Lemonade Life

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

How Well Do You Really Know Us?

I stole this from Facebook. Instead of writing down the last 21 people to write on your Facebook wall, write down the last 21 people to leave a comment on your blog. If you don't know who the person is, make something up! (No repeat names!)

1. Hannah
2. Julia
3. George
4. Vivian
5. Scott Johnson
6. Scott Strumello
7. Vicki
8. Lori
9. Allison
10. Bernard
11. Kelsey
12. Kassie
13. Kath
14. Deborah
15. Penny
16. Sasha
17. Cassandra
18. Dawn
19. Sara
20. Wendy
21. Kate

*How did you meet 21?
Through the O.C. Probably sent me a submission form. It's basically how I meet everybody these days.

*What would you have done if you had never met 6?
Been a happier person. No, I'm kidding! If I had never met Scott I... probably would have reserved to stay at a hotel 8 miles from the nearest subway station.

*What would you do if 20 and 15 dated?
Uh, freak out. Because the wonderful world that is Penny and Michael would be over.

*Have you ever seen 4 cry?

*Would 1 and 6 make a good couple?
I doubt it. Mostly because Hannah's already married.

*Would number 14 and 16 make a good couple?
I don't think a transnational relationship is what either of them are looking for right now.

*Describe 8:
The best type 2 diabetic Portland scarf-knitter I know.

*Do you like 17?
Of course, she's an Oregonian! And she invited me to Tokyo. I haven't decided if I'm going yet. I have so many international friends it's hard on my bank account.

*Do you think 18 is attractive?
I don't know what she looks like... but I'm sure she is so I'll say yes.

*Tell me something about 11:
She is funny, smart and is going to be a great mom! And I swear her husband has been in a movie or a TV show or magazine or something...

*What's 7's favorite color?
No idea. Blue? I'm guessing. Her pump was blue. Oh dear. I'm basing someone's favorite color off of their pump.

*What would you do if 12 just confessed they liked you?
Well, after I finish laughing hysterically, I would begin a torrid lesbian love affair.

*When was the last time you talked to number 9?
She's only left comments, I haven't actually talked to her. Last comment was on February 14.

*What language does 10 speak?
English. Does having an Irish accent count as speaking another language? I'm sure he speaks others. Europeans are so much smarter than us.

*Who is 2 going out with?
Her husband...

*What year is 16 in?
She's out of school.

*What is 5's favorite music?
I really should know this. But I don't. I'm going with something upbeat, maybe rock. Wow. How vague can you get?

*Would you ever date 21?
I don't think her boyfriend would like that very much.

*Would you ever date 3?
I don't think I'm ready for kids right now.

*Where does 18 live?

*What is the best thing about 14?
She leaves nice thoughtful comments.

*What would you like to tell 13 right now?
Edit: I would like to tell Kathleen that I'm terribly sorry that I didn't realize it was her when she commented on my blog! I am a horrible person...

*How did you meet 1?
Through the O.C. Like everyone else on this list...

*What is the best thing about 12?
She's a great mom and a great writer and she's on my Top 10 List of O.C. People to Meet.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Another Call for OCapalooza!

I just wanted to make an updated post about our upcoming OC get-together the last weekend in March.

Several of us will be gathering for dinner (someplace Italian, but location TBD) on Saturday, March 24. We will then meet up on Sunday, March 25 around noon at the Museum of Natural History, and, depending on the weather, we'll also visit Central Park.

If you are in the area and you would like to come to either or both of the activities, please let me know. You can join the Sunday activities at any point, but if you want to come to the dinner, please let me know by March 2.

Any questions, let me know!

If you can't come to the weekend events, but you still want to meet me, please e-mail me ASAP.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

A Letter From Mr. Pancreas

Dear Allison,

My friends and I have been getting quite a bit of bashing lately and I think it’s time to set the record straight.

Okay, I know I haven’t been the greatest pancreas in the entire world, but come on, it’s not exactly my fault! You think I like being crippled? All the other organs make fun of me! Mr. Liver laughs because he can make your blood sugar go up, but try as I might, I just can’t get it to come down. Really, I think you should have a talking to with Mr. Liver. And the Eye Brothers and the Kidney Twins, well, they just harass me all day long because I’m too weak to fend off the Glucose Gang. It’s humiliating! You think I wanted to be defective? It’s not like I woke up one morning and said, “Gee, I think a life of uselessness is right up my alley.”

Nuh uh, sister.

Oh, I know, you think it’s just another lame excuse about a virus brainwashing your army of T-cells (notice the “your” in the sentence). I took Biochemistry when you were in utero. I know organs don’t just die! Psychotic T-cells… They think they’re so cool with their full body armor and ray guns, showing those viruses who’s boss. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a virus!

I’m sorry it happened. Really, I am. If there was some way I could regenerate, I would. But no, I’m stuck here, in the dark, squished between Ms. Stomach and the Intestine Groupies. Unbelievably bored. If I had eyes, there would be tears. You can only watch the Facts of Life so many times before you start whining to the TV Mrs. Garrett about how mean Mr. Liver is.

I’m sitting here, twiddling my theoretical thumbs, impatiently waiting for some doctor dude to figure out how to unbreak me. And what on God’s green earth is taking so damn long? This is not brain surgery!

My friends and I are sorry that you and your friends have to have to pick up so much of the slack and wheel us around. Trust me, we’re as impatient as you. I know there isn’t a clock in here but I’m fairly certain it’s been five years. Possibly longer…

Maybe I should buy a watch.

