A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words.

Hello dear readers.  I’m well aware that it’s been awhile since I penned a solid blog post.  Other writing projects have been usurping my time, the weather has been beautiful and the islands have been beckoning (not a great combination for upping content on the ol’ blog).  Today, I am writing a post.  However, I don’t feel like reflecting on diabetes.  I’ve been struggling with a lot of stress-induced highs lately.  As a result, I’ve been pretty darn frustrated and not in the mood to write about it (I’ve been more in the mood to throw my meter at the wall).  So today I am offering an array of photos that make me happy.  Sometimes I need a reminder that diabetes is only part of my life.  These images help to do just that.

This ridge is so far above sea level that, from this vantage point, you can no longer hear the sound of the ocean and individual waves are no longer discernible.  Instead, you hear silence and see the sun shimmering on the water’s surface, moving as a single, undulating mass.

These incredible rock formations line the coasts of the Southern Gulf Islands.  Some look like petrified netting.  Others look like they were shaped by hard-falling raindrops.  I don’t know anything about their geology.  But I do know they are fascinating and beautiful.

No photo diary is complete without the presence of Jack.  Here he is being very bad, trying to MacGyver himself into the cupboard that he’s learned contains his kibble supply (he wasn’t successful).

Spring is here.  I love the colour orange.  That about sums up this one.

In the Sunken Garden at The Butchart Gardens.  Absolutely lovely.

Ferry boats make me happy.  So does that guy standing with me.

My Surly Long Haul Trucker on one of the Islands.  I love cycling (and my blood sugar does too!).

Growing Up D: The Soccer Ball in the Trunk

It was the beach that did it.  On Saturday, Daniel and I drove out to Witty’s Lagoon and enjoyed a sunny afternoon lying on the sand, listening to the ocean.  We walked through tidal pools and I leapt and squealed as sculpins, crabs and kelp voraciously attacked my defenceless bare feet.  Okay, okay, maybe I was a bit on the paranoid side but, despite my degree in wildlife biology, I can’t stand unknown, aquatic life forms brushing against my legs.  It’s all just too squishy and dangerous for my liking.  Sea stars are predatory carnivores, after all.  And, while I know they’re designed to eat prey such as clams or dying fish, as I wade through open water, I can’t help
imagining gripping scenes from fated aquatic horror stories of my own invention…

…fade in soundtrack from “Jaws” as a freakishly overgrown, psycho-crazed sea star glides stealthily through shadowy waters, honing in on the vulnerable, and completely oblivious, Laura Brandes…

But I digress…

Lying on the beach in May, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and watching skimboarders and frisbee players, I started thinking about how summer is just around the corner; which got me thinking about camping and canoeing and barbeques and road trips.

Every summer growing up, my parents would load up the minivan, buckle up my brother and me and head off on our annual summer road trip.  If my calculations are correct, my family traversed a total of 19 states and provinces throughout my childhood.  On these trips, I always came prepared with my “Backseat Survival Kit,” published by Klutz (which I was happy to learn is still in publication!).  I spent many an hour searching for licence plates from distant parts of the country, playing car bingo and scanning every roadside sign, hunting for a “Z” to end the alphabet game.  These long trips also meant that I spent a lot of time sitting in my seat, behind the driver, being pretty gosh-darn inactive.  And when you’re a kid with diabetes, inactivity often means high blood glucose results.  Hence, The Soccer Ball in the Trunk.

While I wouldn’t leave home without my “Backseat Survival Kit,” my parents wouldn’t leave home without my soccer ball.  At roadside rest stops, the van door would slide open and my brother and I would emerge into the sunshine, shaking off our passenger-induced stupors.  We would examine our current location on the large map posted outside the washrooms and analyse the contents of the vending machines for the best chip flavour.  My parents would pop the trunk and out would roll…The Soccer Ball in the Trunk.  And that was my cue to inject some physical activity into an otherwise low-impact day and (hopefully) keep my sugars somewhat under control.  This was back in the days of two injections of NPH and R per day.  No insulin glargine.  Definitely no insulin pump.  No ability to increase my sitting-in-the-car basal rate with the push of a button.  Instead, I would run and kick and run and run and kick and run and kick.  This was the routine on our family vacations…long drive, roadside stop, soccer ball…long drive, roadside stop, soccer ball.

And the routine has stuck with me into adulthood.  Despite all the advances in my diabetes management, I still keep a soccer ball in my trunk.  Although, by this point, it’s really more of a tradition than a routine.  Who knew that kicking a soccer ball from Québec to Florida – Man, that’s one powerful kick!  What is that?  Like 3000km? – would create such a longstanding tradition?

