There is no such thing as a free Zumba class.

I was going to blog this all last night, but I passed out.  My husband will argue that I fell asleep on the couch watching TV.  With a BG like that, I know better, I was in a sugar induced slumber.

A good friend of mine had called me Sunday night asking if I wanted to join her for a FREE Zumba class last night.  I really like Zumba because I really like to dance.  I don't like to exercise, but, to me, dancing is not exercising.  Zumba and I get along.  Well, except for the whole routine of it. 

If you have ever been to a Zumba class and look around, they are all very similar.  In the front of the class is the super adorable teacher, very slendar with curves in all the right places.  These people are born that way- you can Zumba until the cows come home, it's nature in this instance.  I'm not saying you can't make some major improvements.  Some have the genes for this but it has been hidden behind cookies and coffee.  Most of us, we don't have this.  But don't stop trying!!!  All this fighting a losing battle stuff is really good for your heart.  At least that's what the doctor's always say.

Super adorable teacher is in the front in her awesome (read expensive) zumba pants that have those adorable hangy things on the butt that she can actually spin around by moving her hips (which is amazing since the only thing mine can do is bear a child).  Behind the teacher is what I think of as her Cronies (with all due respect).  These are the women who are also wearing the cute zumba pants with the thingies on the butt and can also make them spin simply by moving their hips.  These women know the routines as good as, if not better than, the teacher herself.  In my mind, I secretly dream of being one of these women.

The rest of the room is full of an assortment of women ranging from 8-70 yrs old, a majority of which are probably 27-52 yrs.  These women can keep up with the 'moves' and the instructor, though, most lack the hips.  They anticipate what is next and flow smoothly through each song.  Even a lot of the first timers seem to catch on.  I brought my mom once knowing she likes to dance.  I had been going for sometime and was able to hold my own, only 'messing up' a few times a song.  My mom isn't the most coordinated person, I figured it would take her a bit to catch on.  No.  Apparently, zumba is the modern day jazzer-cise, which my mom was a goddess at.  She should have been up front with the cronies.

The other type of person in class is the person that lacks any coordination.  This person may have taken years of dance and still cannot jump and clap hands at the same time.  You can always find this person because they are usually the one getting run into when everyone else is moving.  If this person is aware of their lack of abilities, they usually find a spot along the wall (less people to run into or get in their way).  I am this person. 

So, last night I am anticpating my free Zumba class.  Make a nice fish dinner with some rice (going to need some carbs for zumba) and broccolli.  We gobble up dinner, even the toddler chows, and I clean up.  Go and change into my cutest black sweat pants and a tee shirt, grab my zumba shoes (the ones that kill my feet for the first 5 songs and then are like heaven), and fill up a water bottle.  As I am pouring my cold filtered water into my favorite water bottle my pump starts 'yelling' at me.  It has been an hour already?  Alright, time to test the BG.  73.  That is not good for someone who is going to be hard core sweating in an hour.  Grab a nice 19 g carb peanuty granola bar and pack some extra test strips.  It will be fine.

My friend picks me up and we are off.  I make mention that my BG wasn't terribly cooperative earlier, but I am sure it will be fine.  We are searching for this place that neither of us have been before and end up in a sleeping trucker haven.  Realizing we must have passed it, we cross our fingers we didn't wake anyone and turn around.  Just around the corner from sleeping trucker haven sits the church in an industrial looking strip mall.  It looks very small from the outside.  This should be interesting.

We walk inside to find coat racks, apparently they are expecting quite the crowd.  After hanging up our coats we find the zumba room.  This place is quite large actually.  Wow.  A great place for zumba.  We sign in- we're like number 11 and 12 on the list.  I decide now is a good time to retest.  Still in the 70's.  I am not going to make this without some hard core low GI index carbs now.  Grab my can of ER pineapple juice and chug.  I reluctantly finish the can- it's like 24 g carbs and I don't want to spike- but I would rather spike than look a fool.

Suddenly I look around and see about 60 people lining up in this room that doesn't seem as big anymore.  We find a spot along the wall (I know my abilities are less than grand).  We are ready.  For how crowded this room is I find that there is plenty of room to do the routine.  The routine is fun and energetic, giving a good full body workout and not too terribly hard to follow.  Of course, I still manage to start with the wrong foot and get lost in the routine, but my friend managed just fine.

