Friday, December 29

Move along now little one, move along...

Yes, it has been a difficult 6 months to say the least. Thank you all so much for your kind words during this ordeal with my dad. It's been a month since he died and I still can't quite get used to the fact that I cannot pick up the phone and call him whenever I want. Here him say 'Heeeey Baby!!'
But I do know that I have to 'move along'. Slowly, but surely.

One of my New Years resolutions is to post more regularly. We'll see how that goes, but hey, it's a goal...I also want to lose 25 pounds. A girl can dream can't she? Maybe I'll be really crazy and post before and after pictures and every thing! Let's not hold our breath!

But for now...I am thankful for the simple things like this sunset on December 23rd in Oslo, Norway. It took my breath away and I got teary eyed. It reminds me that with all of the brutality in remains...

Peace and happiness to you all this New Year...

Monday, November 27

Saying Goodbye

My dad, September 2006

The words are hard to come by.

If you have lost a parent, you will understand. There is a feeling of hopelessness that enters your heart as soon as they die. It's almost like a panic. You cannot remember a time of not having them, so a life without them is unfathomable.

Yet it happens. I suddenly feel very vulnerable. Very insecure. I get those sobs that sneak up your throat and just come out before you can stop them. It's like a moan or a wail. It hurts.

It happens.

And it happened to me early Sunday morning, somewhere around 2am. The picture in this post was taken by my little sister about 2 months ago. He was 2 months into the fight and still hopeful.

We all were.

I will miss my dad and my heart aches with the knowledge that he is gone because I just don't know how I can possibly say goodbye.

Wednesday, October 18

Life Changes so Suddenly.

This is me, my sister Kindel and my dad.

Kindel and my dad.

This is me and my father dancing on my wedding day.

About 3 months ago he was diagnosed with Stage IV esophogeal cancer. His name is John. He needs a miracle.

Please pray for him. Pray for healing. Pray for strength. Pray for mercy.

Thank you. So much.

Monday, August 28

The Nose Knows

Please be forewarned. I am about to talk about bodily functions. IF you have a problem with having bodily functions discussed, as though they should be kept in secret, please skip ahead.

My name is Kathryn and I have a gift. Like most superheroes, I didn’t know I had a gift until someone pointed out that it was something that most people didn’t have. Now, it’s not the most impressive of powers and I could have a hard time being certified at superhero school. I can’t fly or shoot fire from my eyes or have webs spout forth from my wrists, but my gift, if utilized properly, is a powerful one.

I have an uncanny sense of smell. Always have. I also associate taste with smell, which apparently is pretty rare according to an article in the New York Times a few months ago. For example, if I taste something I might say ‘Oh, this tastes like honeysuckle smells’, or something like that. I have always been able to smell wines and perfumes and analyze the different layers of scents, tastes and extracts with astounding accuracy. I don’t know where I got it from; it’s just always been like that. This is not something that many people would be jealous of, and it’s nothing that I have ever imagined could be used for the betterment of mankind. Until recently.

I was on an airplane somewhere over the Atlantic. It was mid-flight. The meal had been served, the first movie was underway. I had to go to the bathroom. I took my place in line and began to wait. Finally, a middle aged man emerged from the bathroom. We nodded in that friendly, almost apologetic way people do when they know you have to use the airplane toilet after them, and, like a gentleman, he held the door for me. I stepped into the airborne porta-potty, shut and locked the door, and as the automatic fluorescent light flickered on, I was hit by an odor that was very familiar.

I SMELLED MY ARCH-NEMESIS, DIABETES! It was lurking in that bathroom. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sweet man who held the door for me had “sweet blood.”

(This is the part I warned you about at the beginning. Do you know how your urine smells after you have had asparagus?? If you don’t, let me tell you, it STINKS! If you are diabetic and your condition is unmanaged, your urine has a very distinct odor to it. It is from all of the excess sugar your body is not processing that spills over into your urine. I have always been able to tell whether or not my blood sugar was high by the smell of my pee and I am always right.)

I smelled the smell now. I had a mixture of reactions here. My first reaction was one of disgust that I had to smell someone else’s pee. As I overcame the first reaction, I was filled with a weird excitement that I could actually “smell” a disease in other people and not just myself. I mean, there has to be a market for that, like a drug dog, only different! And my third and final reaction was, "What should I do now that I was armed with this powerful tidbit of information?"
My initial impulse was to find the man and calmly let him know that I thought he could be a diabetic, but I had a hard time imagining how that conversation might go.

