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At 6:57pm on April 8, 2012, Marps said…

Hidden Abyss:

I find it hard to say
with you standing in front of me.
I've hidden these words for years,
their weight suffocates entirely.
But, if I say it out loud
will you think less of me?
WIll you turn your back and walk away,
leave me to fight, lonely?

I start to say the syllables,
but only a breath comes out.
You believe I'm sighing
and tell me to sit down.
You pat the space beside you
and let me rest where you are.
You take my hand in yours.
My sleeve rises, reveals a scar.

You know I used to hurt myself,
but you don't know the reasons why.
I did it just to feel something;
for proof that I won't die
from a little blood here and there,
from my arms and fingertips.
Like the torture across my limbs,
even inside, my blood drips.

You know I used to starve myself,
thought I needed to be consoled.
But, I did it to feel empowered.
I did it to feel controlled.
As my body wasted away,
you could see bruises and bones in my neck.
Like the purpleish stains on my thighs,
my pain was all I had left.

You know I was hiding something,
I stole out of view every few hours.
I'd binge drink and then panic.
You'd hear my crying in the shower.
I always carry my purse with me;
it's always too big and filled up.
I wear it like it will save my life.
That's the truth, can't stress it enough.

Inside is my past, present and future,
test strips, syringes and vials.
I'm sorry I won't be here forever;
I'm struggling to stay just a little while.
I'm tired of torturing myself
when the gauntlet's lowering on its own.
My sight's blurring, my feet tingle...
I'm afraid to sleep alone.

You rest your arm around my shoulder.
(I haven't yet said any of this)
Too afraid to admit this pain;
my soul, like blood, is drained and adrift.
"What if I told you I'm slowly dying," I whisper.
"I'll help you stay here," you say.
"I'll make you smile and laugh,
I'll wash your tears away."

I start to shudder and chill.
(half of me worries that I'm low)
But, I feel refreshed, alive.
I wonder if you see, if you know.
I whisper, "Some say to find a soulmate
is the purpose of your life."
You reply, "I think it's your best friend
who happens to be your wife."

I was too afraid to admit defeat,
but I was drowning myself on my own.
You tossed me those words, a liferaft;
said I didn't have to do it alone.
I reached out and grabbed you
and I jumped from that sinking ship.
My wounds showing, blood flowing;
My purpose in life is just... to live.

At 3:13pm on April 8, 2012, moe91 said…

A diabetic's job is never done.
Check the sugars, ninety one!
Count the carbs, shoot the units.
Oh so low, eat some peanuts!

Order diet drinks out at dinner,
No, I’m not trying to be thinner.
Now it is time to bolus and basal,
Don’t even think of touching that doughnut hole!

Brush your teeth, time for bed.
Put your worries out of your head.
Busy days need time for relief,
Crawl under the covers and remember to breathe.

At 9:09am on April 8, 2012, Raesj said…

There was once this thing call diabetes
Which included the fun of being healthy
It’s not that bad if you want to learn
The value of life and the need to turn
Turn your life around if you have type 2
The healthy choice is up to you
If you have type 1 just like me
Then enjoy your treats and you can see
See that although it can be a pain
It’s also good to learn new things and gain
A new way of life and all things new
We love ourselves no matter what – it’s TRUE

At 5:06am on April 8, 2012, susan skinner said…

Mindful eating, just repeating.
Same ol’ Same ol’.
From my dear old friends
I am retreating

Where’s my Toast,
My noodles
My potatoes
How many carbs are there in my communial Host?

Out of Desperation
I seek new friends
New allies, new inspiration.

Jicima, salads, and Almond Meal
smaller meals and longer walks
I seek comfort in the my successes
Finding others in which to share
Just what I’ve learned
Just what I feel.

Relax and have some fun
Controlling what I can
Somedays its easy, somedays not
But now I know what can be done.

At 5:03am on April 8, 2012, susan skinner said…

At 12:15am on April 8, 2012, Vulture13 said…

The Old Veteran

The VA got his Blood Sugar down to 650
What an ass
Smokes like a fish Drinks beer like a fiend
Why take Insulin when you insist on killing yourself

At 12:02am on April 8, 2012, Vulture13 said…

At 9:56pm on April 7, 2012, Sohair Abdel-Rahman said…

Mr Down

They called him Mr Down
But all his numbers were
High
He was happy that" high" came
His way
Till chemotherapy started
And all his hair was lost,
Fell "down"
He could not bend to pick it up
And he hates wigs so much
Mr Down spent his days
Raising up his spirits
And endlessly,
Crying

( A Down syndrome boy who is diabetic and got leukemia lately )

At 9:40pm on April 7, 2012, Michelle said…

Low
By: Michelle Kreiner

The lowest of the lows;
a feeling that I know.
Sweating and shaking
my thoughts are breaking
in waves, over my eyes.
I am afraid to die.

My brain feels a mess
and I need to rest.
I need sugar fast
or I may just pass
out. Please work quickly
I’m feeling sickly.

Wait patiently for
the numbers to read more.
Slowly coming around
my head calms its pound.
My thoughts no longer stray
and I live another day.

