Last post for a while

This could be my last post for good or maybe just for a while, I'm not sure which. I do know that I'm at that point again, where I've lost my love for writing.

At the same time, you might find a random post or two pop up.

Things in my life right now are too complicated and too personal to share on the Internet, even though not many read this blog.

The little life

It is one of those days when I feel frustrated. It's a busy time with dogs and the dogs I have are high maintenience. (I suppose they all are.) I'm getting another dog tomorrow that I'm not looking forward to (I feel guilty saying that but it's true.) And then a few more dogs this weekend. I feel overloaded. And that's just the dog stuff.

The house stuff is overwhelming as well. Because of all the dogs, I have to watch them with play to make sure things don't get out of hand or that one of them doesn't sneak away to go poop (it happens a lot) and so dishes aren't done. I get behind on that, and then we don't have enough silverware or plates for the next meal. Our kitchen is never clean anymore. And the kitchen floor--full of dirty footprints and paw prints.

Laundry--speaks for itself. The kids have been going around in winter clothes because they claim they don't have any clean summer clothes. If they would just look in the hamper, they would find it. I sort their clothes and lay them out on the couch for them to take--and they just sit there--for days.

The bathroom is gross.

The carpets are gross. Full of dog hair.

I just feel so discouraged. I feel like a failure because it's not even trying to keep up with everything, but now the house is a health-hazzard. I mean, truly disgusting. Dead bugs because no one will pick them up and the floors don't get mopped regularly. Dried up throw up from the dogs (if they drink too much water and then play, they throw up) because I didn't get a chance to get to it and then forgot about it. I could go on, but it would take too much time. It is just too much.

Let's not even talk about the bedrooms. Clothes constantly on the floors because no one puts anything away. Nothing in the drawers or closets because it's always on the floor.

Max's diabetes stuff--everywhere. Dirty test strips and random needles.

And then there are the people.

Do you ever feel like everyone is just asking too much of you? This is how I feel lately. There is so much to do, so much on my plate, and yet, someone always has something to ask.

Obviously the kids are the neediest. Even though they are much older and should be more indendent, they're not. They are helpless. The things they ask help with or the problems they get themselves in leaves me shaking my head.

And of course the dogs ask something--all the time. Feed me, potty me, exercise me, play with me, love me. Some are needier than others.

All of this complaining leads to what happened this morning at church. I was feeling the weight of it all and wanting to just leave after Mass. But they had refreshments for the feast of Corpus Christi, and of course the kids wanted to have some. I told them to hurry, and a woman who is part of the homebound ministry came up to me. She asked me what time I wanted to meet her at church when we do homebound together.

Well, we had already gone over this during one of her phone calls with me. I knew she was asking me because she wanted to make sure I remembered. This irks me to no end. I must admit I have little patience with some of the older ladies. They seem so anxious about everything and the constant reminders they give me--like they don't trust me or I'm too brainless to remember things--frustrates me. On a better day, I can usually handle these small annoyances pretty well and even hide my true feelings. But not today. Today I said to her, "Didn't we agree to meet at 8:30?" In my nicest voice, of course. She said, "Oh, yes, I just wanted to make sure you remembered." (See?!?!)

Then she asked me if I was going to call everyone on the list to make sure they remembered we would be coming on Tuesday for homebound.

True, my regular partner had asked if I would do this and I said I would. But in the hustle bustle with vacation and then unpacking, the house is a huge mess, as I said. Add six dogs to it, and things are really chaotic. I'm sure the list of phone numbers are floating around somewhere under the piles of paper and clothes and dog poop, but frankly, the idea of spending time on the phone calling everyone--and adding one more thing to my list, made me say, "Would you mind doing it? I don't know where my list of phone numbers are."

She pursed her lips and said, "Oh. Well. I guess."

I didn't say anything, I guess I could have tried to redeem myself and explain how hectic everything is. But I didn't. It doesn't seem to do much good anyway, because when I try to explain things, people don't get it. They look at me like I'm making excuses.

These older ladies who have all their kids out of the house, all their house duties done within an hour (because they never get behind), and no other responsibilities except for the things they volunteer for, they seem to forget what it was like to be mom, wife and helpmate with financial needs. And today I just couldn't take it.

I tried to remember Jesus who was still present with me and asked for help in being patient with this woman. I made myself smile at her--though it probably looked more like the Joker and it wasn't even sincere, but I know that Jesus understood the struggle in my heart.