After each song I look at my continuous monitor.  This isn't looking good.  I am sitting in the 80's with a nice flat arrow.  That would be great if I was sitting on the couch reading a book, not great when I have just started a hard core workout.  As we continue through the songs that flat arrow begins the slow decline.  Dang it.  I already used my ER juice.  I decide I need to stop moving and do something about this before it becomes a problem.

I jog through dodging a line of like 15 women who are zumba-ing all over the place to the churches kitchen area.  They are a church, they must have coffee, and if they have coffee they must have sugar.  2nd cabinet and I find the sugar and a styrofoam cup.  Put an unknown amount of sugar in it, put some tap water in it and stir with a random knife.  I think of my dentist as I chug my sugar water like a starving butterfly.  Cheers.  If that doesn't do it, nothing will.

I dodge the 15 women back to my spot and check my BG.  Wow, it's worse than my CGM read...I'm at 53.  CGM still has a slow decline.  I decide that until things start moving up I should sit out and stretch.  So much for not looking like a fool.

My friend asks how it's going and I lie (like a good diabetic who is trying to not be too bitter about all the women around her who don't have this) saying everything will be fine.  She insists that we leave and I remind her that I will be hypo here or at home so she might as well get a good workout.  I must not be a good actress because she's not buying it.  She says she is shot and is ready to go (this woman is in better shape 4 weeks post partum than I EVER have been in my life).  I appreciate her understanding and not making me feel like an even bigger fool, so I agree.

We dodge the 15 dancing women and get out of there.  In the car we are saying that in our 20-30 mins of  zumba we hope we burned 400 calories.  I add up how many calories I consumed to compensate for the low and realize that it would need to be more like 500 just to break even.  When I get depressed about that idea I think of the doctor saying it's good for my heart and want to throw up in my mouth.  It's not his muffin top that's going to need a pair of bigger jeans.  So much for free zumba.

I get home and try to close the garage door.  The opener is insisting that something is in the way.  I turn on the outside lights trying to see what the garage door's problem is and find that somehow, something totally broke off the garage door sensor on my hubby's side of the garage.  I come inside and tell him to deal with it-it is his side of the garage after all.  He asks if I hit it with a shovel or something...NO.  I don't know what happened.  It would appear that we have a garage door sensor breaker running through our neighborhood because neither of us know how it broke.  Hubby fixes it without too much trouble as I admit defeat and take a shower.

I begin to mope.  Stupid diabetes.  My BG is settling in at 100 and remaining steady.  I grab for a piece of birthday cake and bolous for it the same amount I did earlier in the day that worked perfect.  We start a movie and I pass out/fall asleep.  Hubby wakes me up and encourages me to get into bed.  My CGM is quiet and still looking good so off to bed I go.

About 1 AM my CGM is screaming at me.  I never heard it before then (that's why I insist it was sugar induced slumber, this is the thing that woke me up 5 times the other night).  329.  WHAT!??!?!  I have it set to alert me at anything over 120, every 1/2 hour.  That means I missed at least 4 alarms.  I give a big old correction and return to my sugar slumber.

I woke up this morning feeling like death.  Which is what happens when you have syrup running through your veins all night after not being able to keep a steady BG during zumba.  I should have known, there is no such thing as a free lunch or a free zumba class.   

I've got gadgets and gizmos a plenty. I've got who's its and what's its galore. You want thingamabobs? I've got 20. But who cares? No big deal. I want more.

Last night was the BIG birthday party, and what a party it was.  We started the evening out at a JDRF fundraiser at a Griffin's game (a Redwings farm team).  It was great.  A room full of people with T1 diabetes, or who care about people with T1 diabetes.  Talk about feeling at home.  I enjoyed about 600 potato chips (which resulted in a blood sugar to match) while listening to the coach speak, who has T1 diabetes and was diagnosed while playing in the NHL.  I always wonder how professional athletes manage this disease.  I struggle to manage it while chasing a two year old around.  Granted, chasing a toddler is a full time job in itself, and diabetes is also a full time job- I suppose it would burn anyone out.

So I am in this room listening to the coach speak (who was REALLY good) and when he gets to talking about hockey I allow myself to appraise the room.  Whenever diabetics get together you can almost guarantee two things- food and pharm reps.  And when the food isn't there, the pharm reps bring candy.  In all honesty, I couldn't care less about the candy in this room.  There are gadgets and gizmos EVERYWHERE.  I am a gadget and gizmo goddess.  I love me some technological junk to manage this blasted disease.  At this point I am drooling. 