“Hi, excuse me sir, I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m the girl from the restroom up by first class who was waiting when you came out the door…Oh, good, you do remember me…Well, I just wanted to let you know…What’s that? This is your wife? Hi, it’s nice to meet you… Yes, I used the restroom after your husband a few minutes ago.”

(At this point the wife is probably wondering what exactly her husband was doing in the bathroom and the husband is wondering who in the heck I am and why I have come to find him.)

“I know this may be awkward, but I was just curious to know whether or not you had discussed with your physician whether or not you could be diabetic…Excuse me? No, no sir, I am not a psychic, although I can see where you might have come to that conclusion. I am simply an olfactory technician (every superhero has to have a cover) and I noticed that you left behind an odor in the restroom that is consistent with that of high blood sugar. So, I think you need to get this under control and consult with your doctor to figure out a plan that is right for you. Now, enjoy the rest of your flight.”

I know that was a bit sarcastic and far fetched, but SERIOUSLY, what would you say??? I did feel some sort of responsibility. I mean, I had been given this gift and I didn’t want to let mankind down. What would Spiderman do? I think he would march right back there and find that man and let him know that he could have a serious health problem.

I went back to my seat and considered informing my husband of my plan, but I knew instinctively that he did NOT think that was what Spiderman would do. He probably thought Spiderman would come and sit back down and respect the man’s privacy. He probably would have had the same response when asked what would Wonderwoman do, what would Aquaman do, what would the Wondertwins do, what would Superman do, etc, until I ran out of all of the superheroes names I could remember.

Feeling somewhat defeated and a little guilty, I thought to myself, “What would GI Joe do? GI Joe always says that knowing is half the battle. This man deserves to KNOW.” At this point I had informed my husband of the ‘I smell diabetic people’ situation and he pretty much knew I was going to do what I wanted to do and there was little he could say to dissuade me. I think he had decided that he would just act like he didn’t know me and meet me on the other side of immigration once we landed.

The truth is, the longer I sat there, the more chicken I became. The thought of what to say in a good, diplomatic way eluded me. In the long run, I said nothing. I don’t know if that was the right or the wrong thing to do, but it was certainly the most comfortable thing to do and superheroes rarely do what is most comfortable for themselves, but rather what is ultimately best for mankind.

So, I suppose in truth, I am not a superhero after all. I’m just a diabetic girl with a really good sense of smell who wanted to help a man on an airplane who was a lot like me.

I guess that makes me human.

Monday, June 12

No wonder it's so hard!

I once had a post about trying to make a diabetic friendly pizza. It was long and had many different options. Bottom line was that there is no such thing. You should just exercise and be healthy and every once in awhile indulge in the real thing. So worth it. I also wondered why I had an increase of pizza eating since moving to Norway. Well, I found this online today and thought it was interesting:

"Norway is the Scandinavian country with the highest pizza consumption per capita. There are statistics indicating that the average Norwegian eats more than 50 pizzas a year, a figure also including frozen pizzas bought from supermarkets. 100% home delivery/takeaway was the fastest growing consumer foodservice sector in 2004."

That is a lot of pizza per person! I also read somewhere else that Norwegians consume more hotdogs per capita than any other country in the world. I will try to find the number, but it is probably close to the pizza number.

That means that for about 100 days out of the year, statistically, those of us in Norway are eating pizza or hotdogs.


Just found that interesting.

Thursday, May 25

The Day It All Made Sense

As anyone who has been following this blog knows, I have been sick an abnormal amount over the last two years. It has been a constant source of frustration for me, as I never had this problem before moving to Norway.
As you also may know, I have been somewhat of a 'Daredevil Diabetic' as well. My definition of a Daredevil Diabetic, is someone who knows they have the disease, but continues to live as though they didn't. Someone who still eats what they want, doesn't exercise much and basically refuses to make any lifestyle changes to accomodate their new found 'friend'. I have been one of those kinds of devils.
My diagnosis has never made sense to either myself or my doctors. I am not obese. I don't fit the usual demographic of those who develop Type 2 Diabetes at the age of 32. I have undergone a battery of tests, trying to rule out everything from pancreatic cancer to Type 1 Diabetes, because the diagnosis just didn't 'make sense'.
A few weeks ago, I went to the hospital to receive the results of the final round of testing. Genetic testing. My doctor just said, in a nicer way, 'Sorry, you just have bad genes when it comes to Diabetes. There is really nothing else to do or to test for. It's up to you.' My particular brand of the big D is genetic. Plain and Simple.