Then another woman who I do like very much said hello to me, but I was so on edge that I couldn't even be friendly. I looked towards her and tried to smile but all I saw was: "Maternity Clothes Woman."  This was the woman who assumed I am pregnant and gave me a huge box of materinity clothes that I don't need. There are certain people in my church who assume that just because we have a big family that we are constant need for clothes. I sometimes feel like another Good Will. I found myself dodging her as I worried she would try to pawn off more of her junk on me.

On the way home from church, I asked the kids if they knew what feast it was today and they all drew a blank. When I reminded them it was the Feast of Corpus Christi (I mean, it was the homily for cryin' out loud), I asked them what it meant. No one knew. I got upset because every year we talk about what it means and why we celebrate it. Every year. And every new year, they still forget what it is. It is like this with nearly every feast. And then I felt the pressure of failure of not catechiszing my kids.

I wrote a while ago that I want to be a saint. This is not true anymore. It feels so out of reach, so impossible. It doesn't even feel like it's something God wants me to be. Who am I to think that I could ever be a saint?

And remember, I am not talking about a canonized saint, but simply a person who has attained their holiness to get to heaven. But in my discouragement, I have found it difficult to swallow. I hate to admit this, because I know so many people would jump in with their arguments about how it's all pride and everything...but I can't help how I feel. I look at myself and how easily I fall and I have to laugh. So many people tell me how impossible I was as a child, a teenager and even as an adult. No one has ever had a good memory about me as a kid. If anything, they bring up how difficult I was. And even now, I still have very little people who truly like me. Because of my faults and weaknesses that I can't ever overcome.  I will be in Purgatory forever. So be it.

This is how I feel. But it's not what I truly believe.

In a moment of this discouragement, I gave my dream of becoming a saint to God. I gave my hopes of attaining holiness and avoiding purgatory to Him. I told Him He could have it and I will become as holy as He desires. I won't worry about it anymore. Because I can't do the impossible. I am just too imperfect in so many ways.

Instead, I will give Him as much as I can. Even if it's just simply a desire of what I hope for. When I look back on my day and just see mistake after mistake, I'll look at it as a toddler who just starting to walk and does so with more falls than actual steps. Because parents are just happy over how many steps--not falls--that their baby has taken. They count every one.

I began to understand for the first time that St.Therse suffered in this way all her life, on the brink of discouragement. I say "the brink" because she never actually became discouraged, but she also was very aware of all her faults and weaknesses. I never really saw her in this way before; she talks so much about loving God that she made it sound easy--she even said it was easy. But for this first time, God let me see truly what she suffered and how much she suffered, knowing exactly what she was, and just giving it up, self-sacrificing her pride over and over putting the hope of her salvation in God's hands.

The "littleness" that she constantly refers to of herself is her cheerful way of describing her weaknesses and faults. Instead of complaining over them, she saw that she would always be little. She would forever be the little flower at the feet of Jesus, rather than the beautiful orchids that stood tall that everyone admired.

I have the calling to live the little life. I have always known this but avoided it. But this day, it jumped out at me as an invitation to be part of St.Therese's "army of little souls." And now, even though today has been rough, I have fallen again, been rude to others and have every reason to give up, I read these quotes from St.Therese who constantly is urging me on:

"To draw near to Jesus we must be so little....Oh! how few souls aspire to be littel and unknown..." 

"I am no longer surprised at anything, nor do I grieve at seeing that I am frailty itself; on the contrary I glory in it, and exect to discover new imperfections in myself each day. These lights concerning my nothingness do mre more good, I affirm, than lights regarding faith." 

"When we commit a fault we must not think it due to a physical cause, such as illness or the weather, we must attribute this fall to our imperfection, but without ever growing discouraged."

"I understand very well how St.Peter fell. He dpended too confidently on the fervor of his feelings, instead of relying solely upon Divine strength. Had he said to Jesus: 'Lord, give me the strength to follow Thee even unto death,' that strenghth, I am quite sure, would not have been refused him."

And the kicker--today being Sunday and the feast of Corpuse Christi:

"Do you know my Sundays and festivals? They are the days the good God tries me the most."