At 5:23pm on April 7, 2012, Alexa said…

Nightneedle, a villanelle
By Alexa Jarvis

The needle hesitates to extract itself,
stuck in my skin—I’m starting to bleed.
This is not the first time I made that mistake.

(At 19, my vitals were robbed—I lost wealth.
“Programmed,” the Dr. said, when I was just a little seed.
The needle hesitates to extract itself.)

3AM, I am quivering; my sweat bakes.
Blood sugar dropping, my eyes turn into beads.
This is not the first time I made that mistake.

Before I die in a pool of my health,
pass me a juice box as tears steal my cheeks.
The needle hesitates to extract itself.

Sugars rise again, and, says my heart of stealth:
“Easy honey, you’re delicate, and beat.”
This is not the first time I made that mistake.

If I change the syringe, undo my belt
lift my shirt, and plunge my skin with greed,
how come the needle hesitates to extract itself?
This is not the first time it made that mistake.

At 2:08am on April 7, 2012, Sohair Abdel-Rahman said…

Crowded

Listed so many numbers,
Listed so many….
Things
But they forgot
"Me",
I am fighting
To be out of all numbers
"Me" is still proud
Though my numbers,
Are not

........

Her voice echoed in my being
So lively
She could not see me when she finished
But she felt my heart
Her lovely blind eyes searched the sky
And her soul, pointed at me
Her lovely voice is not blind
Her lovely voice,
Can see

7 April,2012

Sohair

At 2:01am on April 7, 2012, Sohair Abdel-Rahman said…

Great News.Good luck to all

At 11:55pm on April 6, 2012, MamaJaguar said…

Paper Insert Time-Saver Coaching Tips
for a Most Speedy Efficient Finger-Stick of Splendid Results

By Amy Green

Is there time for this?
And time for that?
On work-day’s clocking tick?
But who invents the extra hours?
For pauses… so bleeding… eccentric!
A tedious un-zip open…
A wearisome cock-back ‘click’…
And a most, uncertain, outcome—
Of this dreary-dull,
tiresome prick!!

At 11:34pm on April 6, 2012, Andy said…

467

467, the number that changed my life
On that cold, dark Tuesday.
When 467 showed up,
I felt my heart do a flip.
So I tried again.
467 again.

Then I knew that not only my heart,
But my life had flipped too.
I hugged my dad
Silently crying,
Along with my grandparents,
Mom, and sisters too.

Soon my uncle was there
So I tried again.
And the glucometer said
My blood sugar was 455.
Still way too much.

So I sat down,
And watched a basketball game.
While my mom moped around
With my grandma.
And my dad told me
How my life would change
But it would be okay.

Soon I was at the hospital
With lots of sick people
In a big room
With a gory sitcom on the tv

It was then I was officially told
I had diabetes.
And I knew,

How 467 changed my life.

by Andy Altman
Spring 2003
age 13

At 11:05pm on April 6, 2012, Natalie ._c- said…

A haiku:

Insulin and carbs
Are not best friends and do not
Play well together.

At 9:06pm on April 6, 2012, jsugiyo said…

Finally Accepting
By Jolene Okajima-Kodani, Written April 6, 2012
Diagnosed: April 2010

Being diagnosed came as a surprise to me
Since I left fine
The only thing really different was
The fact that my heart was racing sometimes
But then I was told that this may have been caused
By my daily inhalers I took for my asthma attacks
Over the past thirty years.

You think being the fact
That when I was first diagnosed,
I would have been more thirsty and dizzy
Being as my numbers were in the three hundreds.

This period of time was the most difficult
Since I had to re-adapt to changing how I took care of myself.
Slowly I came to the realization that stress
Was the biggest factor in making my blood sugar
Remain in the two hundreds.

I had to take myself out of that picture
And into a healthier environment
That was less stressful
As well more affordable
Along with being in a place I can exercise more often.

So today I am able to eat any things of foods,
Get plenty of exercise,
And remain stress free everyday.
Although I have gotten used to pricking myself twice daily,
Just looking out for things that raise my blood sugar
Is the most interesting aspect
I find in dealing with diabetes everyday.

I take nothing for granted any more
Especially since daily life
Can often the most challenging
Dealing with how my body feels
Like unexpected tiredness and being hungry all day.
Just keep fighting until the end
Without even considering the possibility of giving up!

At 5:43pm on April 6, 2012, Kathleen said…

My New Life
By Kathleen Armstrong, Written 19th June/2008
Diagnosed: 6th June/2008.

You think you know yourself,
Yet one odd day,
Your life changes,
In the most interesting way.

Those odd feelings,
Of weakness and thirst,
Pull at your tolerance strings,
As if you were cursed.

For granted I took,
Those everyday things,
Chocolates and Lollies,
My god how it stings.

That lovely past,
A needle on odd years,
But now once its over,
You won't hear my cheers.

For everyday,
I have to endure,
Two needles twice,
There is no cure.

Pricks on the finger,
a toss up each time,
Is it below four?
Or is it above nine?

But then again,
My heart is at peace,
Friends and family at my side,
Pain begins to decrease.

