there’s a moment, every time
I’m low, I feel cured.
—-Katie’s daily diaku—-
These are recent posts since my switchover from tumblr to WordPress
—-Katie’s daily diaku—-

Asheville defrosting under a fading February sun
Diabetes,
you hit me like a ton of bricks.
Right when I think I’ve got it down (being a pancreas),
you remind me…
I’m not.
Nope.
In fact I’m not even close.
Well I’m somewhat close.
Today I walked to work. The snow has all but melted and the sunshine was hot on my back this 60 degree February day.
And getting back home as the sun was setting over the mountains I thought about how even, how stable, how consistently under 150 my blood sugar had been.
Somehow my memory had erased the hour long low that hit after I finished teaching a yoga class, blurring time like a sand sculpture, an orange, pretzels, half a cookie eaten…
And I felt like the boss of diabetes.
Until tonight – Strangely after cooking a balanced meal, which isn’t always my reality, these busy days.
Grass-fed ground beef, broccoli steamed, and a few slices of baked Japanese sweet potato and purple potato with butter.
I’ve had a real potato craving for the past few days – unusual for me.
And now, 239, I wonder….
How can I be so relentlessly optimistic to believe for a portion of everyday that my blood sugar will never again go out of range?
But I am that hopeful (blissfully delusional).
For a few precious moments everyday,
I believe that it might be the way it once was,
when I didn’t even have to think about it.
My writing and experience is heavily influenced by managing Type 1 diabetes, which I’ve been doing for the past 8 years. My experiences, “Living fully with T1D in mind” will be the major current of this blog. Having diabetes has changed my life in innumerable ways, and through meditating and processing and writing, I strive to capitalize on the joy and teachings that have come into my life through my journey with a chronic condition. We all have some sort of chronic state we battle (or dance) with, even if it’s the force of our habits and history. For me, joy and openness have been a product of acceptance and adaptability.
WordPress is a new space for me. I’ve previously been blogging at: http://sweetadventurer.tumblr.com/ and thought that I might recopy everything here. Instead of doing that I’m just going to start fresh at this point, but reblog my past entries from time to time because our past informs our present!

My favorite view from a downtown spot that never disappoints
October 2013
Omnipod on the water, a success. As a paddler I try to be more minimalistic than other times, which can be a challenge with diabetes. But my boat is a Wavesport XXX, an old model from 99’, with no foot space, no cockpit, not much space period. I fill the back with a throw rope, a big yellow sponge, and two pelican cases full of snacks and supplies. In one case I keep a quick dry cloth for blood sugar checks, my ‘river meter,’ a novolog and lantus pen, 3 pen needles, 4 alcohol swabs (never know when somebody’s gonna scrape a knuckle), and some glucose tabs. In the other I keep my glucagon kit, a granola bar, 2 disposable eye drops, and some other snack; today it was beef jerky. I leave my pdm in the car, maybe in a cooler away from the freezer pack itself, because if you’re swimming, you want to worry about your boat, your paddle, and yourself, not your $1000 piece of durable medical equipment!
Then there are my water shoes attached with a carabener, a water bottle, and extra dry layers. That leaves barely enough space for me. Despite being strapped into a tiny container, half boat, half woman, there is something incredibly freeing about being one with the boat. Couple that with finding the river’s line of least resistance and surging down a rapid – blissful and riveting.
Paddling is always a great reset for me, giving me that experience of being absorbed in the present by its very nature. Holding that feeling all day and using my body to accomplish a goal helps me remember what it is like to be fully present, not puzzling or planning. Diabetes sometimes can be a hard balance between planning ahead, reflecting back (often analyzing and criticizing), and going with the flow of the moment (with all of its unexpected holes, strainers, and whirlpools). More and more I’m learning that both are necessary to be healthy, happy, and move forward. For me a successful day on the river means advanced planning for blood sugar management so that I can focus my attention on the river and not on diabetes.
I use checklists. It’s taken me a long time to realize that I just can’t keep everything I need to have organized in my head, much less my home, without real, printed-on-paper checklists. When going out on the river I use the five finger test: boat is your thumb, then each finger is helmet, life jacket, paddle, and skirt. It doesn’t matter the order though because basically if you miss any one of those you’ve got to borrow or go back. Now layer onto that all there is to keep up with diabetes on land: meter, test strips, insulin, extra pods, batteries, glucagon, glucose, alcohol swabs, etc. Maybe you’re paddling the Nantahala, one of Western North Carolina’s icy beauties, so you need to have warm layers, a dry top, extra dry clothes in the car. Perhaps you’re like me and you’re always voraciously hungry, especially after being a little cold and using your muscles all day. That means snacks in the car for your return. My favorite river snacks are beef or turkey jerky sticks, nut butter packets (try ‘Jason’s’ almond butter, peanut butter, and chocolate hazelnut butter in single serving packets), and celery, apple, and carrot for dipping. Today I made a sandwich on ‘Farm and Sparrow’ bread from the local tailgate market spread with sunflower butter, layered with avocado slices, and splashed with balsamic vinegar. I’m an exploratory eater. Nothing to spoil and the river keeps it pretty cold anyway. I like to eat relatively low-carb on the river but have back up carbs in case I go low. I find that the less fast-acting insulin I can take the better to minimize the risk of lows. That being said my basal needs seem to go up from both the cold water and the muscular exertion. My big safety trick is keeping a honey zinger packet in the front pouch of my life jacket. They can get pricey at $1.25 a piece, but the bulk packs are available at a lower cost from multiple sellers on Amazon. I definitely have glucose tabs in my boat but the zingers are packaged in waterproof plastic (nothing worse than a soggy luna bar), easy to eat fast and you don’t even have to chew. That’s helpful if you have to get your blood sugar up and can’t find a place to eddy out. Of course trying to paddle, tear open a packet, and eat honey, is not ideal, but with diabetes you’ve always got to be prepared with the back-up that will let you do what you got to do, if you’re going to do it at all.
One of the last two check-boxes on the list is a great group of friends with some experienced paddlers in it, at least one or two. And let them know you have diabetes. Be that girl who introduces herself with, “I’m Katie (insert your name, don’t steal mine), I love to get outside, meet new people, and I have type 1 diabetes!!” And give your glucagon kit to that seasoned paddler who has a dry bag. Don’t keep it in your boat – because if you flip over and your boat is one place and you are another, well, what good is it going to do you then?
Final check-box: plunge in. Check that sugar thirty minutes before you get on, check it two minutes before you get on. Check over what you need to have with you all day in your boat, check it over again. Flex those muscles, stretch the skirt with all your might over the cockpit, and launch into the rapids. Now you’re a boater as much as your a diabetic. We become whatever identity we embrace.
I am a boater.
I am a diabetic.
I am a planner.
I am an adventurer.
A friend I met on the river who organizes trips for a WNC paddlers meet-up group got me in touch with a friend of hers who is getting into paddling now that she is landlocked and her first love, scuba diving, isn’t easily accessible. Her friend has lived with type 1 for forty two years. Now that’s inspiring! When we were getting to know each other over email she wrote me, “I love the water because it fills up what life drains from me.” Type 1 diabetes can drain out quite a bit. The background stress, the wondering, checking, assessing, judging, criticizing – all of that takes something from the rawness of our experience. Like my new friend, the river rehydrates my soul as well. I have found no faster way to feel the pulse of nature than to be taken in by the current of a wave train and merge with the force of the water.

