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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 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 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 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

At 11:37pm on April 9, 2012, something_exotic said…

Stick This Finger

One drop. Red. Swollen. Clean?
Please? All I need is a little bit more
To feed the angry electronic machine,
So the electric circuits can fire
And yield an obscene number made to demean.
Milligrams. Deciliters. Strange measurements.
None of us really know what a millimole means.
Sugar. Sugar. Sugar.

Butchered. Bruised. Battered.
Can't stop poking that one spot.
How did I let that last precious drop splatter?
Let me make something painful more comfortable.
I don't want all those puckered scars to scatter
The miniature billboards across to the other prime real estate.
Just let this single side of this single finger be tattered.
Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze.

At 10:34pm on April 9, 2012, Chris86 said…

A haiku:

The untamed dragon

Resistance leads to turmoil

Allowing brings peace

At 8:10pm on April 9, 2012, Turtle Dove said…

Oh my gosh beautiful people, I love your beautiful poems, your words, so sad, so true, so inspiring, so moving, Thank you, I feel you writing my heart, and singing songs to my islet cells, my heart is singing right back to you. TuDiabetes, oh the sweetness of the sweetest things!!!

At 7:54pm on April 9, 2012, Turtle Dove said…

Consider Insulin
by Rosemary Britt

Beep... Beep... Beep
Forgot to Bolus?

Beep... Beep... Beep
Low Reservoir.

Beep... Beep... Beep
Low Battery.

Beep... Beep... Beep
High Bg
Check for occlusion
Check ketones
Consider insulin

STATUS:
Insurance Inactive!
No insurance,
No insulin,
No pump supplies,

STATUS:
Confusion, Crying, Headache, Nausea, Vomiting, Sweating, No appetite,
Rapid Hungering, Clamouring; It is and it isn't

STATUS:
Type 1 Insulin Dependent
Diabetes Mellitus
Date of Onset:
05-01-1983

Medtronic MiniMed
Pump Start Date:
06-01-1998

STATUS:
Autoimmune Disease
of Unknown Origin

STATUS:
Itchy skin on abdomen
White patches

STATUS:
Allergic to Insulin

STATUS:

At 3:19pm on April 9, 2012, Bec said…

The Days
By Rebecca Redmond

Somewhere inside me a sickness lingers,
seeping through my pin-pricked fingers;
no trust in my body, faith goes to machine,
and I surrender to a secret regime.

Assignment comes not by class, but in type,
so we run on schedule and keep things tight;
my biology no longer feels organic,
with bells and whistles I now sound mechanic.

Robbed of things I will never find,
my hands are as shaky as my mind;
what works for some does not for others,
yet we form a tangled band of brothers.

Inside communications can frustrate,
as it freely flows outside the gate;
with information so complex to understand,
I make movements with slight-of-hand.

Some days are low and others high,
but each one comes with sun in sky;
the peace of that sets me free
to accomplish what they cannot see.

Rows of vials, full of life,
offer little comfort in times of strife;
drawing liquids is a mastered art,
not a craft for the faint of heart.

Situations are muddled with no steadfast rules,
and being weighted down by countless tools;
I take the instructions and hear what they say,
but punishment can happen anyway.

Life continues in spite of woes,
with a transparency to distinguish foes;
new breath drawn at the light of day,
carry on, no matter come what may.

At 8:06am on April 9, 2012, Linda G said…

At times a low is preceded by an enhancement of the senses...a forewarning if you will. This poem touches on that odd foreboding.

Altered States
by Linda Gauvin-Miller

The leaves,
amber and copper
gilt edged.
Others again
chartreuse and mossy...
the dome
nature's Chartres.
Here, there...stippled
lilac
mulberry
mauve...
a dusting of blossom pink.
Dazzling,
the sky...
beyond blue
beyond aqua
words cannot suffice.
Thank you dear God,
thank you.
The brilliance blinds, overwhelms.
'Tis not Autumn,
nor Summer,
nor yet Spring
which cause these hues to sing
but an oncoming low,
which is preceded
as a silver lining
by colours beauteous;
an aura beyond compare...
but beware
soon will follow
trembling and sorrow.
Panicked and damp
which sweets do
s-l-o-w-l-y restore
me
to begin once more.

At 6:39am on April 9, 2012, Carrie said…

Forever Blue
By Carrie Sumner

Some days I am only gray
Some days I’m seeing red
Some days I’m green with envy
But with you, I am forever blue.
A child bride was I
Forced into an unholy matrimony
You were my first codependency
An immediate departure from normality
A swift slap of reality,
And my first taste of mortality,
My forever blue.
When someone asks me, “how are you today?”
I’ll never answer, “Today I’m just surviving on borrowed time
From a needle and a vial”,
I’ll smile and say “Fine”.
Because you were my first acting coach,
My forever blue.
“Fine” is a lie, no one really knows,
How you threaten me.
No one knows all the variables
You try to control.
No one knows the daily pain
You course through my veins
My forever blue.
But…
You were also my first determination to keep a journal every night
One of those many monsters
I will always have to fight.
You were the first inspiration
For my very first verse
At the tender age of ten
You were a blessing and a curse.
And if forever you must be
A damaged, but integral part of me,
Then as the warrior I am,
This is my declaration
This is my affirmation
You will not define me
You will not defeat me
You will not break me
You will not make me,
And you will not take me
Mark my words today,
I will outlast you.
Because the truth is,
I don’t have to be
Forever blue.

At 1:01am on April 9, 2012, Bart said…

Here Name Was Sugar
by
John Bartlett Hafford

I used to have a sweet
and sexy girlfriend.
I called her my love drug.
She filled me up.
She energized me.
I’d pull her to me
and she’d light up my morning.
She was into everything I did.
She was into my vices.
She was into my relaxation.
She loved my love handles.
She was great.
Her name was Sugar.
She was sweet.
But, something changed.
She became a stinging bitch
who just wanted to rip me apart
from the inside out.
I guess too much of a good thing
can turn corruptible.
I think she played me.
I started hearing about some guy
Sugar and her friends called “D.”
Well, I found out,
through some friends,
that “D” was another guy she was seeing.
But it was too late.
They bank-rolled me.
They cleaned me out.
I had no-where to turn.
That is, until I met my new girl, Stevia;
my sweet leaf on the tree of life☺

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