tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191285222024-03-07T18:55:40.879-06:00Fly Away HomeDon't mind the crown.<br>I'm really the jester around here.Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.comBlogger236125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-4088909794144685662014-12-29T00:05:00.000-06:002015-01-17T21:17:59.519-06:00The Chase<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The increased sound of our pursuers crashing through the
brush behind us meant two things. First,
they were getting closer and second, stealth was no longer a concern for
them. That last thought sent a chill
through me that had nothing to do with the bitter cold. If they were no longer concerned about being
heard then they no longer planned to take us alive. The fear nearly stopped me in my tracks, but
the empath chose that moment to grab my hand and give me a quick smile. I realized that she wasn’t any less scared
that I was. She just wasn’t letting it
slow her down. I decided I wouldn’t let
it either. Now the cold was a different
matter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The empath looked over her shoulder and said to the
warrior, “We’ve got to find someplace to hide and rest soon. She’s not going to last much longer in this
cold.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“At this pace we will be at the border in just over an
hour. We can rest then,” he replied
gruffly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I’m telling you if we don’t rest and warm up soon, we’ll
be carrying her the rest of the way.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Fine. I will
scout ahead for a suitable hiding place.
Keep up this pace so you do not lose sight of me,” he said with a pointed
look at me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Despite the growing attraction I was feeling for the
warrior, he infuriated me. Did he think
I was slowing them down on purpose? That
I enjoyed freezing to death? That I
asked to be kidnapped by people I didn’t know and for reasons I didn’t
comprehend? He was an arrogant
bully. But why was I drawn to him?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I looked up when I realized that the empath was talking
to me and I hadn’t responded. She smiled
and repeated what I’d missed. “Don’t
worry. We’ll get you to safety and then
we can explain everything.” I tried to
smile back, but I was so cold that my teeth were chattering. She was right, I wasn’t going to last much
longer. My feet and legs were numb and
felt like they were made of lead. My
hands and face had been numb for even longer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At that moment the warrior circled back to us. “If we can put a bit more distance between us
and them, I’ve found a place that we can hide for a few hours.” With determination, I picked up my pace and
followed him. I was going to make it out
of this alive. I had things I still
wanted to do. Maybe not big, important
things, but things that mattered to me.
I still hadn’t perfected my grandmother’s gumbo recipe. I hadn’t eaten near enough chocolate chip
cookies while they were still warm from the oven. And I’d never been in love. Not truly in love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was so deep in my thoughts that I ran right into the
warrior’s back when he’d paused to make sure we were keeping up. “I appreciate your willingness to keep up,
but please keep your mind on the task at hand so you can avoid knocking me
over.” Before I could stop it my
sarcastic reply escaped, “I don’t think it’s possible for me to knock you down
even with a bulldozer.” His puzzled look
reminded me that he was not from Earth and had no clue what I meant. The giggle I heard from the empath let me
know that even though she wasn’t from Earth either she knew what I was talking
about.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Peering around him, I saw that our path was now up a
steep incline. “Are we climbing?” I
asked, but didn’t wait for an answer.
Those few seconds of standing still had made my legs begin to
shake. We were much closer to my
collapsing than I wanted either of them to know. After his curt affirmative response, the empath
moved quickly past me and began helping me climb. I looked up and noticed the opening of a
cave. “Are we headed for that cave?” I
asked. “No, that is too obvious,” he
replied. And I guessed he was right
since I’d spotted it right away. “Make
your way to the right of the rock face,” he instructed. Once we did, the wind felt less harsh and I
nearly sighed in relief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We came to a group of tall vegetation when he announced,
“We will hide here.” I looked around and
decided that our definitions of hiding were more different than they were
alike. As I turned my questioning face
his way, he pointed at the ground. “There
is a crevasse in the rock that is wide enough for two people to lie down in. I will stand guard.” I found I was too cold to object to crawling
into such a small space and once the empath had crawled in across from me, it
didn’t seem quite so frightening. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My teeth were still chattering and I was about to let
them know that I didn’t seem to be warming up when the warrior said in a low
growl, “You must keep quiet. They are
nearing our position.” Before I could
reply, the empath whispered, “She cannot help it. She’s not warming up and that sound is her
teeth chattering. If I concentrate I can
feel if they get too near. In the
meantime, we could use your body’s higher temperature to warm her up quicker.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I do not think that will be necessary,” the warrior
began before the empath cut him off. “Do
not make me pull rank. Just get in here.” I felt a sudden rush of panic as I realized
that he would need to lie behind me. I
didn’t want to be that close to him. I
was sure that it wouldn’t be good for my peace of mind. Too late I realized that the empath could
probably tell exactly how I was feeling.
I glanced up and she met my look with one of her caring smiles. “Don’t worry.
We’ll be safe soon and I’ll help you make sense of all that has happened.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The warrior chose that moment to slide down into the
crevasse. The sudden warmth behind me
made me gasp. “Did I injure you?” he
asked with more concern than I thought possible and began to run his hand up
and down my arm. It took me a few
moments to be able to respond, “No. Your
body heat just startled me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I did not realize that you were so susceptible to the
cold,” he said as he worked his arm underneath me, pulled me back against him,
and wrapped his arms around me. I couldn’t
help but sigh as I settled into the warmth of his body. It was beginning to feel like I would never
be warm again. I must have been feeling
much warmer than I thought because I actually drifted off. As I resurfaced from sleep, I could hear them
talking quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I no longer sense them close by. Once they searched the cave, they moved off in
the general direction we were heading,” the empath whispered. “Apparently the cave was too obvious,” I quipped
and I thought I actually felt the warrior smile. “Indeed,” was all he had to offer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Does that mean we need to get moving again?” I
asked. “No, I think we can stay here a
bit longer,” he replied and then added, “Try to sleep a bit more to build up
your strength.” He must have moved his
head as he said that last part because his breath on my neck made me shiver and
I could feel goosebumps pop up on my arms.
The warrior pulled me tighter against his body. “Are you getting cold again?” he asked with
concern. I was grateful that it was too
dark for anyone to see me blush. “No, I’m
fine,” I replied but I knew it was going to harder to fall back asleep this
time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But apparently not impossible because the next thing I
knew the warrior was whispering in my ear, “You must wake up now. It is time for us to get moving again.” I was loath to leave the warmth, but ready to
have this over with. I had no clue what
those people wanted with me, but I was thankful for the help of the warrior and
empath. I wouldn’t have lasted five
minutes without them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We crawled out of our hiding place, worked our way down
the rock face we had climbed up, and then continued our journey to the
border. The border of what I had
absolutely no clue, but navigating was not my job. Surviving this ordeal was my one and only
job. I must have been distracted because
too late I heard the warrior growl at the same time the empath yelled, “Look
out!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before I knew what had happened someone that was no more
than a blur had grabbed me and began to take me away from my new friends at a
very high rate of speed. All I could do was
scream and pound my fists on the back of whoever had grabbed me. I looked up to see the warrior and the empath
running as fast as they could after us, but we were quickly pulling away from
them. “NO!” I yelled as loud as I could
as everything went black.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I came to suddenly and found myself in my own bed,
alone. It couldn’t have been a
dream. It felt too real. In fact, I could still feel the lingering
heat of the warrior. I reached for my
phone where I had left it on the nightstand and I checked the date. It was two day earlier than the date in my dream. So was it really a dream, albeit a very realistic
one, or was it a vision. And if it was a
vision, I only had two days to either keep it from happening or prepare myself
for it if I couldn’t avoid it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even though it was still dark outside, I decided I’d
have enough sleep for one night. I needed
to run some errands and make some plans.
Damsel in distress was so not my speed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-3539105335589558272014-12-28T19:31:00.000-06:002014-12-28T22:13:14.629-06:00The View<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I woke up in bed alone, but he hadn't been gone long because
his side of the bed was still warm. I
slid out of bed and went in search of him.
As I rounded the corner of the hall, I found him staring out the
window. We'd rented this cabin because
of its wonderful view of the mountains.
He seemed entranced by the sight of the sun coming up over those
mountains, but I was mesmerized by the sight of him. Just looking at him could make my heart do
backflips in my chest. The sun turning
his hair the almost golden colour it had when we first met nearly brought me to
tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the last few months, I'd begun to regret not having
children when I was younger. Especially
now that I wasn't able to have them. But
seeing him at that moment made me realize that he was the only man I'd ever
want to give children. I would have loved
to give him a baby girl with his golden curls and my gray eyes, but by the time
he'd come into my life children were no longer an option.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Suddenly a weight that I hadn't known was there lifted and
that regret I'd felt just faded away.
There was frost on the window he was looking out of, but the cold
couldn't touch me despite my bare feet and thin nightgown. I felt warmed from within like the sun was
also rising in heart and melting everything that wasn't love and happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't know if I made a sound or if he suddenly felt me
watching him, but he turned around. His
face lit up with a smile as he said, "Honey, it's too cold for you to be
wandering around like that. You should
crawl back into bed." I smiled and
replied, "Only if you come with me."
