I can fight my own fight

We have lunches together. We like to hang out and chitchat. Most meetings are diabetes related. That's what happens when you have lunch with peers. Probably very boring if you're not interested in diabetes, but hey: we can all relate! It's not that we have nothing else to talk about, but diabetes is always one of the subjects. Not one person with diabetes has the exact same treatment as yours so it's always interesting to hear other people about their experiences. Although we always make fun of our friend Jan - we keep saying he doesn't really have T1 diabetes, since his numbers are just so steady - we wouldn't want to skip a meeting with him. He's witty and smart and he's so good at keeping his blood glucose steady, that he numbs us with the result. There's no way we will ever get where he has always been, but that's okay. We all do the best we can with the tools we have access to.

Same for our friend Katrien. She has had diabetes for a much longer time. She was just a teen when she got diagnosed. Back in those days, treating T1 diabetes was really hard. The tools were different and so was the approach. Things have evolved since. Katrien said goodbye to her insulin pens and instead, she starting using an insulin pump. Just before that switch, she got herself the best device possible to treat her condition. She and her loving husband got hold of the Dexcom G4, the Continuous Glucose Monitoring system, that tells us our BG at all times, day and night, day in day out. It warns us for upcoming highs and lows. I met Katrien before she got the Dexcom. Her life and that of her husband, was completely different. She would suffer from severe diabetic comas and epileptic seizures. At least once a month, she would loose consciousness due to a severe low. None of that has happened since she started using CGM. What a relief, what a difference. Her life has changed for the better. She has finally got the chance to alter her treatment and it feels good to see her get better.

We can fight our own fight, no doubt about that. After all, we have to fight our fight every day of the
year, year after year. It is a chronic disease, remember? We know what our body can handle and most of the time, we know why we went out of line. But still, it is good to sit down with peers every now and then, to tell our story and hear the other. I'm grateful for these meetings. Love you guys...

Bonding

The Student Exchange Program is an excellent tool for students to see the world. Having a host family abroad, is a fine way to experience other cultures and family life in a country different from yours. Last year, we had been given the opportunity to welcome the Italian Ilaria Landriscina into our home. She was not only our guest for 3 months, she became a family member. We are still in touch, just the way I still contact my American host family every now and then. Those are everlasting memories.

Last week, two German students came to stay with us. We were thrilled to have them over and make them feel at home. Mirjam Gröger and Hien Nguyen Totla were a pleasure to have around. They were like a sister to Eva and our dogs were more than happy with the extra cuddles. We didn't get to speak much German and there was no time to teach our guests some Dutch words. Communication went well though and we had a good time together, filled with joy and warm friendship. These two girls had never met before, but seeing how fast they got along, was moving.
Too bad their stay was so short. We should've had more time to get to know each other. I wanted to hear more about their lives in Germany, their family, their interests and activities. Lana offered them their room, while she was in Bruges. We were glad they got to meet each other right before they had to return to Germany.

It was nice having you over girls. Maybe we'll meet again, one day.

And she can

I have this friend, who happened to be my French teacher in highschool and my French teacher later on in my thirties. She knows me better than I do. In only 10 min time, she could tell what was bothering me and what made my heart tick. Some 10 years ago, she told me I should be my own boss. She couldn't understand why I wanted to work as an employee, rather than work just for me. I told her I didn't know how to. I had no idea what I could do to be self sufficient. I did know I don't like to work regular 9-5 hours. I like flexibility and my own rules and I don't like the stress of having to drive 100 kms to work every day. She told me that one day, I would remember her words and I would make myself happy becoming an entrepreneur.

I believe that day has come. We have visited an accountant and supplies have been purchased to organize my office in the house. I like my space upstairs and I like to spend time there, working out my agenda and scheduling appointments. There's still my other job, working as a personal assistant, but from now on, I can do what I like to do as a hobby, for a living. Isn't that awesome?

I'm pretty proud of myself, you know. It'll take some organization, but if I manage, it will be a great way to bring in some extra money and still spend quite some time at home. It will give me the opportunity to meet with friends and work at the same time. I no longer need to cook all by myself, since friends are calling to book a cooking session. And above all: I will have new Tupperware containers and tools to work with. It's always a joy to be able to use wonderful items in your kitchen. I'm having a blast trying out new recipes and sharing them with potential customers.

Ready for your first Culinary Tupperware Party at your place? Give me a call or send me an email. I'm looking forward to sitting around your kitchen table, discussing the recipes and completing your guest list. Hosting a party means I can give you free Tupperware, a great time with your friends and a free cooking session included. Sounds appealing huh? 

Stay focused!

