Author name: Katie

Strategic disengagement

Uncategorized

Today I quit. It’s not a territory I am all that familiar with. Sure, a couple years ago I quit a career, but that was with a new one in the foreground. A few years ago I quit a race, but that was the act of Dear Diabetes, completely out of my control. Speaking of Dear Diabetes, I quit her once too, but my brain wasn’t fully developed so I can’t really be blamed for that. I’ve had thoughts of quitting other things: my first marathon I had visions of running in front of the tram; my first time up the Grouse Grind, I had urges to hurl myself over the side of the cliff. Chemistry, I thought for sure I’d blow up the lab and be done with it. But never, never, never was there the option of stopping and turning around. Today I stopped. But I didn’t turn […]

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Dreaming for the glory of glasses

Diabetes, Uncategorized

Alright eyes, we got this. Don’t let me down, eyes. This year is our year. Got it. Alright, let’s DO this. That was the pep talk my lovely, grey eyes got yesterday morning all through breakfast, all through transit, all through the rainy walk, and every step up the five flights of stairs to my opthalmologist’s office. Yesterday was my annual eye appointment. This appointment I dream of for 365 days, hoping, praying, begging for my eyes to finally falter in the presence of my opthalmologist. I am obsessed with glasses, been so ever since one of my elementary school besties showed up to class in an oversized pair of pink specs. I loved them! I had to have them! When I was diagnosed with Dear Diabetes shortly after and told my diabetic eyes could be a thing of concern, I swear to you that was one of the happiest

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48 months: I am the walrus

Uncategorized

Dear Little Ring, Yesterday I was having an absolute crumb of a day, so blah, so lethargic, so lacking motivation. I couldn’t figure out why, and then, it struck me. Just hours remained of my baby being a baby. I love seeing your every growing milestone; I love your wild personality that gets wilder with age; I love the crazy, random conversations your growth has invited me into. But yesterday, the realization that my baby was no longer a baby, no longer a toddler, but a proper, young boy – closer to independence than mama reliance – I’m not going to lie, it stung. In proper, good, Little Ring fashion you turned that sting into a flutter of love. To most, you are not much of a hugger (your papsy credits your German roots for that). But every day, multiple times a day, you give mama hugs. Kisses, however, are

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29 years: “Perfect storm for an eating disorder”

Diabetes

Apparently furniture is to be given for the 29th anniversary, but for me, all I got was guilt. There’s a part of me I am not fond of; a part of me that scares me; a part of me I’ve feared, hated, fought and succumbed to; a part of me I don’t like discussing much, but a part that is very much there – always. It is something I have lived with for 29 years. My relationship with food. The other day I was chatting with a pediatric dietitian who works with young diabetics at a local hospital, and so much of what she said to me resonated. We were talking about the different methods of treatment specifically with diet, post diagnosis. There’s the Nazi-like conventional method: no sweets, no treats, you best be perfect or you’ll die. And then there’s the flexible method: make it personal, make it healthy, do

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Smurfette Part 2: The Bone Scan

Diabetes, Running, Uncategorized

Ohhhh, the déjà vu. 2011: I was training for my second marathon, and struggling with a sore ankle every time I ran. I spent months in physiotherapy with no relief. Dear Physio was getting frustrated; I was beyond frustrated. 2016: I haven’t run in 9 months. I’ve suffered horrid pain that’s become more a dull ache in my left foot for 12 months. I’ve spent thousands (note the plural) on physio, chiro, acupuncture, essential oils, and more with no relief. Frustrated. Desperate. Moody. Sad and envious as bloody hell. Both outcomes resulted in bone scans. In 2011, it turned out I had stress fractures in both ankles. In 2016, well, as I’m currently writing this post in the waiting area of nuclear medicine, I don’t yet know the results. What I do know: At 9 a.m. I was injected with a blue radioactive tracer containing phosphate and technetium. The phosphate

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