Posted by Sasha at 5:42 PM 3 comments
Monday, December 18, 2006
Rambling the latest news
It's an official count-down started as of today till Saturday take-off. So many things to arrange and stuff to pack, as well as (we just realised on Sunday) buying kitty stuff, coz as we're coming back with a kitten, we'd better have a catbox and the food in the house for the little cute monster who doesn't have a name yet.
Work is booooring as usual and even more due to soon holidays. Time is stretching as a master yoga guru. But work is nothing, I'm in a good mood and smiling, wearing a new outfit, having the best boyfriend waiting for me at home when I get back and a wonderful 9 days ahead in Moscow with my family and with my boyfriend :) So life is cool so far. I'm doing my best at surviving and relaxing at the same time. Confusing, but I'm getting a hang of it. Only thing - I managed to get a cold after all and had 4 night lows last week, but the spirits are up and calculators drawn, trying to figure out the right dose of evening insulin.
We also saw "The Holiday" in the weekend and liked it a lot, funny-christmasy-feel-good movie.
P.S. - 'we' refers to my boyfriend and me and not to my big ego.
Nighty night ...
My mom is driving, which is strange, she can’t drive. My sister is in the car as well. It’s night but the moon is very bright. We’re somewhere on the roads of Siberia, I can tell by the forests on the both sides of the road and the enormous amount of snow glittering in the moonlight. So it’s winter.
We stopped on the side of the road and seem to wait for someone or something. I start to feel worried, as it is night and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly someone knocks on the window on my side, which startled me to death. It’s a woman dressed in a fur coat. She wants to ask us for directions when she’s interrupted by a man in a uniform who has just came by. ‘You have to leave immediately. All of you.’ he tells us. ‘There’s some shooting going on.’
We hurry to leave. Mom tries to get back on the road but it seems she suddenly remembers she can’t drive and she struggles with the car. I realize that it’s probably would be better if I drove and tell her to switch seats with me quickly. Behind the wheel I get us back on the road in a couple of seconds.
The road is icy and I grip the wheel harder. Which way am I supposed to go? Suddenly it hits me, the whole seriousness of the situation, the heaviness of the fact that it is my responsibility to get my mom and my sister alive out of here. The best thing would be to get off the road and hide somewhere in the shadows of the woods but there’re huge snow banks on both sides of the road.
We hear the shooting behind us now and the noise of cars’ engines getting closer. I glance in the rear view mirror. There are two black jeeps behind us racing insanely fast chasing what seems to be us but another glance in the front window and I realize they are chasing another black jeep that suddenly appeared in front of our car.
The men behind us start to shoot again. The men in front of us answer. The razor sharp thought that we are in the middle of the fire makes me turn right instantly and stop on the side of the road not knowing what to do next.
The only thing we can do is get out of the car and hide behind one of the snow banks, which seemed to be enormous before but now totally tiny, not enough to hide us from the eyes of the enemies.
Who are they? What the hell is going on? And why are we in the middle of it and hanging to the last breath of our lives? All this time a big bad dark whole has been growing inside me. This isn’t going to end soon or peaceful. I only wish I was alone. The responsibility for my mom and sis and the inability to do anything to protect them eating me inside out, biting piece by piece. The oppressed feeling is growing.
More men are coming on foot. All of them with guns and shouting, hungry for blood. The situation starts to look even more hopeless as I realize that they just want to kill, no matter who or what, just for the sake of it.
We’re still lying on our stomachs behind the snow bank as quietly as we can. It’s strange I don’t feel cold. Next I see the man in the uniform who happened to be on the road being shot. He screams flying his arms up in the air and falls.
Men are closer. They are running in our direction. It’s too late to try to run. I see a man above me with his gun at my head. Something inside me breaks and I can’t breathe. I hear shots and feel something dull going into my spine. I hear other shots right beside me and realize that the game is over for all three of us.
