Twenty months ago, I was diagnosed with type one diabetes – this is insulin-dependent, and nothing I did brought it on me. It’s an autoimmune disease, and I may have inherited a tendency for it, or I may have just acquired it. Nothing I eat, or don’t eat, has anything to do with this diagnosis. My BMI is in normal range.

In 2017, when I was diagnosed, we quickly learned the limitations of my insurance. While previously hospital insurance as a registered nurse has been fantastic, the corporation that took over my hospital brought with it an epically bad health care plan. I had to meet a $3000 deductible before I could begin seeing benefits. That meant $600 a month insulin. I quit that job after six months of this terrible insurance. I simply could not afford it.

I’m now on my husband’s policy, and up through last year his insurance was fantastic. Durable medical equipment, i.e. my insulin pump and continuous glucose monitor, were covered at 100%. Insulin was still expensive, but not as expensive as it had been with my prior insurance.

This year’s insurance has changed. Now durable medical equipment is only covered at 90%. That sounds fantastic – until you realize that every quarter I will be paying $600 for diabetes supplies alone. I had to get a prior authorization to get my test strips monthly, locally, with a coupon – or that would be another $200 quarterly.

Don’t get me wrong – I am extremely grateful that we have insurance. We pay handsomely for it! That being said, I don’t understand why it’s so darn expensive to keep this diabetic alive.

I am very compliant – I keep close tabs on the carbs that I eat, and the medical equipment I use helps me keep my blood sugar under much tighter regulation. Eating less carbs means using less insulin, and it saves me money, as well as keeps me healthier. (Note: I’m on a diet that is approved by my endocrinologist. I am not keto! I just don’t eat the high carb diet of most Americans.)

I could save money by going back to multiple dose injections of insulin, but that’s a lot of pain and heartache and hassle. It also does not control my blood sugar as well as the devices I use. I look at my medical devices as a form of preventative medicine. In the long run, they keep me out of the hospital, out of my doctors office, and keep me healthier – which is good for every single system in my body. So I don’t look at these devices as a luxury. They are a necessity.

It’s a necessity that a lot of people cannot afford. People without insurance, or people with crappy insurance, do not have access to these devices. And insulin is obscenely expensive without insurance – so diabetics, who did not have any part in their diagnosis, are doing drastic things to try to stay alive. Like rationing insulin. It’s extremely dangerous!

I’m disgusted by this whole gouging the consumer mode that big Pharma uses every single day. Specifically for diabetics, who, once diagnosed, have the disease for the rest of their lives. A disease that affects every single organ system in their body. A disease with horrible long-term sequela if it is not managed well.

I’m determined to take the best care of myself that I can. I log everything that I eat, I exercise regularly, and I’m in close contact with my endocrinologist.

There’s only so much I can control, though. Endogenous factors such as hormones, illness, and many other things we don’t even know about, all contribute to a day in the life of a diabetic. The stress of having to come up with money to pay for the very equipment and medications I need to survive does not help.

I will keep advocating for diabetics, writing my legislators, getting on board with advocacy groups. I will keep trying to be heard.

I hope that one day soon this punitive pricing will change, and type 1 diabetics will not be punished for a disease that they did not ask to have.

In the meantime, it’s back on the phone for me – trying to find all the ways I can get discounts or coupons or help for my medications and supplies necessary to live.

It’s Spring in the south.

The azaleas have already bloomed through their first cycle. Giant hanging ferns are taking their place back on the front porch.

I’m pruning today.

The skies are not sunny and cloud strewn, as is more common than not this time of year.

Instead, it’s overcast. Windy. It reminds me more of fall, with the cool breeze tossing the leaves around in the yard.

The grey sky suits me. I’m intent on getting this done.

Last years growth is 6′-9′ per branch, but the branches are easily lopped off with a quick snap of the clippers.

These branches would be in the way of new growth. Tiny little buds would amount to nothing, and windy days would fling the long strands of branches around like whips.

I carefully leave a little more branch stub than last year. Last years true growth may only be a couple of inches, but new and vibrant branches, full of blooms, will shoot forth in no time.

Twelve years ago the trees were stubby, hugging the fence.

Now they are tall and wider of trunk, showing growth that has been carefully trimmed back and monitored every year.

Left alone, the crepe myrtles would have branches in every direction, out of control, choking out anything nearby.

By the armful, I load branches onto the trailer to go to the landfill. Soon they will be turned into compost.

One last glance at the ten trees standing over the fence, ready for the sun to return and start them to bud.

Today, though, I’m content with the grey skies.

I’m getting things in order.

Out to the front yard I go.

It’s been a rough week.

It’s surreal that one week ago we received news that Mom was leaving us soon. We got in the car and raced up through three states to try and see her before she left her frail body, but she passed away 30 minutes before we arrived.

Friday through Monday we cared for Dad, even as we grieved. Monday night brought the viewing, and Tuesday morning, the funeral.

We took Dad around and tried to keep him occupied. We remembered Mom and told stories of her love. We did a little laughing, and a lot of crying. We cooked him meals, and made a pot of chili to hold him for a few days.