He hears every word

So I was on Facebook the other day when Jennifer Fulwiler--who I've been following for a while--promoted a friends website that makes greeting cards and the website has a section for the LGBT community. Needless to say, this was surprising. At first, people just commented with a question like, "were you aware that this supports the LGBT community??" But then those questions turned into accusations. And then the accusations just got meaner and meaner.

So very disappointed in you. I’m sure she is a good friend, but you know this is wrong. Don’t promote against what the church teaches. I have adored you. But I am so disappointed.  



(The comment above is just one of the many disheartening comments that I've read. It's not as mean spirited but just as harmful. Why, may I ask, are we putting so much stock in a mere human--who is as flawed with weaknesses as we are--that we are SO disappointed when they do something wrong??? That is our mistake that we feel so let down, not theirs!)

I jumped in with my own comment, trying to give Jen a little time  and support while she thinks things over--and of course, everyone jumped on me, as I knew they would. Other people also defended her as well and things just got ugly. Yikes.

I know that "celebrity Catholics" have to develop a thick skin for things like this, and I'm sure that Ms.Fulwiler is handling everything just fine. It just irks me to see this stuff. It hits a wound, right to the bone, to see good Catholics act so badly. I have to say something about it. It's so hard not to.

This is how people acted when Fr.John Coropi announced he was leaving the priesthood to marry a woman he was having an affair with. People were rightly disappointed and saddened. I would even say they had a right to feel betrayed. This was a priest that everyone trusted and looked up to. I didn't like how far some of the people went with their words but I did understand the hurt. (By the way, he has turned around, still a priest, but not allowed to give talks anymore.)

But this is just a regular woman who is a speaker and writes articles. She has a great and inspiring story of her conversion to the Catholic Faith. And everyone has put her high on up on a pedestal. Why, why, why do we do this?? It isn't fair and it isn't right.

No wonder God waits to make a saint out of someone until they are dead. Let them finish their life before we raise them up. Because while we're still on this earth, we still sin! We are weak people.

When I wrote my article on the PB & Grace website about how I prevented one of my kids from receiving Communion after acting out repeatedly during Mass, I too, got so many mean and condemning comments from people. They were hurtful and they tore down my spirit. They didn't help. They didn't teach. They just tore my soul apart. So this is why it bothers me so much and it will always bother me. I voiced my opinion on Jennifer's thread and I will voice it here, where I have more freedom to talk.

Speak out and speak the truth.
But remember you stand in the Confessional line too.

Is this how you would want a priest to talk to you? With words of judgement and condemnation? Can you imagine him saying, "Weren't you here just last week--didn't you just confess this sin?? You keep committing this sin, you can't be that serious about your faith. Who are you to continue to say you are sorry when you obviously aren't!" ???

"And I tell you this, you must give an account on judgment day for every careless word you speak."
Matthew 12:36

Inform the sinner but do it without emotion and anger. Most of the time, people just weren't aware or didn't know.

If they continue to support something that goes against the Catholic Church, then obviously you shouldn't follow that person. But we should always, always, be careful with our words. They can be weapons. I wish so much we would learn how to be patient with one another. And I wish so much we could learn to distinquish when we love a person and when we idolize them--which is a grave sin anyway.

Our good friend Gennie, who was very close to my mom and Dad, said she had a dream about a week after my Dad died. She said he appeared to her, looking radient and said:

 "Genny---He hears every word! He hears every word!"

Whether or not this dream was truly a vision or not, only God knows, but regardless, there is a truth to it. He hears every word. So let's use our words carefully.

How to fight Depression

Not that I'm an expert on this subject by any means.. I'm not. In fact, the reason why I felt inspired to write this post is because today, again, I'm fighting my demons. They come and go but lately, they are here often.

Depression really isn't a choice, it's just there. It's not like a bad mood you can shake off. It's this unwanted visitor that comes and makes you feel down, sad, moody, tired and irritable. Like never ending PMS.

Depression even comes in different levels: mild and severe and those come in different times of my life too. For instance, I know that darkness affects my depression. Nightime is when I tend to struggle the most with dark thoughts, and too many rainy days or cloudy/cold days is bad too. I once worked the night shift for a month, and it was probably the worst period of depression I have ever had. Being in a perpetual state of darkness and quiet, and then sleep deprived on top of it, is the worst thing you can do for someone with depression. I can't even begin to describe how horrible it was but when I quit my job a month later and went on a regular day shift, the deression lifted. I probably should be one of those people that lives in perpetually warm and sunny states, like Florida.