He chuckled and said, "Well that was always the plan, now wasn't
it?" I giggled as we walked back to
the bedroom to warm up again under the covers.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-38858167094236674542012-11-20T22:41:00.000-06:002012-11-20T22:41:16.797-06:00Better Late Than Never<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When you live with more than one chronic condition, sometimes things can snowball and you end up buried beneath an avalanche of issues, doctor’s visits, self-care, and tasks you meant to do but didn’t. Sadly, one of those things for me was <a href="http://www.mydiabeticheart.com/diabetes-blessings-week/" target="_blank">Diabetes Blessings Week</a> hosted by my friend Mike Durbin over at <a href="http://www.mydiabeticheart.com/" target="_blank">My Diabetic Heart</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s not that Mike had specifically asked me to participate (it’s an open invitation) or that I’d promised I would. It’s that I was still a bit too shy to participate last year, but really wanted to. Having a bit more free time this year due to a company-wide furlough this week, it should have been easy to fit into my lack of schedule. Then life happened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here it is Tuesday. Mike casually mentions it during a conversation and it slowly dawns on me that I’ve let another thing slip through my fingers. Yet another chance to advocate that I let pass me by. Nearly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So with determination (and possibly a bit of stubbornness), I pause the craft video I’m watching on YouTube, set my craft supplies aside, and get Pandora going. Time to see what this crazy brain of mine can crank out when I tell it to instead of just when it wants to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What do I come up with? No clue, but we’re about to find out together. So buckle your seatbelts because this is bound to be one crazy ride. Providing of course that Pandora doesn’t throw yet ANOTHER Taylor Swift song into my mix and try to derail my train of thought.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I’m supposed to write about blessings, specifically those related to diabetes. I’ll be honest, my first thought is “WTFructose? Diabetes sucks!” and it does. But just like nothing is all good, nothing is all bad either. I dig deeper and see a faint light shining in the distance. A bright spot amongst the endless numbers for blood glucose levels, carb counts, A1c’s, units of insulin, and the never ending cost of what feels like the million tools it takes just to keep me alive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I move towards that glimmer of something that feels like it’s made of hope, love, and support, I feel myself growing lighter and lighter. The fears, doubts, and insecurities that crowd me begin to fall to the ground like the changing leaves of autumn. My steps are buoyed by anticipation and my pace quickens.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I enter the outer reaches of the glow and instantly feel warmed from the inside out. My nerve endings begin to tingle in a way that makes me think I’ve begun to glow on my own. My smile widens as I take what feels like my first unencumbered breath in years. Moving closer I feel it envelope me like a loving embrace and I know I’ve found that silver lining I was looking for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You might be wondering what I’ve found and I will be glad to tell you. What I’ve found is support, love, understanding, and empowerment. We affectionately refer to it as the DOC. The Diabetes Online Community. A group of diabetics of all types, caretakers of diabetics, and loved ones of diabetics. Basically, people who get it. Where you can talk about diabetes without explaining WHAT diabetes really is first.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are patients, children, mothers, fathers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, siblings, newbies, veterans, advocates, lurkers, bloggers, tweeters, non-profit workers, family and friends, but mostly we are just people, who happen to be connected by diabetes. We are the light that makes the darkness retreat, taking with it the fear and doubt. We are the hand held out to strangers and friends who need comfort. We are the human connection that keeps all of us strong and moving forward. We are the voice of advocacy and the cry for change that keeps diabetes from becoming a truly invisible disease. We are love, caring, understanding, support, & kindness. We are the DOC.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And that is a LOT to be thankful for. Thanks for coming along. I hope you enjoyed the ride.</span><br />
Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-51998908624184450782012-10-11T19:38:00.000-05:002012-10-11T19:38:06.881-05:00My BFF Is A Published Author!!!<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I cannot even begin to express how wonderful this book is. And not just because David Emprimo is my bestest friend. He is a VERY talented author with a wonderful imagination. Do yourself a favor & go buy this ebook. I promise you won’t regret it. :)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Thanks! ♥♥♥♥♥♥</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/244389">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/244389</a></b></span><br />
Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-4215186340122047552012-09-24T07:02:00.002-05:002012-09-24T19:51:15.574-05:00Diabetes Art Day 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3e9jVwYTtvisQR_4hSe5hcjW6fItFCsWOggdrw7nRDqFwW6d4ONLZnsEbyJd1PvQnh3hPOXmvsVIk3tur3eaP-EaetTWYhtPCGQOKGbzcCzNjgdQToZTH_iO8YDms7xZBZqwo/s1600/2012+Diabetes+Art+Day+-+PLB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3e9jVwYTtvisQR_4hSe5hcjW6fItFCsWOggdrw7nRDqFwW6d4ONLZnsEbyJd1PvQnh3hPOXmvsVIk3tur3eaP-EaetTWYhtPCGQOKGbzcCzNjgdQToZTH_iO8YDms7xZBZqwo/s400/2012+Diabetes+Art+Day+-+PLB.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Today is <a href="http://www.diabetesartday.com/" target="_blank">Diabetes Art Day</a> & this is my submission. The background is something I digitally "painted" a while back. The blue circle is the symbol for Diabetes. I painted all of the bottles & stuff with a black paint pen then took a picture of them. My co-worker who is a Photoshop Goddess helped me merge the two (Thanks again, Sasha Whitney-Hayes!!!) & then I added the words.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Last year was my first time to participate & it was an amazing experience. So amazing that it actually gave me the courage to go to my first diabetes meet-up. Thanks, <a href="http://www.thebuttercompartment.com/" target="_blank">Lee Ann Thill</a>!!! Your creativity is contagious! :)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Want to know more about Diabetes Art Day or see more submissions? http://www.diabetesartday.com/</b></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-65245271175921417252012-08-22T16:18:00.000-05:002012-08-22T16:18:12.461-05:00New Poetry...<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>dangerous game</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>i am your once in a lifetime</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>your one last, best chance</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>at true happiness</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>and you are mine</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>but if you walk out that door</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>i won’t be here when you get back</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>you can’t make the rules</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>then break them to suit you</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>this is a dangerous game</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>you are playing with our hearts</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>by the time you realize it</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>you’ll be alone and unhappy</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>and i’ll have moved on</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>getting over you won’t be easy</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>knowing it was never my fault</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>will dull the edges of my broken heart</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>maybe even let me live again</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>but love is too dangerous a game</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>for me to ever play again</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>©CLP</b></span><br />
Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-57676062392716723842012-07-03T20:26:00.000-05:002012-07-03T20:29:47.419-05:00Aftermath of Lucky Number 7<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>If you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or Tumblr then you know that Friday I was at the hospital for another blood transfusion. My seventh since December and I have to say it is really getting old. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Don't get me wrong. I am very grateful to have this option open to me. Without the transfusions, who knows if I'd even be alive today. My hematologist doesn't think I would be. He's a not just a good doctor. He's a great doctor, so I believe him. Still, it's not a thought I like to entertain for long.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The transfusions themselves are relatively easy & mostly pain free. I go to the hospital the day before to pre-register and have blood drawn for a type & cross-type. After this many transfusions, I've developed several anti-bodies in my blood. The blood bank has to match those anti-bodies carefully or I could have a serious reaction to the blood. I'm O+, but usually get O- blood because the anti-bodies I have are more common in O- blood.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The next morning I report to hospital registration and someone from the Day Surgery unit comes to get me. That's where I spend the day because getting two units is an all-day endeavor. And lately I visit the Wound Care Clinic first for my ankle wound before going to Day Surgery.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The nurses get me settled, we go over the medications I've taken in the last week, and they take my vital signs. Then the fun really begins because it's time to insert the IV needle. Unfortunately the needle for a blood transfusion is larger because blood is thicker than IV fluid. I won't sugar coat it. This part hurts. They give me a local anesthetic, but that can only do so much. We've discovered in the midst of all this that I have a lot of valves in my veins and that just adds to the pain.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>For the most part, once the needle is in & the IV is hooked up to it, the pain goes away. Some locations will ache for a while after. Some will ache the whole time. All of them will bruise pretty badly a few days after the transfusion. One of the hazards of being pale and having a low platelet count.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Once the IV is set, the nurse will go get the first unit of blood. It will be given slowly over three hours. For the first hour, the nurse will take my blood pressure & temperature every 15 minutes to insure they catch an adverse reaction right away. After we're sure there are no reactions, I usually get breakfast and start watching television.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Instead of a hospital bed, they fix me up in a big recliner. And I spend my day watching HGTV and Food Network. They feed me lunch too. The nurses are super sweet and they spoil me. Also, heated blankets FTW!!! Man do I love those because I'm usually cold these days.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>After the first unit is done, they unhook me from the IV so they can change all the tubing. I get a shot of Lasix to avoid any fluid collecting and I get up to move around a little. Mostly I just go to the bathroom, rejoicing in being untethered. Then the nurse comes back with the second unit of blood and we start the procedure again. Except for the needle part. That stays put to minimize my discomfort.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>When the second unit is done, the nurse begins unhooking everything and removing the needle. Low platelets sometimes makes this a tricky or messy task. At this point, she usually watches a bit of television with me while she puts pressure on the IV site for about 10 minutes. Then I have to hang around for another round of blood pressure and temperature checks. Usually a half hour to an hour.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>On a good day I'm out of there around four. On a not so good day it is sometimes after six. Those are really long days. Made longer by the fact that I will wake up several times during the night with very painful leg cramps. The best we can figure it's a combination of sitting in pretty much the same position all day and the sodium and potassium I lose because of the diuretic. I'm prone to leg cramps anyway.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The next day I'm usually pretty tired. It's amazing how worn out you can get from sitting all day long. Usually I'm at work the next day. I've missed so much work this year that I push myself to get back the very next day. This does not make my hematologist happy, but I hate missing work.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>This time I had the weekend to recover, but it sure made the weekend seem short. Here's hoping this one lasts for a couple months at least. I'm really tired of doing this whole transfusion song & dance. Anyone care to cut in?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-90544403204440041382012-06-16T15:10:00.002-05:002012-06-16T15:10:16.229-05:00A New Road<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Twenty-one years ago yesterday it was a hot and rainy Saturday. I was sitting on Dr. H's exam table, kicking my feet out of habit and because my inner child is about twelve. I was there because of an out of control wound on the outside of my right ankle. What I couldn't figure out was why Dr. H had drawn so much blood. Plus I was starving since he'd insisted I be fasting. Not to mention I was so thirsty that I had cotton mouth.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Dr. H had looked briefly at my ankle, but he'd been far more interested in asking me a series of strange questions. He'd even checked the whites of my eyes. I figured after years of being our family doctor, insanity had finally claimed him. I mean who cares what I'd been eating when I'd actually lost over 30 lbs. That is what the doctor who said I had Type 2 Diabetes ten months ago told me to do. Actually, that was the only thing he told me to do.