We were having our talk over lunch at Milano's in Antwerp (check the link - you have to go and try out their menu - you won't regret it) when I told my friend about how difficult it was to stay focused at times. He was looking at me with recognition and his mouth open wide. Do you really think this is diabetes related? Are we the only diabetics who get lows when too many impulses hit in? Like standing in line at Ikea or picking out shoes or having a cooking workshop surrounded by nothing but good food and 10 people asking questions? Been there! Those moments really suck! They happen at work when Kiddo needs my full attention and they happen at job interviews or other important conversations like in a meeting with your doctor. The lows smack you in the face and they make you numb and it's getting harder to talk in a normal way. All eyes are set on you and you hear voices but you have no idea who's speaking. It's like the voices are further away and your head is empty like a scooped out coconut. You have your juice and you need some time to recover but guess what: there is no time! These are just random situations you cannot just sit down and wish for the low to go visit someone else. The more you keep going, the deeper your low gets and the worse you feel. You start making mistakes (it's not the best plan to make payments at this time), you can no longer answer to simple questions because your brain blocks. They go into survival mode and nothing else but sugar is important.

Before I got diagnosed with D, I was really good at organizing things and do 12 things at the same time. Having to admit it's not that easy any more, is hard. You keep trying and you don't want to give in (or up), but those are moments D rules, no matter how hard you fight it. Some days, it's like I can't get anything done, because I can't remember what to do first. So I make lists and I check off the things I have done (some days I can only check off one item), but there are always so many more to complete. Screw you D. You're a very badass at times. I have to embrace you and love you, for you are always with me, but sometimes I really want to punch you in the face. You won't get me. I'll find ways to get around the problem, trust me. I don't give up that easily. There's too many of us out there. We will beat you one day, remember that. We will beat you!

The party pooper

We took his car, because mine was too filthy. For a second I thought of moving DEB (my Diabetes Emergency Box) from my car to the other one, but then I was like: what the heck? I had checked my purse for glucose strips, needles, infusion sets, small cans of regular coke and insulin. All present, so no need for DEB. As soon as we got to the party, the first low kicked in. I was a bit annoyed, because we had not been offered a drink yet and I desperately needed some glucose. I didn't hear much of the conversation, because my brain was focused on getting sugar. That's when I remembered the small cans of regular coke in my purse (thank goodness for my organisation talent when it comes to D, even in smaller purses). I turned around to have my coke, for I didn't want anyone to notice I was having a drink before them. It would be kinda rude to the host, to bring your own drinks and give them the impression they were late serving drinks, right? They noticed the drink anyway and hubby told them I probably had a low to fix. The host felt embarrassed and asked if they could bring me something to get over it? I shook my head and finished my coke and turned back to join in. Great entree... Not that I'm ashamed to admit I have D, not at all. It's just no fun to focus the attention on yourself meeting people for the first time.

Guests kept coming and the party got started. We were having a good time and a pleasant night. Every now and then, I would take a glance at my Dexcom G4, to see how the readings were and I was fine. I decided not to have any alcohol, not only for the reason I'm the driver when we go out, but also because I don't want alcohol to influence my judgement when it comes to D. I was responsible for taking both of us home so I needed to A. stay sober and B. maintain good BG.

The host had marinated shrimp that were so juicy and big, that saliva nearly dripped down my mouth. He was nervous and entertaining at the same time. I expected food (carbs) to hit in pretty soon, so I went ahead and bolused for the meal we were going to have soon. Oopsie, my glucometer warned me for low batteries. Darn! no new batteries in my purse. No problem! DEB holds plenty of batteries, for my glucometer and my insulin pump! Bummer... DEB was at home, in my car. Hmhm.. I could have asked the host for batteries or I could've gone home to get some, but I decided not to. Again, I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. I wasn't used to not switching batteries immediately when the LOW alarm appeared on my screen, but I was sure I would make it through the night.

One of the guests was showing off his singing talent and the crowd was laughing in tears. I had a hard time joining in, for I saw my numbers creeping up. I had not had that many carbs yet, but still my numbers were going up. I decided to have another mealtime bolus and a correction bolus. Dexcom warned me of the highs several times. It was getting dark out there and the food kept coming. Maybe I should not have that jacket potato or crispy bread and just stick to the meat and veggies? I hate high numbers. Things have been different back then, but nowadays, I really don't want my numbers to skyrocket anymore. For a moment, I was jealous of the others, for not having to deal with this stupid disease. That feeling went away pretty fast, because at some point, we all have our flaws and obstacles in life and I didn't know about theirs, so I'd better hush and move on.

Let's have another glass of red wine! my husband cheered. The bottles kept coming and I must admit: the wine smelled wonderful and the 9 empty wine bottles said it all. I wanted to go home and change those batteries. So I asked hubby to call it a night, but he wanted another glass. Can't blame him... by that time we had moved from the dark outside to the cosy inside of the garden shed. People were still having a great time, holding their glasses of wine and telling stories by the dozen. Diabetes spoiled the moment. I just wanted to go home and correct those high numbers. I just wanted to go home....

I'm sorry I don't understand

Diabetes has become epidemic. Worldwide and all over the nation, this disease is being talked about on a daily basis. Nevertheless, not many people know what it's really about. They know there are different types of diabetes and they know insulin and lows may be involved, but that's about it. Then how come, so many of these people are commenting on our lifestyle and diabetes treatment like we're not doing the best we can? I just don't get it? They strive to give good advice and they point out what you should and shouldn't eat. They love to share the horror stories of deceased family members (may they rest in peace) with diabetes and they look horrified when a tiny drop of blood comes out of your fingertip after you have poked it to test your glucose levels.