Men are gone. It’s suddenly all quiet. I’m prepared to die. It’s the feeling of acceptance. No anger, no regret, no fear, no pain … Just patiently waiting for the end, like it’s every day business, like waiting for a bus. Of course it’s a pity life ended so suddenly and so stupidly for no reason, but I’m actually kind of relieved and extremely calm.
No pain. Why don’t I feel pain? I try to feel at all, to feel my body. I’m paralyzed. I can’t move a finger. I can’t turn my head to see mom or sis, but I know they’re right beside me. I can only move my eye leads. Suddenly I feel frozen cold spreading all over my body.
‘Why aren’t we dieing?’ asks mom. ‘It depends on where you got shut’ I am starting to explain and am disguised with my calmness and rationality.
After a while of waiting for the death I get bored and frustrated that it doesn’t come. I wait a bit longer and then decide that if I’m not dieing than I’d better get up and do something. I try to move, but I’m still frozen and don’t feel a muscle. But after a while of convincing my brain that if I’m not dieing I might as well move, I start feeling little by little warmth spreading inside my legs and arms and I slowly get up.
I look around. It looks like a war battlefield. Dead people laying on the ground, red stains on the white snow, some men with guns still running somewhere behind, shouting ‘Killing is fun, come on, join the party!’ or something rather equally disgusting. My head is twirling a little and my feet are not entirely listening to me. I start my way up the road towards what seems like epicenter of all the action.
... the dream, as you guessed it was a dream, or rather a nightmare, goes on for another three good chapters at least, but I'm already exhausted writing this part. The rest of it though gets even more crazy involving an office of a secret service kind of agency, first located in a tropical tree (and as you remember I was in Siberia), and then it magically relocates on space ship with a nice view on a backdoor parking lot of some office located in Belgium. Don't ask me why.
I dream all kind of weird stuff all the time. Sometimes it's very tiring and sometimes I wake up and the real life seems so dull. On the other occasions I'm glad I'm actually alive or not convicted of a witch craft in the middle ages or that world war four hasn't started yet.
We stopped on the side of the road and seem to wait for someone or something. I start to feel worried, as it is night and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly someone knocks on the window on my side, which startled me to death. It’s a woman dressed in a fur coat. She wants to ask us for directions when she’s interrupted by a man in a uniform who has just came by. ‘You have to leave immediately. All of you.’ he tells us. ‘There’s some shooting going on.’
We hurry to leave. Mom tries to get back on the road but it seems she suddenly remembers she can’t drive and she struggles with the car. I realize that it’s probably would be better if I drove and tell her to switch seats with me quickly. Behind the wheel I get us back on the road in a couple of seconds.
The road is icy and I grip the wheel harder. Which way am I supposed to go? Suddenly it hits me, the whole seriousness of the situation, the heaviness of the fact that it is my responsibility to get my mom and my sister alive out of here. The best thing would be to get off the road and hide somewhere in the shadows of the woods but there’re huge snow banks on both sides of the road.
We hear the shooting behind us now and the noise of cars’ engines getting closer. I glance in the rear view mirror. There are two black jeeps behind us racing insanely fast chasing what seems to be us but another glance in the front window and I realize they are chasing another black jeep that suddenly appeared in front of our car.
The men behind us start to shoot again. The men in front of us answer. The razor sharp thought that we are in the middle of the fire makes me turn right instantly and stop on the side of the road not knowing what to do next.
The only thing we can do is get out of the car and hide behind one of the snow banks, which seemed to be enormous before but now totally tiny, not enough to hide us from the eyes of the enemies.
Who are they? What the hell is going on? And why are we in the middle of it and hanging to the last breath of our lives? All this time a big bad dark whole has been growing inside me. This isn’t going to end soon or peaceful. I only wish I was alone. The responsibility for my mom and sis and the inability to do anything to protect them eating me inside out, biting piece by piece. The oppressed feeling is growing.
More men are coming on foot. All of them with guns and shouting, hungry for blood. The situation starts to look even more hopeless as I realize that they just want to kill, no matter who or what, just for the sake of it.
We’re still lying on our stomachs behind the snow bank as quietly as we can. It’s strange I don’t feel cold. Next I see the man in the uniform who happened to be on the road being shot. He screams flying his arms up in the air and falls.