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>By the time Dr. H returned, I was starting to get a bit irritated. In fact, I'd been irritated a lot lately and that was not like me at all. I hadn't really felt like myself for a while now. Sometimes it was like a stranger was living in my body. One that was quite a bit meaner and angrier than I'd ever been in my life.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I shook my head to clear it and focused on what Dr. H was saying. Did he just say something about high blood sugar? "Doc, I told you that endocrinologist told me last August that I had non-insulin-dependent diabetes. He told me to lose weight and I'd be fine. I've lost more than 30 lbs. so that has to have helped, right?"</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>When he took my hand, I knew I wasn't going to like what he was about to say. In one of those strange moments of clarity I sometimes get, I knew that his next words were going to drastically change my life. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be happy with this new road I'd have to take. Mostly, I was starting to get scared.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"Honey, you don't have non-insulin-dependent diabetes," he said and the deep breath he took to steady himself doused the small flicker of hope that sprang to life at his words. "You have insulin-dependent diabetes and probably have since last summer. You lost all that weight because your body is starving to death. No matter what you eat or how much you eat, your body can't use it because it needs insulin to turn it into fuel. You don't make any insulin anymore."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Now I was just confused. How could I have insulin-dependent diabetes? You get that when you're a kid and I was about to turn 23. So he had to be wrong and I said as much. Dr. H was a great doctor, but no one can know everything.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>He assured me that not only was it possible, but it was true. Then he reached behind him and grabbed what I would soon learn was a blood glucose monitor. He pricked my finger, applied blood to the strip, inserted it into the machine, and we watched it count down sixty seconds. When the 386 popped up, I had no idea what it meant but by the look on his face, I knew it wasn't the winning number.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"When did you last eat?" he asked me in his serious doctor voice. I had no idea why it was important but I knew better than to argue with him. "I had some cereal before I went to bed last night," I answered then quickly added, "It was before midnight, I swear." Dr. H actually smiled, but it didn't last long.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"Normally, I'd put you in the hospital until we can get a handle on your blood sugars, but I know you don't have insurance. And I know from your family history that your grandmother's brother had a reaction to insulin the first time he took it so what I need you to do is to come back first thing Monday morning and plan to stay all day. We'll teach you to give yourself shots and be able to watch you for reactions to the insulin."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>He paused to make eye contact with me. "Promise me you'll be back here Monday morning. This is not just important. This is life and death. You understand that, right?"</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"Doc, I don't think I can give myself shots every day. You know how much I hate needles," I said with a shudder. I'd been afraid of needles for as long as I could remember. And with that thought, the tears began to fall.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Dr. H reached behind him and grabbed a tissue without ever losing eye contact. "I know, honey, but if you don't take insulin shots you are going to die. In the not too distant future you will slip into a coma and not wake up again. It is that serious. And we will do everything we can to make it as easy and painless as we can."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"Can Mommy come with me on Monday?" I asked, not the least bit ashamed that right then I needed my Mommy more than anything. He nodded his head. "Okay, I'll be here Monday morning. I promise. What do I do until then? And what about my ankle?"</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"I'm getting to that," he said and I notice he looked visibly relieved by my promise. "Until Monday I want you to get lots of rest and don't do anything strenuous at all. Drink lots and lots of water. Be prepared because you'll be going to the bathroom often, but just keep drinking water. Try to stay away from anything starchy or sweet. Stick to meats and vegetables. And if at any time you feel nauseous or your back starts to hurt like you've got a kidney infection, then go straight to the ER. Don't stop to call me, just go. And as soon as you get there tell them you have insulin-dependent diabetes but haven't had any insulin. They will know what to do."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The tears kept coming and fear was starting really set in. I'm pretty sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Don't worry, kiddo. You're not going to do this alone. You'll have lots of help along the way. When you get home today, tell your mom to call me and I'll go over it with her." He put a business card in my hand. "Give her this card. He's a great doctor and he'll be expecting your call. He'll work you in Monday as soon as we're done here. He'll get that ankle fixed up the best he can. I'm not going to lie to you, the next few months are going to be hard and probably frightening for you, but we'll all work together to make sure you get through it."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"I'm going to put a new bandage on that ankle. I'm going to do the best I can with it and we'll just leave it alone until you see Dr. Y. Stop doing all that other stuff the dermatologist had you doing."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>"Yes, sir," was about all I could manage. I'd reached my limit for the day. I couldn't take in one more thing and Dr. H knew it. He helped me off the table and helped me gather my stuff. It was still raining, but he walked me out to my car and wouldn't let me drive off until I'd put my seatbelt on. I don't remember the drive home at all. I just remember suddenly being in our driveway and noticing that it had stopped raining.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I've written about this day before. Not in this much detail, but I thought today was a good day for the details. I went into that first week of my new diabetes battle without a single clue of just how hard and frightening it would get. There were a lot of numbers tossed around that summer. My blood sugar that Monday was 412, but I'd made it through the weekend without needing to go to the ER. My favorite of Dr. H's nurses was tasked with teaching me how to give myself insulin shots. She told me most people learn on an orange, but she said we were going to go a different route. She loaded a syringe with saline, rolled up her sleeve, and offered me her arm. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I took a deep breath, shook my head, and gave myself my first shot. When I didn't pass out, I handed her the syringe and told her to give me some insulin so we could do this thing for real. When I'd done it again with insulin and still hadn't passed out, we both laughed so loud that Dr. H came to see what we were up to. I think the whole office lined up to hug me.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>We would have to stay there for a few hours. Time I spent napping on the couch in Dr. H's office. Every so often one of the nurses would come take my blood pressure and temperature, but there was no sign of a reaction. Eventually, the appropriate prescriptions were written and my Mommy would tuck them into my ever-growing bag of supplies and instructions. Dr. H took us to lunch and then it was time to pick up the new prescriptions.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Later that day, I'd find out that Dr. Y was a plastic and reconstructive surgeon. A fact that would make me panic so much that I actually hyperventilated in his waiting room. Dr. Y was definitely a straight-shooter and he didn't mince words. He told me the last thing in the world he wanted to do was surgery, but if it would save my life he wouldn't hesitate to insist that it was necessary if the time ever came. He told me that the worst case scenario was that I'd lose my right leg from the knee down. He made sure I understood that not only did we have to do exactly what he said about the wound, but I had to work really hard to get my blood sugars much lower so my body could do its job.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Dr. H started me on insulin and a pill for my underactive thyroid. I'd taken the same pill from the age of 11 to 16, but this time when I'd start taking it I wouldn't stop. Not that we knew that at the time. By the end of the summer, my wound was healing nicely and surgery wasn't going to be necessary. My blood sugars weren't great but they were much better and we were working on making them better. I still didn't have insurance so my parents were paying for the medicine I couldn't afford which was pretty much all of it. And I began to make the rounds to all the specialists you're supposed to see when you have diabetes.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>We found a new endocrinologist and I went to a few appointments with him, but stopped after the third or fourth visit. He was completely convinced that I'd be lucky to live another ten years and that I'd never live to see 40. So I went back to Dr. H who told me the guy was nuts and I'd live just as long as anyone else, I'd just have to take extra-special care of myself. Since I'll be 44 in about 9 days, I think Dr. H knew what he was talking about.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I'd seen optometrists since I was seven and got my first pair of glasses, but now I needed to see an ophthalmologist. The one we found was about as cheerful as the endocrinologist. He was sure I'd be blind by the time I was 30. I didn't bother to make a second appointment.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So here I am 21 years later. Still alive, obviously. Still wearing glasses, but not blind. I've just had over a year of some of the best blood sugar levels I've ever had. I've had a lot of different doctors during those years. Some as positive and supportive as Dr. H, but some haven't been. I try to keep a hold of the good ones and just leave those negative ones behind as I move forward. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>2012 has brought more than its fair share of medical problems. Liver and spleen issues. A bone marrow biopsy and six blood transfusions. An endoscopy, colonoscopy, and a pill endoscopy gave my gastro film of my digestive tract from entrance to exit. Literally. Throw in a couple of CT scans and you have my year so far. Oh and let's not forget the wound on the same damn ankle from 21 years ago. I'm pretty sure they'll be naming a wing of Baylor Carrollton Hospital after me and my insurance company.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I take a lot more pills now than I did 21 years ago. I use two completely different insulins than I did and instead of syringes I use pens. I have a lot fewer highs, but also more lows. I know my body much better than I did. I can manage to eat ice cream with barely a spike in my blood sugar, but I can still only have orange juice when I'm low because even just a few swallows will shoot my blood sugar up 30 or 40 points.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>When I was diagnosed, the only diabetic I knew was my grandmother's older brother. Now I know probably hundreds of them. Including my Mommy and my stepmom who both have Type 2 diabetes. I have diabetic friends and family all across the world. One day I hope to meet some of them face to face, but until then the internet keeps us closer than I ever thought possible.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>It's funny. Years ago if you'd ask me about places I'd like to see in this world I'd have listed London, Paris, Dublin, Venice, Madrid, Rome, & Tokyo. Now that list is a bit different. Those places are still on it, but just a bit further down because places like Los Angeles, New York, Oregon City, Las Vegas, Indianapolis, & Kansas City have taken over the top of the list. Unless I can convince my loved ones in those cities that Texas is a great place for a meet up. Failing that, there just might be some traveling in my future. Maybe this road isn't so bad after all.</b></span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-61146287565563680832012-05-16T18:33:00.000-05:002012-05-16T18:33:19.445-05:00Update On Me<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I saw the hematologist yesterday. My hemoglobin levels aren't great, but seem to be holding pretty steady for me. We've decided to not mess with them. Two weeks ago it was 9.6 & yesterday it was 9.2. So no iron or blood. But I did have a sore on my ankle that was hurting pretty badly so he sent me to a wound care clinic.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I'll admit it had me worried. Same dang spot where I had the ulcers 20 years ago. And with a lot less muscle mass because of that, I knew things could go bad pretty quickly.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The plan was that I would call this morning to the wound care clinic at the hospital where I've been having my transfusions. With the hope of getting in tomorrow. My ankle had other plans. It kept me up most of the night with severe pain. This morning I was so tired that I know I sounded drunk when I called my boss. Sweet, sweet man just took it all in stride.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So I laid back down & called the clinic a couple hours later when they opened. They could see me at 2pm so I laid back down again. Just like the wonderful people in day surgery, the wound care clinic staff took VERY good care of me. Seriously, I think they put something in the water at this hospital because EVERYONE in this place is so nice & happy.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I got registered, filled out my 7 pages of paperwork, & they put me in a treatment room. My nurse, Sona, talked to me about what was going to happen & took pics of not just my wound, but of me. She said that way everyone on the staff will know me by sight. I hate having my picture taken, but I thought that was pretty cool. I also heard her in the hallway later giving lessons on how to say my name. :D</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The doc came in & I immediately liked him. He was funny, sweet, & had a very soft touch. Once he cleaned it up, he said it wasn't as bad as it looked. No visible sign of infection but just in case, he wanted me to keep taking the antibiotics that the hematologist gave me. He decided that the intermittent swelling from my liver was keeping it from healing. So I have to wear a compression sock from my knee to my toes. Not very fashionable, but I'll live. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>He also discovered that the extreme pain was caused by a couple of exposed nerves in the wound. Even with it numbed, I nearly came off the table twice while he was cleaning the wound. So he gave me pain meds. Nothing major, just codeine with the promise that I will tell him if that doesn't work well enough to let me rest so he can give me something stronger. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I'll go once a week until it's healed. With the option of coming in more days a week if it doesn't seem to be healing fast enough.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So that's about it. I'm limping, but I'll live. :)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-82402198441601499062012-03-27T20:08:00.003-05:002012-03-27T20:21:59.667-05:00Diabetes Advocates Offer Assistance in Accurate Reporting in the Media<b><br /></b><br />