So my dance of denial continued. Partly because for me to acknowledge a disease, I need to SEE it. Everyday I KNOW I have LongQT Syndrome because I can FEEL the pacemaker/defibrallator implanted in my chest. I KNOW it's there. All Diabetes did was hang the POTENTIAL threat of amputation, stroke, blindness and other nasty things, over my head as something that MIGHT happen 15 years down the line. MIGHT happen. I have personally had too many other things that HAVE happened because of LongQT. I had SEEN my little sister die at the age of 24 from it. I had SEEN my other sister have to deal with losing her identical twin because of it. I had TWO heart surgeries in 4 years because of LongQT.

So forgive me Diabetes, if it was hard to take you seriously, but another more agressive disease has had me enthralled.

Until now.

May 23 was a big day for me. I was sick. AGAIN. I was talking to my husband on the phone and I said 'I wonder if it could have anything to do with Diabetes?'. So I pulled up Google and typed in the keywords that would change me: 'High Blood Sugar Immune System'.
The first thing that came up was an article about how unmanaged Diabetes destroys the immune system. Killing white bloodcells and leaving you vulnerable to sickness.
My heart sank. Suddenly I SAW what Diabetes could do. Not only what it could do, but more importantly, what I had ALLOWED it to do to me. For nearly a year, I haven't done a thing. I randomly take my medicine. I eat what ever the heck I want. I exercise sporadically. I have been a diabetic nightmare.
And now, I finally understood the consequences. I was sick. My body was sick. All because I chose to ignore something that just didn't seem real.

I am tired of diseases ruling my life. It took me years to get to a place of feeling like I could beat LongQT. To not feel threatened by it. Yet deep down, the fear remains. The fear that it will kill again. Me. My little sister. I didn't want to give Diabetes a place in my life. The disease department was full, but I knew, in that instant, that things had to change. But for the first time, I wanted to change. I want to be strong. I want to be healthy. I want to be beautiful. I want to vibrate with energy.

I want to LIVE.

I may have these diseases, but they WILL NOT have me

Monday, May 15


Have you ever wondered why it is SOOOO easy to be bad? This has been my biggest downfall since being diagnosed with Diabetes nearly a year ago. I KNOW what I should do. I KNOW how I should eat. Yet, it is so easy to make bad choices. It takes one second of failed will power for me to get my bloodsugar so high up that I feel like I am about to slip into a power nap of fairytale proportions. It’s the kind of nap that I never totally wake up from and end up walking around in a stupor for the remainder of the day. I am basically throwing minutes, hours, days, months and possibly years away, shaving off precious moments of my yet unlived life. Does that scare me? Sure, in theory.

I have learned a lot over the last 9 months. I think I have read, in some form or another, every book on Type 2 Diabetes available, or at least brief summaries of them. I think I finally understand why so many people can never get Diabetes under control.

It’s hard.

The vast majority of people with Type 2 diabetes are overweight and as a result have developed the disease. So, your doctor tells you that you have it, hands you a brochure, prescribes some form of medication and just like that, you are expected to walk out of the doctor’s office a changed and enlightened human being. BUT the reality is, you walk out feeling totally overwhelmed, scared and ashamed. There is an unspoken mentality that people who are fat ‘did it to themselves’. I once read a comment on a blog that said ‘all of those type 2 fatties are making the rest of us look bad’. Apparently this person was a type 1, and judging by his comment, was also probably thin. So, my biggest struggle has been this:

How do you change a lifetime of eating habits?
How do you quit years of food addictions?
How do you go from taking comfort in food to looking at certain foods as your enemy?

And believe me, when you suddenly have restrictions where before there were none, food can become your enemy. Every book I read gave me a list of what I had to STOP immediately. Every book I read was very clear in pinpointing all of the wrong elements in my life. Is it any wonder to see why so many people fail at controlling it? Why so many people feel overwhelmed?
I felt like I was doing EVERYTHING wrong and I felt hollow inside. Really. To the point where some days, I just say ‘forget it’. I can’t take the pressure anymore. I eat what I want. I don’t take my medicine. I feel sick and tired. And frankly, I am sick and tired. I am tired of the rollercoaster. Of having a great day and then ruining it by making a bad choice at the end of the day. I suppose I could start taking insulin, but for me, it would be an enabler. And I want to get this under control. I guarantee that the majority of type 2 diabetics want to get it under control but have the same feelings of confusion, of being overwhelmed by shame when they blow it…again. It’s not fun, but a powerful thing I do have is the power of visualization.

