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At 4:27am on April 17, 2012, Tracy Greene Mintz said…

"I Am...." by Maxine Mintz, Age 10 (T1 x 3 yrs)
I am loving and strong
I wonder how many creations there are in the world
I hear the heater go off in the classroom
I see people everywhere
I want world peace
I am loving and strong.

I pretend to be an animal
I feel like I'm loved by my family
I touch ice cream and candy
I worry about family and death
I cry when I feel sad and broken.

I understand why people get mad
I say that things will get better
I dream about a clean world
I try to be my best
I hope I'll be safe
I am loving and strong.

At 10:49am on April 16, 2012, Elizabeth Rae said…

Daydream

Wake up.
Hardly slept.
I don’t look so well today.
Try to tell myself that I am fine
But I really don’t feel so great, either.
The circles under my eyes are growing.

Will myself to stop. Stop worrying.
Stop letting it devour you.

This disease has allowed me to appreciate
each day, each experience.
I am alive.
But with it I carry the weight and constant burden
of a panic-filled low blood sugar
or an equally exhausting high one.

Impossible to stop.

“Her blood sugars are just erratic.”
I’ve heard that so many times.
“No pattern.”
No hope?

Hope is the only thing I have left,
but it often knocks me in the gut.
It grabs my heart and pumps it faster, telling me
I am alive.
But anxious.

Work, work, work.
Where are the results?
If I put in the hours, the diligence
I should succeed.
I’m starting to learn that life doesn’t work that way.

This invisible malady shows not outward signs.
Yet.
And I live my life trying not to either.

In my mind I bend the lines
between real life and a magic
where in the blink of an eye
I have a functioning pancreas.

At 9:36am on April 16, 2012, Leanne said…

I live with a gun to my head
The barrel digs into my temple.
I follow orders
Eat this.
Drink this.
Shoot.
I pull on the plunger, draw out the clear liquid
that smells like band aids, and pierce my skin.
I’d rather shoot myself than die.

At 10:25am on April 15, 2012, Jerry Nairn said…

The Diagnosis

Your food is poison
But there is an antidote
It is poison too

At 10:24am on April 15, 2012, Jerry Nairn said…

Woke up wondering
What is my blood sugar now?
And so go the days

At 8:06am on April 15, 2012, Trudy said…

Winter Wreath

In autumn we collect our pine cones,
gather our firewood,
steal tiny branches of red Winter Berries from the pheasants.

In winter
I'll make my wreaths of pine cones and wine corks.
I'll rock and watch my fireplace burn,
smile as the flames sputter from the pitch
and solemnly drink my red wine.

Give the red drop, see the backlit numbers...

Nights I will dream,
free of the sputters of dawn phenomena.

At 10:50am on April 14, 2012, Jerry Nairn said…

I just want to say that I love the idea of the book and the results that appear here, but I'm not sure about the idea of a contest.

At 10:43am on April 14, 2012, Jerry Nairn said…

The Cure

For years they prayed for the day,
the day they could stop
bleeding him for blood sugars.
staring at his food,
counting the carbohydrates,
insulin on board...

They wished they could forget it all,
all of the knowledge and lore,
the glycemic index,
site sensitivity,
medical adhesives,
long-term complications...

... as if it weren't all complicated.

They wanted to stop worrying
about the impact of joyful play
on blood sugar balance.

So they wished for the day,
the day they could get rid of it all...
boxes of test strips,
the sharp things, needles, lancets, syringes,
the technological marvels...
meters, pumps, sensors,
the tools of replacing beta cells
and mimicking
the way the body is supposed to work,
the insulin
would all finally be stacked up in a big pile,
packed up to be sent away.

They wished and prayed the day would come,
But diabetes left in the night,
And with it took their son.

At 6:34pm on April 13, 2012, Vicki said…

Untitled

How little did I know,
This was a blessing in disguise.
My sugars could go low,
But I had mostly highs.
It came out of nowhere,
When I was only nine.
Fifteen years later,
I am doing just fine.
There are obstacles to face,
No matter what your race.
Just remember to always place
A smile on your face.
Check your glucose,
As I check mine.
And take your insulin,
So you can live a long time.
It’s a tough thing to do,
Believe me – I know.
But, we all have an angel,
That guides us to and fro.

At 9:38pm on April 12, 2012, Diabeticbutterfly said…

Worse
"It could be worse"
I know
I know
Low, hungry, alone
It could have killed me.

Mom was there,
sitting beside me.
Watching me try,
learning along with me.
A new "normal"

Finally home again,
My friends rush to my side,
speaking only words of comfort.

But you...
When I told you
The first thing you said was,
"It could be worse"
And as true as those words were,
They were the last words i wanted to hear.

At 9:13pm on April 12, 2012, mistressbinky said…

Dream State III

I attempted to slide coins into the soda machine.

I should have been prepared? Why wasn’t I?

No glucose tablets. No glucose gel?

Money slid on the floor, never entering the slot.

“Hey aren’t you on the insulin pump?