Last night, we had a wonderful BBQ with people I had never met, but who are friends of my husband. My husband must have told them I have T1 diabetes, for the host asked me if she could get me something special, like regular coke or water or whatever I needed. Regular coke??? Hmhmhm... exactly.. She was real nice and very concerned and she had honestly worried about whether I would be able to eat what she had in mind. So I went to see her in her kitchen and told her I could have whatever she had prepared for me. She listened very carefully and nodded and I noticed she didn't understand. Being seated around the table - what a fabulous scenery and I just had to compliment the host for having created such a fairy like garden - we were getting acquainted and since it was a warm summer night, I took of my jacket and without any warning, the first question popped out of the mouth of one of the guests: what's that little box on your upper arm? So I told the group I had T1 diabetes because my pancreas stopped making insulin. Therefore I needed to provide my body with insulin whenever it called for it: to cover food, to exercise, to be able to live and to cope with emotions. They were interested in this device called Dexcom G4 and they thought it was awesome that now I was worry free and ready to lead a totally normal life despite the diabetes! Well.. I told them diabetes is not that easy, notwithstanding that I have an insulin pump that makes my life easier, despite my Dexcom G4 that shows me the trends of what my blood sugar is doing. They complimented me for doing so well and then went back to the stories of the people in their surroundings that have been "blessed" with T1 as well. How awful their life was, for having swings in their blood glucose every day. For how they had to poke their fingers like 6 times a day! It hurt to hear them say those people didn't do the best they could, because they didn't seem to have their diabetes under control. When I asked them why they would think so, they answered: if it would be under control, they wouldn't have blood sugar rollercoasters and they wouldn't have highs and lows..

Why is it so hard to understand? I started the night with a low and I ended up high. Am I a "diabadass" now? Am I not doing the best I can? Will my toes turn black and will my kidneys fail on me? I wasn't ready for a pity show and it was pretty confrontational to hear others discuss and judge people with diabetes. I felt like I had to defend them and it threw some sort of shadow over the party for me. I don't think anyone noticed, but for the first time in a very long time, my diabetes feelings had been hurt. I know I can't blame them for not knowing. It's just painful, that's all.

Invisible

Just because it's invisible, doesn't mean it's not there. It's there, trust me. Not visible for outsiders, but absolutely present for the person with D and their beloved ones.

Today, my employer wanted to thank me for driving all the way to the beach to take care of their little girl. They know how I love to cook and bake and they decided to buy a wonderful rice cake from a good bakery. Right after noontime, they came home with the pie and offered me a slice. My numbers were still a bit high, since I had eaten lunch recently. So I decided to wait and told them I wanted to save my piece for later that afternoon. They looked a bit disappointed. I felt sorry for them but I didn't want to go skyhigh because of a piece of pie, no matter how appealing it looked. They had their piece and I couldn't wait to have mine, for it looked real yummy. My employer was a bit surprised that I couldn't have the treat right away. He knows I need insulin for the carbs I eat, but he doesn't know what diabetes really is about. It's about counting carbs and poking your fingers and trying to keep your numbers within range (70 - 120 mg/dl would be great) and feeling sick when your numbers are too high and loosing your mind when you're lacking sugar. It's about making decisions all day and trying to eyeball the carb contents of the food you're going to have. You are constantly aware of D since it haunts you if you decide to pretend it's not there.

My BG was pretty much within range and I had planned a long walk with Kiddo, so I decided it was about time to have that piece of pie. I estimated the carbs to be around 60 grams, but knowing I was going for a long walk, I decided to give insulin for 35 grams of carbs. After all, I didn't want to go low on the walk, for I am responsible for this little girl. Bummer! Not too long after I left the apartment to go to the beach, my Dexcom G4 warned me for an upcoming high number. I had not brought along my glucometer, for I didn't expect any highs at all. I did bring a bottle of glucotabs to help me beat lows, but they are pretty worthless when you're high... I guess I made the wrong decision. That's also part of D. Weighing pros and cons and making the best decisions you can at that time. I felt stupid for having eaten the pie and I cursed for having diabetes. My calves were real heavy and cramping and I had a hard time moving around. Little kiddo desperately needed her walk and I was too far off to go back to the apartment to get my glucometer. I could have bolused on my pump, but it was hidden underneath my clothes and not within reach. So I kept going and was very relieved to be home. I corrected that high right away and had like one liter of water to wash away those excess sugars in my blood.

On my way home, I was thinking things over and trying to evaluate the situation. Because that's what you do when you have D. You try to learn from every experience and you try to prevent things in the future. It's just always there, wherever you go or wherever you are. I had just attached my Dexcom to its car holder, when I saw the 86 with an arrow pointing downwards. Remember the 70 - 120 mg/dl range as being perfect? And 86 is within that range, right? Well, guess what? Wrong answer! This 86 is not perfect at all. My CGM is warning me of an upcoming low. If I would have read that 86 on my glucometer only, it would've been a perfect number. Now that it's on my Dexcom screen, it tells me something else. Of course it could be worse, showing a double arrow downwards. This was only a single arrow, but nevertheless: not safe enough to drive the car without having some glucose first. So I pulled over, opened my bag to see what I had left. There was the choice of candy, cookies, glucotabs, a sachet of hypofit (glucose gel) or a banana. I was hungry (that's what lows do to you) so I decided to have 20 grams of carbs eating the cookies. I waited some longer, checked my Dexcom to see the trend go up again and that's when I was ready to move on. That's what D is about. It's about coming late at your next appointment because stupid lows hit in. It's about pulling over your car because you need to fix yourself to prevent accidents from happening. It's always there... always... invisible to you, but very present to me.

