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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "diabetes poem":

Today, I'll write about freedom. The letter f.
I really don't feel like writing about diabetes today. I don't feel like thinking about it. I don't feel like testing or bolusing. I will, of course, test and bolus, because as much as I'd like a break, I value my health and the feeling of well-being and well, being alive that infused insulin brings me...
But today, I'm going to share another piece of writing. To remind myself that it isn't all about diabetes. My life, that is. My existence. My writing. None of these things are all about diabetes. And I hope that by sharing something else here, someone else will realize the same. That your life is not all about diabetes, despite the fact that it seems to take up so much room. (READ MORE)

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I have always used my index, middle, and ring fingers to check my BG. But lately, they hurt a lot. I check my BG 8-10 times a day so those digits are covered in marks as well as just hurt when I lance them. I have started to use my pinky to give my other fingers a rest.

 

So I decided to write a poem to apologize to my littlest counter. I hope you enjoy it.

 

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I knew he was high when I walked in the door;

His body was twitching, there was nary a snore.

His complexion was rosy, his hair dampened black;

I knew he was high before the pricker went "clack!"

The horrible number stayed like a tattoo,

Spitefully showcasing 392.

With insulin active, we gave it an hour

And whispered a prayer to a higher power.

I awoke from a dream that Obama had won

When Susanne said, "Carey! He's 421!"

I stumbled to his bedside, my wits on the fringe;

Susanne poured juice and loaded a syringe.

I pinched some plump flesh on the back of his arm,

Inserted the needle, then set my alarm.

2:30 am - I walked through a fog,

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Have you seen the movie The Green Mile? OK, if not, what are you waiting for? It's a fantastic movie. Anyway, if you haven't seen it I won't ruin anything by asking this: remember the part where Michael Clarke Duncan spits out the bee-looking things? OK, keep that image in your mind. Sort of.

 

I identify myself as a writer. And editor. Mostly lately I consider myself more of an editor because I'm not doing much writing for myself. Which is kind of sad to me since I know I'm a great writer, people keep telling me I'm a great writer, and damnit one of my college professors told me I had a novel "very close to the surface."

 

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The poem/song Auld Lang Syne is a toast to the departing year written by Robert Burns in 1788. I think that's a lovely sentiment.  In that spirit, I'd like to salute my health in 2008.

 

2008 was a good year as far as diabetes.  My A1C is stable, and regular exercise seems to help level out the glucose rollercoaster.  I weigh just 1 pound more than last New Year's.  That sounds more stable than reality - up as much as 15 pounds, down as much as 10.  

 

My endocrinologist's office switched me to six months between visits from three.   It's a good sign, with most conditions, if your doctor wants to see you less.  I'll be seeing them this month, as a matter of fact.

 

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Tick, tock, tick, tock.

 

Every one of us with diabetes hears that clock ticking away.

 

Glucose, insulin, ketones, tests.
The endless cycle never rests.
Fail once to heed the daily strife
And that day you may lose your life.

 

Alarmists are everywhere. Family, friends, strangers, all with the best of intentions.

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We spend much of our formative years looking for approval from parents, teachers, older siblings, and friends. We spend our teen years and early adult years looking for approval from (potential) spouses. A recent #dsma chat reminded me how much we, living with diabetes, still spend our lives searching for approval.

 

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Accomplishment only comes with some sort of struggle, right?  I mean, nothing that people excitedly declare as "accomplishments" or "I did it-s" are something they could just reel right off and do, right? 

 

I had an extraordinary weekend.  On Friday night, my very sweet boyfriend took off with my car to get some work done while I watched a movie at home, wrote some, and went to bed early.  He rolled in late, having finished up some challenging work projects, we cuddled up and slept.  

 

Saturday was busy - in all the right ways.  We ambled on down to the Southern part of Rhode Island and had lunch with the most amazing couple at the Boathouse in Tiverton.  Food was incredible, company even more incredible. 

 

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