Men are closer. They are running in our direction. It’s too late to try to run. I see a man above me with his gun at my head. Something inside me breaks and I can’t breathe. I hear shots and feel something dull going into my spine. I hear other shots right beside me and realize that the game is over for all three of us.
Men are gone. It’s suddenly all quiet. I’m prepared to die. It’s the feeling of acceptance. No anger, no regret, no fear, no pain … Just patiently waiting for the end, like it’s every day business, like waiting for a bus. Of course it’s a pity life ended so suddenly and so stupidly for no reason, but I’m actually kind of relieved and extremely calm.
No pain. Why don’t I feel pain? I try to feel at all, to feel my body. I’m paralyzed. I can’t move a finger. I can’t turn my head to see mom or sis, but I know they’re right beside me. I can only move my eye leads. Suddenly I feel frozen cold spreading all over my body.
‘Why aren’t we dieing?’ asks mom. ‘It depends on where you got shut’ I am starting to explain and am disguised with my calmness and rationality.
After a while of waiting for the death I get bored and frustrated that it doesn’t come. I wait a bit longer and then decide that if I’m not dieing than I’d better get up and do something. I try to move, but I’m still frozen and don’t feel a muscle. But after a while of convincing my brain that if I’m not dieing I might as well move, I start feeling little by little warmth spreading inside my legs and arms and I slowly get up.
I look around. It looks like a war battlefield. Dead people laying on the ground, red stains on the white snow, some men with guns still running somewhere behind, shouting ‘Killing is fun, come on, join the party!’ or something rather equally disgusting. My head is twirling a little and my feet are not entirely listening to me. I start my way up the road towards what seems like epicenter of all the action.
... the dream, as you guessed it was a dream, or rather a nightmare, goes on for another three good chapters at least, but I'm already exhausted writing this part. The rest of it though gets even more crazy involving an office of a secret service kind of agency, first located in a tropical tree (and as you remember I was in Siberia), and then it magically relocates on space ship with a nice view on a backdoor parking lot of some office located in Belgium. Don't ask me why.
I dream all kind of weird stuff all the time. Sometimes it's very tiring and sometimes I wake up and the real life seems so dull. On the other occasions I'm glad I'm actually alive or not convicted of a witch craft in the middle ages or that world war four hasn't started yet.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Dear D
Things I hate about you:
- you have made over 55,000 holes in me
- you don't allow me to eat what I want
- you keep me constantly worried
- you are very demanding
- but you never say what you really need
- you interfere with my life
- you wake me up at night
- you make my handbag heavy
I have about another 100 of those in my head even without thinking but let's just pretend the list stops there, focus on positive, right?
Things I like about you:
- you make me take care of myself
- you don't allow me to eat what I want
- you make me stronger
- you make me more self-disciplined
- you teach me to appreciate things more in life
All in all I wouldn't choose you as a roommate for life, you're not the most easy-going but as long as we stuck on each other, we might as well try to get alone. Besides you teach me a lot and keep me focused.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
One sunny summer day
The day I was diagnosed I'll never forget. I can't remember the date exactly, it was somewhere in May 1991, but I remember the day as it was yesterday.
I was nine. School was over and my mom took me and my sister to my grandma's, who lived in another town. It was a usual ruitine. I always spent summers at my grand parents, it was the happiest time of the year. Three months of running freely and playing with my friends in a wonderful weather and spending time with my grandparents, who were wonderful and loved me to pieces. I was truly the happiest kid and waited impatiantly every year for the summer.
But that summer was already different. My grandpa died a year ago from cancer, everyone was still in shock and grieving including me. My grandma moved to another neighborhood, meaning I couldn't play with my friends anymore and have to make new ones. But I was still positive, my sister was with me and my mom didn't have to leave immediately to go back home. I was expecting it to be a good summer after all but then the unexpected happened.