Yours whether you like it or not,
Mr. Pancreas

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Lori Rode is the Greatest Person Ever

Look what I got for Valentine's Day!

Socks, gum, sugar-free mentos, earrings, a notepad (the white words circling the flower says, "We can do anything we want to do if we stick to it long enough" - Helen Keller), Now & Later candies (um, I actually had a few more than that when the package arrived...), dark chocolate! (which everyone should know has the least amount of sugar out of all chocolate), white sunglasses that make me look like a bug (but most sunglasses do that), and a handmade scarf that Lori made!

Who needs a boyfriend?

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Anxiety and Other Character-Building Emotions

I have five more weeks of school.

I went home this weekend (home being my parent's house) and I realized that I have approximately eight more weeks of knowing exactly where I will be and when and with whom, and then my calendar stops.

I'm edging closer to a precipice of time.

For the next five weeks, I will be here, in my studio apartment in a large, college town in the middle of freaking nowhere. A few weekend trips to Portland to see family, celebrate a friend's birthday, and attend a lecture by Dr. Bruce Buckingham.

I will then fly across the country for 11 days to see more family and friends, and hopefully find my future, instead of guessing where it might be.

I will spend another week in Eugene, milling around, trying to make a purpose out of an interim. Then I will fly to Los Angeles on April 11 to see more friends, followed by a drive down to see La Jolla to see even more friends and family. Then I will fly back to Portland on April 18.

And then...

I don't know.

I don't know what comes after April 18.

It's like Judgement Day, circled in red.

I know that, unlike many college students, I have options. I have good options. I have good options that I have worked very hard to have. But having options isn't the same as having a plan. Having a plan means I know where I am going to be, when and with whom.

I have never had a time where I didn't know where I was going. In high school, the University of Oregon was the option, and the plan, because it was a given that I could get into this state school. I have always been able to arrange with my parents where I was going to live and for how long. But I can't do any of that right now.

I have to wait.

Everyone keeps asking questions or mentioning plans and all I can say is, "I hope."

I don't want to hope. I want to know.

It's disconcerting to have your entire future in the hands of so many other people. I really don't like it. I feel powerless. I feel like I'm at the disposal of all these people.

I am edging towards a precipice of time and I don't know who is going to catch me.

I am edging towards a precipice of time and I'm feeling anxious, worried, exhilarated, tired.

I am edging towards a precipice of time and I'm scared.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

So Close

I'm trying to figure out how to be clever and witty, but it's 12:20 in the morning so I'm just going to talk instead of write.

My blood sugars haven't been that great the past few weeks. In fact, they've been pretty shitty.

My 14-day averages look like this:
Wake-up: 158
Lunch: 240
Dinner: 211
Nighttime: 216.

Not exactly the stuff of an OC New Me Challenge winner.

I finally got it into my head that perhaps my "rinse and repeat" method of testing, correcting, testing, correcting was probably not my best effort to get my blood sugars into a respectable range. I wasn't even trying. I was just reacting.

I felt like a ping-pong ball. Bo-ING!

I raised my basal rate in the late afternoon and evening, hoping that it would kick those averages down. I also thought that by not underbolusing before exercising it would prevent my post-gym adrenaline spikes (which are categorically evil).

Moderate success. A morning of highs, a drop to 53, and a bounce up to 236. Managed a 98 at half-time, and a 121 post-game. Then I started crawling back up.... 162...233... Well, that went swimmingly. At least I avoided my usual 300 bounces.

My meter's battery crapped out on me at bedtime (though my last test was just two hours before I went to sleep), so I didn't test again until 9:45 this morning. 266. Well that's to be expected, I didn't know what I was when I went to sleep. It took a couple hours to climb down, but then I hit a winning streak:


I felt like I had never had so many 100s consecutively. I felt like I had figured it out. I was planning on going to the gym tonight, but decided it would be a better use of my time to actually study for my two midterms tomorrow (which I will most likely not be awake for if I don't finish this blog post...). Even though I had probably fudged my carbs for dinner a bit, I knew I wasn't that far off from the real number. At 7:30, my one hour post-dinner reading was 171 mg/dl, and I still had a lot of insulin on board. I thought it would come down by the time I next tested.

I even sent Gary an gloating email saying how I had "figured it all out" and how "changing basals" and "test frequently" were obviously the answer and that everything was all better.

At 9:45, I was 221. I need to keep my mouth shut and not jinx myself. Correction bolus, please.

11:00. 231. Sigh. Okay. I mean, seriously. I even took more insulin. Wouldn't that have been enough to cover whatever carbs I left out and bring me down? Even just a little?

I feel like an idiot for thinking for even a minute I had this figured out. I should have known the minute I thought things were making sense that they really weren't making sense at all, and this was just some sort of cosmic joke on me.

When it comes to managing diabetes, sometimes I feel so small.

Sometimes I just want to ask my body, "What does it take to make you happy?"

Thursday, February 01, 2007

What I Learned In School Today

"Whenever there was an opportunity for it, one had to give them a why - an aim - for their lives, in order to strengthen them to bear the terrible how of their existence... What was really needed was a fundamental change in our attitude toward life. We had to learn ourselves and, furthermore, we had to teach the despairing men, that it did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us." (76-77)

"For what then matters is to bear witness to the uniquesly human potential at its best, which is to transform a personal tragedy into a triumph, to turn one's predicament into a human achievement." (112)

- Frankl, Viktor. "Man's Search for Meaning." Boston: Beacon Press. (c) 1959