Blend in

"What does it say?", one lady asked her friend, who was holding her arm as they approached the restaurant. "It says: Gourmet burger", her friend replied. "Oooh, I see, isn't that where you are supposed to cook your own little burgers in a small pan?" The three ladies were all excited about their adventure in the big city. They sat down, ordered three glasses of beer and kept on chatting, waiting for their adventurous lunch.

"We have to tell you some terrible news, kiddo", this mom told her approximately 10 yo old son, who was sitting at the opposite side of the table. He looked up from the menu and the man, sitting next to the young boy, put his hand on the arm of his new girlfriend. "While you were at daddy's house last week, mommy had a miscarriage. We know how much you wanted this baby and how dreadful this news must be for you", she announced, clearly emotional. Her eyes ping ponged from her son to her new partner. The son opened the menu and said: "I don't mind too much, I never wanted a brother or sister anyway..". 

I was waiting for my friend to arrive. He was a bit later than usual. Opening the iPad, I decided to type him a message, to make sure he had not forgotten our appointment at the Antwerp docks. The cute waiter (did you see how skinny he was???) handed me my glass of cold cava and asked me if I had already made a choice of what to have for lunch. Yes, I had, but I was waiting for my friend to join me. If he could come back a bit later to take our order? Absolutely ma'am! I knew my friend would like the look of this young man and I was right. Just a little bit later, he showed up and I was glad to see him. It had been too long. We hugged and kissed and soon after that, we sat down and started our conversations like we always do. I missed him... I didn't have that much time, since my daughter was shopping and she needed a ride home. But we agreed to schedule another date in August. I love our conversations.. and I love overhearing other people's conversations too. So next time you're late, don't worry. Because I always find a way to keep busy and blend in. And our very long lunch dates have become notorious...

Do not forget how fragile we are

When my friend shared the link on my Facebook, the hairs in the back of my neck stood up instantly. A good girlfriend of his, was missing after a wonderful night out. She was supposed to take public transportation to her car that was parked just outside downtown Ghent. Her father was expecting her at a funeral she was supposed to attend the next morning, but she didn't show up. That was nothing like her, her father claimed. He reported his 29 yo old daughter missing. People were asked if they knew her whereabouts or if anyone knew where her car was. It was no longer parked where she had left it the night before. My friend was very upset with her disappearance. Aurore Ruyffelaere was a young and promising teacher. With plenty of friends, she enjoyed life and she had a bright future ahead of her. So many people were out there, looking for her and hoping for the best. The night before Aurore went missing, a man had attacked another woman in an attempt to steal her purse. The police was investigating the possible link between this man and the disappearance of Aurore..

Tonight, at 22:17, the newspapers made the announcement that the search for Aurore had stopped. She will not come home. She will have no more wonderful nights out nor teach history class to young teens. Life has come to an end for this young woman. She had just started life, living all by herself for the very first time. She had a dog she was looking after and she was loved by her family and friends.

What has happened to this world, that people decide they can take someone else's life? How sick are you, when you murder an innocent person? Nobody deserves to die like this.. Neither did this young girl... So many lives have been torn apart again. The life of her family will never be the same. Life has stopped July 29th 2013. There will be an empty spot in their heart that can never be filled. RIP beautiful girl... 

Sigh..

If I would still have had my gall bladder, I'm sure I would've felt bile coming up my throat..

There were 4 of us in the car and it was only 5:15 AM. We had just turned on to the Highway on our way to Bruges Railway Station, when we saw this black, sporty car. It was not looking its best. The roof of the car had been scraping over the street. Since it was still 18°C, the window at the driver's side was rolled down. We could see a young male, wearing a white short sleeved T-shirt. He was in deep trouble. A young couple in a black Mini Cooper had just stopped and was running towards the car that had landed upside down on its roof. A truck was involved into the accident as well.
It was not looking good at all. My stomach twirled and I told my daughter to look the other side. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the traffic light and it had never taken so long to jump green. A bunch of young people - I assume around 8 - were in despair, walking around the car and looking for help. Despite the warm morning, all of a sudden I was really cold. Whose parents would get a phone call, this early in the morning? In which house would a mom howl like a wolf for her lost son? Whose dad would try to keep back his tears, his arms holding on to the woman who once put this child into this world?

Was there a technical problem with this car that made it cause this accident? Was it speeding? Were alcohol or maybe drugs responsible for this awful ordeal or a combination of? I don't know. I could only hope there were no other youngsters involved. Somehow I felt the presence of friends in this car and all of them had gone out together and were on their way looking for some more fun. The good weather must have made them feel invincible. So many lives will be torn apart again. All this grief and pain and sorrow for a night full of happiness and laughter.

