Six Until Me.

One Lump or Two?

2009-07-02T16:40:54Z

Like I wrote a few weeks ago, "Even though I do not like the disease, there are some diabetes-related simple pleasures that make me smile."

But on the flip side of that, there are some diabetes-related things that make me grimace. (Not Grimace, but grimace.) And when I'm feeling down about the hard parts of managing this disease, I often turn to humor to lift me back up. (For me, a little gallows humor goes a long way in keeping me from really falling into a depressive state. It seems like a counterproductive idea, but it really helps me.)

This is where Haidee Soule Merritt's book comes in: One Lump or Two? Her book more than resonated for a 20+ year diabetes veteran like myself. It's taken me a long time to build up this much amusement at a disease that's trying its hardest to take me out, but now I'm in the thick of the smirking-despite-the-chaos.

As I read through her book, I laughed. I laughed and nodded my head in agreement, thinking, "Oh hell yes, I hate those geyser fingerpricks."

Who hasn't this happened to? (Image credit: Haidee Soule Merritt)

I snicked despite trying to be classy when I saw the one about low blood sugars after sex. (Trust me, not fun. And also, awkward as hell.)

Been there. Done that. (Image credit: Haidee Soule Merritt)

Diabetes isn't easy. Neither is laughing at it. But laughter, finding something that alleviates some of the anxiety and fear that comes with a chronic illness, can make such a huge difference in health.

If you want to order your own copy of Haidee's book, visit her website (and enjoy the duck sounds on the buttons, because they quacked me up). As you thumb through your copy of One Lump or Two?, you'll find yourself smirking with understanding, too.

Between Dinner and a Movie.

2009-07-01T14:44:53Z

Saturday nights when we were very small were the best.

We made blanket forts and used every damn cushion in the couch. Laying pillows on the floor, we'd jump from down-filled island to island, pretending that the carpet was infested with alligators and only by balancing on the pillows would we be safe.

The babysitter always promised to make healthy dinner, but usually we ate popcorn, chicken fingers, and drank diet soda by the bottle, filling the glasses to the very brim and frantically slurping the carbonated foam away before it could spill over.

My favorite babysitters were the ones who played with us, not just sat there and talked with their boyfriends on the phone. Carolyn was my favorite one of all and I named my Cabbage Patch doll after her that year. She was pretty and smart and the characters she pretended to be were so clever. She was the perfect example, to me at seven years old, of what a 'hero' really was.

My parents had a standing Saturday night "date night," and they would go out to dinner either alone or with some friends, then maybe to a movie. Usually they left when it was still light out, while we were still outside playing in the yard or just coming in to have a snack. My brother and sister and I played and fought and made messes and told stories and generally destroyed the house, like little kids do.

Only now, when my memory is jogged, do I remember the headlights pulling back in the driveway, between when dinner ended and the movie began.

Dad would wait in the car while Mom ran in quickly to test me and give me my bedtime insulin injection. Then she'd say goodnight to all of us and run back out to the car to continue "date night."

Only now do I remember those moments and wish I'd named "Carolyn" after my mother, instead.

GlucoStories: Everyone's Got One.

2009-06-30T19:03:12Z

I'm a supporter getting the stories of people with diabetes out there for public consumption. Awareness and advocacy are the name of the game, for me. We aren't perfect, we don't have all the answers, but we do know what it's like to live, every day, with diabetes.

And now you can share your story and win a prize! Here are the details, according to the info I received:

If you have diabetes, support someone with diabetes, or help the diabetes community, then tell us. Your story could win you a trip to Charlie Kimball’s Firestone Indy Lights Championship race in Florida October 8-10, 2009! (Or other great prizes!)
Entries deadline: Monday, July 6, 2009 Midnight (EST). Enter at www.GlucoStories.com.

I'm pro-Charlie, as you know. I think he's a great guy and I like his mission to help people with diabetes (and I'd also like to drive his car). So when the folks at American Diabetes Wholesale (they're putting this contest on) asked me to help spread the word, I was more than happy to help - and I'll be serving as one of the contest judges, as well. Also, according to the email I received from my buddy at ADW, "any funds that are received from this event will be donated entirely to JDRF." I can't argue with that.

So if you have a story to tell, you still have a few more days to enter to win!