I can SEE myself happy and healthy and strong. I can see it so clearly. I want it so badly. I don’t want that girl to just live in my mind. I want her to come out of me. To EXPLODE out of me. To be a reality and not just a dream.

And on most days, it’s that girl, the beautiful diabetic, who gives me hope.

Sunday, April 2

The Baby Carrot Scam

I am sorry it has been some time since I updated the blog, but I started a new job and my body is still recovering from being forced back into the 'real' world! I have joined the ranks of commuters everywhere and take the subway back and forth to work, and that, dear reader, is where this sad tale begins. It was early, about 6.30 am. I like to go to work early, first, because I am a morning person and get much more done BEFORE lunch than I do after lunch, and second, because I hate being packed into a subway car like a sardine.
So, here I was going to work in an almost empty train car and so I pulled out my guilty pleasure, O magazine. Oprah magazine, in my humble opinion, is one of the best magazines being sold today. I always feel good about myself after I have spent time reading it and I always learn something. So I was reading an article on nutrition, and the writer was spending the day with Marion Nestle. She is a famous nutritionist apparantly. The subject of 'baby carrots' comes up, and here is where things become disturbing. Let me preface this by saying, I have never liked baby carrots. I don't like 'adult' carrots either. Something about them. I think they have a slightly bitter taste to them. It's hard to describe. I have friends who have sworn that baby carrots are sweeter and better than regular carrots, but I have never thought so. (Strangly, even though I don't really like them, I ALWAYS put them in chicken and dumplings and curry. I do it because those 2 things are SUPPOSED to have carrots. Weird, I know. AND, I LOVE carrot cake!)
So, why have I never been able to tell the difference between adult and baby carrots? Here is why, and I quote:

' A pound of organic baby carrots costs 2.99. Turns out the little fellers don't grow that way. They're sculpted out of mega carrots by machines. That's why, Marion says, they turn white when exposed to air.'

Am I the only one who didn't know this? I was shocked!! They DO turn white! For some reason I felt like I was part of scam. Like a big con had been pulled. I still don't know why I am so annoyed. I guess I had just always assumed that they really WERE baby carrots. I took the manufacturer at their word. And it really isn't a BIG deal, but it kind of is to me. I have always carried a strange guilt for not liking carrots. Maybe because I grew up being told that carrots would make me see better and improve my night vision. Maybe it's because I really loved Bugs Bunny growing up and used to pretend Cheetos were carrots and I would gobble them down and say 'Eh, what's up doc?'. But they have always been something that I really wanted to like, but just didn't, so I am always trying to give them another chance.
Anyway, I guess it doesn't matter that much because carrots are not considered to be the best vegetables for diabetics, high in sugar. So, oh well!!! But I just thought I would share that little piece of information with all of you who read this!
By the way, I go back to the endochronologist in the morning to get the results of all my tests from 3 weeks ago. I should know for sure whether or not I am a type 1 or 2 by this time tomorrow. I will let you know.

Monday, February 20

Holy Land Artichokes

A Diabetic Delight!

My new obsession. I couldn't believe it. Now, I have been hearing about these Jerusalem artichokes for some time, I just assumed they were like regular artichokes but with a Holy Land pedigree. So, I never sought them out. Now I am kicking myself over all of the opportunities missed!!!
Oh, dear diabetic (or non) reader, have you yet discovered the miracle that is the Jerusalem aritichoke? If not, today, you will be enlightened.

This wonderful tuber is deceiving. First, it is not an artichoke, but rather from the sunflower family. Second, it is not from the Holy Land, but apparantly originated on the East coast of North America, probably Jersey. Just kidding, but you might find them growing there. Here is what they look like:

I know! It looks like ginger root! Who would have thought it was a tasty bit of magic wrapped in a plain and ugly package???? Not me! I don't know why I decided to pick it up today. I was at the market, and I had just learned the Norwegian word for it, and I saw it and somewhere in the back of mind, I remembered it was VERY low on the Glycemic Index, like a ZERO, and after getting over the initial shock that it wasn't an artichoke from the Holy Land, I picked a piece up and went on my way.