I had two goals entering this room.  1. Talk to the Animas rep and find out when this great new product they promised me 2 years ago is going to come out.  2. Get myself this new lancet from OneTouch that is suppose to be painless.  An aside note, when these companies say painless, what they mean is less pain.  It's not that finger pokes hurt, but anything that leaves your fingers calloused with black dots isn't a good time.

So the coach is still talking about hockey (which is cool, I just don't know anything about it) and I am planning my route.  Definately Animas first.  I have to talk to this guy and get the inside track.  I call the company at least monthly and they never leak, maybe this guy will though.  If nothing else my dedication to the product ought to buy me a free lancet.  Then I will work my way around.  I have never heard of one of these pumps.  A Spirit...is that new?  It doesn't look new.  How did I miss that when I was pump shopping.  Hmm.

The coach takes his last question and is thanked.  He did a great job.  And I'm not just saying that because he's diabetic.  It's true, I am prejudice towards T1's.  I feel like we are on the same team and feel an instant comaraderie even with complete strangers.  Alright, talking is done, BREAK.

Dang someone beat me to Animas rep.  Well, he doesn't appear to have lancets and I doubt he'd tell me anymore than I already have.  I might even know more than he does.

Alright, the Omnipod.  The Omnipod was a very close second when I was pump shopping.  I talk to the rep a bit.  She is wearing hers, of course.  It is much smaller than I remembered.  Maybe it just seemed smaller because there is no tubing or belt clip.  Hmm.  That thing is still pretty sweet.  They recently teamed with Dexcom too to get working on an integrated system.  Of course the rep notices that I am still wired/tubed.  I tell her I test drove the Omnipod and almost went with it.  She tells me that for $149.99 I can go with it still.  The more I think about it the more I like this option.  Summer is coming, I could wear a sun dress...  No tubing.  I'll have to make some calls.

I see the Bayer rep who I've met before.  She is very sweet.  They have some great new kids options and a really cool glucometer, but it doesn't talk to my pump so I'm not interested.

The Spirit.  Apparently I haven't heard of it because it's really old technology.  They might be one to watch though.  If they have the oldest product out there they might be the next one with something new.  No leaks of info though if they are working on something juicy.  Hmmm.  I talk with her about the Omnipod.  Apparently you can put that thing anywhere fatty tissue is.  ANYWHERE with fatty tissue.  I wonder if I can get two and call it a lift.

Last is Medtronic.  I have a love hate with Medtronic.  Everyone has or has had a Medtronic but me.  They have the market cornered at this point.  What I love about them is that they have the integrated CGM.  That is a major benefit, especially when responsible diabetic is now carrying around two huge devices on her hip.  Trouble is this.  Diabetes isn't their only thing.  In fact, diabetes is only a little bit of their thing.  My grandpa has a Medtronic- a Medtronic heart defibulator.    That's their thing.  I know the other companies have their hands in other things too, it just seems like Medtronic is more hearts to me.  I donno.

I am excited about all this cool stuff.  I got business cards from most.  Everyone wants to know you when you run a support group.  "I can speak.  I know someone who can speak.  You have speakers right?"  No one wants to be left out of a group that talks to diabetics about diabetes and ways to control it.  So that's good news.  I really am considering the Omnipod.  I've got a couple of questions, but that might be next.

Like I said before though "I've got gadgets and gizmos a plenty.  I've got who's its and what's its galore.  You want thingamabobs?  I've got 20.  But who cares?  No big deal.  I want more."  (That's Little Mermaid, btw).  That's right I want more.  All this stuff is great.  It sure does help manage diabetes.  That is the trouble though, it helps MANAGE diabetes.  It does not cure it.  It does not prevent it.  Insulin is not a cure, an integrated system is not a cure, an artificial pancreas is not a cure.  These things are great technological advancements that make living with diabetes more possible, but they do not cure it.  They do not stop deadly lows or damaging highs.  In case you weren't sure, I am a crummy pancreas. 

And that is why I must give a thank-you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who supports me.  Those who came last night provided a $100 contribution (total) towards the cure.  I cannot thank-you enough.  I also need to thank everyone who supports me day in and day out.  Living with or around me is no easy task.  Trust me, I know.  I know I have changed, I feel different.  I try hard not to be different, but I am.  Thank-you for walking me through this everyday.  Without your continued support and love (sometimes tough love), I couldn't and wouldn't be even half the pancreas I am today.