Mom’s presence permeated, and was my touchstone. I remembered her unfailing love for her husband of 62 years, and for her children…and for me. I basked in her love for almost 12 years.

She was all about family, and anyone who hurt her family brought out the mama bear in her. She was especially grateful to know her son and kids were in good hands with me, and told me so – often.

I hope to walk in the gratitude she walked in.

We got to see two of our grandsons while we were there, and it was a joyous time. Dad held the twins in his lap, and the energy and love of another generation gave him a few carefree hours. I’m grateful our daughter and son in law could be there.

As I sit at home now a week later, I’m rocking the newest grandson to join the family. Mom would have loved seeing all these great grandsons. She would have reveled in all this boy love!

She lived a life of service to God, love of family, and service to others. She lived a no nonsense life of truth and honesty.

She lived life, abundantly.

This will be the legacy we carry forward for the next generation.

I’m in a small town one more night, staying with Dad as we mourn the loss of Mom.

It’s the Midwest, and winter is holding on to the bitter end. We wake to frosty mornings, with clear sunny skies that magnify the cold.

As I toss and turn each night, I hear the train whistles in the distance. The town is dissected by tracks, and the low rumble of train cars moving through the still night air is heard for miles, cutting into our cul-de-sac.

It reminds me of years I lived in nearby states, with towns that had more corn fields than housing developments.

As my restless mind fades in and out of consciousness, the pale light of early morning begins to strain through the window shade.

Outside, the gentle coo of turtle doves mournfully comes to me, awakening me reluctantly.

Today we bury Mom.

I’ll lay here a little longer…listening to the birdsong, and remembering the Mom that so loved birds, and country life, and most of all her family.

After 62 years of marriage, Dad has lost his beloved wife.

We bury Mom tomorrow.

He’s beside himself. Although she’s been declining in a nursing home for the past year, he was there every day, visiting with her.

Now he doesn’t know what to do.

His daughters are nearby, and have been here for him in every way possible.

His son and I are here for a week, trying to take care of him the best that we can.

He’s 84 with a strong work ethic. He put a lot of that into caring for his beloved over the past few years as the dementia slowly took hold. After 50 years of her strong maternal presence holding it together, the last ten years have been losses by degree.

He doesn’t know what to do.

We have taken him to the store, out to eat, to the funeral home. The grand kids and great grand kids are coming over today, sure to bring a smile to his face.

At night, though, the sleep doesn’t come. He sits at his desk and stares during the day, jumping up to compulsively vacuum, only to fall asleep in his recliner minutes later.

He talks about Mom and we share stories. Memories lead to more memories.

The little things that have been over looked in his stress and exhaustion are seen by my husband, and he takes care of them – putting new fluorescent light bulbs by the half dozen in the kitchen and garage. Replacing batteries. Fixing the perilous garage step. Making meals for him to last for the next couple of weeks.

My husband talked to the friends at church, imploring them to take Dad out, make him participate, get him out of the house. They assure us they will.

Tonight and tomorrow we say goodbye to a wonderful Mom.

We will drive south, states away, praying for Dad every mile.

Lord, take care of Dad- and all the little things that add up to so much loss.

I met my mother in law in December 2007.

I had flown up to Kentucky to be with my soon to be husband’s family for the Christmas holiday.

My first impressions were of welcome, and of love. She took me right into her arms, right from the start. She knew I loved her son, and over the years she thanked me over and over for taking care of him. Her heart bore the deep wounds inflicted by the betrayal her son had suffered, and she commiserated with me often, knowing I would not bring him the same suffering.

She was a farm born Kentucky girl, and wow she could cook! Like many Southern cooks, she loved to read Southern Loving and cookbooks, but cooked from recipes handed down to her. On the rare times she checked a recipe, it was just to confirm what she already knew.

She loved taking care off others – she was a great mom and wife. She made sure everyone had what they needed. As a career, she was a nurse, and she had the no-nonsense, clear eyed way of seeing things the way they were. She was honest, funny, and sassy.

She loved dogs – she rescued and raised many dogs that may have had a short and tortured life. She usually had a dog by her side – most of my memories have her in her chair, dogs around her in adoration.

The early years, we went home to the farm in Kentucky biannually. Every 4th of July and Christmas we would spend a week at home. It quickly became our favorite place to go. Summers were fireflies and riding three wheelers through the fields, fireworks along the bank of the Ohio river, homemade peach cobbler with ice cream, and walks through downtown on gallery nights. Winters were cold, clear, starry nights, card games around the kitchen table, great home cooking around the clock, and watching “The Sound of Music” on TV.

Her house reflected her loves – photos of her family covered every room. Christmas trees twinkled during the holiday, and there was at least one tree up and decorated year round.

She loved sitting on the glassed-in porch in the morning, rocking in her rocking chair, watching the birds in the backyard. Her favorite were the cardinals that flourished on the farm.

We found out Wednesday that her health was quickly failing. She had been overwhelmed steadily by the pervasive curse of dementia, and last April she became confined to a bed after a fall.