This is GREAT news for Diabetics and for those living a low carb lifestyle. Here is why:

"unlike the potato (where the carbohydrates consist of amylose and amylopectin), the Jerusalem artichoke's starch is in the form inulin, a polysaccahirde. So, a benefit of storing starch as inulin is that Jerusalm artichokes are very diabetic-friendly, and apparently Jerusalem artichoke flour is good not only for diabetics but also people with a wheat allergy" (Kara!!). Inulin?? If you are like me, you immedietly saw the similarity to insulin, but it really is Inulin. To credit where I got this information:
She has some great recipes for Jerusalem artichokes, including a yummy soup.

ANYWAY, back to ME!!
So, I bought ONE, and I came home and, after an initial examination, I chopped it in half and boiled it for 30 minutes. Then, I mashed it with some butter and sour cream, salt and pepper, and, WOW!!!! It really did taste a bit like artichokes! But they are a GREAT substitution for mashed potatoes! I still can't believe it! They were so good, I ate them all before dinner and had to have sugar snap peas instead!!
So what are you waiting for???? Go get some Holy Land Artichokes and rediscover your old favorites! Mashed potatoes! Chips (yes, you can fry them!!!) I just can't believe it!! It's a miracle!!!

Wednesday, February 8

And suddenly, my life changed...

I have been having an affair of sorts. Like some affairs, mine started out quite innocently. If you have been following this blog at all, you are now well aware of the fact that I have several names for myself including:

1. The Daredevil Diabetic
2. The Denial Diabetic
3. The Diabetic Disaster

These names are well earned. I am the first to admit that I have not been a Diabetic Poster Child. This has been very hard for me. Hard to change my eating habits. Hard to remember to take my medicine. Hard to start going to the gym.
And this is where it all began. Every weekend here in Norway, I look forward to the Saturday edition of the Dagsavisen because it has an excerpt of the New York Times in it! I read it cover to cover, even if I could care less about the subject content, simply because it is in English, and newspapers are one of the things that I miss tremendously! There was an article in the paper talking about the revolution of combining workouts with MP3 players. Where personal trainers record workouts designed for stationary equipment, yoga, pilates, ballet, sculpting, you get the idea. So, I went to, and I was hooked instantly. I read all of the reviews and downloaded Volumes 1-3 and uploaded them to my MP3 player. The next day, I headed for the gym, which in itself is a small miracle. It was there that I met Sean OMalley for the first time. His voice filled my head as I played Volume 1. Giving me detailed instructions on what to do and when. It was as if he could read my mind. At one point, I found myself wanting to lower the speed, and suddenly he said 'Now, I know you probably want to lower your speed, BUT DON'T'!!!
The entire workout took 30 minutes, but the time FLEW by! And at the end I was dripping with sweat! I was so excited! Even more amazingly, I couldn't wait until tomorrow to go back and do it again.
So, I went home and all my sweet husband heard was 'Sean this and Sean that and Sean says'. It had to have been annoying.
So each day I was faithful in going to the gym, for me, it MAKES a huge difference feeling as though someone is there watching me. I'm sure it all stems back to my performance issues, but that is another post.
Sean and I were happy for a time, but then I began to grow restless. It wasn't Sean's fault, when it comes to the gym, it takes ALOT, not only to keep me excited and focused, but also, just to keep me there.

And that is how I met Grace....
Grace was over at Grace Lazenby, trainer to the stars and now to Kathryn in Norway. I joined itrain for 9.99 a month and for that 9.99 I get 5 workout downloads amonth. I downloaded:
1. I tread with Grace
2. I sculpt with Grace
3. I ballet sculpt with Grace
4. I strength with Nick
5. TBD

So, Grace and I worked out the next day together. Actually, I worked out and Grace just yelled 'GO!!!' alot. But it was a good workout and I was throughly worked out at the end. Then I did the I sculpt with Grace, and let me tell you, I worked muscles I had forgotten I had. It was wonderful.
Since then I have been going back and forth between Sean and Grace, like a child from a broken home.
Now, Sean doesn't know about Grace and Grace doesn't know about Sean, and I actually feel a strange conflict about it. It is the same feeling I get when I switch hairdressers, kind of like I am cheating, but I think it's ok.
Now, this is the sort of thing that is WONDERFUL news for people like me! I am not a naturally 'sporty' person, so having these people coach me is so motivating. It has helped me take on another aspect of managing my Diabetes that I was dreading. On top of that I am having fun doing it! My blood sugar readings are getting lower and I am feeling better about myself, not to mention, dropping a few of those pesky pounds.

