More Diabetes Stuff (but parrots on the way!)

Here I am, a couple of days later, to add something to my previous post that will hopefully make my situation be a bit simpler to understand--I am a 'brittle' diabetic. Here's a link to an article that explains brittle diabetes very clearly: Brittle Diabetes .

Once I spent 30 days in the hospital so that doctors could try to determine why my diabetes is so hard to control. Every bite of food I took, every step of exercise I did (and we had regular exercise twice a day), my sleep, emotions, blood sugars, everything, was recorded and analyzed. The result? Nothing they tried regulated my glucose levels, my blood sugars swung merrily from pillar to post, and I earned the spiffy label of brittle diabetic.

This means that my blood sugars don't respond to treatment as expected, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try. For instance, I may have a normal blood sugar reading one minute, then twenty minutes later be in the 400s, then half an hour later, my glucose levels might drop to the twenties. I can go for days and be in fairly good control, then boom! Things go haywire, and who knows why? It's aggravating, dangerous, sometimes kind of funny, and never, ever boring. Diabetes, my friends, ain't for wimps. I just thank God that my daughter's diabetes responds well to traditional treatment.

And now, what you've all been waiting for (well, Mac, anyway *grin*), parrot stuff is on the way! Stay tuned for all you ever wanted to know about the feathered maniacs who provide me with boundless inspiration, spread seed hulls, poop and good cheer throughout my office, and cheerily scream their little heads off when the telephone rings. Pictures and information are on the way! 'Til then, take it easy, be happy, and be good to yourselves.

My Treadmill Hates Me

Well, I guess it doesn't really hate ME, I think it has a problem with my diabetes.

See, I bought this really cool treadmill last month. It's a spiffy model—it features a variable incline and speed, counts the calories you've burned and measures the miles you've walked, tells you what your heart rate is, counts your steps, there's even a workout fan in the console. Lot of good that does me; I'm so short the air just barely ruffles the top of my hair. Sill, it's a pretty neat machine and I like it. It, however, does not like me.

Which brings me back to the diabetes thing. No matter what I try, I just can't get my blood sugars to cooperate with my walking plan! I've tried walking after lunch; insulin reaction. I tried eating a big sugar-laden snack before walking, thinking that maybe if I drive my blood sugar up, the exercise will bring it down to a reasonable level and everything will even out; insulin reaction. One day I thought I had managed to avoid any problems, but no. The reaction hit at 2:30 in the morning. There's just something unfair about being awakened from a dead sleep and having to drag yourself into the kitchen to get something to eat. But when your blood sugar tests something cute like 47, you have no choice.

On a related note, my daughter has the same trouble with her exercise routine. She's also insulin dependent (don't let anybody tell you that diabetes 'skips a generation.' That's a big, fat lie.). She doesn't have a treadmill, but likes to do Pilates. She ends up with the same insulin reaction annoyances that hit me. Or course, she also has three kids that keep her hopping, so that may have something to do with her blood sugars.

Anyway, I guess this is really just a rant about one of the aggravations of living with insulin dependent diabetes. Diabetics should get some form of regular exercise. It helps keep us in shape, helps control blood sugars, and is a low-impact exercise that almost anyone can do. I just wish somebody would tell our (MY) blood sugars that this is for our own good.

My next blog entry will be more cheerful, I promise. 'Til next time, be happy, be safe, be healthy!

Just A Few Pictures

I thought I'd see if I could learn to post pictures, so here goes nothing:

The most beautiful curly blonde hair in the world. Of course, I may be prejudiced. It's my granddaughter Chelsea!



Here is my husband Allen with our grandsons, Tyler and Bailey. Allen teaches music and as you can see, he's busy with a couple of banjo students.

And this is me!



Okay, I've tortured you enough now. More sensible postings will appear soon. Maybe.

Look! I'm Blogging!

Well, here I am! And on Valentine's Day, no less. Thanks to some dear people on Absolute Write (you know who you are!), I have *gulp* begun my very own blog.

Here's a brief explanation for the title of the thing: I am a full-time freelance writer/photographer and I work with two parrots watching over my shoulder. Rio is a 20 year-old Blue-crowned conure and he's a very exacting editor--he's also the inspiration behind my first book, The Conure Handbook (Barron's Educational Series, Inc.). Pancho is a 20-something year-old Orange-winged Amazon. He also figures heavily into my work, most often as a model. Pancho has appeared in a number of print publications and is extremely photogenic.

I live in a rural setting and enjoy watching the huge varitey of wild birds native to this area. At any given time, there are numerous birds dining at the feeders on my front porch and on the pellets and seeds I scatter in the back yard. If the food supply runs low, they don't hesitate to peck on the window to tell me!

Hence, the title Writes With Feathers, or Écrit avec des plumes (thank you, Dawno!).

Well, if that isn't enough excitement for one time, I don't know what is! Until we meet again, then. :)