Sometimes Depression can get so bad that it puts you in a literal survival mode--the same one as what our bodies do in a life threatening situation. To stay in deep depression for too long is like staying in hypothermia too long; it clouds your judgement, makes you sleepy, and leads you to death.  For this,  I have a little "survival" plan that I use when I am feeling depressed. I don't follow all these guidelines/rules all the time but I try to at least use some of them. They are like a rope out of my depression. Here they are:

• Stick close to the Sacraments. This one I'm not great at, but I am trying to do better. I struggle a lot with my conscious when I'm feeling depressed, so Confession is great for this. Puts clarity and perspective back in to clear up some of the cloudy confusion that comes with depression. It's very easy to blame others when you feel depressed and not even realize it, and this is where the counsel of a good priest helps. I want to also try to start making it for daily Mass. I think receiving the Eucharist would really help me. It's hard to do this because of getting kids to school and having dogs here. But I keep thinking that this would probably be very beneficial to me not just in my spiritual life, but just for my overall well-being. 

• Force yourself to smile, be cheerful for others. This one is really hard and I'm not good at it. When you are feeling so down, sad, and tired, the last thing you feel like doing is smiling. This morning was another tough morning with sadness and it was so hard to not be irritable around the kids. I tried though. That is all I can do sometimes even if I don't succeed. I guess the biggest motivator for me is that I don't want others to feel sad, so why spread the gloom?

• Prayer.  I pray a lot about my feelings to God and this helps a lot. It also helps me from doing self-pity posts on Facebook that no one would want to read  anyway. Facebook is a terrible place to get sympathy and understanding. This is what I used to do, and I would always feel even more alone because people hate posts like this and just scroll on by. I have some opinions on that, but that is for another post. :-)  But God doesn't mind your gloomy thoughts or your complaints. He can take it. He doesn't get disgusted with your weakness. And He helps me get through it. I've never had a prayer that I felt went unheard when I go to God with my sadness. 

• Get busy. When I'm battling depression, I try hard to distract myself with being busy doing something else. Usually it's just the normal things I have to do anyway, but I work even harder at getting it done and try to stay off of social media, as that tends to make me feel more tired and depressed. For instance, I try to get one thing off my list that has been bugging me. Like working on the front yard garden. I feel embarrassed with the way it looks and having customers come make the embarrassment even worse. So getting out and working on that, doing something productive, makes me feel good. Plus, the sunshine gives you Vitimin D which is really important to fight off depression anyway. If the day is too cold or rainy to go out (dark gloomy days make it even harder to fight depression), I try to work on one of the kids bedrooms and get it nice looking again. Guilt is something I struggle a lot with, and I feel a lot of "Mom guilt" that my kids rooms are so smelly and yucky and that we aren't good about cleaning them. So that is one thing off my list that I don't have to feel guilty about anymore, and actually, I end up feeling good about myself. 

• Help someone else. If the opportunity comes up, I try to help someone that is in need or want of help. This one can be tough because sometimes it's hard to make time to go out of your way to help someone. But when I can do this, I always feel better. It feels good to help someone and it takes the focus off of yourself. I usually end up seeing things in a much different way when I help someone else in their struggles and realize we all hurt and struggle in our lives. I don't feel so alone in mine.

• Exercise/make time for yourself.  Exercising is tough for me, it's a gamble because of my heart. Though my heart is healthy, it still operates like an old woman's heart and I guess it always will since I continue to get older too. I'm not saying I can't exercise at all but I have to be careful about what I do and when I do it. If I exercise in the morning--my best time since I have the most energy at that time---I tend to be all done in for the rest of the day and that's difficult when you still have a lot of "mom things" to do. But if I try to exercise in the afternoon or evenings, I've usually used up all my reserves or I'm too busy. So my exercise for now is taking the dogs for a walk, and even this helps a little. Exercise gives you happy endorphins. I used to exercise a lot and this was my main way of staving off depression.
  
  I also try to make some time for myself to do something on my own or just have quiet time. Sometimes this is all I need. I love to watch shows on Youtube because there's always something interesting to watch and the shows are usually short. Learning more about diabetes, or watching tornado videos relaxes me, as weird as that sounds. Just putting my focus on something other than wife, mom, and dog trainer duties. Something that has nothing to do with my life. 