We’ve been waiting ever since.

Waiting for her to escape her failing mind and find her home in heaven, to be with the Lord she so loved and faithfully served.

Last night, the wait was over. When the daughter who had been standing vigil stepped away for a moment, and as we approached from the south after 11 hours of driving, she slipped out of her body, and into God’s arms.

The waiting is over for her. I’m grateful for this wonderful woman of God and all the love she has given me over the years.

Mom, thank you for being a great mother to my wonderful husband. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving him, just as I promised.

My get up and go has…well, you know.

I have really tried to start realigning myself toward my goal of writing full time.

The first step was stepping away from 22 years as a bedside RN.  I loved my job, but it’s not an easy one on the lower back, among other things.

My casual blogging on three other sites has fallen by the wayside, but I am focusing on this blog to spur me on.  Onward – into my first novel!

I have three books published on Kindle, written during my long back induced time off.  That was three years ago.

Procrastination has always been my middle name.  With the burden of being an artist comes a dreamers mind.  Believe me, my mind is going a million directions at once.  I’m trying to get my ADD self together and make my dream of being a published novelist come true.

Now that I have begun to maintain my house more in order, and I minimalized my closet (a huge undertaking, thank you very much), I feel less cluttered, and more creative.  I will continue on my new journey of REAL housewife.  It’s one I longed for since I was a young girl.

So my focus now is loving my family, serving at my church, and writing.  Writing.  Writing!!

It’s time to giddy up on this next great American novel gig!

Lead me not into temptation…I think about that phrase from the 23rd Psalm often as I navigate life as a type 1, insulin dependent diabetic.

I’m making boiled eggs right now for egg salad. Directly next to the pan I am using is a tin of luscious cherry pie. In the freezer is the perfect topping, vanilla ice cream.

It’s been here since last night. The donuts over on the island have been here two days.

Everyone manages their diabetes different, and this is my story – not advice from a doctor. If you want diet advice, see your physician.

If you want help succeeding in loving a healthy lifestyle, don’t bring temptation into the house.

My home is my sanctuary. I want it to be a place of health and peace – peace of mind. Safety.

After I was diagnosed type 1, I was angry. After almost six years of eating healthy and exercising, my faux type 2 diagnosis revealed the more sinister actual diagnosis of type 1. Now I was injecting insulin every day, with every meal, and checking my blood sugars more times than I can count.

I thought I had fended off type 2 – I had in fact delayed full blown type 1. My habits had done me good by giving me a long honeymoon, but the honeymoon is over.

Now I’m in forums with type 1 diabetics who eat whatever they want, whenever they want, and dose accordingly with insulin.

I thought I’d give it a try. I said hello to foods I had nearly forgotten. Pastry, breads, ice cream were eaten at will, and enjoyed vigorously.

I said hello to 20 of the 30lbs of weight I had lost.

I said hello to bigger insulin boluses, and the roller coaster of high and low blood sugars.

It was not for me.

I have gone back on my low carb diet – modified for safety in my case. The weight is falling off. My blood sugars are great. Smaller carb numbers in my meals lead to smaller corrections, and tighter control of my blood sugars.

Dealing with temptation is a daily event. Anywhere I buy food, there is more unhealthy food than healthy food. I know what to do, after six years of making better choices.

I don’t want to undermine myself by buying food that will undermine my health – but it happens. Holiday meals are filled with foods I can’t indulge in. The times I only have time to grab a bite of fast food takes concentration on food labels and nutritional information.

Nothing is new.

What is new is I look past the cherry pie, and make my egg salad. I discard the stale donuts as I eat fruit and peanut butter before I go on my daily run. I drink another 32oz of water before I have a solitary diet soda.

It’s all about choices.

These are mine.

I choose daily good habits for long term health.

Eight years ago, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. I actually had type 1, but that’s a different story…

When I was diagnosed, I lived a carb heavy, sedentary life. I decided that the diagnosis was not one I wanted to accept willingly, so I began to change my habits.

Probably seven years ago, I bought my first Fitbit. I also joined a private online group of women who motivated each other to better health, through Fitbit challenges, etc.

I began by walking 5k a day – 3.12 miles a day. Walking. Not speed walking, just walking around the neighborhood.

I started parking my car further away from stores. I took the stairs wherever I could find them.

About five years ago I worked my way up to doing races, and to date, I have done 21 half marathons, and countless 10k and 5k’s.

I lost 30lbs in the process, and am much more mindful of my health.

The Fitbit really motivates me! I have minimim daily steps goals set for myself. The Fitbit keeps me accountable.

Today, they sent me this badge:

I’m ecstatic. Every single one of those steps led me to the healthier person I am today. I’m grateful for my little Fitbit. It’s made a difference in my health!!

It bought me a six year “honeymoon” – six years of not needing insulin.

Last year the honeymoon was over, and my type 1 diabetes was finally diagnosed.

I’m grateful for the good habits I have built over the last seven years. It helps me be healthier every single day as I live with this disease!