best romantic comedies I've ever seen was "Closer".  I had kinky dreams with Clive Owen and Natalie Portman for weeks after watching this erotically charged flick.  The movie is a witty dangerous love story about chance meetings, instant attractions, and casual betrayals. Closer is director Mike Nichols' critically acclaimed look at four strangers - Julia Roberts, Jude Law, Natalie Portman and Clive Owen - with one thing in common: each other.  This movie is not for the naive romantic, it might break your heart.  Jude Law''s acting is good in the movie also, but my favorite Jude Law movie has to be Alfie.  The scenes with him and Sienna Miller are sexy, and disturbing.

Oddly enough, I also think the drama the "People vs. Larry Flynnt" with Woody Harrelson, Courtney Love and the very sexy Edward Norton belongs in the romantic comedy category.  Although Larry and his wife lived a very non-traditional life the movie portrayed that he loved his wife, and fought to make her last days as pleasant as possible.  Not exactly a good date movie, but an interesting film with odd perspective.

I acknowledge that truth can be stranger than fiction, and that is why escaping from reality with a movie can be such a nice release.

Time for popcorn with salt and butter, yum!  :)

Hedonism & the slippery slope of needing it to feel like the first time

There is a doctrine that happiness is the highest good, and hoards of folks will tell you only do something if it makes you happy.  Devoting oneself to pleasure as a way of life on its face seems human nature, but it is human nature that makes this lifestyle a slippery slope.  Don’t forget that debauchery is a synonym to hedonism, and self-denial is an antonym.

In high school I attended a health class where the teacher claimed that if you drink or smoke, you will likely try pot.  If you try pot, uppers in the form of your friend’s ADD meds or cocaine were likely next, and for you more extreme folks… heroine and meth would be the next stop.  She also claimed that those who drink too much are inclined to have casual sex.  I recall a fellow student saying, “Man, I gotta start drinking so I can sport fuck.”  So Tiger Woods is an alcoholic, right?!!!

In life there are lots of lines; between love & hate, bi-polar & sane, social drinker & alcoholic, playboy & sex addict.  I’m listening to Grandmaster Flash’s, “White lines”, yeah, those should be avoided too.   All these lines cause angst to someone you know.

I was about 12 when I attended my first funeral; a team-member from my speed skating team that had too much cocaine one night, and passed from a heart attack.  She was a very nice person that cut hair, and my mom recalled her saying that the skating team was so good because it kept the kids away from drugs.  Oh, the irony.  I’ve attended several other funerals (even was an alter girl at a couple); most of the deaths less dramatic natural causes, but at least three caused by drugs, alcohol, and/or suicide.

I have touted myself as a hedonist at different points in my life.  It seems to me that being happy should be our primary goal, but as I’ve aged I realize that the pursuit of happiness is also the source of much angst. (Spa visits with stellar massages excluded, of course.)

Even if you have no addictive tendencies, and have so much integrity that you will never cross certain lines….the pursuit of pleasure is a slippery slope and as we hear Foreigner singing, “It feels like the first time”, you know you’ll keep wanting something to feel like a first.  The thing about each adrenaline rush, new love, first buzz or other way one spanks their monkey to chase the blues away…all only cure boredom for a brief stint, some ups also result in extreme lows.  A hedonist, without any other purpose than feeling pleasure, goes chasing for the next up until they reach the edge.   Hunter S. Thompson wrote, “The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.” 

Hunter also wrote that only the good die young, and I have heard that he ended his life after learning he had cancer.  I think Hunter’s picture belongs in the dictionary next to the word Hedonist, and below his could be Tiger Woods.

Life is crazy, and if you find yourself living without purpose, selfishness then self-pity can swallow you. 

My mom is always reminding me that God has a purpose for us, well, I'm still waiting for him to whisper in my ear.  Our god-like Oprah, tells us that our purpose is to strive to be our authentic self.  Thankfully, I can recreate my authentic self, again and again….it can always be a first time.   I've been called the responsible black sheep, so it would seem I've kept my hedonistic spirit in check.

I will close with one more quote from Hunter:

"So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?"  

There is dad, and there is Dave.

The phone rings, and even before I look to see who is calling my stomach sinks knowing it isn’t going to be a call I want to take.  It’s mom, and she is fighting back tears as she tells me dad is being difficult, and asks can you and your sister make your way over.  Knowing that my dad is agitated in another manic spell I suggest everyone comes to my house, getting him out of the house may help lower his tension.

Before my parents arrive I clear glass objects away from where I plan on my dad sitting.  When my dad is manic his balance is off, his hands shake, and I call him Dave instead of my dad because he is another person.  Similar to an angry drunk, he becomes belligerent and mean.  My dad is commonly a very calm man that loves math, his kids and my mother.  Dave has a predilection for buying un-necessary things, and talking about separating from my mother as well as a myriad of other irrational ideas….