I have to mention that my grandma is a doctor. So when she saw me and all the 'lovely' symptoms, that were worring my mom already for a month, she knew immediately. I lost weight, I was drinking too much water and going to the bathroom a lot, I was pale and refused to eat even my favourite foods. I still remember all four of us, my grandma, my mom, my sister and me, sitting in a sunny kitchen having breakfast. There was a freshly-baked carrot cake and chocolates on the table but I wasn't interested in any of those (if only I knew I wouldn't be alowed to eat any sweets already that evening). My mom and my grandma were talking about me, I didn't pay much attention, but I remember the serious and sad expression on my grandma's face and my mom's extreamly worried.
We're supposed to go for a walk afterwards and play outside the whole day. Instead I was told I have to go with my grandma to the hospital. Why? Why do I have to go to the hospital? Why do I have to do tests? What's going on? We're on vacation and we're going to play and enjoy the sun. Well, vacation was over there and then, as well as my childhood.
After visiting what seemed to me hundreeds of hospitals and doctors (my grandma wanted to get second opinions, I just think she was hoping to hear that what was obvious wasn't true). I remember being very tired from all the walking and waiting and being in the places I didn't want to be. I saw children in the pediatric ward and thought thatnks god I'd never have to stay in the hospital as they do, and that just in a couple of hours I'd be home, in comfort and safity with my family, and I'd just forget that awful day ever happened.
Little did I know. My grandma knew more. They just tested my blood glucose, it was 17. I was so exhausted at that point and stressed by the surialness of the day, it all seemed like a nightmare, so I decided that my grandma is joking or went crazy when she started to talk that I might need to stay in the hospital tonight and that it's not that bad. I thought there couldn't be anything else more scarry and horible. I was a very loved and home child, and the idea of spending a night away from my family terridied me to death.
So the verdict was made. Next thing was my mom finding out and starting crying so hard and so much that I knew at that point that something was wrong, that it might not all go away that easily as I thought. I still didn't have a clue what's going on but I started to worry. My mom was crying the whole day and the day after and I think the whole week after that. That sorrow written on her face and helpness I still see them so clear. I was asking her over and over again why was she crying and telling her she didn't have to, that I was fine, but that only made her cry even more.
In the evening my mom took me to the hospital and I was hospitalised for two weeks. The doctor told me that I should forget about all the sweets (at that time it was still believed that diabetics shouldn't eat anything containing sugar). And I thought for a thousands time that day: "What happened to all the adults today? They're all talking crazy. They don't have to be so serious, nothing happened."
Well soon enough I understood that the adults didn't all go crazy simultaniously, it's not a nightmare, it's very very real, all of it - hospitals, doctors, shots and pricks, and most horrible - being away from my family.
But after two weeks I was released from the hospital and could finally start enjoying the summer. I was a normal kid again. I didn't see much of a difference made in my life. Shots didn't bother me too much and of course I couldn't grab the whole seriousness of the diabetes at that age, when the sky is blue and sun is shining and your memory is very short of the bad experiences, and you truly think that it's all just temporally, of course I'm not going to have diabetes forever, and of course I won't have to go to the hospital again, it's all in the past, I can just continue with my happy life with just a couple of shots a day, no biggie.
Thinking back now I can't even start to imagine what a terrifying time it was for my mom, how big a stress and task felt on her shoulders, how lost and lonely she must have felt (there was not much information on diabetes at that time where we lived), how scarred she must have been and how worried about doing it right.
But she kept it together for me, she learned, she was strong for me, she changed the lifestyle of the whole family, she loved me enough to be strict when needed, she was patient, she was carying, she was helping me through. She made it so easy, well as easy as it could be. I didn't even notice much the first couple of years with diabetes, well except for those quarterly hospital stays, which got worse and worse with each time.
So I'm just thankful to my mom for all she did. She taught me right, she prepared me for being able to handle the diabetes on my own when I grew up. And I'm thankful to her for being brave and trusting me enough to let me go at sixteen and start my own life, start my search for myself and for what I want to do with my life. Thank you mom! I love you!