You’re having an insulin reaction?

I’ll help you,” the voice said.

I thought she was clairvoyant.

I wanted her to foretell my future.

Then she told me—“I saw you on WYBE

discussing diabetes and the insulin pump.”

At 1:18pm on April 12, 2012, Heidi98 said…

The DiabetiThon

The road stretches straight ahead
Miles and miles, off into the darkness
and yet it seems so oddly familiar
like an endless loop
for I am no hero,& I have been here before
drop-by-drop,counting the gallons lost
hole-by-hole, playing Connect-the-Dots with the scars
Diabetes: 5000 Me:0
seeking to lessen the damage
in this Diabeti-Marathon
I run to live
and my prize is being alive
for in this race,there is more taking then giving
kidneys
heart
eyesight
every other complication under the sun
Am I doing this right?
no one can tell
Although confirming my failures is easily done
and yet I think at least I'm doing well
and good for many more rounds around the track
but the monotony is stifling
and I am tired to my core
day in,day out
days to weeks to months to years to decades
it never ends
Can a human being live this way?
I want to believe in a cure
but the passage of time
jades the most enthusiastic of people
so I settle for survival
and I wait for the sun to come up
the diet coke to kick in
And then I see that I am not alone
You are not alone
We are not alone.
We run together.

At 10:09pm on April 11, 2012, mistressbinky said…

Dream State II

We discussed diabetes at her kitchen table:

Diet, exercise, and hypoglycemic and

Hyperglycemic states.

I wore a medic alert bracelet

And we discussed that too.

I was there to help her fathom diabetes,

Since her husband had it.

Then it happened. I began talking gibberish.

She put me out, thinking I was a young druggy.

“My husband can’t find you here,” she bellowed.

I walked the streets confused. “Help me,” I cried.

Observers thought I was on drugs as well.

I heard them whispering while distancing

Themselves. I continued walking,

Finally one man stopped. He recognized the

Symptoms: shaky, sweaty, confused.

My hands, I can’t feel my hands.

He sat me on a step, poured cola into my mouth,

While explaining how his college roommate

Once had a low blood-sugar reaction.

He flipped my Medic Alert bracelet over

And called the 1-800 number.

He dialed numbers of friends and relatives

Programmed on my cell. The next day,

The woman that tossed me out called

Trying to apologize, as I remained silent,

And unmoved by her words.

At 6:12pm on April 11, 2012, John said…

Diabetes: An Audio-Visual Presentation

 

My blood is dilute, free flowing, streaming down a towering mountain

 

Zip

 

Pop

 

It fumbles and brushes but can’t grasp onto anything, any thought, any strip of material

 

---U-n-t-a-n-g-l-e----

Grasp-

 

Push.

 

It waits for its fate, oozing over the mountain. The mountain is shaking. It quakes and shakes

 

Pull

            Click!

                              Sha-shink!

 

The dilute stream hits a rock and arcs into the air, an expanding red globule, a second sun

 

Slurp.

 

5

4

The pendant orb shrinks in size to disappear, leaving the mountain, shaking, shaking

3

2

1

 

 

 

 

LO

 

The erubescent stream thins, ignoring the mountain’s tremors, spreading, pooling

 

Walk.

 

                 Left.

                                            Right.                                                                                     

                 Left. 

                                            Right 

Wild beasts stampede down the mountain, fleeing, tumbling, crashing over the dilute stream

 

                 Left.

                                              Right.   

                                             

                  Left.

 

Thud!

At 3:55pm on April 11, 2012, alizachana said…

And 1 Number...

I woke up today
to a bright, shining day
my number was good, a 79

and off a meet up where others
i hoped to greet
the smile on my face soon turned
when for coffee 'twas just me and my mother

with numbers still good, a 107 before lunch
off to the next stop we went
and talked and talked a bunch
laughing too along the way and it was a day well spent

but home again, tired and irritable
moody and snappy on the phone
a 57 out of the blue and suddenly i was alone
what if i messed things up, because i went too low?
quickly downing dextrose tabs and ginger ale
sending "i'm sorry" via email

went downstairs to eat real food
once i was back at 82
texting "i'm sorry, check your email"
and wondering "what did i do"

why does so much matter on a silly number
a snapshot into time
that five second photograph
can mean be one's life on the line
and living life with diabetes
you don't ever get a vacation
a full time job that no one wants
you can never start, pause, or quit.
insulin is better than no cure at all
but it certainly a cure it isn't
like holding your islet cells
together with tape, staples, and glue...
and waiting to see which one is best for you.
pump, regular, Lantus, NPH, Log, Lente, Ultralente,
can i get a cgm?
dr. is it up to you?
yes, living with d is a full time job, and it's learning a new language too.
i'll do it if it means
living a longer life
seeing one more day
looking outside at the garden, the flowers the sunshine
the warm summertime
one more season
one more year
i'll do it for you
with courage, with fear
you'd do it for me
(you say you can't, but i know you can)
when will it end,
injections no more,
the lancets and ketone strips, glucometers
things of the past
a dream, a dream
a very good dream
no carb counts
no pumps
no bolusing per cupcake
just food
because
its food
not to treat a low
or holding off because of a high high
no strange looks
when you say "i'm high"
or "i shot up"
or other dThings
silly dLanguage
that only ds get
is this a dream?
sorry, not a dream
just a day
in the life
of a 24year old
dGirl