• Try to do at least one "religious" thing a day.  I have a hard time making time for God, and I'm always working on this. Rather than try to commit myself to a rosary--which can be difficult to find time for, as horrible as that sounds, I try to at least do one religious practice a day. Sort of like my "effort" to God. Compared to many out there, I know that this sounds kind of pathetic, and maybe it is. But I feel that this is where God wanted me to start, just one thing, something small and simple--yet sincere--that I can do. Like anything else that we start, we usually don't start off big, we start small. So for today, instead of waking up and checking email and social media like I normally do (a terrible way to start the day, like eating pizza in the morning), I said my Morning Offering. Not to say that I can't do more later on if I feel led to, but this was one thing I absolutely commited myself to doing, and it felt great. I intend to do this every day, and then hopefully slowly build up my spiritual life in time. We need God in our lives and it's so easy to say this but so hard to do. Admittedly, I am selfish with my time and very self-involved with my own life so it's easy to forget God during the day--so easy to go to Him only when we're having trouble with something. But God knows this and so He says, do one thing to remember Me during the day, and this effort alone will be enough. He will make my "one fish" stretch to many fish that will take care of my spiritual needs.  Over time, I can muliply my fish.

• Focus on who you want to be, not on who you are.  If I focus on who I am  right now, or where I am in my life, I only sink further in my depression.  Too many failures and setbacks, too much reality. It looks very bleak and grim and even nearly impossible to do better when you already feel like a failure. But when I think on who I want to be--a Saint--this gives me hope. Why? Not because I think I have the makings to be a Saint, not because I think I'm holy enough to become a Saint, but because I already know that this is what God wants too. And if we both want it, then it becomes possible. Even if it feels impossible. I mean, I might as well want to be an Olympic gymnast when I have never done a successful cartwheel in my life. Or become an astronaut or the President. None of these goals are realistic or acheivable for me. But becoming a Saint is realistic and acheivable for me as well as everyone. To me, not becoming a Saint makes my life a waste. I can't imagine being happy in heaven if I haven't become a Saint on earth.  I want this because I know it's possible, because I know it leads to ultimate happiness and it will bring me straight to heaven. I want this because it's possible, and that brings me hope. And hope brings me joy, which brings me out of depression.

So for now, this is what I do when I feel depressed. Again, I don't do everything on the list but I do at least do one or two of them and it does seem to help a lot. Sometimes, calling someone to talk helps too. But other times, it makes it worse, so that's why it's not on my list. :-) 

And now, I need to go run an errand and get yapping dogs out of their kennels. I took a little "me time" to write out this list; using one of my strategies for coping with depression today. 

First illness since diabetes diagnosis

For the past two days, Max's numbers have been unusually high, in the upper 100s to mid 200s, even hitting 300s once. We thought it was because of Easter, but Max hasn't had any Easter candy since Easter (his own choice, we do allow it, as long as it's bolused.) But still, when everyone else has reported that their numbers have finally come back to normal since Easter, Max was still high. Then last night, he complained of a sore throat. That explained it!

I've been told that blood sugar will usually spike a day or two before symptoms come about but since I still thought this was from candy on Easter, it didn't occur to me that Max might be getting sick. Just a cold, and I am thankful for that. I have read in others posts about how kids with T1D have the flu, throwing up and can't keep anything down and have to go the hospital. It makes a cold seem almost trivial, but I've been warned that things can change very quickly and to keep an eye on his numbers regardless.

So I'm keeping an eye on it almost obsessively.

I called Endo and they told me to check for ketones. This is the first time I've had to use a ketone strip, sort of awkward when you have a teenage son! You have to pee on a strip but you can't pee on it too long or it can give you a false reading. Obviously standing there with Max while he pees on a stip doesn't work so we had him pee in a cup. Thank goodness for snack cups! Still kind of gross and awkward, but better than the alternative. It's easy enough to do that I'm going to teach him to do it on his own, but for this first time illness, I'm doing it for him, to make sure we're doing it right.

So far, so good. I think it says no ketones, or maybe just a trace, but I can't figure out which color it is. It's sort of right in the middle.

I called Endo and they want me to check for ketones twice a day. That's how quickly they can come up. This whole thing is weird. I mean, it's just a cold, and my head is saying, it's only a cold, no big deal. But the diabetes thing is saying, it's a big deal! This is about keeping your kid out of the hospital.
Which is weird--because I keep thinking, it's just a cold! Even though it's not!