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<span style="color: white;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">”We want to help get it right,” states diabetes advocacy group</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tuesday, March 27, 2012 (BERKELEY, CA) –</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Did you know there are more than
five different types of diabetes? If your knowledge of diabetes is defined by
what you hear and see on the news or in movies then you probably don't. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://diabetesadvocates.org/" target="_blank">Diabetes Advocates</a>, a nonprofit program made up of influential
members of the diabetes community has launched a media outreach campaign,
designed to assist the media on all things diabetes. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://diabetesaliciousness.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Kelly Kunik</a>, a member of <a href="http://diabetesadvocates.org/" target="_blank">Diabetes Advocates</a>,
stated: “Today is <a href="http://stopdiabetes.diabetes.org/site/PageServer?pagename=SD_AlertDay" target="_blank">Diabetes Alert Day</a> in the US and we are trying to stress to
all media sources that more due diligence is required on everyone’s part when
reporting on diabetes. We want to help all sources ‘get it right’ but also
stress the importance of explaining the differences among ‘all things’
diabetes.” </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Despite the fact that media outlets are
reporting on diabetes more than ever, the condition is still widely
misrepresented and portrayed as only one disease, when in actuality, diabetes
is made up of several different diseases (type 1, type 1.5 LADA, and type 2
being the most predominantly confused). By emailing the organization at </span><u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="mailto:media@diabetesadvocates.org">media@diabetesadvocates.org</a></span></u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, reporters can quickly fact check, get suggestions and have a
real-time conversation with the </span>
<a href="http://diabetesadvocates.org/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Diabetes Advocates</a> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">to ensure the accuracy of
their articles. The <a href="http://diabetesadvocates.org/" target="_blank">Diabetes Advocates</a> can also serve as sources for
reporters. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With representation from the Screen Actors Guild
(SAG), American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (AFTRA) and Actor’s
Equity (AEA) within the organization, the Diabetes Advocates can also serve as
information sources to entertainment outlets. Entertainment outlets looking for
information on diabetes can email the group as well. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Our goal is to stop being reactive and start
being proactive,” said Kunik. “When a story with incorrect information is
published, the damage is done. By making ourselves available to media and
entertainment outlets, we are seeking to be part of a solution.” </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ABOUT DIABETES ADVOCATES
</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><a href="http://diabetesadvocates.org/" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Diabetes Advocates</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> is a not-for-profit program
run by the Diabetes Hands Foundation. The program combines the resources of its
members to do activities to better educate the public about all aspects
concerning diabetes. For more details, visit: </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://mail.med.miami.edu/owa/redir.aspx?C=698dca903a2e4a158ad52db5da2efe2e&URL=http%3a%2f%2fwww.diabetesadvocates.org">www.diabetesadvocates.org</a></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. </span></b></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-8962519603243098092012-03-15T22:17:00.000-05:002012-03-17T00:27:26.182-05:00Maybe I'm More Than Broken<span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I stopped at a place called My Fit Foods after several co-workers raved about their food. They do freshly prepared, packaged meals. Kind of like frozen entrees with out the frozen part. They are a bit expensive, but I was curious. And I know I need to eat better.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>What I had forgotten was the near panic I have to fight when I buy a packaged meal. I have this fear that it won't be enough food. That I'll still be hungry when I'm done or that I'll need more protein or something. Then I start thinking that if I do, there is something wrong with me because normal people don't need more. Even worse is how I will sometimes overeat out of that fear. Something I've never shared with anyone. Ever.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Why am I sharing now? Damned if I know, but I felt like I should. So there it is.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>BTW, the My Fit Foods meal was very tasty, but probably too pricey for me to buy on a regular basis. Which is sad because it was VERY healthy. I have health insurance that helps pay for the meds that I need to be healthy, but what do you do when eating healthy is so much more expensive than the alternative that you can't afford it?</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>But I guess maybe that's a topic for another post.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-86788687068900992162011-12-25T00:41:00.001-06:002011-12-25T00:42:28.668-06:00PostSecret 12/25/2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>This one really spoke to me......</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGuIe7XXhL4JG7JrVTy3nBFrkt9EKTIVadpCiti86OlJMcQ1keN9mjF0P2JVallzFZ_NmKNAjtQ9OkUY9v7SdqjsccoJQNHw30Vc6UBrbE7XAtcijO2541FdI8navHt-54qI3e/s400/thanks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGuIe7XXhL4JG7JrVTy3nBFrkt9EKTIVadpCiti86OlJMcQ1keN9mjF0P2JVallzFZ_NmKNAjtQ9OkUY9v7SdqjsccoJQNHw30Vc6UBrbE7XAtcijO2541FdI8navHt-54qI3e/s320/thanks.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And to this Random Donor, Merry Christmas from someone who needed it about 2 weeks ago!</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-30081249502944845372011-12-18T11:30:00.002-06:002011-12-18T11:35:45.460-06:00PostSecret 12/18/2011<span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>This one really jumped out at me. :)</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhtw4xunRhdbap-1LFJCvw4GeC6GHeQa-QgKfQgZmj4c0J685vsLGHnfJPplw-VxlejliIEh06ySqc2476Z4VP5T7PadWpaBzAlP0Ho6OF4K9tUI5KGWAgAlsi5zLTrgjT9E9/s1600/christmaslist.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhtw4xunRhdbap-1LFJCvw4GeC6GHeQa-QgKfQgZmj4c0J685vsLGHnfJPplw-VxlejliIEh06ySqc2476Z4VP5T7PadWpaBzAlP0Ho6OF4K9tUI5KGWAgAlsi5zLTrgjT9E9/s1600/christmaslist.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 512px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 407px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.postsecret.com/">PostSecret</a> is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.</b></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-8493298421116072032011-09-01T21:49:00.008-05:002011-09-01T23:09:09.707-05:00Diabetes Art Day 2011<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >This post is late, even though I submitted my art yesterday. I wanted to post last night, but by the time I finished my submission it was after 11pm and I knew I had a long day ahead of me. We had an event today & it was a busy day. In fact, I haven't been home very long, but there was no way I was going to bed without posting about </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);" href="http://www.diabetesartday.com/diabetes-art-day-2011/">Diabetes Art Day 2011</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >.</span>
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<br /><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);" href="http://www.diabetesartday.com/">Diabetes Art Day</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" > is the brain child of an amazing woman named </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);" href="http://www.thebuttercompartment.com/">Lee Ann Thill</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >. This fabulous project began last year. I missed out last year because I hadn't yet found all the wonderful people in the DOC (Diabetes Online Community) yet. This year I was determined to participate.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I saved as many different diabetes related supplies that I could. Thinking that I would use them in my artwork. As it turns out, I fell back on what has always inspired me and moved me the most, words. Whether they are the words read in a book or poem, or the words sung in a song, or even the words spoken in a movie or play. They have all been important to me my whole life. But how could I make them a visual art form?</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I briefly thought of writing a poem, but quickly thrust that aside when the words in my head refused to unjumble themselves into coherent thoughts. I also wanted to do something with colour and impact. Black words on a white background seemed too stark. Too well, black and white. Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING about diabetes is black and white. Hell it's not even shades of gray.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >There are more colours than a rainbow can hold representing diabetes. There is the red in the blood I use to check my blood glucose multiple times a day. The deeper shade of red that is my blood drawn every few months for the endless lab work needed. The purple of my blood glucose meter. The two-tone blue test strips. The gray and blue pens that hold the two different kinds of insulin that I inject daily. The lighter blue of the </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);" href="http://www.idf.org/worlddiabetesday/">World Diabetes Day logo</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" > sponsored by the </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);" href="http://www.idf.org/">International Diabetes Foundation</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" > that reminds me that I'm not alone and diabetes is a worldwide epidemic. The lavender paper I peel off of the sterile needles I attach to my insulin pens. The orange caps on the syringes I used to use. The black bottle my test strips come in. The multi-hued pills, glucotabs, and juices that I use to regulate my blood glucose and the other ailments that ran in through the door that diabetes left open.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >And then there are the seemingly non-diabetes related colours that are essential in my own diabetes management. The rose of my phone that keeps me in contact with my doctors and allows me to vent/share on Facebook or Twitter. The pink of my Sony eReader and my Sansa Fuze that help keep me sane on days when diabetes is determined to do otherwise. The green bag of the sugar-free Wint-O-Green Lifesavers that make me smile.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >These and many more are the colours of my diabetes management. And somehow my art needed to express that. But how? So I opened my favorite "painting" program and started adding colours. I have to tell you, it was a mess. Too chaotic even though diabetes can definitely be that. Then I thought what is the good of digital art if you can't manipulate it and even coax it into what you want it to be. So I took a thin strip out of the middle of the colour chaos I had created and stretched it. Suddenly the chaos became something else. Something almost calm and soothing.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Then I began to list the words associated with diabetes for me. The good and the bad. I began to see what resembled a circle emerging and that made sense to me. I chose the colours because purple is my favorite colour and while some of these things are not my favorites, they are important and they are a part of me.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >After placing the newly made diabetes word cloud on the background I'd made I realized there were many shades of purple in that as well. I think that makes it even more about me. That even by accident I've come full circle back to something that I love. But there are also many more colours because no one or nothing can be about only one thing. So while diabetes takes up a large part of my life, it isn't all that I'm about. Because just like diabetes, I have more colours than any rainbow can hold.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >But purple is still my favorite. :P</span>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bROS27o54WWJSikbJhHNa-ysA3flhNf5ZW6YgAlFZZCMptL1ECULVqoC5pl_5ZhxehFngZSeqFCZvBcbnR_xBUaGYVoSlI8pJlnsx9NZpTSsaKZK69TKhDu3GPOpNsib8pa6/s1600/2011+D+Art+Day+-+PLB.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bROS27o54WWJSikbJhHNa-ysA3flhNf5ZW6YgAlFZZCMptL1ECULVqoC5pl_5ZhxehFngZSeqFCZvBcbnR_xBUaGYVoSlI8pJlnsx9NZpTSsaKZK69TKhDu3GPOpNsib8pa6/s400/2011+D+Art+Day+-+PLB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647606489913596418" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" > Special thanks to <a href="http://www.thebuttercompartment.com/">Lee Ann Thil</a><a href="http://www.thebuttercompartment.com/">l</a> for her imagination, cleverness, and willingness to share. Without her there would be no Diabetes Art Day. Please take a moment to look at <a href="http://www.diabetesartday.com/diabetes-art-day-2011/">the other art posted</a>. Thanks!