~ alizachana

At 3:23pm on April 11, 2012, alizachana said…

In the hospital again
a young lady with an infection
and oh yeah,
type 1 diabetes

Each time that the nurse would come
in to her room
to check blood glucose levels
the young woman would quietly lay her hand
over the side rail of the bed
as the nurse would demand
"which finger this time, dear?"
the young woman would answer, in the same forlorn way:
"they are all abused. each and every one, from testing and testing, sometimes 15 times a day. go ahead, prick whichever one you'd like."
after the number was determined, 30 seconds later, the young woman would enter the blood glucose reading into her pump and move forward, either with medications, or eating a meal, or going to physical therapy or to bed. occasionally, there was the 3 a.m. blood glucose check, for which the young woman never even woke up.
at those her mom quietly entered the reading into her pump.
and hoped that a cure would come soon for her sweet, young girl.

At 6:08am on April 11, 2012, mistressbinky said…

Dream State I

At 17, I experienced my first severe insulin reaction.

It happened after leaving sister’s apartment on campus.

All I recall are the trees aligning Ben Franklin Parkway

[that I saw] from the bus window.

Mother awaited my return to baby-sit niece.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, don’t worry, go. Don’t worry.”

My tongue numb; body clammy, yet cold.

Playschool phonograph spun Pinocchio tune,

Repeatedly as niece’s red button shoes

Tapped-danced on mahogany-wood floor.

I’ve got no strings to hold me down
To make me fret, or make me frown…

Room spun as toys flew. Gabrielle wanted attention.

Something told Mother to return and let-bus-pass.

Mother returned to 100s of buttons sprawled across

Livingroom floor and toys on stairs. In the bedroom,

a record spun as needle scraped against grooves

Playing silence. I laid on bed as Gabrielle watched over me.

I heard sirens. I heard shuffling of feet: hard-bottom shoes.

I awaken to a male nurse wearing white clogs, green and red

Speckled yellow socks, and blonde-hair styled in a ponytail.

At 2:47am on April 11, 2012, Sunflower said…

Anger, so much anger
Blast of a new world.


Cheated, we were cheated
Dangerously torn.


Evil, this is evil
Frozen there we stood
Ground fading under our feet
Having heard what it was.


I cried and cried my eyes out
Jolly folks we were, not
Knowing what it was
Later we were told.


Manage, try your best
Now you cannot cure.


Our lives are now so different
Pretending all is good.


Quakes is our souls
Restlessy adjusting
Sugars, shots and finger pricks.


Try and try and try.


Ups and downs
Vary the therapy
What does it feel? He's only two.
X, cross, bad.


Yes, we know...three...two...one...
Zero...go!

Now I know my ABC's
Next time won't you sing with me.

Sunflower from Italy, mother of a sweet 2-year-old type 1.

At 10:58am on April 10, 2012, Devon said…

She is Twenty-Six
By: Devon Haemer

She is twenty-six -
Invincible.
A vibrant woman, so self-assured.

Until she goes low -
That dreaded moment when
Her confidence plunges,
A waterfall of panicky tears.

Suddenly she is two again -
Begging juice and peanut butter crackers
Off complete strangers at the beach.
How humiliating!

These moments are the sludgy bogs
That slurp down her hopes.
She slumps, anchored fast to the beach towel,
While her foggy brain gets pummeled by vicious waves of doubt.

“Can I endure these lows and highs,
These needles and numbers forever?!”
“I can’t possibly travel abroad like this!”
“How will I ever handle motherhood as a diabetic?!”

Then the juice and crackers manage to saturate
Her body’s yearning cells.
And her thoughts allow her space to breathe.
She has energy, enough energy to unbury her hopes.

And she is twenty-six, again –
Nearly invincible
A vibrant woman, self-assured.

At 7:10am on April 10, 2012, Traicy said…

Type 1

When I say I'm a diabetic
"Sorry" is what I hear
Like I'm forever doomed
Of what they think I fear

"Forgot, you can't eat this"
People will often say
What, that dessert?
I didn't want it anyway

"Does it hurt when you do that"?
"I couldn't give myself a shot"
You would if you had to
It doesn't hurt a lot

I'm not too thin for this disease
And I don't take a pill
Exercise won't cure it
Are you for real?

I will always need insulin
Because I make none of my own
I say this again and again
Yet it still is never known

The daily grind could be worse
I am not dead yet
I have a bracelet I wear
That I'm sure not to forget

I prick my fingers and count my carbs
And it's not all that fun
But how could I give up?
Why should I run?

Next time you see a diabetic
Don't pretend like you know it all
Just treat them normal
And the rest will fall
~ And the rest will fall

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