Am I crazy for picking up our daughters after a night out? Is it selfish to ask them not to get loaded or forbid them to get into the car of a driver who's been drinking?
This is not what I was thinking of, when I told my daughter to get up early this morning, to be in time to leave for the Railway Station. She couldn't understand why we had to get going at 5 AM if the train wouldn't leave till 6:25? I told her there could always be obstacles on the road and I didn't want her and her companions to miss the train to Paris. Her friend's mom told me, her older son had not come home yet, from his night out. It freaked her out to see this accident. My daughter thought she saw her cousin looking at the wrecked car. I hope he was in bed, where he should be at this time of the day.

I wanted to go back to sleep, after I came back from Bruges. Blue police lights and orange lights from the towing service, were there to prevent others from bumping into the wreck. I saw nothing but uniformed men. The ambulances had already left the scene and the bystanders had gone home, trying to get this experience out of their system. I knew I would be checking the newspaper regularly this morning. It will be a while before this devastating image burned into my brain will have faded..

Only a couple of hours later, I read the newsflash. A truck driver was crossing the highway, when this young man wrecked his car by speeding a red light, into the back of the truck. Severely injured, but alive, and with alcohol in his system, the driver of the car was taken to the hospital. Let's keep our fingers crossed he will come out of this accident without too much damage...

Cutie pahtooties

It's wonderful to see the two of you together. It's been 5 months now and you are very happy. He's treating you well and he's considerate, polite and caring. Last night, we left the two of you by yourselves, to enjoy a private dinner. Earlier that day, you started making Greek yogurt panna cotta topped with blueberries. As a starter, you wanted to make a threesome of yellow and red tomatoes, garnished with mozzarella and fresh basil leaves. Seems like you really wanted to pamper your date.. He had no idea what you were going to cook for him, so we hoped he liked fresh linguine with prawns in a light apple curry sauce. It is one of your favorite dishes and you are a good cook. I knew you were going to set the table with linen and nice plates, candle light and your most beautiful smile. He's a lucky young man! Enjoy each other, enjoy the friendship and the love. Being young and being in love is a feeling to hold on to..

Hold on to whatever keeps you warm

It's just scary at times, to see how these two get along so well. They just can't be separated, it's impossible. You will never see one without the other. They are like peas and carrots, you know.

Hubby was taking them for their daily walk to the soccer field. They are all excited from the moment he gets up in the morning, because they know around 9:30 he will get their leashes and it's time for their exercise. This day wasn't any different. All hyper and jumpy, the three of them left the house.

Not too long after they left, I got a phone call from hubby. Before I picked up the phone, I told the oldest daughter: "Wanna bet one of them hurt herself?" Because that's one of the reasons hubby would ever call me. I didn't even have the chance to ask him, because as soon as I picked up the phone, he shouted: "They're gone! The dogs ran off and I have no idea where they are!!!"

Lana and I hopped into our shoes and ran to the front door, to give him a hand in looking for the missing muppies. Tragic endings raced through my mind and I'm sure hubby was in a state of shock, not knowing where to look for them.

I grabbed my keys, opened the door and guess who nearly ran me over? Exactly... two crazy whippets raced into the hallway, looking perplexed and their eyes wide open in fear. Right away I called hubby to bring him home. They were safe and sound, no injuries to be seen. They were already asleep on the couch by the time he got in, about 5 minutes later. Rebba had a strange look in her eyes, like she had witnessed some horrific adventure. Hubby told me about how they were playing ball on the soccer field, like they always do. Until that other pet owner got to the field and let his two canines run free. They were not sighthounds and we know our dogs are not that fond of other breeds. Rebba ran off and Inthe chased her instantly. These are times when I'm happy hubby always takes the same route when the three of them go out for a walk. I do wonder: do you think Rebba and Inthe will have waited to cross the road at the crosswalk?

Sit back and enjoy the ride

I love roller coasters! The higher they get, the more excited I become. Having worked in a amusement park as a young teen, I would always rush to the roller coaster right after work. We would hang out there with my friends and enjoy numerous rides, screaming our lungs out and getting all wound up. Back then, I never would have thought roller coasters could also have a completely different meaning..

I hate roller coasters! The higher I get, the more fatigued and miserable I become. Going from high to low and back is no longer something to get excited about, on the contrary. I truly despise the alterations in my blood sugar. To be honest: it's probably the one thing I really hate about diabetes. I have discussed the subject with my endocrinologist on numerous occasions. He listened to me and told me it's part of being a T1 diabetic. I know it is. Does that make it any easier or more bearable? Don't think so. I really want to find a way to cope better with these swings. I don't want to be the party pooper because I'm messed up by lows and highs. Going out with friends and having a good time, is just one of those things I love to do. Having a good meal and great conversations, but always with diabetes in the back of my head, is part of it. I prefer to have one cool glass of Chardonnay with my meal, rather than having beer or cocktails. Making sure I have some carbs while sipping my wine, I try to prevent lows later on.

