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I am bad!  And I am busy!  Those are the reasons I haven't kept up with D-blog week and why I'm going to try to catch up today...  Soooooo...  Ahem!

First, meet a friend(s). 

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One of my scariest trips ever on bicycle was a seven-mile jaunt home from Watertown, Massachusetts to Cambridge in the middle of winter, after dark, on a three-speed commuter with no lights, on a stretch of road which had no street lights but a moderate amount of high-speed traffic. My fingers were freezing despite the warm gloves, and as much (or as little) ambient light as there was from the other side of the river, I found the lights of cars behind me to be a helpful aid as they approached -- but a bane as they passed, leaving me temporarily blinded by their relative brilliance.

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This Saturday will mark my fourth week of boxing training.   I'm pretty pleased with my progress.  I've been running 4-5 days a week for 40 minutes.  I'm getting faster, and stronger with my runs, pushing myself harder and harder.  I also take 3 60-90 minute classes a week, primarily kickboxing classes.  My power is growing by the day,  even though I'm shrinking.  I've lost 8 pounds since January 1st.  But moreover, my muscular definition is changing for the better.  I feel excellent.

I've pumped up my eating a bit, going from 1,400 to 1,600 calories a day and consuming more protein. 

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Moving back home has been an interesting transition. The physical moving process was challenging (getting a mover, sending my things to 2 separate places for now, and then the unpacking ordeal that has yet to be complete). Emotionally, it's also been challenging.

My mom and I generally get along. There really is nothing to fight about at this stage in my life. But it's still difficult to move in with someone when you've been living on your own for two years. The last time that I lived here full time (as in longer than a weekend or week at Christmas) was back in 2008. I'd forgotten how it feels.

There's a relief when I know that someone will be home. It's less frightening and less lonely to come home when someone else is on their way. I had two bad night lows last week and nearly called out for my mom. Even though I didn't in the end, I still knew that if something happened, someone is here to have my back.

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Last Thursday afternoon, I was dealing with "normal" gastrointestinal side effects from the Metformin or so I thought. I just wasn't feeling very well and kept thinking to myself, "I won't be taking this for long if I keep having these issues." Perfect blood sugars? Awesome. Heartburn, nausea, and stomach cramps? Not so awesome.

Around 6pm that evening, I texted Marvin saying that I didn't feel very well. My stomach was so nauseated that I could hardly think. It didn't seem like normal Metformin side effects, but I've never taken the XR so maybe? I curled up in bed for a little while and tried to think of a calm stomach.

Then chaos started. Until late that night, I wasn't able to keep anything down and spent several moments crying on the bathroom floor because of the feelings going on in my body. Was it Metformin? I still didn't really know but I started thinking it wasn't.

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He stood in the doorway as I put on my shoes and lifted my jacket over my shoulders. He was wearing an "I Love NY" t-shirt and red shorts with his insulin pump clipped just off-center - tubing dangling haphazardly and looping like a roller coaster.

"In school we made these bowls out of clay and we took leaves and we pressed them down into the bowl …"

He spoke.

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Christmas is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year but for so many it is not. The holidays tend to be a time that people reflect on the past year and sometimes that can be a real downer.

This Christmas will not be so “Holly Jolly” for me.

My health was pretty good as far as my diabetes goes. I had no major incidents like DKA or hospitalization of any kind so that front has been pretty good. In fact, I may have some really good news to share soon but I will wait for the official word on that.

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You cannot even imagine the week that I have had. I'm still in disbelief over the turn of events going on with my family and myself at the moment. Let me recap for you.

A family member began showing signs of mental illness a few months ago. Along the way, we all wanted to believe that it was nothing although I kept urging that something wasn't right and something should be done. By this past weekend, things had suddenly escalated. So the family decided it'd be best to commit the person.

We're now struggling with the aftermath of what all this means. Not only the emotional aspect of watching a loved relative struggle with their own mind, but the physical and financial ramifications of this decision as well. We have no idea how long this might be. The family can't take on the financial burden and the relative is not fit to work for quite some time (she is currently in inpatient psychiatric care with no relief).

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Local insects congregated in the early evening rains before Hurricane Irene passed through our local area, taking refuge in window frames, sneaking through decades-old screens, and so on. Since our air-conditioning is limited to the bedroom, I am loathe to close windows unless and until necessary -- when the temperature drops, or when the incoming rain becomes strong enough to threaten whatever I have sitting near them. This has the side effect of making me a "target of opportunity" on those occasions in which those windows must be closed. Unfortunately, I'm allergic to insect bites.

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Back when I was in Junior High, I took a summer creative writing course at our local public library. One of the prompts the instructor gave us for developing a story was, "There are two types of people: those who like egg yolks, and those who do not." On the surface, it seems a ludicrous way to split up a population. But it's those egg yolks (and sticks of butter) that have been frustrating me, and that's giving me some insight into some of our fellow PWDs' daily frustrations. 

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