On sharp turns, I hear it rolling around.  After the weekly grocery shop, there it is, nestled up against bags of produce, milk, canned goods and (gluten-free) breakfast cereals.  And, on long trips, there it waits, ready to be dragged out at roadside stops so I can carry on my self-proclaimed tradition.  Run, kick, run, run, kick, run, kick…

Twenty Eight: It’s All About Context

This past weekend, my hands-down, without a question, all-time favourite number was…(insert drum roll here)…twenty eight!

“Twenty eight?” you ask with sceptical surprise, “but that’s a horrible number!”

Well…yes, in some contexts twenty eight is definitely not desirable – hyperglycemia in the range of 28mmol/L has been a rare occurrence in my diabetes life and it is neither a good nor a pleasant experience.  However, last weekend my favourite number had nothing to do with diabetes.  Rather than discussing millimoles per litre, I’m instead referring to #28, Curtis Granderson, starting center fielder and leadoff man for the Detroit Tigers…

Those of you who know me know that Curtis Granderson is my Tiger.  Apart from being an amazing athlete (he is the only American Leaguer to collect 20 doubles, triples, home runs and stolen bases in a single season), he has established the Grand Kids Foundation to support youth education and baseball programs in inner city schools.  Very cool.  Not only that, but he recently changed his contracts with his sponsors so that, instead of receiving a retainer, his sponsors donate equipment to inner city ball teams across Michigan.  Love that.  And, to top it all off, he makes some amazing catches!

So, why the sudden need to blog about this admirable athlete?  Well, a large component of our recent trip to Seattle involved spending some quality time at the beautiful Safeco Field.  The Detroit Tigers were in the Pacific Northwest and Daniel and I weren’t going to miss seeing our boys in action.  We arrived at the Sunday afternoon game about an hour before game time to watch batting practice and meet Curtis Granderson.

“What?!” you ask with shocked surprise, “you met Curtis Granderson?”

Yeah.  Well, sorta…kinda.  By “met,” what I really mean is, “he signed my ball glove” and “we exchanged a few brief words.”

Our conversation?

L: “Thank you so much, Curtis.”
CG: “You’re welcome.”

What a civil and polite exchange!  Of course, on the inside, I was extremely excited and slightly aflutter (as blatantly indicated by my afternoon sugars in the range of 13mmol/L).  But, for just a moment – that moment spent standing by the visitor’s dugout in throngs of devout Tigers fans, handing my glove over to Curtis Granderson – my blood sugar could wait.  I would take Rapid for my ballpark-worthy lunch (pretzels and pepperoni sticks with a Washington apple from Pike Place Market thrown in for good measure) and correct for my high blood sugar soon.  Soon, but not now.  No, now I was making memories and meeting one of my heroes…

Curtis handed back my (newly-autographed) glove and Sharpie.  I thanked him again and returned to my seat, smile on my face as I did a blood test, injected my insulin (correcting for the out-of-target result), tore into my bag of gluten-free pretzels and prepared to enjoy a great ball game.

Me, my ball glove and Curtis Granderson

Seattle or Bust

Off to catch the ferry to Seattle!  I’ve been looking forward to ferrying through the Strait of Juan de Fuca and Puget Sound for months…espresso, Pike Place Market, Safeco Field, here I come!

In doing some pre-travel research, I discovered that Seattle is a perfect choice for a recently-celiac traveller.  Aside from being home to Ener-G Foods (a major manufacturer of gluten-free products), Seattle offers gluten-free crepes, bakeries, Chinese food and pizza…though I am packing my own gluten-free pretzels for the ball game.

While Daniel and I don’t have a set itinerary, we do plan on doing some extensive exploring and hope to get in some outdoor activity (bicycle rentals, anyone?).

But that’s enough blogging – I need to finish packing!  In addition to the items on my well-honed diabetes/celiac travel checklist, I’m tossing my raincoat and sunglasses (gotta be prepared for the fickle weather of the Pacific Northwest) into my backpack and heading down to the ferry terminal.  Be back Monday – I don’t want to miss my pump training!

Are we there yet?

A brief glimpse into my preparations for an Easter-weekend visit to one of the Gulf Islands…

Me: Insulin, pen needles, alcohol swabs?
Hubby: Check.
Me: Meter, lancets, logbook?
H: Check.
Me: Glucose tablets?
H: Check.
Me: Should I throw the biohazardous container in the car?
H: Yeah sure, why not?
Me: Okay.  Check that off then.  Rice crackers, uncontaminated peanut butter, gluten-free cookies, granola bars?
H: Check.
Me: Vitamins?
H: Check.
Me: Jackie, kibble, cat toys?
H: Check.
Me: Okay, that just leaves clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, facewash and CDs for the car…
H: We’ve totally got this covered.

Whew!  Let’s roll…