I am still transitioning, trying to absorb this new medical world of medical mumbo-jumbo that I don't know or care about--or didn't really need to worry about before diabetes, other than the occasional flu or illness. Now I have to care. And worry. Ok, I don't need to worry, but I have to have enough concern to not shrug it off or be lazy about it. It is a strange thing to me.

For Max, it's still pretty normal to him. I think this is because we haven't completely handed the reigns over to him. I would like to, and I do intend to (working on it!) but there are certain things he's in charge of with his diabetes, and certain things he isn't--yet.

For instance, when his numbers were high yesterday at school, the nurse knew he needed a correction but didn't know how much to give him. (Which is weird, because they have his chart but I think they forgot about it until I mentioned it to them.) While the nurse was mulling the problem over, Max suggested, "how about five units?"

He has said this to me as well. How about five units, he says, for...basically everything! Five units for this number and five units for that number. We looked up his number and it said to give him 3 units for the blood sugar he was currently at. So you can imagine why we hesitate to give him full control just yet. Five units....yikes. This is why I am still hesitant to put him on a pump. I can see him thinking, hmmm, how about 10 units? And punching it in.

Anyway, along with the ketones check, I have to give Max corrections every 3 hours (as needed.) Or give him something to eat and bolus him. Carbs, insulin, and fluids is the key to fighting down blood sugars. Very different from cough drops and fluids.

I can imagine next year, after having more experience with colds and stomach bugs that I will be looking back on this and wondering why I even blogged about this. But for now at this moment, firsts are still a scary thing, and there sure are a lot of them.

Jesus speaks loudly

I don't know about anyone else, but there are times in my life when I feel forgotten or unloved. That is it, plain and simple, I don't know any other way to put it (though I've been racking my brains to think of a way to not make it sound so whiny and pathetic.) I know we all go through times of loneliness or when it seems the whole world is too busy to notice or remember you. For me, the fear of dying without anyone really thinking anything of me is a fear of mine. Feeling like my life is not worth anything to anyone. I try hard not to dwell on those feelings, knowing that it's only going to lead in a downward spiral, but boy, it's hard to pull yourself out of it. And yes, spiritually speaking, it stems from pride. But you know what? I don't get much out of that truth because I can't do much about it. Pride is in all of us, a constant weakness. The best we can do is starve it. I believe that God allows me to be forgotten, overlooked or whatever, to starve that pride out of me. Not to say that no one cares--I know they do! But it is also true that at times in my life, it gets very lonely.

Feeling like this once again, I decided I was going to only focus on one thing: how much God loves me. Surprisingly, this actually did the trick; the loneliness  and sadness went away in an instant. I have no idea why; if this was a grace from God or what. But normally when loneliness and depression comes, it hangs on for days, sometimes weeks and no matter how upbeat or positive I try to be, it is there, hanging over my head.

But the thought of how much Jesus loves me chased these dark thoughts and feelings away in an instant. It was almost as though it was a dark presence that left the room.

I went on with my day, but then later, again these dark thoughts and feelings came back. I tried again to focus on Jesus's great love for my soul as I did before but this time, the thoughts and feelings stayed.

When I went for my scheduled hour at adoration, I tried hard to open up to Jesus about all I was feeling. It felt like a complicated knot of emotions, not knowing what was real and not real, what was true of my life and relationships with others or just feelings of hurt. Suddenly I felt inspired to see if Jesus would speak to me in a book. I went to the back of the church where there were a pile of prayer books to choose from. I had my eye on one that looked appealing, but instead, I reached for another one that I would have passed up but I felt compelled to pick it up.

I opened it up and the very first thing I read was this:

"I feel very compelled to tell you how much Jesus loves you..." 

It was as though a zap went through my body, I felt like Jesus was watching me from where He sat on the altar, watching me read this love letter. I quickly scanned through to the end of the paragraph and saw that it was written by St.Mother Theresa. Reading on, I read how Mother Theresa wrote to her Sisters, explaining her desire that they know how much Jesus loves them all individually.

"He loves you...."
"He longs for you...."
"He thirsts for you..."
"He loves you always, even when you don't feel worthy..."
"When not accepted by others--even accepted by yourself---he accepts you..."