I don't know what caused my roller coaster last night, but it was no fun, I can assure you. I was exhausted (well, not just from the highs and lows - I'm nearly 42 and no longer used to staying up that late) and all I wanted to do, was lie down and catch some sleep. Just little time after closing my eyes, my Dexcom beeped. I opened one eye to take a look: 71 Not bad. I would love to have this number all day, but not to go to sleep. I reached for the bottle of Glucotabs I brought from my recent trip to Florida and shook a couple of tabs into my hand. I hate dextrose. They dry out your mouth and leave you with a stuffed feeling, like having chewed on cotton balls. But o well, I had already drunk 3 small cans of coke prior to the tablets. I closed my eyes, turned over and clamped my Dexcom in one hand. Not for too long: there was the alarm again. I looked over to my Hubby, who was sound asleep in the hotel bed. Reaching out for the bottle of Glucotabs a second time, I knew it was going to be a very short night. I was so exhausted and I knew we had to get up in just a couple of hours. Diabetes, I hate it when you deprive my sleep. I feel like crap after short nights and especially if they have been interrupted for lows. Ten Glucotabs later, it was time to get up and get ready for breakfast with our friends. I could do with some coffee and toast. It felt like a terrible hangover, without having had the alcohol. If it's a choice not to have alcohol, is there a way to choose not to have lows at night?

Feminine features

You said you fell in love with me for my fantastic calves. Those calves were the proof of my sporty nature. At least, that's what you thought. Either I was fond of riding my bicycle or I must go for long walks. I did neither one.. I don't know how I ended up with those nice muscular lower legs, but you were not the first to say. I have always liked my lower legs, just like you have. I still don't ride bicycles (what were you thinking) and I only walk from the front door to the car. But yes, I have convinced myself sports could be good for me. Well, I haven't convinced myself, my diabetic friends have. One of them told me I am really good at motivating others, but I don't work out myself. And he's absolutely right. I haven't been much of an example when it comes to exercising. I think I'm just too lazy for sports.

For a number of times now, I have packed my sports bag to go to the swimming pool. My first attempt was really pathetic. I didn't know how to swim right or keep my head under water. But I went and I got into the freezing cold water and yes, I complained and nagged a lot. Things have gone better over time. I even schedule my swim moment in my agenda, so I don't let anything interfere. Most of the times, hubby joins me, but if he can't or doesn't feel like it, I go by myself. I'm doing better now. Two new swimsuits, goggles and a  nose clip have been added to my back pack and that makes the swimming easier. It's good to know that Mr Baywatch is keeping an eye on me. He knows about my diabetes and he keeps an eye on my glucometer and Dexcom for me. I always bring a small can of regular coke, just in case. Whenever I stop swimming somewhere in the middle of the pool, he runs to me to check if I'm okay. I have told him now, that if I see he's worried, I will raise my thumb. If I don't, it means I'm in trouble.

Last week, I went to the pool all by myself. There weren't many school kids and I no longer fear the cold water. Now I can actually say I don't even mind the coldness. I march down the steps, right in to the water. Goggles in place, nose clip ready and there I go. I swim 10 lengths and I come out of the water to check my Dexcom. Most of the times, I need 1 small can of coke by then. I have my coke and I go back into the water. I can see people look at the transmitter on my upper arm, but I don't care. It's there to help me keep control and it makes me feel more secure in the water.

I'm proud of myself. If the swimming could turn my back into a V-shape, that would be awesome. It will probably never happen, but it can't harm to dream, can it?

Daddy's girls

They lay down on the couch, their eyes closing every now and then, to continue their dreams of chasing cats and bunnies. It's still very quiet around the house. The sunbeams peek through the windows and I have turned down the volume of the radio, for I don't want to disturb the silence of this Sunday morning. Right above my head, I hear him stumble out of bed. Inthe has heard something too, for she's pointing one ear and her eyes are open wide. Could it be? Is it time to get up? O yes! I can hear daddy flush the toilet before he comes down the stairs. Backwards, of course, just the way his mom taught him as a child. Some of the steps are creaking but that's part of the charm of a one century old house. By the time dad is down the hallway, both dogs are waiting for him by the door. They are all excited, to be seen by the wagging of their tail. He has a hard time coming inside, because they are blocking the doorway. Daddy's here! Daddy's here! How lovely!

While I make coffee, Daddy scratches his hair and yawns away the sleep. He rubs his eyes and touches his beard, to see if he needs a shave. Both dogs are sitting beside him at the kitchen table. They are like statues, so quiet. Their gaze is focused on one person: Daddy.. He tells them he wants to have his yogurt and cereal breakfast before the walk. So they wait a bit longer. Once he gets up and puts on his clothes, Inthe becomes his very own shadow. She won't loose track of him now. Rebba is more chill about it. So she strolls back to the couch, throws out the pillows I just rearranged, scratches the cushions and then finds a better spot on the other side. Her head is pointed towards the kitchen though and her ears are turning constantly. Daddy is looking for his shoes and when he opens the door to get the leashes, Inthe is loosing her marbles. She sticks to his leg and follows him all around. As a joke, he walks around the table and she is right there, beside him.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Inthe puts her legs right on his shoulders and licks his ears and nose. Her tail is even more excited and can't stop wagging. Rebba is trying to look the most uninterested as possible. She's a bit different, you know. She needs her own special invitation. Daddy walks towards Rebba and asks her in a soft voice: "Wanna go for a walk, Rebba?". "Who? Me? Really? Are you kidding me? Of course!". That's when Rebba finally gets of the couch to put on her leash. Both dogs look at me like if they want to say: aren't you coming, mom?