Dave walks in with balloons, and hefty collection of shopping bags.  I sigh knowing that some large discount booty is surely going to be gifted to me.  He mentions that he wants to have a party, but doesn’t yet tell us why.  He is pacing around my living room, I can see that my mom is exhausted, scared and the sorrow on her face lets me know he’s been difficult for days.  Dave is rambling, and his voice is raised.  I suggest that he go use the hot tub to unwind a little, and he excitedly accepts.  Once he is in the hot tub, and staring at the view he proclaims he is in heaven.  When he is really up, he might really think he is; allegedly he was speaking of the end of the world coming a couple days ago to my sister.

My sister, aka “hostage negotiator” arrives.  She first embraces my mom, and whispers in her ear that things are going to be okay.  Mom breaks down and cries for a bit while I am watching over the potential hostage; it seems inevitable that we may need to take him to the hospital if he is not sleeping and his agitation level increases.  He rarely wants to go.  The four of us sit-down, and listen to Dave discuss why he is so angry, his voice becoming louder and louder.   I calmly ask, “Why are you raising your voice so much?”  He yells like a tantruming child, “CAUSE I’M ANGRY!”, and he starts for the door.  Dave is so fight or flight.

After we coax him to stay he repeats some things he's already said then tells us now that he has quit his teaching job, and we are celebrating his retirement.   This job he quit was a part-time job teaching 5^th graders, and apparently they agitate him too.  Funny thing is, he may have told his students he quit, but I don't think he really resigned yet.  This next week should be interesting. He goes on about my mother controlling the money too much, and that he wants a separation so he can spend his money.  For those of you that know them, you know how truly irrational this train of thought is….quit your job, spend a bunch of money then be convinced that dissolving your marriage is a good idea.

My sister does a good job of calling him out on the divorce talk, noting my mom has never done anything to deserve this threat.  In a matter of five minutes it seemed something dramatic changed in his mood.  Dave became less aggressive and threatening and was speaking more softly.  I assumed either he was tired, or he realized he wasn’t going to get away with being mean to our mother.  My father hands over the credit cards, and agrees to go home and try to sleep.  Kristin and I walk them out, hoping all will be better in the morning.  Yet, we’ll both be sleepless with our angst knowing this situation is volatile, and a dark down could also be around the corner.

I once came across a box of love letters that my dad wrote to my mother.  He was a great writer, and his letters embodied the amazing romance they felt years ago.  They’ve been married for 45 years now, and I’m sure that she has at times turned to those letters to remember the good times to help her get through the bad ones.  I’m sure this kind of story might even scare people from ever wanting to marry.  Many people are broken, and it takes a lot of strength to help them through it. 

I ask for prayers to help me accept the things I cannot change, and maintain a loving heart.

The Seed of Hemme's Angst

As a young girl growing up with a chronic illness, I observed that my future lifespan depended on the security of good health insurance.  I saw my mother battle with medical offices then insurance offices to ensure that I got the care I needed for my Type 1 Diabetes;  was the same case for my dad with his bi-polar disorder.  She was well schooled on the matter after dealing with both of our physical and mental maladies.  The engrained concept that my welfare depended on expensive medical care also caused me much mental anguish and anxieties. 

In my very early youth I trusted on a Jesus that would, or could in theory, heal my sickness.  I remember thinking that if I just pray enough, that if I did enough good acts, I would one day no longer need my shots of insulin to get through each day.  In my teens I reached moments of solid belief, and stopped giving my shots; only to land in an emergency room with ketoacidosis and an unpleasant selection of other infections fostering from high blood sugars.  Strep throat and staph infections are two of my worst enemies.  I think I was 9 when my faith in the divine started to have long periods of remission.

When going through your teens thinking you’re going to die young, the typical teenage angst and wanting to grow up fast multiplies by a re-damn-diculous factor.  I can remember writing in my diary at the age of 14 that I wanted a family of my own, and a man that loved me more than anyone else.  Granted, this is totally normal and is the common explanation for teenage pregnancy; sad little girls wanting someone that loves them and fills some void they feel.  Yet, what if you felt that having a child was your primary goal in life, and were told you shouldn’t have a kid...what are your choices then?!  It’s always the things we’re told that we SHOULDN’T do that we find ourselves thinking might make us happy.

So, what does someone in this predicament do?   Go ahead, and watch ‘Steel Magnolias’, and have a good cry.   Then pick yourself up, and remind yourself that no matter what your piece of shit circumstances are; tomorrow is going to come and you better buck the f up and do your best to enjoy it.   You can have a family, or you can create one with people already here; the choice is yours and you better try to smile while you make it.