All these words were exactly the same ones I heard in my own soul earlier that morning, when the darkness was chased away. But now it was written out before me. And for further clarification, there was this:

"The devil may try to use the hurts of life--and sometimes our own mistakes, to make you feel it is impossible that Jesus loves you, is really cleaving to you. This is a danger for all of us. And so sad, because it is the oppositite of what Jesus is really wanting, is waiting to tell you. Not only that He loves you, but even more--He longs for you." 

I went back to my seat and took pictures with my phone of all these passages. I read and re-read the passage over and over, as much as I could, trying hard to believe all that was written. And I did believe. Not because I feel I am worthy but because I know God is love, it is impossible for Him not to love me. And this made me feel so good. It made me feel so loved. So worth it. And precious.

Even though I still have all these faults that annoy other people, or tendencies they don't like. The personality flaws that some of my family doesn't like. Jesus loves me. I wondered how I could live each day without pondering this. It's like starving myself of food and water. How can a peson live without knowing how much God loves them? No wonder there are so many suicides.

Jesus talked to me that day. Directly. A love note from Jesus. Telling me to get up and get this specific book, He had something for me to read. It was proof that He loves me. Not that He needed to prove it again, but maybe He did. But it was a gift. Very rarely does He speak so loudly. But when it comes to love, I think He doesn't just speak loudly. I think He shouts it.

A Sleepless night

Every 10 days, we have to replace Max's decom with a new sensor or it will expire, so last night we inserted his last sensor. They only send 3 per package, which should last you a month. I'm telling you all these little details because it's important for the rest of the story.

So I inserted the last sensor on his arm--normally a pretty easy thing to do. You put the sensor on the back of his arm, sticky side down, press the button, and then it's inserted. However, this time, it began to fill up with blood.

This is the sensor without the transmitter inserted yet.

This was not good! I wasn't really sure what it meant or what just happened, all I knew was that it was the first time it ever bled when inserting into Max's arm.

I was worried it would get broken if we put the transmitter inside but at the same time, I didn't want to peel it off since it was our last sensor. If we took off his last sensor, it would mean he wouldn't get his new sensor for at least a week to ten days.

I was hoping the blood would stop on it's own, so kept the sensor on his arm and cleaned it out the best we could with an alcohol wipe. I put the transmitter in, hoping for the best. But, much to my dismay, I saw that blood had continued to seep out, this time *through* the sensor, and most likely into the transmitter.

First of all, I didn't realize a tiny hole could bleed so much . I must have hit a capillary, which can cause a lot of bleeding. Second, I was very nervous now that all this blood would defintely screw up the readings! I got online with my support group and told them what happened (which is why I took the picture--wasn't doing it for the blog!) and they assured me that as long as the blood didn't get into the sensory holes (the two dots inside the sensor where the transmitter inserts) that all would be ok. Well, I wasn't positive that the blood had gotten inside but I could only hope. We started up his receiver, entered in the information that a new sensor was in his arm, and it did it's usual warm up procedure, which was a good sign. I told Max goodnight and we all went to bed.

Next thing I knew, I got woken out of a dead sleep by Max throwing the door open, holding the reciever with it's bright backlight shining in my face and said, "I'm low!"

You have to understand something about Max. He never enters a room quietly. It doesn't matter if people are sleeping, or if it's dark and you can't see. He somehow manages to march everywhere he goes without stumbling in the dark. And when he opens a door, he doesn't just open it, he throws it open. This is all the time--night and day. And when he does remember to knock when he's reminded, he doesn't knock, he pounds. He doesn't do this on purpose, but he's stuck somewhere in his own head thinking about something and this can make every little thing he does very intense. Anyway, being woken up like this out of a dead sleep can be very startling. And irritating.

But lucky for him, his low number saved him another scolding of entering a room so loudly when everyone is sleeping. I was shocked to see it the lowest number we've ever seen--40. And yet, he was standing there wide awake and alert, not seeming to feel any effects of being that low.

Nonetheless, we took a finger stick to see what it was at, and it said he was 90. That's still not considered low, but considering that he woke up on his own to check his monitor probably means that he had dropped low at some point and his adrenaline woke him up. So I gave him a snack just in case he were to dip low in the middle of the night and bid him goodnight again.

About a half hour later, again, he stomped into my room, threw open the door and again said in usual buresque way, "I'm low!"

This time it was 54. What the heck? We did another fingerstick and it said he was 140. It was way off and I knew it was probably due to the blood seeping into the sensor. I didn't know what I could do about it though. I didn't want to turn off the alarms in the middle of the night--just in case he were to have a true low.

