One thing I've learned both living with diabetes (and hypertension and everything else) and having family members with diabetes, hypertension, dyslipidemia, and other health issues is that no matter how far away you are, and whether that be in miles or in outlooks, the chronic illness of one is shared by the entire family. Here, many hands do not make "light work" -- that right goes to the bonds of love and familial obligation. While a large support network might ease the afflicted person's ability to live a full life, it means that a much larger number of people need to consider the needs of that person, that many more perceive an increase in their own risk for developing that malady, and that many more must learn to accommodate a family member's needs within their own lives.

To start with, it's hard to address diabetes without addressing diet. After all, they both start with the diphthong // dai //

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Sad to say, I've not had the bicycle out since Sunday morning. A combination of parental schedules, the Tour de France, rush hour traffic, and a heat wave have conspired to keep me indoors for most of this week. Now, this year's Tour de France has been about as predictable as an adolescent Type 1 girl's blood glucose levels are around menarche -- many favorites crashed out early; the second and third race leaders hung onto their leads far longer (and through more difficult terrain) than expected; expected attacks were never launched (while others were launched at unexpected times), and the French press has been having a field day (or ten) with the first potential French winner in more years than they'd care to count.

So much for "why watch, when I could be doing?".

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My sister got a call from the hospital at which Mom has been recovering after valve replacement surgery. After a couple of days of perfect sinus rhythm, her care team suddenly wanted consent to insert a permanent "on demand" pacemaker. The issue was a single episode of about eight seconds of no heartbeat. While the idea of a pacemaker had been broached before, it was earlier in Mom's recovery. Since then, as far as we all could tell, things had quieted back down to "normal".

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I wish I knew why it is that at the times we most need other people around us to comfort and support us, we find ourselves physically, technologically, financially, and psychologically unable to reach out to ask for that help.

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I don't like to post "downers" on Blogabetes unless I can turn them into cautionary morals, or calls to action (either on our own behalf, or on the behalf of all people with diabetes) -- most of us have too much negativity in our lives already. That said, life has been throwing me the sorts of curve balls that force me to think more of survival, mortality, and quality of life than I am comfortable dealing with.

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I road shotgun as a Meals on Wheels "runner" yesterday afternoon through the impoverished streets of Trenton, New Jersey.

My company sets up lots of philanthropic programs during the holiday season. I had never before delivered meals to the elderly or disabled, so I signed up. Yesterday’s hot meal was ravioli. I can still smell it. The day was sad and sobering and not one that I’ll forget anytime soon.

Like a tour guide, my driver added color commentary as we pulled up to each home.

"I call this one the Cat Lady," he said.

Aptly named. Three sets of tiny kitten eyes peeked out of the door when the Cat Lady opened it.

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