Twenty Years Gone By: The 11th Commandment

I don't think it is a coincidence that this 20-year anniversary falls on Easter.
Watching "The 10 Commandments" late into the night during my hospital stay, I imagine, now, hearing an 11th Commandment, a cautionary statement to carry me through the years, and now decades, following my diagnosis. It would go something like this: Thou shalt attempt, at every turn, to do your best, accept the outcome and move forward.

Over the course of these 20 years, I have learned so much about myself--areas where I struggle and where I shine--as a direct result of having this disease. As much as I wanted to deny having it, insisted on rebelling against it, held enormous amounts of resentment towards it, I don't know where I would be without it. It sounds as though I actually might be grateful for it. Not for the disease itself, but what it has brought into my life:

Support of my family-While I didn't realize it was always there, and it was up to me to seek it out, I will never forget the rally at the hospital once I was admitted. Everyone was there, people took turns staying with me, we cried, we cried some more, my needle-phobic father let me inject him with saline for "practice," and that level of support never really went away. It is reticent, implied, but there for the taking. And now it includes my children, an underestimated source ("Mama, is diabetes hard sometimes?").

A lesson in perfectionism--I was programmed type A, I think. The single-most important thing I have had to come to terms with, accept, and work into my attitude towards this disease, is that I will never achieve perfection with it, and striving for it only leads to frustration and hopelessness. The body itself is imperfect, and relies on too many variables to function. Throw in a dysfunctional pancreas, and it's assured to hit some snags. The perfection lies in my efforts, and my determination to not let those snags get in the way. Even better, use them to troubleshoot and understand how my body reacts to certain foods, activities, and changes to my pump. This lesson, of course, has translated to other aspects of my life. My best effort is enough.

Love--I firmly believe that we seek out relationships that we ultimately think we deserve, for better or worse. And that God provides the opportunity for the better. Steve is the better. I have struggled with my diabetes, and there were many, many times when I chose to give up. There were also times when I experienced great success with it. Over the course of the past 12+ years, Steve remains my constant, unflinching in his support and relentless in encouraging me to do better. I am blessed.

My children--I remember being in college, maybe 19 or 20, crying in my endo's office. Once again my numbers were horrible, and I remember saying, "But I want to be able to have kids someday!" There was nothing on the horizon, or in my history that would indicate it would be safe for me to have them. The remoteness of the possibility made me feel even more defective, but I still wanted them. Four years later, I had a new endo, got a pump, and was determined to get my numbers in the "safe for pregnancy" range. Seven years later, my children's faces are a constant reminder of my determination. I wanted you so much, and worked so hard to have you. You are loved, and so worth the hard work.

I am grateful, blessed, and see this anniversary as a milestone--one that I am proud to reach. Many, many more fingersticks, kinked tubing, gushers, eat-the-fridge lows, cotton-mouth highs, a1c's, dr's visits, data downloads, glucose tablets, band-aid smells, no-delivery alarms, bad sensors, and the like are in my future. But it's a long view. Bring it.

My goals are just that: goals. The means and what it "means" is ultimately more important, because reaching for them and not giving in or giving up means I am putting an ultimate level of importance on my health, and not allowing the demands of every day get in the way or impede my progress in achieving them. It is no longer a choice for me to test, exercise, stay accountable for my calories, or use data to continually make adjustments to my insulin.

Speaking of goals, though...after 3 months of stagnancy, and constant buoying between the same 3 pounds, I have broken through my low over the last couple of weeks. My goal was to weigh 140 by my 20-year diabetes anniversary, and I am thrilled to report that I clocked in at 139.9 on Thursday morning! That is a 30-lb loss, people.

In 20 years, this is the most healthy and in-tune with my body and my diabetes as I have ever felt. Thank you all for being my cheering section all the way through. Below are some before and afters: August and today.