I was nine. School was over and my mom took me and my sister to my grandma's, who lived in another town. It was a usual ruitine. I always spent summers at my grand parents, it was the happiest time of the year. Three months of running freely and playing with my friends in a wonderful weather and spending time with my grandparents, who were wonderful and loved me to pieces. I was truly the happiest kid and waited impatiantly every year for the summer.
But that summer was already different. My grandpa died a year ago from cancer, everyone was still in shock and grieving including me. My grandma moved to another neighborhood, meaning I couldn't play with my friends anymore and have to make new ones. But I was still positive, my sister was with me and my mom didn't have to leave immediately to go back home. I was expecting it to be a good summer after all but then the unexpected happened.
I have to mention that my grandma is a doctor. So when she saw me and all the 'lovely' symptoms, that were worring my mom already for a month, she knew immediately. I lost weight, I was drinking too much water and going to the bathroom a lot, I was pale and refused to eat even my favourite foods. I still remember all four of us, my grandma, my mom, my sister and me, sitting in a sunny kitchen having breakfast. There was a freshly-baked carrot cake and chocolates on the table but I wasn't interested in any of those (if only I knew I wouldn't be alowed to eat any sweets already that evening). My mom and my grandma were talking about me, I didn't pay much attention, but I remember the serious and sad expression on my grandma's face and my mom's extreamly worried.
We're supposed to go for a walk afterwards and play outside the whole day. Instead I was told I have to go with my grandma to the hospital. Why? Why do I have to go to the hospital? Why do I have to do tests? What's going on? We're on vacation and we're going to play and enjoy the sun. Well, vacation was over there and then, as well as my childhood.
After visiting what seemed to me hundreeds of hospitals and doctors (my grandma wanted to get second opinions, I just think she was hoping to hear that what was obvious wasn't true). I remember being very tired from all the walking and waiting and being in the places I didn't want to be. I saw children in the pediatric ward and thought thatnks god I'd never have to stay in the hospital as they do, and that just in a couple of hours I'd be home, in comfort and safity with my family, and I'd just forget that awful day ever happened.
Little did I know. My grandma knew more. They just tested my blood glucose, it was 17. I was so exhausted at that point and stressed by the surialness of the day, it all seemed like a nightmare, so I decided that my grandma is joking or went crazy when she started to talk that I might need to stay in the hospital tonight and that it's not that bad. I thought there couldn't be anything else more scarry and horible. I was a very loved and home child, and the idea of spending a night away from my family terridied me to death.
So the verdict was made. Next thing was my mom finding out and starting crying so hard and so much that I knew at that point that something was wrong, that it might not all go away that easily as I thought. I still didn't have a clue what's going on but I started to worry. My mom was crying the whole day and the day after and I think the whole week after that. That sorrow written on her face and helpness I still see them so clear. I was asking her over and over again why was she crying and telling her she didn't have to, that I was fine, but that only made her cry even more.
In the evening my mom took me to the hospital and I was hospitalised for two weeks. The doctor told me that I should forget about all the sweets (at that time it was still believed that diabetics shouldn't eat anything containing sugar). And I thought for a thousands time that day: "What happened to all the adults today? They're all talking crazy. They don't have to be so serious, nothing happened."
Well soon enough I understood that the adults didn't all go crazy simultaniously, it's not a nightmare, it's very very real, all of it - hospitals, doctors, shots and pricks, and most horrible - being away from my family.
But after two weeks I was released from the hospital and could finally start enjoying the summer. I was a normal kid again. I didn't see much of a difference made in my life. Shots didn't bother me too much and of course I couldn't grab the whole seriousness of the diabetes at that age, when the sky is blue and sun is shining and your memory is very short of the bad experiences, and you truly think that it's all just temporally, of course I'm not going to have diabetes forever, and of course I won't have to go to the hospital again, it's all in the past, I can just continue with my happy life with just a couple of shots a day, no biggie.
Thinking back now I can't even start to imagine what a terrifying time it was for my mom, how big a stress and task felt on her shoulders, how lost and lonely she must have felt (there was not much information on diabetes at that time where we lived), how scarred she must have been and how worried about doing it right.