The house is quiet again. The dogs are enjoying their walk. They are marking their territory as often as they can, before Daddy frees them from their leashes. They can run their lungs out at the soccer field, playing fetch and chasing each other. Daddy gets to pick up the poop and trash the purple bags somewhere along the line. The girls are so different and yet so much alike. Almost like our two daughters, I guess. The oldest dog has Daddy's last name, while Inthe is carrying my last name. Just like Lana looks after her father and Eva is mommy's girl. People may have the same features as their pets. Sometimes the children do too..

I'm on board

When you asked me to join you to cooking class, I didn't hesitate one moment. I love cooking classes! There are always new things to learn and when you explained this class was vegetarian, I wanted to go. The teacher has a history of knowledge on cooking macrobiotic meals and she is more than willing to share that information with us. I'm not much of a meat eater, but I'm no vegetarian either. I like my vegetables, don't get me wrong, but I'm not really familiar with the vegetarian diet. So I packed my notebook and I was very anxious to learn more about it.

My sister-in-law has been working for this company in vegetarian produce and she's a fan of the diet. I know she has a lot of knowledge to share as well. So yes, I'm happy she asked me to join her. I have eaten things I had never tasted before. Some I liked, some were a real turn off, but I'm open to tasting anything. I'm a little hesitant to bring the produce into our home, since my husband is a meat eater. He would not replace his meat by substitutes. I don't look at it that way. I don't want to replace anything. I see vegetarian food as a bonus to my dishes. It's good to bring some variation into your diet, so you get to absorb all the vitamins one could possibly need.

Looking forward to the next class. I'll see you in a bit.

Should I have said something?

Let's assume your parents occasionally have a drink when they go out. A glass of wine at the dinner table or a refreshing beer on a hot day, a glass of champagne to celebrate a special occasion. Sounds acceptable, right? Not one person would say this is socially not acceptable, since the drinking habit is within limits.
Let's assume your parents have a drink or two when they go out. They have a drink at home, before they go out, because it sets the mood right. They treat their friends on shots at the pub and they think soda pop is for teens. How about a glass of wine with every meal and a shot of whiskey to round the day? Maybe a small glass of port around 11 AM, just for the fun of it? Half a crate of beer at a family party, just to show off and let their friends know how tough they are? What if they let you, at the age of 12, sip their drink, to see if you like the taste? Is that acceptable?

I wonder if there is a connection between the attitude towards alcohol and the chances you start to abuse alcohol, if you were introduced to alcohol at an early age. If you grow up under the assumption that alcohol can be used on a daily basis and as a part of a healthy, normal life, would you consider that strange? Would you question your parents about it? Maybe you don't know any better, since you trust your parents to raise you in the best possible way. They want you to become an independent individual with a mind of your own. To them, alcohol is part of that life and considered normal and acceptable. So you grow up and live your life and just like your parents, there is always an occasion to drink: a celebration, not feeling well, a rough day at work, one more glass left in a bottle you wanted to throw out, sad moments, happy moments, social drinking, getting promoted, 11 AM shots (as long as you don't drink before 11 AM, it's normal, right?). The alcohol makes you happy. That's what you experienced as a child. You saw your parents laugh and have a good time while having a couple of drinks. Easy, right? They would open a bottle of comforter to help getting rid of grief. There was no shoulder to cry on, because there was a cabinet filled with bottles to choose from.. A different drink for every emotion.

Are parents the role model in drinking behavior? How do you teach your children about moderation and the danger of addictions? How come 14 year olds are binge drinking without anybody stepping in? What's your role in educating your kids alcohol is a drug too?

I'm sure there are plenty of excuses: it's genetic, it helps me relax, it takes away my sorrows and I'm much more happy and cheerful if I have a few drinks. Does anybody tell them about the aftermath? Do they realize problems don't disappear but only get bigger? Do they discuss hangovers in a serious conversation or is it cool to tell others how much you have been drinking? What is the role of the parents? Is it necessary to step in and set the example?

How was the party?

Waking up with a pillow full of vomit, wearing jeans instead of pj's and without any idea where your T-shirt is, is not the most attractive way to wake up. Your throat is sore and feels like sandpaper. You are so thirsty and your head feels like someone is using a meat mill to grind your brain. You try to get your legs out of bed and you stare at that pair of jeans that isn't yours. What the heck.. You reach for the door knob and on your socks, you sneak out of the bedroom, assuring to be quiet because you don't want to wake anybody. In the bathroom, the clock is telling you it is late afternoon. Is that clock working allright? You take a glance in the mirror and the image is telling how you are feeling. Like crap, that is. A peek through the window says there is no sign of your car. Shoot.. Rubbing your temples, you try to figure out what had happened to previous night, but there's only a black hole. You remember going to the pub just down the street and having a great time with your friends. You taste the sweet wellness of cherry liquor, although it no longer tastes the same as the night before and right there and then, it makes your stomach twirl. You fall down to your knees in front of the toilet and you fear your guts may come out. Never again, you promise yourself. This was the worst hangover ever. You fear going downstairs because you don't want to face your parents. Their disappointment will be huge and the rant will be correspondingly. There is no time to come up with a plausible story, since your mother is trotting up the stairs. Your heart is pounding in your body and you try to prepare yourself for the storm in the glass..