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<br />Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-70216908836703651242011-06-12T22:14:00.005-05:002011-06-12T22:47:03.786-05:00Necrobiosis Lipoidica Diabeticorum<span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >I'm going about my day when I feel that telltale sting on my lower leg and I can't stop the string of cuss words that leave my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It doesn't really hurt, but I know that in moments the pain will increase exponentially.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I look down and see what amounts to little more than a scratch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I watch as a clear liquid begins to seep from the wound then count to ten as the pain begins to ramp up and I try to remember how to breathe.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My necrobiosis lipoidica diabeticorum lesions look like burns and ironically when they are injured they burn like they are literally</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> on fire.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A fire that will be repeated at random times during the next week or two that it takes for the injury to heal.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The length of time depends on whether or not the living tissue beneath the lesion was injured too.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The deeper the wound the longer the healing time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Also, the more frequent the shooting pains through the wound.</span></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Although my loved ones and co-workers are used</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> to seeing the lesions, when I've injured one, they can't help but ask if I'm okay.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I can't say that I blame them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The wounds look nothing less than angry.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sometimes they will puff up or swell and often they will actually look like they are infected.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Even though they aren't.</span></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For years, I had kept my legs hidden at all costs even at home.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No shorts or skirts.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wouldn't even leave my bedroom in my nightgown.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was just positive that everyone would stare at my legs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That this visual evidence of my diabetes made me even more of a freak.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not all of that was vanity or fear.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I'm quite pale and can sunburn in a matter of minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The lesions can get burned in about half that time.</span></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Some of it is vanity though.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>These hideously ugly l</span><span style="font-size:100%;">esions have turned my once porcelain skin to an orange, red, & purple mottled mess.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No lesions have moved to my feet, but the colouring has.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A possible foreshadowing of what is to come.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One that leaves me fearful and worried when I'm completely honest with myself.</span></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Despite their almost disgusting appearance, I have been very lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Most patients have developed pits and bumps because of their lesions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For the most part, my legs are even and smooth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Only their colour and cellular make-up has been <a name="OLE_LINK1">irrevocably</a> changed by this disease.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And of course my already nearly non-existent self-esteem has taken a hard knock, but not a lasting one.</span></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I don’t remember what exactly made me chan</span><span style="font-size:100%;">ge my mind about covering up my legs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But I do remember that my loved ones made an effort not to bring up the change.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In fact, I remember walking into the kitchen in shorts one Saturday, and hearing my Pops’ comment cut short by my Mommy’s elbow in his side.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Poor man.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He did tell me later than day (when Mommy was out of earshot) that I had nice legs and I shouldn’t hide them all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I took that comment to heart and rarely hide them now.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And on good days, I agree with him.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They are nice legs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There are a lot of women I know that wish they had 24 inch thighs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now if the rest of me just matched.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>:D</span></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For those of you who aren’t familiar with necrobiosis lipoidica diabeticorum, here is an overview of it.<span style=""> </span><a href="http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1103467-overview">http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1103467-overview</a></span></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And here are a few pictures of my legs and feet.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >My Left Foot</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7LDSKBaP1Mcxfaas9MYs06IIhiArpEdR7wpOCRW1tr7q1r5IP4gqYm2DojYwFbVvu5ncM64LcYe6NCGFKZejypJzo2vgGN8Hg_FBUc4JnZSb2Lg6CkHIvf9rpmN8YZRWLDnV/s1600/NLD+Left+Foot+06-12-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7LDSKBaP1Mcxfaas9MYs06IIhiArpEdR7wpOCRW1tr7q1r5IP4gqYm2DojYwFbVvu5ncM64LcYe6NCGFKZejypJzo2vgGN8Hg_FBUc4JnZSb2Lg6CkHIvf9rpmN8YZRWLDnV/s320/NLD+Left+Foot+06-12-11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617538141101891666" border="0" /></a><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" ><br />My Right Foot</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); text-align: left;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84w4q00Gysu2iFRNwil_zaNcxzZ01Xjpeb-AaMxhg1zmdtqgTHDl2OaYBRTiJwmgrDyO6sA3fmsrmzG3J2agT6hdTZAEcJAW2aUV-RYYKif8FTZrj-Yip9TlCQF5WYUzccjZP/s1600/NLD+Rt+Foot+06-12-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 194px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84w4q00Gysu2iFRNwil_zaNcxzZ01Xjpeb-AaMxhg1zmdtqgTHDl2OaYBRTiJwmgrDyO6sA3fmsrmzG3J2agT6hdTZAEcJAW2aUV-RYYKif8FTZrj-Yip9TlCQF5WYUzccjZP/s320/NLD+Rt+Foot+06-12-11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617538166985562882" border="0" /></a></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >My Left Leg</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwWxXvGWS8Y-I7j4PqyDGbOLZbbh0GDacWWupo9I002WjnriJ1KfNNUmC4NQpVwOXgblOoLGAeeRVBjOmrtdRHXOl7KzwtFayI77nayubOuDSL_3Gzl7gT_IxMfa4mdysHfnE/s1600/NLD+Left+Leg+06-12-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwWxXvGWS8Y-I7j4PqyDGbOLZbbh0GDacWWupo9I002WjnriJ1KfNNUmC4NQpVwOXgblOoLGAeeRVBjOmrtdRHXOl7KzwtFayI77nayubOuDSL_3Gzl7gT_IxMfa4mdysHfnE/s320/NLD+Left+Leg+06-12-11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617538145311059538" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >My Right Leg<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJEAiXaly1Ng8hWP0HqB3uX6ef0dS_FgJy_WN3h0kbY8pGbbhooTwcZPUhlrI0VsWjhpBKTGBca62ZbRcodCMfPxRLCi3WjLnCf7SKA-rsyXoMZ6QnN85gkDYB-4RVcOYzH3l/s1600/NLD+Rt+Leg+06-12-11-02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJEAiXaly1Ng8hWP0HqB3uX6ef0dS_FgJy_WN3h0kbY8pGbbhooTwcZPUhlrI0VsWjhpBKTGBca62ZbRcodCMfPxRLCi3WjLnCf7SKA-rsyXoMZ6QnN85gkDYB-4RVcOYzH3l/s320/NLD+Rt+Leg+06-12-11-02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617541863974679650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >My Right Leg<br /><br />That divot is not from the NLD. I had a benign tumor removed from a blood vessel there in February 2006.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBS7SewVy-M5HHo2rZvWhwcVHM_YoyR_jo2iEEGH6pE9etitK9waRIhgc6bWgGEYK34Rl9UXePM1jqsy1Tw80JgWlyXF4ndsOX5fMy03sNm7WgOmgLn8500YZx79hyphenhyphenRfgXNXc7/s1600/NLD+Rt+Leg+06-12-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBS7SewVy-M5HHo2rZvWhwcVHM_YoyR_jo2iEEGH6pE9etitK9waRIhgc6bWgGEYK34Rl9UXePM1jqsy1Tw80JgWlyXF4ndsOX5fMy03sNm7WgOmgLn8500YZx79hyphenhyphenRfgXNXc7/s320/NLD+Rt+Leg+06-12-11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617541858176352130" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >My Right Ankle</span><br /><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Both of these are the outside of my Right Ankle. This is where the pressure ulcer was when I was diagnosed in June of 1991. I wrote about it <a href="http://diabetessocmed.com/2011/participants-point-of-view-life-stages-w-diabetes/">here</a>. The ankle is a bit misshapen because of the muscle tissue I lost, but to me it's beautiful because I nearly lost not just my ankle but my whole foot.</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2toblmxyAvPAqXmieiVDW_0h9h6b1UmETZZuKOeUZTCQ5DXngsbR9tgQfocbMYPCNxA_GwnmGoalequPnkryKZdwt1J0INpIuAwFaG8jyK1tgWmjxpfr2fJameLMIgF7t-70/s1600/NLD+Rt+Ankle+06-12-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2toblmxyAvPAqXmieiVDW_0h9h6b1UmETZZuKOeUZTCQ5DXngsbR9tgQfocbMYPCNxA_GwnmGoalequPnkryKZdwt1J0INpIuAwFaG8jyK1tgWmjxpfr2fJameLMIgF7t-70/s320/NLD+Rt+Ankle+06-12-11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617541866109204386" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZjmhRP5dGJ0slSLW2n9FFFeki3758Bco5v9LFEtrs2JfPxym8tdeBajzvyKkNE45RZw-OdS1mG69jvuWWb7C_28OLiKy9B-oQzbLJD35_W_AadtnQvty43ba3nZqsni_brXIo/s1600/NLD+Rt+Ankle+06-12-11-02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 303px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZjmhRP5dGJ0slSLW2n9FFFeki3758Bco5v9LFEtrs2JfPxym8tdeBajzvyKkNE45RZw-OdS1mG69jvuWWb7C_28OLiKy9B-oQzbLJD35_W_AadtnQvty43ba3nZqsni_brXIo/s320/NLD+Rt+Ankle+06-12-11-02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617541880866802322" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-82198390473175065272011-05-08T19:07:00.005-05:002011-05-08T19:23:00.217-05:00Still Miss You<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsK0Hp7LGasNaX9BKHk4AvOMrTqLmRfReed2xr4mbS_KSEJ3ar3vjQ8JZOnShpnX6cUxANUMmEBWYH_uR8Thv7WI3dmaHzCIVUFEy_052EZPnXWjaf2HzDj8xO3ZqbTy50dL6/s1600/grammy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsK0Hp7LGasNaX9BKHk4AvOMrTqLmRfReed2xr4mbS_KSEJ3ar3vjQ8JZOnShpnX6cUxANUMmEBWYH_uR8Thv7WI3dmaHzCIVUFEy_052EZPnXWjaf2HzDj8xO3ZqbTy50dL6/s320/grammy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604504437667024466" border="0" /></a><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><br />I miss you. I keep waiting for the sharp, breath-stealing need to see you to fade, but it feels just as strong today as it did the day you left this Earth. I still get halfway through your number before I remember you aren't there to answer it. The thought of you still makes me cry and smile at the same time.<br /><br />You weren't perfect and sometimes loving you was hard. But I'd sell my soul for just one minute of that hard time. You taught us that family isn't always who you're related to. That it can be those people you love enough to gather around you & hold close. You taught us to love deep and long.<br /><br />You never tired of hearing every single detail of my day, even if it meant I'd talk for hours. You always tried to teach me how to be a lady and never got mad when I just couldn't manage it. You never hesitated to say "I love you" or to hug us even when moving your arms was agony for you.<br /><br />You taught me to be quietly strong like steel cloaked in silk, but that it was okay to be loud when it was needed. And sometimes when it wasn't. You told me to be me no matter what anyone thought, including you. You encouraged me to use my imagination and listened patiently as I made up story after story instead of you reading to me at bedtime.<br /><br />Sometimes you were harsh with Mommy and that bothered me, but I just kept reminding her and myself that it was because you loved her so very much. As the strokes became more frequent, your love for her became evident as you clung to her. Taking care of you those last seven months nearly killed both of us, but neither of us would trade one single moment. I can't speak for Mommy, but I know that I would do it all over again.<br /><br />I've posted these poems before, but nothing has changed. You're still gone and I still miss you. Some people say that I should just get over it and move on. After all, it has been seventeen years. Just typing that makes my heart ache. I'm pretty sure I'm going to miss you every single day until I see you again. God willing, that won't be very soon. I love you, Grammy. Keep saving that seat next to you for me and I'll be there when I'm done down here.