It happened two more times when the alarm woke Max up and then Max rudely woke me up. He was getting more and more annoyed about his Dexcom going off claiming "Urgent Low" and "Dropping Fast--action needed" which meant he was getting louder and louder with stomping in the house.

The last time it happened it was 2:00 in the morning. I seriously didn't know what to do about this. I felt bad for Max because he had barely gotten any sleep all night but I was still hesitant to take his Dexcom off completley, which is the only thing that I could do. (If you shut down a sensor in the middle of it's 10 day session, you cannot restart it unless you have a new one, which we didn't.) It again kept claiming that he was "dropping fast" and in the low 50s. We checked his sugar again with a finger stick and it was at 150, which meant it was 200 points off.

I ended up calibrating it, which is a no-no to do when it is low (it's claimed that if you calibrate when the Dexcom is low it can screw up the numbers) but I didn't know what else I could do. It was doing no good being 200 points off.

I felt bad, but I left the finger poker with Max and told him that if it went off again, to just check his blood and if it was normal, to go back to sleep.

But then I couldn't sleep because I was worried, what Max truly was low and he was dropping fast from 150? The Dexcom can catch a low long before your body can, and it's not unusual to drop from somewhere as high as 150 all the way down to the 50s and 40s. Then my imagination led me to scary images of stories that I heard of parents finding their children in the morning, in a diabetic coma and covered in vomit.

So what did I do? I stomped downstairs and threw open the door (though I was trying to be quiet, but my anxiety made me frantic) and woke Max up. Poor Max, he had just gotten back to sleep too. But I had to recheck his blood if I was going to get any sleep at all. It dropped to 120, which seemed like a big drop in a short time but I refused to let it bother me too much or else neither one of us would get any sleep. I said goodnight and went back to bed and dreamed of Max stomping in my room, thrusting his Dexcom into my face and saying, "It says I'm diabetic!"

"That's because you are diabetic," I told him sleepily. That dream slipped away and a new one came, I was holding the Dexcom handbook, trying to read the "Trouble-shooting" chapter of when your Dexcom fills up with blood. (There is no such problem in the actual handbook, though I did look. My dream was more helpful than real life.)

In the morning, I was relieved to find Max just fine but not happy to find out that his Dexcom had given up trying to revive Max and presumed him dead, thus, ending it's session with him. Yes, the Dexcom seemed to come to this conclusion, saying "cannot get reading from sensor" and just gave up on him. How morbid. And so, as I sat on hold with the Dexcom customer support to figure out what to do next, Max surprised me when he said, "It's working now." He had been sitting on the couch in a sleepy state, just watching me as I was sitting on hold forever. "What? When did that happen?" I asked. "About a half hour ago," he told me in his usual casual way.
"And I've been sitting on hold all this time?!" I hung up.

So since the Dexcom had lost contact with Max's body, it somehow now made new contact, or else was thinking it did. It was very strange to say in the least.  It now said that Max was 140, which a normal number for him. We double-checked to compare it with a finger stick. Much to our surprise, the finger stick said Max was 101! So now the Dexcom was running high, while Max's blood sugar was actually a bit low. I thought it might be "catching up" after losing signal for a while, so left it alone for a bit and the next time we checked it, it was 160 and Max was 90. So now we were going in the opposite direction.

My new concern was now that the Dexcom would give a false high, which could lead to the school nurses giving Max a correction when his body didn't really need one, which could make him drop to a dangerous low. See what a mind game all this is?? You always have to think one or two steps ahead!

I ended up getting back on the phone with Dexcom customer support, who told me to take the sensor and reciver off. It had malfunctioned because of the blood, they said, and it would just continue to give us bad readings all day. They would send us a new one within the next few days.

So for now, Max is back to just fingersticks, doing it the "old fashoioned way", and I have to say that I'm surprised by how dependent we've become on the Dexcom. And wouldn't you know, Max ran low while at school. Just by dumb luck--or by the grace of God, I should say--he happened to check his blood sugar because he was going to have ice cream. He didn't even know he was low, as his body gave him no symptoms. That's the beauty of the Dexcom, to be better prepared for a low.

And so are the experiences of the type 1 diabetes, the disease with never-ending suprises with its roller coaster of real-life highs and lows. The longer we're on this ride, the more confusing it gets.