The endless journey,
Of watching carbs and fat,
The continuous feeling,
I cant seem to combat.

It disappears at once,
And my hope is clear,
The cure for this disease,
Will have to appear.

For every problem,
Should have an ending,
There will be an answer,
No point in pretending.

Whats the harm,
In positivity and believing,
I'll fight until the very end,
No time for grieving.

At 2:25pm on April 6, 2012, Damon said…

Diabetes
by Damon Fitch
A lethargy crept over my body. The drowsiness was deep.
Busy summer of sports, but when not on the playing fields all I could do was sleep.
‘Cept when I was waking up in the middle of the night going to the bathroom.
Doctors were slow to catch I was falling into a sugary doom.
Early on a Monday morning I sat in the doctor’s office my eyes wide shut.
For the next few days it was off to the hospital, my ailment we finally knew what.
Gave me a sugar baby with needles to practice sticking.
Had something called diabetes: certainly not something I would have gone picking.
Insulin shot into my body is not a cure.
Just a sometimes painful reality that’s really better than dying, that’s for sure.
Kind of hated doing blood tests at first,
Later the technology improved so with fright I was no longer cursed.
My blood sugar levels for a while were way too high.
Not good when over 12 your hemoglobin A1C does fly.
Over time the control got way better.
Philadelphia Flyers legend Bobby Clarke one time for encouragement sent me a letter.
Quest to achieve a delicate balance: that is the goal.
Reaching glucose levels too high or too low really takes a toll.
Stability through exercise and diet is what we are after, but
Taking many missteps we must accept with laughter.
Understanding of carbohydrates, proteins, fat, and sugar we gain.
Visions of bananas, Sobes, and ice cream when sugar levels are drained.
When will a cure be found?
Xylophones are ready to ring a celebratory sound.
Year number 30 with diabetes is underway.
Zest for life the disease will not cause me to stray.

At 2:15pm on April 6, 2012, Katey said…

A Day in the Life of a Diabetic?

Feeling Lonely with nowhere to go
Not many people have experienced being low
How do I cope, how do I feel normal again
I was only diagnosed at the young age of ten

The years before so precious and freeing
Now I just feel like getting up and fleeing
It is hard being judged just because you are different
All you want is to fit in and hide the insulin treatment

When will a cure come about?
I hope soon but my mind is full with doubt
What is next for me and you?
I really don’t have the slightest clue

It could go up or it could go down
What we can do is turn around that frown
Because for now it is the best thing to do
And hopefully one day Diabetes won’t be a taboo

We are all worth getting to know
Even though sometimes we may end up low
But everyone can help keep our spirits high
And everyone can live together, some just without pie

By Katey

At 10:18am on April 6, 2012, jeffojeda said…

Finger-Pricks and Tummy-Sticks

There's one thing on my mind today.
A good day it will be!
Positive is the choice I make,
No gloominess consume me.

Happiness and joy abound
for in the house there is no sound;
No screams or shouts or even cries
of "little sister, you will die!"

Not even sounds that I enjoy
like television or a movie score.
Today the silence fills my soul.
Silence being what I'm longing for.

I stand to stretch and fill with pride
this now new day that makes me rise
and fill the time with wondrous folly
of work and play and friends so jolly.

But, on my nightstand now i see
the horror that besieges me.
Daily does it hypnotize
and shrink this small man down to size.

There upon the table bare
sits the wondrous devil's fare;
needles, pumps and meters shine
in mornings glare so clean, so fine.

I hesitate and say out loud,
"Today I'll win this battle round!"
Yet, there it sits
no noise, no sound.

"I'll master you and take your bet.
You haven't won today just yet!"
And with that said I grab it quick
Defiantly, to finger-prick.

There it sits. Red as the devil.
One lonely drop of blood.
Past the point of no return
the memories now begin to flood.

Test strips sit in idle care.
Wondering when I'll put them there.
In that thing that then does take,
and from my blood, does numbers make.

Is this all I am today,
A number lost along the way?
No, I shall not, will not, ever be
this lowly number that's so cold to me.

Now on to what comes naturally,
like forests filled with sticks.
Now comes the part I dread the most
the dreaded tummy-sticks.

I pinch the fat that there resides
and take the needle true
How unnatural it is and feels
To hurt along one's side.

Don’t get me wrong or misconstrue
There’s plenty there to grab.
But it still hurts after all these years
Never does the pain subside.

It's not the needle or the stick
that draws the pain so long.
It's the having to do this every day
that makes it seem so wrong.

Finally, the deed is done.
Finally, the debt is met.
So why then do I feel so sad?
So helpless, full of sad regret.

If life is choice, and choice makes life
why then can’t I choose
to be the one to make life joy
without this shadowed muse.

This very dance that fills my soul
with dread, and pain, ...despair
does, in the end, give life to me
and makes life true and fair.

That i might do as all around me;
walk and talk; sing free.
I have to learn to reconcile
the joy this life now brings to me.

I wipe the tear quick, from my face
and feel the rays sublime.
Finger-pricks and tummy-sticks
will never, me, define!

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