<br /><br />**********************************<br /><br />seventeen minutes<br /><br />a sound draws my attention<br />as i move towards it<br />i realize its a laugh<br />then i recognize it<br />and my heartbeat quickens<br />i turn the corner<br />to find her sitting<br />in her favorite chair<br />“grammy!” i cry<br />and throw myself<br />into her loving arms<br />“i’ve been waiting for you, baby”<br />she says with that smile i miss<br />i feel my chest tighten<br />a sound behind me<br />makes me turn<br />when i look back<br />she is gone again<br />then i wake up<br />and for just a moment<br />she is still alive<br />if i hurry to the phone<br />she’ll answer when i call<br />dazed, i walk into the kitchen<br />my sister asks what’s wrong<br />then holds me as i cry<br />listening as i tell her<br />my dream turned nightmare<br />and i wonder<br />will it ever stop hurting<br />will i ever stop missing her<br />is she watching me now<br />is she proud<br />does she know<br />that i loved her so much<br />my heart is still breaking<br />even though she’s been gone<br />for six years<br />one month<br />sixteen days<br />eleven hours<br />and seventeen minutes<br /><br />©CLP<br /><br />**********************************<br /><br />her<br /><br />i saw a woman the other day<br />with her hair colour<br />you know the one that<br />miss clairol makes<br />and i had this urge to<br />colour my hair that shade<br />so she would be with me<br />each and every day<br />but my eyes are all wrong<br />hers were brown<br />and mine are gray<br />i guess the hair colour<br />doesn’t really matter<br />besides a million things<br />every day<br />make me think of her<br />the smell of coffee brewing<br />the sound of christmas carols<br />the taste of peanut butter<br />the feel of her blue blanket<br />the last thing she ever touched<br />before she died<br />except for me<br />i just wish she had known me<br />those last months<br />i waited every day<br />for some sort of spark<br />or that light in her eyes<br />she always had for me<br />or the way she had<br />of calling me ‘baby’<br />that never bothered me<br />even though i hadn’t been one<br />for far too many years<br />but up until her last moment<br />i was a stranger<br />i would cry in the kitchen<br />so she couldn’t see<br />and worry<br />i only smiled in front of her<br />as i put her medicines<br />through her feeding tube<br />changed her sheets<br />bathed her tired body<br />rubbed lotion on her fragile skin<br />and brushed her gray hair<br />that was once that colour<br />you know the one that<br />miss clairol makes<br /><br />©CLP</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><br /><br /><br /></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-78843400380373109692011-05-02T19:53:00.007-05:002011-05-02T20:36:01.065-05:00Rememberance<span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Ten years ago, before I had a blog, I had a simple webpage that I made from scratch (because I'd just taken an HTML class). I posted my poetry. I had no followers or regular readers. So basically a lot like this blog. :P</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >After September 11, 2001, I was glad to have a place to freely express my grief & horror. Today, I am grateful to have this blog to do so again. Since last night's announcement, I've had a hard knot in my stomach. Like a rock weighing my whole body down. I'd thought it was dread or fear of the coming repercussions. While I am feeling both of those things, I think it was mostly an inability to express how I was feeling. And not just because I couldn't find the right words, but also for fear of being verbally attacked for my point of view.</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Anyone that knows me can tell you that I'm probably the least political person they know. I just cannot wrap my head around the amount of name-calling, mud-slinging, & hate-mongering that goes on. Despite a high IQ, it's a concept that I just cannot grasp.</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Since I got home from work, I've been reading a few posts on Facebook & a few of my favorite blogs. I now know that what I really want to do is remember & honor the people we lost in 9/11. I cannot bring myself to celebrate the death of anyone, even a madman. It's just not in my nature.</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >So I posted this quote from a well-spoken man that I greatly admire as my Facebook status: "I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that" — Martin Luther King Jr</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Then I found my spirits lifted by two of my fellow members of the DOC (Diabetes Online Community). </span><a style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;" href="http://diabetesaliciousness.blogspot.com/p/about-kelly.html">Kelly</a><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > over at </span><a style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;" href="http://diabetesaliciousness.blogspot.com/">Diabetesaliciousness</a><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > wrote this </span><a style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;" href="http://diabetesaliciousness.blogspot.com/2011/05/today.html">Today</a><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > and made me realize what I really wanted & needed to do today. And </span><a style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.diabetesdaily.com/forum/blogs/simon-from-the-70s/">Simon from the 70's</a><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > made me even more proud to be an American with his </span><a style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.diabetesdaily.com/forum/blogs/simon-from-the-70s/5800-lest-we-forget">Lest We Forget</a><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > post. Thanks to both wonderful authors for always writing from their hearts.</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Now for my less eloquent words. Mere days after 9/11, I wrote a poem about how I felt. A year later, I wrote another one. I'm posting both of them here. In a way, they both still ring very much true for me today.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >lest we forget</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >the sound of freedom</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >as it rings</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >or the feel of tears</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >as they fall</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >or the demand for justice</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >as it is cried out</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >we will forever</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >keep a prayer</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >in our grieving hearts</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >for those fallen</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >sacrificed for our great land</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >civilian and soldier</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >young and old</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >men and women</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >all without blame</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >innocents taken</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >against our country's will</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >by a monster</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >made of cowardice</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >and hatred</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >evil itself</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >without conscience</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >or morals</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >but destined for defeat</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >our hearts</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >will rise</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >our spirits</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >will shine</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >our flags</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >will be flown</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >our courage</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >will be great</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >and our fight</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >will be unending</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >©CLP</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >09/14/2001</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >one more year</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >nothing much has changed</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >one more year of tears</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >one more year of fears</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >that’s a whole lot of nothing</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >innocents turned heroes</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >heroes turned victims</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >free people became prisoners</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >prisoners of a war we can’t see</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >prisoners of a war we didn’t start</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >but is it a war we can win?</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >nothing much has changed</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >one more year of terror</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >one more year of fighting</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >that’s a whole lot of nothing</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >hope turned into grief</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >mourning turned into resolution</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >a divided world tried to become whole</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >people around the world</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >stood beside us in word and spirit</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >maybe it will last</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >nothing much has changed</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >one more year is past</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >one more year since the last</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >and that’s a lot more than nothing</span><br /><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >©CLP</span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >09/09/2002<br /><br /><br /></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-3133676155166006662011-04-16T15:44:00.003-05:002011-04-16T15:57:17.402-05:00Writing<span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >I feel like I've had writer's block for years. Only getting glimpses into my own imagination in fits and spurts. But I've always had problems with endings. I've just never been a fan of goodbyes, not even in writing. It's like I cling to whatever I'm writing as if I'm afraid to let go in case those are the last words I'll ever be able to write. Makes it hard to finish anything. Or maybe I'm just afraid of what happens after you finish. At that point you don't have any excuse not to show it to people, including publishers or editors. If I don't finish it then I can't be rejected, right?</span><br /><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >A few years ago, a good online friend and fellow writer <a href="http://cormacwrites.blogspot.com/">(Hi, Cormac!)</a>, suggested that I write flash fiction or very short pieces. I was scared, but I gave it a try. I did manage a few posts here on my blog and since them have posted a few more. I also tried my hand at <a href="http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/">Six Sentences</a>. I even had two of them accepted. Some of them weren't and never really saw the light of day. For no reason whatsoever, I think it's time they did. So here they are.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*****************</span><br /></div><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The first one was declined by Six Sentences by the nicest rejection I've ever had. <a href="http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/">Robert McEvily (the editor of Six Sentences)</a> said, " </span><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >I've decided not to use this piece, but I wanted to thank you for sending it, and I hope you'll consider sending more work in the future." He only has himself to blame for the many submissions that followed. :) </span><br /><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >She</span><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >She had looked forward to this day all of her life and now it was nearly here. She would soon change her name and her life forever. She had hoped and prayed about this moment for her whole life. She had planned every last detail. She knew it wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be a dream come true. She just couldn’t wait to be a doctor.