So, I have two new people in my life. Sean and Grace. I haven't worked out with Nick yet, I just don't have any room in my life for him and juggling 3 trainers might prove beyond my capabilities.
And my wonderful husband is very understanding and supportive because, as he says: 'Why would I be jealous when I am the one getting all the benefits?'

True. So true.

Sunday, January 29

Elly and Flash

So, let me introduce Elly and Flash. They are our psuedo-children and between the two of them weigh in at around 10 pounds! These are the first pets I have ever owned independent of my parents and my husband was never allowed pets as a child due to an allergic sister, so, really, the change, for us, has been like having children. And yes, we do dress them. We HAVE to. We live in Norway you know and 5 pound chihuahuas are no match for a heavy weight winter. I usually think animals in people clothes is RETARDED, but I have to admit, I find myself leaning towards the purchase of a 'Born in the USA' shirt for them. Elly is our girl dog. she is on the top. Flash is our boy dog. He is on the bottom! Ok. So there they are. Two chihuahua's, spirited away from the intense Texas heat to snowy Northern Europe. Who thinks they might be confused?

So, more about Diabetes next time, for now, it feels good not to write about it, mainly because I am a Diabetic disaster. No self control. I think it may be referred to in Medical circles as denial.

Until next time.

Tuesday, January 17

My Very First Diabetic Flu

Let me tell you, I have been one sick diabetic. My husband got sick the day after Christmas and, like a good wife, I quickly did the same! My husband, Christopher, is a stoic sick person. He never complains. It really annoys me. Only because, I am a big complainer when I am sick. Well, I wouldn't say I am a complainer, more of a whiner. Simply put, when I am sick, I want my mommy. Unfortunantly my mommy is continents away in a country called Texas (don't you now we Texans secretly hold on to the hope that one day we will once again be known as the great Republic of Texas???) I digress.

So, I have been sick. For a week I was convinced I had the bird flu, or as I like to call it, chicken fever. I had been reading about how it was slowly creeping into Europe and taking over Turkey. Now, I find that ironic. TURKEY having an outbreak of the BIRD flu. Hmmm. The saddest part being that it was all these little children getting sick. One of the little girls, a 4 year old, got it from hugging and kissing dead chickens. Oh my. That is really sad. Well, of course I didn't have the bird flu, but I think you already knew that.

So, when I am sick, if I can't have my mommy, I want comfort food. Luckily, I did not have the throwing up kind of flu, (I am a horrible vomiter. There is nothing else in this world that i dread more) so I was able to make all kinds of foods that I consider to be of the comfort variety. So, once again, I failed miserably at being a model diabetic. Everything I ate made my blood sugar spin wildly out of control. Here is a short list of what I have had since I have been sick: (remember, this is only a short list)
1. Homemade cinnamon rolls.
They were heavenly. Ooey and gooey.
2. Homemade macaroni and cheese
Need I say more or go into detail?
3. Homemade chicken noodle soup
Ok, here I did use whole wheat organic noodles.
4. For breakfast one morning I had:
Fishsticks and macaroni and cheese.
Yes, for breakfast.
5. Pizza one night.
With extra mozzeralla. Ok, Ok, and added pepperoni.
6. Chicken and rice soup.
7. Creamy tomato basil soup.
Yes, with heavy cream.

To top it off, I have turned into an orange addict. I don't think that is too bad though. I am eating them all the time. They are so good, and now our two Chihuahua's think that oranges are the food of the gods. They freak out when I start to peel one and about kill themselves begging for little pieces. It is really quite charming.

So, my very first diabetic sick experience turned out to be a total failure. I tend to treat Diabetes like a special diet. Something that I can go on and off of. I am like a Diabetic Jekyll and Hyde. On most days I am a diabetic. On holidays, I am not. On weekends, I am not. On other special occaisions, I am not. When I am sick, I am most definately NOT.

Does anyone else have this problem? I don't know why I can't get my mind around it. I have no problems grasping Long QT Syndrome, but diabetes just doesn't seem real to me.
Maybe I should see a therapist.
It is something to consider.