Siege

266

Back in June, I went in for my annual physical.  You know, make sure everything was okay.  I hadn't had my blood checked in a couple of years (when I broke my leg last year, I forgot about all else health related).  So I got referrals for the dermatologist, the orthopod, and a sheet with lab tests.  I pretty much forgot about the lab tests this year too.

Then I read on one of my new favorite blogs (Shakesville) that Liss' husband was diagnosed with diabetes because he had some tingling in his hands and feet.  I thought, "Hmm, I have some tingling in my fingers ... could it be that?"

I went to have my blood drawn the next day.  Because I work in the hospital, I could look up the results.  Normal blood glucose/sugar?  I'm glad you asked, it's anywhere from 70 to 110 if you've been fasting.  I pulled up my results and said, "Holy fuck!"  When my office mates asked what the problem was, I told them my glucose was reading 266.  After fasting for almost 12 hours.  I knew I was really in trouble when they both looked stricken.

I immediately called my doctor for an appointment and they got me in within 2 days.  She confirmed my diagnosis, because my level was up to 277 when I was in her office.

This lovely thing is my new best friend.  It's a blood glucose meter and because I'm a gadget freak, I play with it all the time.  I even went and got a program to load into my Palm Pilot to track my meds, glucose, and carb intake.  It has pretty graphs and everything.  When I first picked it up (the Monday after my diagnosis) I was convinced it was broken because my glucose had dropped almost 100 points in 3 days.

It wasn't broken, the meds are working.  Well, that and the fact that I have given up the nectar of the gods.  No more Coca*Cola for me.

The weird thing?  I'm not sad.  Yes, it's a life changing event.  Yes, there are some pretty scary things that can happen because of diabetes.  No, it will not become the definition of who I am.  It's one more part of the mix that makes me the complex goddess I am. 

20 Years

When my husband left for Alaska in 2007, I was happy.  Two weeks before he had given me the "suck it up, you're not the only person this has ever happened to" speech about getting over my broken leg.  I was pissed.  Seriously.  He went straight out into the bush and couldn't call for 3 weeks.  It was a very good thing.  I didn't want to talk to him, hear from him, nothing.  People, I can carry a grudge like nobody's business.  {Thanks Dad.}

When he finally called, it was okay.  I could talk to him without getting angry and it was a really good cooling off period.  We spoke periodically, but never at length.  When he came home after two months, it was strained.  I was glad to see him; he was glad to see me, but there was tension.  We took a road trip to see a friend get married and re-connected.  I finally got the chance to tell him how angry I was for so long and he listened and apologized.  It was good.

This year he left for Alaska in mid-June.  He comes back this Saturday.  I can barely speak about how much I have missed him this summer.  I spent the first 2 months yearning for him.  Not in a physical sense, but in the way when something happens (good or bad) I wanted to tell him and get his input.  I wanted to talk to him and have him talk to me - I just wanted to hear his voice.  He couldn't call for the first 2 weeks he was in camp.  Then he borrowed someone's satellite phone.  We got to speak for about 7 minutes before the connection went out.  I sat staring at the phone for 10 minutes willing him to call back.  It was another week before he could hike to someplace with a phone.

In July, he called, "I have about 2 and a half weeks off at the beginning of August.  Come."

I said, "I don't know, Sassy's field hockey practice has started.  Little Big Man's football practice has started.  I'm awfully busy at work ..."

Jillian said, "Why are you even thinking about this?!!  Your husband wants you to come and visit him and you're hesitating?  Get off the phone right now and make an airline reservation!"

I did.  We spent a week at the beginning of August driving around and seeing the gorgeous sites of Alaska.  I can see why he loves it so much and we didn't even leave what passes for civilization.

Then I had to leave.

We wandered around the hotel room for a couple of hours before leaving for the airport.  Finally I said, "Let's just go and get this over with."  We walked out to the car and before I even got the door open, I burst into tears.

He looked at me and said, "What the hell is this?"  (I'm not known for my crying.)

I said, "This is so much harder than when you left me!  When I'm at home, I have all my comforting things around me.  I'm leaving you here all alone!"  (Okay, that's what I would have said if it weren't for the great, hiccuping sobs.)

Somehow he got me to the airport and we said goodbye.  When I turned to look back one more time while I was getting my boarding pass, he was gone.

I have since told him that I cannot do that again.  It was too hard to leave, knowing that it would be another 5 weeks before he came home.  He's in a place where we can talk every couple of days, but these last few weeks have been especially difficult.  I'm dealing with teen angst (x2!) and the chaos that is the start of the school year.

It's our 20th anniversary today.  Last night when I talked to him I asked if he would do it all again.  He said, "Absolutely!" before I could even finish the sentence.  Me too.

Shut UP!!!!1!

"I am happy to announce that after talking with my children, my family and my closest friends, I have decided to return to professional cycling in order to raise awareness of the global cancer burden," Armstrong said in a statement released to The Associated Press. "This year alone, nearly eight million people will die of cancer worldwide. ... It's now time to address cancer on a global level."

Do I believe it's about cancer?  No.  Do I care?  Hell no.  My boy is back!!