My favorite view from a downtown spot that never disappoints
This month I was advised by my horoscope to stop thinking of myself as such a master problem-solver and ask for some help. I don’t really enjoy asking for help. I do manage to solicit it through deceptive, manipulative ploys called, “coffee dates” with friends, when I need to escape my revolving perspective. The ability to ask for help does not have an easy on and off switch though. I haven’t asked for more of it I would say, than usual. I have managed to ask for a bit more leeway, which can feel similar to help, but is really just more like permission to care for myself (why do I feel the need to ask for that?).
Today on my walk I ran into a friend. He reiterated to me just what I needed to hear. I’ve been ‘stretched a little thin’ lately, and wondering how to manage that. Everything I have going on in my life right now is so positive and so good, and the thought of dropping any of it just makes me feel like pitching a fit. That said, with each new thing I get excited about I can feel my energy becoming more scattered and am less able to fully sink into any of it.
My friend was talking about all the different projects he’s invested in, how rich they are but yet how hard it is be patient as they come to fruition. He recognized that he was being pushed by himself and by others to jump too far ahead. He knew he needed to be taking the first baby steps instead of letting his enthusiasm carry him straight to step four or five, when he hadn’t yet laid a foundation. What a strong affirmation to maintain, what a beautiful lesson in dedication. To be willing to do the not-so-fun, to lay the groundwork required to build something big, even after the initial infatuation wears off, that’s love.
After parting ways with this friend I ended up slowing down enough to enjoy what was happening in front of me. I told a man that his fur coat was ‘awesome,’ a word I’m am not proud to use as frequently as I do. He offered me an apple from the box he was carrying. I took it. I was surprised I took it. I do love apples and eat them everyday, and yet, usually I decline things offered to me for free. I mean, I could buy my own apple and it’s not like I was walking down the street thinking how much I wanted an apple. But this morning I had been. I’d forgotten about that loose intention.
I ran into another friend. His name always reminds me of the word “give.” We spoke, and when we were done speaking, we both went our separate ways.
I decided on a coffee shop (hard hard hard for me!) and for a change, thought that I would proceed with complete confidence that my coffee shop choice was ideal for the day. Went for it.
Embarrassing admission: I hate parking lots. Even if there is a free parking lot to park in I would rather parallel park and pay than use it. So I did. Parallel park. And then rooting through my purse I thought, “Why did I give my change away, why didn’t I get more. The thought blew away. Change should go to those who play music on the street in 10 degree weather! That’s why.
Last dime. I found it on the street (in a parking lot) last weekend. Man walks by, stretches hand out to me. He has on a chapeau and a scarf and he has a palm full of change. And I…feel a lurch in my heart as I take a quarter. I felt like a sparrow picking muffin crumbs from a warm hand. I felt, like I was on the verge of something big. Like I’d opened the door to help, and it was different than I thought it would be on the other side.
Maybe it counts as asking for help, if you are living with the faith that help will come. Maybe it’s enough to start the journey just by releasing the fear of not having enough, not planning enough, not being enough, knowing that we are not in this alone. Even when we are uncomfortable with the idea of someone else giving to us, supporting us, because it makes us feel dependent. Maybe we would all have more to give by opening to help, and feeling secure that although the time-line isn’t up to us, it is always on its way.