God Bless you all. 

Just a few things...

Today is my birthday.  It's kinda a big one.  It's the one that defines a person as an adult.  I am no longer allowed to be a screw-up.  By my age a person is expected to have a degree, a career, a home, a signficant other, and probably a family.  You're suppose to be sure of your life and where you are going.  At least that's what I gather from society.  If nothing else, at this age you should be able to put on your own continuous monitor.

Last night I decided it was time to put on the continuous monitor again.  It's been like 2 months since I've worn it and I was feeling all 'responsible diabetic'.  Hear this, I am a baby.  I can put on infusion sites and poke fingers all day long, even injections aren't bad.  Putting on a continuos monitor is a whole new game.  Some of you are freaks and don't care that it's a big needle and that it's not spring loaded, some of you even prefer it.  I am not that freak.

The first time I went to put on my CGM (continuous monitor) ever I tried to do it fast, I really really tried.  The problem is that when you feel a poke your body says "Oh no, I am in mortal danger" and refuses to let your thumb continue to break the skin.  I learned after many unsuccessful attempts to make my hubby do it.   That was over a year ago.

Hubby does a good job.  I can tell it makes him nervous because he is afraid of hurting me.  I put on a happy face (which he can see right through) and tell him the faster he can do it the better.  I try not to flinch and keep my clenched teeth grin looking straight ahead.  I say thank-you when it's done.  That is his contribution to helping me manage my diabetes.  That and asking me when I return to bed after treating a low in the night "Are you ok?"  Yeah, I almost didn't wake up, but I'm fine now.  I love my hubby.  He sleeps like death.

Last night hubby was playing basketball when I go all 'responsible diabetic'.  I think to myself, I am a grown woman, I can do this.  It's no big deal, the needle isn't that long and if I just don't think about it all will be well. 

A friend calls and we are talking.  I, not even thinking about it, begin to prep a nice juicy site on my tummy.  So we are chatting about life and and I begin to adhere the CGM to my tummy.  That's the easy part.  Now I have a needle holding apparatus that is about 4 inches adhered to my tummy.  I am pacing around the house talking on the phone.  This is the point where I call hubby, except he's gone and won't be home for 2 1/2 hrs.  I cannot hang out with this thing hanging off of me all night. 

The thoughts are racing through my head "What are you thinking?  You can't do this on your own.  Your thumb will freeze again.  Why didn't you wait for hubby?"  I turn the phone conversation topic to the situtation I am facing.  Dang it, we both know I have to do this.

15 mins later I am tired of this apparatus hanging around and I go to insert the needle.  My thumb locks up and refuses to move fast. It is cautiously approaching the mortal needle prick it knows is coming.  "Ehh," that is needle poking flesh.  Thumb stops.  I hold my breath, close my eyes, and will my thumb to man up.  And it's done.  I did it all by myself.  It only took me 17 mins from start to finish. 

A few hours later my CGM is calibrated and spitting out dead on accurate blood sugars.  Why don't I wear this thing more often?  I go to bed.

"BEEEEPPPPPP!!!!!!!!"  What in the world?  I was just falling asleep.  Vibrate, vibrate.  Come on, really?  Look at that, I am dropping.  Time to go and finger poke.  Get out of bed, turn on the lights, walk to the kitchen.  Poke, think "I really need a new lancet."  Wow, this thing is spot on.  It says 64, glucometer says 63.  Eat some food and return to bed.

"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP!!!"  Not again!  What?!?  53 and dropping, there is no way.  Go to the kitchen, turn on the light.  Eyes adjust.  Finger poke, 88.  Stupid thing.  Re-calibrate it- I pushed the buttons extra hard in attempt to show my angst towards this infernal device.  Back to bed.

"BBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!!!"  Oh my goodness, you are gonna die stupid machine!!!  67?!?!  Go to the kitchen, turn on the way too bright light again.  Test, 91.

This continues on through the night.  At this point I am cursing 'responsible diabetic'.  After testing 5 times in the night I decide this thing is toast.  I shove it under my pillow to shut it up, and ignore it the rest of the night.  I woke up in the 90's this morning.  Stupid thing.

Looking at the last 12 hours of BG readings and reflecting.  A lot like I am looking over the past 29 years and reflecting.  I might not be where society thinks I should be, I don't quite measure up.  I don't have the degree, fancy car, career, whatever.  But where I am, is even better.  Where I am is where I want to be.