It's part of the growing pains. There's no use crying over it. It happens and we can only hope it won't happen again. It's a good lesson in life. Alcohol makes you sick and it wipes out your memory. It makes you feel invincible one moment and it turns you in to a terrible mess the very next. It's up to you where to draw the line. The life of a teenager isn't always grand.. Let's hope not too many people witnessed your disastrous night.

Peace of mind

I was 18 and I had just finished highschool. Not ready to go to work yet but not knowing what direction I was headed to either. That was a hard one! I know I didn't want to go to university. I was not that much of a student. Not that my grades were bad, I just didn't like to study on a regular base. So university was not an option. College. Okay, that sounded more like it. I wanted to go to school in Ghent, because that's where all the fun was, right? I wanted to move out and find a room. In Ghent, obviously. Because, well, same reason.. I just had no clue what I wanted to study. My mom made the decision for me: I was not going to Ghent, not by any chance. I didn't understand? Was it because my sister was already studying in Ghent? I didn't see the problem. She did, so I heard. She suspected her second child to be out and partying all night long and neglecting school. I had no intention to do that whatsoever. Of course I would go out for a drink with friends, every now and then, but I would not get drunk or sleep on a street bench or do drugs or anything like that?

So she decided I couldn't go to Ghent. She also decided becoming a kindergarten teacher was the best option for me. Wasn't that the choice she had wanted to make for her own career? Hmhmhm. I admit I'm creative and yes, I'm good with kids. But becoming a kindergarten teacher? That was not an option I had considered myself. I was more the Tourism type. I wanted to do something with traveling and languages. But hey: I had the choice: go to school to become a teacher or go to work. So far for a choice..

I decided I wanted to go to college and I chose a school as far away from home as possible. It was a 2 hour ride by train and I have spent many boring hours on that wooden train seat before I treated myself to a car. My mom had no other choice than to let me rent a room in Eeklo. For her peace of mind, she agreed Eeklo was not Ghent and there weren't as many pubs or facilities to be distracted.
She and my sister accompanied me to visit different rooms. That first room was horrible. This old lady was looking for a resident companion. She had the attic for rent and there was this unstable stairways to my room, that she would push up at night, so I would be locked up in my room until the next morning. I'm sure my mom was thrilled by this idea, but I wasn't!

I ended up living with two sculptors. We became pretty close in the 3 years I shared a house with them. I loved my room. It was in the middle of the center (okay, Eeklo is not Ghent), close to school and vivid enough for me. Although there was no cell phone to check on me and the sculptors didn't spy on me, I behaved pretty well for a college student. I didn't go out every night and I didn't need alcohol to have a good time. I still didn't like to study a whole lot, but despite all of that, my grades were very good. To be honest: I was a good student and I ended up being one of the best students in class. My teachers told me I was going to be a good teacher. Then why was I so opposed to becoming one? It's your guess..

Just say when

Although I try all different kinds of food, I'm a picky eater. I like to know what's in my food and how it has been prepared. When I go out to eat, I'm happy if the waiter can tell me more about the preparation method of the food I'm willing to order. Is there a possibility to have my meat grilled or to have a sauce on the side? I like my steak medium rare and I will send it back if it's overdone. I don't mind paying for my food, as long as it's well prepared and to my taste.

I remember the Olive Garden in Kissimmee, Florida. We went out for dinner and we were going to have a salad on the side. We were impressed by the big bowl of fresh greens, crispy croutons on top and sliced bell peppers in all kinds of bright colors. When the waitress stopped by with her cheese mill, I was happy to see her grate a big chunk of Parmesan cheese over the salad. No prepacked fake Parmesan: yay! She said: just say when.. I'm happy hubby didn't understand her. She was still grating cheese when he said: when is she going to stop grating??? It gave us a lot of excellent cheese and a wonderful dinner. I like it when waiters do the best they can to give you good quality food and try to satisfy your needs. Would you like a baked potato instead of French fries? No problem, ma'am. Fresh pesto instead of cream sauce? Of course. Without asking, a slice of lime is making that cold water taste a whole lot better.

Call me spoiled, I don't care. I like creativity in the kitchen and it immediately shows the stock the chef has on board. If it's impossible to have the "shrimp stir fry with noodles" without the shrimp, you know they just open a bag of frozen rubbish. I like my food fresh and tasty. When the menu says: vegetable curry with fresh coconut, I check the open kitchen and I never hear the cook crack an exotic coconut... Then why state it's fresh? They can't fool me..
If I want prepacked food, I'll have a box of lunchables. Never!