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Things seem to be coming together lately so I don't have much to complain about. Dad is off and running on his type 2 meds, I have successfully finished my first round of interviews for the job I'm applying for, and all is well for the most part on the diabetes front.

My dad started his Metformin and things are coming together pretty nicely. He is taking his daily dosage and eating better and exercising regularly. He has even enjoyed having a couple extra pounds fall off due to his new lifestyle.

Friday I had my first (phone) interview with the company I applied with. I thought it went very well and I enjoyed speaking with them. I am told the second round of the interview process will take place sometime this week. If all goes well the last step will be to make a visit to New York City for an interview in person. I believe that will take place sometime in March so I am anxious and looking forward to getting things rolling.
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When to tell?

 

I have accepted a new job. It's in a new city (half way across the country!!). It's with new people. New people who don't know that I have diabetes.

 

It was during my four-year tenure at my current job that I was diagnosed. I had no problem telling just about everyone in my very small office about diabetes. I already knew them and their personalities.

 

It's different now. I have a problem with going in to the boss on my first day and saying, "Hey, guess what..." I also have a problem with waiting three months until my benefits kick in, or even longer when someone sees me checking my sugar (or doesn't know what to do if I pass out) to say, "Oh, yeah, maybe I should have told you sooner."

 

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When I was little, I imagined a perfect life. I picked careers, pretended to make life-changing decisions and pictured my future. Nothing was affected by realistic needs and the facts of my life. I could be anything and never worry about discrimination in the workplace. I could live anywhere and not stress over medical access or insurance. My mind was limitless.
Now I make these life-changing decisions for real: I pick future careers, places to live and potential spouses. Now I have limits. My decisions factor in my diabetes and my future with diabetes. I look at things like job requirements, insurance benefits and personal reactions to my diabetes. Everything is affected by it. (READ MORE)

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Today, Monday, I start a new job. To supplement my personal training business and this blogging job, I have decided to do some work landscaping. I love to work outside. I have done some work with this company before. When I was 18, my good friend and I worked there for a summer job. It was very hard and physically taxing work. I spent a lot of 8 hour shifts shoveling dirt, rocks, and mulch. A lot of time was spent bending over or on my knees planting, sweating, and working with my hands and body. (READ MORE)

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There is a lot going on today. A lot. I guess I'm not very happy, but I am trying my darndest to be. I am dealing with more emotions today than I can ever remember having. I have a lot of personal stuff happening and I have been trying to share as much of that with you all as I can. As you know, I am in the middle of a life changing experience with my career. Just last night I sent my resume, cover letter, and references off to what I hope to be my next, and potentially last employer. Also, so much is going on in the world with people suffering, hurting, and being sick. And last but not least, I wasn't able to train martial arts today, and instead I ate a freaking pizza.
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When I tell my "real-life" friends stories about my friends from the Diabetes Online Community (DOC), I'm often told that my stories make these people sound real.
"Well," I say, "They are real. In many ways more real than some people I've met face to face."
I usually get the look then. The one that says: Nicole has been spending too much time online. Nicole's friends all live in the box.
That's the furthest thing from the truth. I mean - really - who can spend too much time online? And my friends don't live in the box, they just talk to me through it. Right?
I'm getting to the point. Patience. (READ MORE)

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"I want you to walk ahead of me in case I get stopped," I said to The Mr. We were standing in one of the "expert traveler" lines at the security checkpoint at LAX. Although I had been searched twice in my last three air travels, I thought I was free since I had gotten through security the last time without being searched.

 

It was particularly dark in this part of the airport. I was particularly emotional having dealt with a screaming No. 3 for about 45 minutes. We had been on vacation and she was completely off schedule and crabby. I had a feeling that I was going to get stopped coming through the security tent.

 

"I have an insulin pump," I said, holding my pump up for the screener to see. A mantra I had tried and not tried each time I went through security.

 

"OK, come on through," she said.

 

I beeped. I knew it.

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I had never considered myself a numbers girl. I had always thought that I was, in fact, the furthest thing from a numbers girl. In high school, I sat - bored and unengaged - through Algebra 2, Geometry, Trigonometry, and Calculus. In college, Statistics was the one course that found me with a grade below a B. Numbers had never been my friend. (READ MORE)

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For a number of years, I was the only diabetic I knew. Diagnosed when I was a little kid, there wasn't an army of advocates knocking down the doors of my school. As far as I knew, the only meter in my elementary school was mine. In my high school, there were two meters: mine and the one belonging to a classmate's older sister. No one else I knew was taking a fingerstick before having the orange slices at soccer practice, or before tap dance lessons.
My first taste of a diabetes community came one summer at camp. Growing up in New England, I had access to one of the best diabetes camps in the country - Clara Barton Camp. I spent six summers at CBC, giggling with my fellow campers, singing my lungs out at the nightly campfire meetings, and making friends. (READ MORE)

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Just recently I had a talk with myself. I told myself that being a diabetic is a/my full-time job. That is how I choose to look at it sometimes. (READ MORE)

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