Dear Diabetes

The invisibility cloak of Dear Diabetes

About a month and a half ago, my feminine ego was kicked in the teeth. I had just got on Skytrain. It was during rush hour and it was busy, not a seat to be had. I grabbed hold of the bar nearest the door and pulled out my cell phone, as so many of us socially inept souls tend to do. The woman in one of the priority seats, designated for seniors or those with disabilities, sprang up and tapped me on the arm. “You can have my seat,” she offered. I smiled and said no, no I was fine. She insisted. It was then that I realized I was wearing a dress with an empire waist. Oh. No. No, I am fine, I said, my face flushing. I have not worn that dress since. Fast forward to today and I wish I was wearing that dress. Again, I …

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Sometimes…

Sometimes I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m in the thick of a really great book, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m in the middle of writing a killer sentence, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m climbing down the Eiffel Tower in the twilight hours, and I don’t want to stop Sometimes I’m in the depths of a needed sleep, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m at 8.5 km of a strong 10 km run, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m hurting with joy, giggling so hard with my boy, and I don’t want to stop. I can see the words on the screen go blurry. I can feel the letters in my book as they punch me in the face with every bounce across the page they make. I can sense the happy flutters in my belly being strangled into sickening …

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29 years: “Perfect storm for an eating disorder”

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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A new marathon of sorts

Dear Princess, It’s time to face it, you are not normal, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but when it comes to life with Dear Diabetes, no matter how hard you try to deny it, you do have limitations. Yes, you can run way past the time the dogs come home; yes, you can climb the Grouse Grind and continuously improve your time; yes, you can give birth; yes, you can travel the world; and yes, you can say goodbye to one beloved career and go back to school in your mid-30s, full-time and pull off some pretty spectacular grades. Yet, still, all of that is limited by Dear Diabetes. Let’s talk school, shall we. I am nearing completion of my second semester, which has been an incredibly challenging semester compared to my straight A’s of the first semester. I have worked so hard, my brain is so fried, …

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Running roller coaster

For those of you keeping tabs, and thank you so much for doing so, the results of the run vs. sloth week are as follows: Run: 4 Sloth: 0 While I know I am the only one who can truly get me out the door running, it helped HUGE knowing that I’d hear from a few of you if I didn’t. This week could easily have been a one or none kind of running week. There were excuses aplenty to be had: It’s New Year’s. It’s cold. I have no one to run with. I’m tired. It’s raining monsoons. But, your words of encouragement; your words of prodding; and for some of you, your commitment to get out there running with me, either alongside or from afar, meant a world of difference. Seriously, thank you. Four in the pocket for the week is a fantastic way to end my three-week …

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