But she kept it together for me, she learned, she was strong for me, she changed the lifestyle of the whole family, she loved me enough to be strict when needed, she was patient, she was carying, she was helping me through. She made it so easy, well as easy as it could be. I didn't even notice much the first couple of years with diabetes, well except for those quarterly hospital stays, which got worse and worse with each time.
So I'm just thankful to my mom for all she did. She taught me right, she prepared me for being able to handle the diabetes on my own when I grew up. And I'm thankful to her for being brave and trusting me enough to let me go at sixteen and start my own life, start my search for myself and for what I want to do with my life. Thank you mom! I love you!
Monday, December 11, 2006
Christmas's in the air!
It definitely starting to smell like Christmas. Christmas trees and decorations appearing all around, even in the office it looks warm and cozy. People are starting to have an unofficial competition of whose desk is best decorated.
It's amazing, just two weeks left and it's holidays, just 12 days left and I'm going to see my family after what seems a century but in fact 9 months of not being able to go home to Moscow. I'm very excited!!! I hope there's snow. It's going to be so pretty at this time of the year - Christmas lights and Christmas trees and decorations all over the city. Can't wait!!!
It's amazing, just two weeks left and it's holidays, just 12 days left and I'm going to see my family after what seems a century but in fact 9 months of not being able to go home to Moscow. I'm very excited!!! I hope there's snow. It's going to be so pretty at this time of the year - Christmas lights and Christmas trees and decorations all over the city. Can't wait!!!
Try it! It's fun!
Thanks to Allison for sharing this fun test!
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Is there a connection?
I've made an unexpected discovery today. I don't know if it's actually true but it seems so to me, as the pattern was already there and today just proves my theory.
But ok, from the beginning.
I've been very unhappy with my work for a couple of months already, just due to the fact that I have absolutely nothing to do there and it's just the whole day of boredom, which is the thing I hate the most, as well as waisting time and sitting around not doing anything. All combined going to work has been a torture every day. I already dread it in the evening when I have to go to bed. Well, I've been aggressively looking for a new job but no luck yet.
So that's the scene of the crime. The crime itself is that my blood glucose has been stubbornly staying in the neighbourhood of 11 for quite a time during the week, but and there's a bit but coming, it lows in the evenings and weekends. Got me thinking already.
And today I stayed home, honestly just because I couldn't face another day of pretending-to-be-busy-at-work. I just invented an nonexistent flue and here I'm feeling so relieved and happy. Well guess what, I'm not the only one that's happy. My b.g. has been so far 7.2, 6 and 7. I don't know but it makes me wonder.
Is me being unhappy at work influences by b.g. so much? I eat the same, I exercise the same, which is I don't, I take same amount of insulin. And I do know that my emotions play a great part in my diabetes control. So I guess now I'm even more motivated to find a new job.
Did any of you experienced something like that?
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
On a secret mission
Diabetes can be inconvenient in many situations but I find it the most difficult at work. The thing is I don't want my employer or my co-workers to know about my diabetes, partly because I fear it might influence the attitude towards me, discriminate me somehow, I'm just not too brave to find out. And partly as a self-protection from all the horrible questions and assumptions, as well as necessity to explain yourself all the time (office of over 700 people, I can only imagine). No, I just prefer not to stand out of the crowd (I never thought I'd say those words). So every time I have to take a shot or check my blood glucose in the office it's a mission impossible of an invisible 007, sneaking with all the equipment to the ladies', which is of course at the other end of a never-ending open-office floor (now I have a weird picture in my head of J.Bond dressed in skirt sheepishly making his way to the ladies' hiding behind the cabinets and office plants). People are starting to suspect that I'm secretly building a bombing device in a bathroom cubicle (with all the beeping and clicking sounds), or stealing office supplies, or sneaking to smoke without sharing, although they know I don't smoke. Of course I don't care, I'll test as much as I need and I'll take as many shots as I need, but still it's annoying to hide. It feels like I'm doing something so criminal when in fact I'm just taking care of my health
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