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*****************</span><br /></div><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The next one was actually published on the Six Sentences website. http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/2009/01/obsession.html</span><br /><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Obsession</span><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Our conversation abruptly stopped and I looked up to find him staring off into nothing with a far away look in his eyes. My first thought was to wonder where in the universe he was when I realized that I didn't really care. It also occurred to me that he was mentally absent from our life together more than he was present. I let out a deep breath that I felt like I'd been holding since we'd met twelve years ago and left the kitchen. In less than thirty minutes, I'd packed everything I wanted to take with me from this life, grabbed my laptop, and headed towards the door. I only stopped long enough to erase my number in his cell phone, before I exited this life and entered another.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*****************</span><br /></div><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >This one was the "Bonus Six" at the end of the Six Sentences newsletter. http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/2009/02/newsletter-sixes.html</span><br /><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Happiness</span><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >She has such a tight grip on her heart that she can barely breathe. She's so determined not to fall that she's forgetting to live. Happiness isn't the lack of unhappiness; it's something you have to work at because if it was easy then it wouldn't mean anything. You have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light. But if you don't let go of the darkness, how can you ever let in the light? You have to open up your heart and let the light shine in so happiness can grow.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*****************</span><br /></div><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Now for the ones that haven't really seen the light of day. <a href="http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/">Robert</a> has seen them & there were posted on my page on the <a href="http://sixsentences.ning.com/">Six Sentences social website</a>, but that was pretty much it.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Need</span><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >He called again today and it's all I can do to not draw him back into my world. I don't love him, but the lure of being adored is almost irresistible. Knowing that with just a word from me he'd abandon his fiancee and rush to my side is intoxicating. He'd risk a lifetime with her for just a moment with me. Having no intention of keeping him usually strengthens my resolve not to use him to take the edge off of my loneliness. But tonight my need to be loved might override my need to be kind.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*****************</span><br /></div><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Stalking</span><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The beat of the music vibrates up and down my spine and makes my body tingle. Trying to disguise my intense observation as casual curiosity, my eyelids flutter rapidly. My eyes track his movements like a predator on the hunt as he continues to dance with girl after girl in happy oblivion. The only comfort is realizing he never dances with any of them more than once. Their lack of appeal keeps them safe from him and me. For now.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*****************</span><br /></div><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Departure</span><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The truth is that no one gets out of this alive, so what is the big deal? They say you can't take it with you and she was okay with that since what you should take with you had nothing to do with dollar signs. What she valued was that moment as she stepped out of her car and he wrapped his arms around her and instantly felt like home. The time, years later, that their lips met and their friendship blossomed into something so much more than either of them had ever expected. That night they parked by the lake and he confessed that he loved her, that he'd never told another girl that before, and probably never would again. As she looked down at his peaceful face and felt him leaving her, those were the things she hoped he would take with him on his final journey.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*****************</span><br /></div><br /><br /><span style=" font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >I think that last one is my favorite. There are many more short pieces in the archives of my blog. Feel free to give them a read. Thanks for stopping by. :)<br /><br /><br /></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-50296999249123962362011-04-13T22:49:00.002-05:002011-04-13T22:52:54.010-05:00Who Am I?<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >My new friend & fellow member of the DOC (Diabetic Online Community), <a href="http://www.mydiabeticheart.com/">Mike Durbin</a> posted a <a href="http://www.mydiabeticheart.com/?p=1779">blog</a> today stating who he was and challenged everyone who read it do the same. I said I couldn't really answer that since I never have a clear picture of who I am. For the most part that is true. I find that I most often describe myself in terms that reflect a relationship I have instead of who I really am. I'm someone's friend, co-worker, sister, aunt, etc. All of those things are true, but they aren't all of who I am. At least I hope not. So I did some thinking and here's what I came up with.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >I am a woman of......</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >passion & compassion</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >hope & help</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >life & love</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >words & phrases</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >needs & deeds</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >mysteries & truths</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >dreams & nightmares</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >needles & numbers</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >frets & debts</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >melodies & harmonies</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >paper & pages</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >uploads & downloads</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >highs & lows</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >strengths & tears</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >giving & holding</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >heart & mind</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >heaven & earth</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Pretty sure that doesn't clear up anything, but it makes sense to me. And I'm sure there are a few people that know me well enough to see the sense in it too. Now I'll pass on the challenge. Who are you?<br /><br /><br /></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-1848372275908613982011-04-09T12:08:00.004-05:002011-04-09T12:24:12.488-05:00Misdiagnosed<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The summer of 1990 was a hard one, but little did I know that the following summer would make it look like a vacation by comparison. It started out fun with my first trip to Disney World, but quickly went downhill from there. I came home from vacation to find out that I'd been fired and if that wasn't bad enough they did it through the mail. I also came home with several small lesions on my lower legs that were purple, smooth, and looked like burns.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >A friend of my mom's sent me to his very expensive dermatologist who was also an expert in rare skin diseases. He took one look at it and knew what it was. The biopsy result confirmed his diagnosis. <a href="http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1103467-overview">Necrobiosis Lipoidica Diabeticorum*</a>. He told me I needed to get to an endocrinologist right away because only diabetics get this skin disease. I knew that couldn't be right because I didn't have diabetes, but he insisted.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >My mom's friend helped out again by sending me to the best endocrinologist he could find. The visit is a bit of a blur, but I do know the man never took any blood for tests except for the finger prick for a blood sugar test. He wrote a lot in my chart, but didn't talk a lot. He never even shared the blood sugar test result with me. He simply said I had Type 2 Diabetes, gave me a couple of pamphlets, an exchange diet booklet from the American Diabetes Association, and a stern warning that I needed to lose weight. I was too deep in shock to realize that I'd basically been given the bum's rush out of this guy's office.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The pamphlets were vague at best and he never mentioned a return visit at all. A few week later I called his office to find out when I should come back and was told that I didn't need to because Type 2 Diabetes was all about self-care. The nurse informed me that the doctor said he couldn't do anything for me if I didn't lose at least 100 pounds. When I asked how I was supposed to do that she replied that she didn't know but maybe I should stop eating so much. Yes, she actually said that. And to add insult to injury she said it in quite a snotty way. My response will NOT get me sainted for sure. I said, "Really? And I bet you'd be less of a bitch if you stopped breathing," and I slammed the phone down.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Over the next 6 months, I cut out as much sugar as I could. Switched to diet sodas, unsweetened tea, and stopped eating candy. Even though I didn't really eat or drink much of that anyway. Of course the pamphlets didn't say anything about carbs or how to check my blood sugar. I had been on the exchange diet when I was a kid due to Hypoglycemia, but it had changed and I couldn't make much sense of it. I did the best I could and moved forward.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >It seemed like each day I was hungrier than the last. No matter what I ate, I never felt full or satisfied. I started bring snacks to work to stop the gnawing stomach pains. It seemed like I was constantly eating. Small Ziploc bags of cereal & other snacks would surround me at any given moment at work or home. And despite all the eating, I was losing weight.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >At first it was gradual, but as the hunger increased, so did the weight loss. A couple of pounds a month turned into a couple of pounds a week in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Worse yet, my personality began changing. I had always been a perky and happy person. Almost annoyingly so. Suddenly I was moody and grumpy. Where I once sprang out of bed each morning with a smile on my face, I now crawled out of bed with a grimace and often remarked that I felt like I hadn't even slept. I was constantly tired and just generally felt bad.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >This went on for nearly a year. I wouldn't find out until June of the following year that I had been misdiagnosed. If the so-called specialist had bothered to do any real blood tests on me, he would have known right away I had Type 1 Diabetes. If he had stopped looking down his nose at me and looked past my weight, I might not have had the three-month-long battle to save my foot and ankle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Looking back now, I know that I'm lucky I survived. There are so many things that could have happened during that time. On any one of those restless nights, I could have easily slipped into a coma and never woke up again. I could have had kidney failure due to diabetic ketoacidosis. I could have lost my foot and my ankle because after all that time and stress on my body it just simply couldn't heal. I definitely got lucky. Really lucky.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The next chapter of my diabetic life story continues in the post I wrote for the <a href="http://diabetessocmed.com/">Diabetes Social Media Advocacy website</a> - <a href="http://diabetessocmed.com/2011/participants-point-of-view-life-stages-w-diabetes/">http://diabetessocmed.com/2011/participants-point-of-view-life-stages-w-diabetes/</a></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1103467-overview"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >*http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1103467-overview</span></a>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-88684124008145004842011-04-08T20:36:00.003-05:002011-04-17T14:07:46.262-05:00Reversing Ignoranace<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >On Thursday, Kim Vlasnik from <a href="http://www.textingmypancreas.com/">Texting my Pancreas</a>, a fellow member of the DOC (Diabetes Online Community) brought to our attention that Reader's Digest would be releasing a special Diabetes Magazine called, "Reversing Diabetes - Your Total Guide To Blood Sugar Control" that will hit stands in May. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Needless to say, the DOC is up in arms. Reversing Diabetes?!?! Really? And who is your medical expert, Reader's Digest? Halle Berry? Any REAL medical expert will tell you that you cannot REVERSE diabetes. Unless you have invented a magic ray gun that changes your DNA. And if you have, are you planning to make one that can reverse stupidity? I'd like to nominate Halle Berry as your first test subject. I'm just saying.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Anyway, today I read a blog written by Kelly Kunik from <a href="http://diabetesaliciousness.blogspot.com/">Diabetesaliciousness</a>. She might be my new hero. The blog details the multiple calls she made to Reader's Digest today. I was impressed to say the least. Kim & Kelly made such lasting impressions on me that I want to share their blog posts with you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Please take a moment to read both of them. And if you feel like calling Reader's Digest & expressing yourself, Kelly has included phone numbers. :)</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >You can read Kim's post here - <a href="http://www.textingmypancreas.com/2011/04/letter-to-readers-digest.html">A Letter To Reader's Digest</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >You can read Kelly's post here - <a href="http://diabetesaliciousness.blogspot.com/2011/04/just-got-off-phone-with-director-of.html?showComment=1302293364753#c5020653689325792594">Just Got Off The Phone With The Director of Customer Care for Reader's Digest</a></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Like so many members of the DOC, these women ROCK. They are worth their weight in BG test strips for sure. :)</span><br /><br /><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:donotoptimizeforbrowser/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]-->Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-86203982162935487912011-03-21T19:37:00.003-05:002011-03-21T20:01:24.950-05:00Entering Fan-Girl Mode<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >A few weeks ago I started participating in a Twitter chat hosted by </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);" href="http://diabetessocmed.com/">Diabetes Social Media Advocacy</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" > (#dsma & </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);" href="http://twitter.com/#%21/DiabetesSocMed">@DiabetesSocMed</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >) on Wednesday night & listening to their radio show, </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);" href="http://www.blogtalkradio.com/diabetessocmed">DSMA Live,</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" > on Thursday night. I've met a lot of really great people & discovered a support system worth it's weight is blood glucose test strips. <br /><br />After last week's chat & show, I was asked to write a blog post about the topic we discussed. I was honored to say the least. And boy was I nervous. Posting here on my own blog is one thing. Let's be honest, the only readers I have are friends & family who could call me for this information. Their website is public. Like public, public. As in LOTS of public. :)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >So while I continue my Fan-Girl Happy Dance, go take a look at </span><a style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);" href="http://diabetessocmed.com/2011/participants-point-of-view-life-stages-w-diabetes/">my post</a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >. And of course, let me know what you think!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Thanks again DSMA!!!!!!<br /><br /></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-49116636496114154982011-03-19T12:33:00.003-05:002011-03-19T14:04:07.373-05:00Perfection Is In The Eye Of The Beholder<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >She wasn't perfect, but he didn't think anyone really was. Especially not those skinny, over-airbrushed models everyone was always talking about. He liked her "imperfections". The freckles on her alabaster skin that made the random patterns he liked to trace with his fingers. The area behind her ear where just his breath can make her sigh. The middle of her palm where the innocent graze of his thumb would make her shudder. The spot between her shoulders at the very top of her back where the mere whisper of his lips could make her moan. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >He liked that her body was sensitive to his touch. That even the most innocent of contact between them could make colour rush suddenly into her cheeks as she thought of him repeating that contact the next time they were alone. The sight of her pupils dilating with pleasure as she remembered the last time they were alone. That shy look through her lowered lashes that told him that she not only wanted him, but loved him. The way she always closed the space between them without even thinking about it that told him her need to be near him matched his need to be near her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >He could watch her forever and never get his fill. The way she tilted her head back when she laughed that exposed her creamy throat in a way that just begged to be kissed. The way she sometimes watched his lips while he was talking that made him lose his train of thought. The way she covered her mouth when he surprised a giggle out of her. The sweet way she blushed when he teased her or complimented her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >He found himself making up excuses to touch her. Brushing her soft hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. Offering her his hand to help her out of the car. His hand in the small of her back as he walked beside her in a crowded place. Touching the tips of her fingers as he takes a book from her. Covering her hand as he makes a point during their dinner conversation. Over and over he found himself drawn to her. Maybe she was perfect. Perfect for him.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >Writer's Note: The inspiration for this piece of very short fiction came about after a conversation I overheard between two guys. The first one had just described a girl (I can only assume she was his girlfriend/wife) & the second responded with, "She's not perfect, but she's perfect for you." The way he emphasized the word "you" really got me to thinking. Then later that night these words began banging on the inside of my brain demanding to be let out. I happily obliged since the inspiration to write doesn't come around nearly as often as I'd like.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >That was a few weeks ago. I didn't post it right away because even though the inspiration was the conversation between two strangers, the end product seemed personal & almost private. Like I'd put way more of myself into it than I had intended. There is something of me in every thing I write, not just the fiction & poetry. I think that's what it takes to be a really good writer. Not that I'm a really good writer, just that I hope to be one day. I decided to post it this morning when I realized why I had been reluctant before. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >I don't remember a time in my life when I have ever been comfortable with my body. I cover it up & I avoid mirrors at all costs. It is so far from perfect that it's in another universe. In my head, I know that no one is perfect & in other people I know that perfection isn't required for someone to be beautiful, handsome, or even sexy. But only in other people. Somehow I can't seem to let myself off the hook for my lack of perfection and not just in looks.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >If I'm not perfect, then no one will love me is what the voice in the back of head has told me all my life. As an adult, I know this is not true. I'm not perfect and I am very loved. But I can never seem to vanquish that thought completely and I think that's because as a child I didn't know for sure that it wasn't true. By the time I knew it was nonsense, I'd already heard it non-stop for years.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" >The bad things are easier to believe than the good things. My proof of that is that every "bad" thing ever said about me or to me went straight into the thought bank of my little voice, but only about 1 out of every 10 "good" things made it in there. Although in the last few years, I'd say that the "good" numbers are definitely on the rise & a lot more of "bad" things are just discarded before my little voice can get a hold of them. It's a slow process though. So bear with me, I'm a work in progress. :)</span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-49011896051438166562011-02-20T16:07:00.005-06:002011-02-23T19:00:03.206-06:00PostSecret<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Wr2eSkgKeD38yHLZ-q3FaLgwXyJqeB1IFjBe-aCu_2vNKx7R-74nWiNwhsSxmX_LpMzZ0kyLOGnPthAOEa-DyJkBJj6gs4J8dz6_-m16REHCteZFjN6pgzTObFtSx-uVBVWm/s1600/donthateonme.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Wr2eSkgKeD38yHLZ-q3FaLgwXyJqeB1IFjBe-aCu_2vNKx7R-74nWiNwhsSxmX_LpMzZ0kyLOGnPthAOEa-DyJkBJj6gs4J8dz6_-m16REHCteZFjN6pgzTObFtSx-uVBVWm/s320/donthateonme.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577054458609241602" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Even though this postcard is the one that spoke the loudest to me this week, I nearly didn't share it. The postal strip covering up part of the words annoys me greatly. But then I realized that this one resonates with me so much that I can fill in that last part with my own secret.</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I joked recently that I would go out with the next guy that bought me flowers, but if the truth be told I would take a book over flowers any day. The gift of a book makes me feel so much more than loved. It lets me know that this person knows of my love for books, thinks that I am intelligent enough to enjoy reading, and that they took the time to pick out something special just for me. If they get me a book that I love without having to ask me what book I want*, then it's about 100 times more special to me. It means they are really paying attention to who I am.</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">*</span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:verdana;" > - Asking me if I already own the book they are planning to purchase for me is not the same as asking me what book I'd like them to buy. It's always a good idea to check if I own something before buying it since I own quite a few books. :)</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://www.postsecret.com/">PostSecret</a> is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.</span></span><br /></div>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19128522.post-19647698944441295412011-02-14T21:00:00.002-06:002011-02-14T21:13:38.065-06:00My Personal Love Language Profile<span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Not sure if this is me or not. I think it makes me sound really clingy. Hope I'm not really like that.</span> <span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"> At least not in a bad way.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-size: 16px; line-height: 28px; font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Love Language Scores:</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">2 Words of Affirmation</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">11 Quality Time</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">1 Receiving Gifts</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">8 Acts of Service</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">8 Physical Touch</span><br /> <div style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);" class="assessmentbody"> <div class="scorediv"><br /></div></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 17px; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); line-height: 20px; font-weight: bold;">Quality Time</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">In Quality Time, nothing says "I love you" like full, undivided attention. Being there for this type of person is critical, but really being there—with the TV off, fork and knife down, and all chores and tasks on standby—makes you feel truly special and loved. Distractions, postponed activities, or the failure to listen can be especially hurtful.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"><br /><br />If you're curious, you can take it <a href="http://www.5lovelanguages.com/assessments/love/">here</a>.<br /><br /></span>Princess LadyBughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00095851323067138991noreply@blogger.com3