Carte blanche.

When I hear folks refer to life as a roller coaster ride, I can’t agree more.

Don’t get me wrong, I love roller coasters. FREAKING LOVE roller coasters. (I actually haven’t been on one in quite a while, but I’m fairly certain that I still like them A LOT.)

The only roller coaster I’m not crazy about lately is the one that my blood sugars sometimes ride. I had one day last week where I would be high, and we’re talking like 250+ high, here, then 2-3 hours later would have a low somewhere between 65-75. This happened no less than three times. Just another reminder that no matter how much I may think I have “control” of this disease and my body, I am clearly not the one making the choices.

On the other side of what “low” means in my life, a dear friend of mine has been going through some really tough times. She’s about my age, and just found out that she has Type 1 diabetes. It’s very surreal to watch this from the other side, because I think this must be how my family felt when I was diagnosed. Helpless. She keeps reaching out to me for support, and I am incredibly happy to give it, but it just feels so strange to be the one doing most of the giving in the support department. A part of me is pretty sure that this may be one of the reasons why my body decided to do whatever it did that caused my diabetes: I’m supposed to help others.

I can’t help, however, feeling a little sad for her sake because I know what’s coming. I know the frustration that goes along with “making it work.” I know what it’s like to have people that you care deeply about walk out of your life because they “can’t date you and the diabetes.” (That one really hurt.) I know what it’s like to have to tell your whole life story to your employer/coworkers because you’re paranoid that no one will know what’s going on if you have an extreme high or low, and I definitely know what it’s like to field ridiculous questions and have others give you tips about how to manage a disease they don’t have themselves.

But I do know something else, as well, and I hope I can impart it in some way: I know the incredible joy that comes with just living. It’s so easy to take everything for granted, and I know I did once upon a time, so much so that you can lose that sense of joy or forget to appreciate the things you have. I have so many “giving up would be so much easier” moments, but I have twice as many “boy, am I glad it’s today” moments as well.

Sometimes, the promise of a new day is just what you need. A new beginning. A chance to make it better. To be a better you.

Carte blanche.

Nice work if you can get it.

I am so done with night shift.

I’ve been on full-time night shift for over a year and half at this point, and I’m just tired. I know, I know, I should be tired, I work at night. But it’s more than that; my body is just tired. I’ve been having these weird inexplicable high BGs lately, like those but-I-didn’t-eat-anything-so-why-am-I-high kind of BGs. I think it might also be in response to the flu shot I received on Saturday night, but I don’t usually have this much trouble. I honestly think that my body is trying to tell me something by giving my work schedule a big EFF YOU, GTFO. My disease’s attitude is seriously getting out of control — maybe it needs a time out. (Wouldn’t that be nice, though?! Just for one day…)

So, long story short, I’ve applied for an internal transfer to become a per diem version of my current position, which would allow me to pick my own schedule (excellent), work while going to school (also excellent), and finally go back to day work (MOST EXCELLENT). I hope the that this works out, because I’m just ready. My main worry is adjusting my basal rates again — Dr. Z has me on a flipped schedule, so my highest basal is during the wee hours of the morning when I eat my mid-shift meal, and the lowest basal is during mid-afternoon when I sleep. I’m not one of those pump users that just adjusts her own basal rates (yet), so I’m nervous about going through the readjustment period again.

I’m also very nervous about giving up my health insurance. Unfortunately, per diem staff do not get the option to elect for health insurance (I’m not too too upset about it because my work’s plan is really expensive for someone on my salary). Fortunately, I fall into that group of young people who are now covered on my parents’ insurance until age 26 regardless of circumstance. I’ll be covered until August of next year, and by then I will know which nursing school I’ll be attending and can decide what the game plan will be.

I’ll definitely miss that flex spending plan, too. Oh well.

But I need to do this. Just another one of these life situations where my mindset is don’t care, this is what I want, it’s going to work no matter what. I’m so past accepting no for an answer.

I have accepted, though, after duking it out with the insurance company for the first time last month (that’s another blog post entirely), that if I don’t grow a pair and speak up for what I need from work, insurance companies, life in general… I’m not going to get it. Case in point: my manager is so happy that I’ve found something that may work better than the current situation. I wish every PWD was as lucky as I am.

Oh nice work if you can get it.
And you can get it — if you try.

Be well. 🙂