/public service announcement :)

Penguin Truck.

2009-06-30T15:04:44Z

We're planning for a pregnancy, so I've been working tirelessly to stalk my blood sugars. I'm wearing the Dexcom, testing regularly, and really aggressively chasing highs and lows in pursuit of that nice "between the lines" look on my blood sugar graphs.

So when I changed my infusion set last night and neglected to take the 1.0 u bolus in anticipation of the high (which seems to be the only way I can keep the highs at bay after a site change), I knew I was in trouble. Sweaters on my teeth, and my tongue thick with dehydration, confirmed by the 254 mg/dl on my meter. I cranked up a correction bolus and sent it cruising in, along with some frustration and a few choice curse words.

A few hours later, I was on the steady but seemingly safe decline, with the Dexcom keeping tabs and my meter serving to confirm. No worries. I ate a snack (cottage cheese with some frozen raspberries) before bed and snuggled against the pillow (read: cat) at a blood sugar of 187 mg/dl. Higher than normal, but I knew it would continue to come down.

Didn't anticpate the 3:30 am wake-up call of BEEEEEEEEEEP!, though.

I have no idea what my blood sugar was. The Dexcom showed me only as "low" and I woke up crying, for some reason. Chris was next to me, fast asleep, but I didn't wake him up. I don't know why. A bottle of glucose tabs sat on the bedside table but I didn't reach for them. I don't know why. The shape of my body was outlined in sweat on the bedsheet and my hair was sticky, and for some reason combing my hair down before I went to get juice took priority over eating something to correct the low.

I don't know why.

I don't remember a lot of this low, and that scares me. I was dizzy. I was stupid for not waking Chris up and asking for his help. I remember hearing the Dexcom wailing from the bedroom as I stood at the fridge in the kitchen. I drank the juice directly from the carton, drinking well past my eight sips and gulping until I couldn't catch my breath. Yet, I remembered to wipe down the floor to clean up what I spilled. I don't know why.

Hitting that stride, hugging close to the center lane of 100 mg/dl, is really what I'm aiming for. I've been doing better lately, so every time I'm way off target, I feel the symptoms too late for lows and very intensely for highs. I know this is a signal that I'm in tighter control, but once I'm stuck in the spin cycle of high-to-low-to-high and back again, it's hard to climb out. And a lot of time my morning number sets the stage for the rest of my day. Last night's low blood sugar left me at 199 mg/dl this morning, and I still haven't settled back into range. I feel frustrated, knowing my A1C is being drawn at the end of July. But last night's events kicked my ass too thoroughly for me to focus on anything other than muddling through the day.

It's that pesky penguin truck again. I hope the tire tracks aren't too visible this morning.

Guest Post: 500 Days of Diabetes.

2009-06-29T15:24:40Z

After a hectic week with the conference in Philly and then Chris's great news, I need to spend some time today catching up on everything. Thankfully, Jessica Phillips has offered to guest post today, writing about marking 500 days with type 1 diabetes. She's come a long way, and I'm proud to host her words here on SUM.

Heeeeeeere's Jessica!

* * *

As I was injecting myself with insulin on a lunch break at work, a co-worker walked by and exclaimed, “I could never do that! EW! I hate needles!” Less than two years ago I might have agreed. I never had a strong phobia of needles, but that is not to say that I particularly liked them either. I was known in my childhood to run out of doctor’s offices into the parking lot at the first mention of “shot”. Now when I hear such a strong and callous remark to my now normal routine of insulin injections, I struggle with trying not to angrily reply, “Well you would have to give yourself shots if you had to in order to live!” or, “How do you think I feel? You think I want to do this?” I’ve learned as of late to simply smile and say, “It’s not easy.”

Reactions like this are commonplace for those of you who have experienced Type One Diabetes for many years, and even some for the majority of your life. For me, June 9th, 2009 marked my 500th day with type 1 diabetes. I was diagnosed in my hometown of San Diego, California on January 25th, 2008 at 26 years-old. For a couple months prior to diagnosis I had been experiencing the typical signs of hyperglycemia and a failing pancreas as I was constantly dehydrated, urinating, and tired. Being a college student and in a constant state of stress, I quickly attributed the majority of my symptoms, from dizziness to infections, to be solely related to my immune system’s battle with my constant stress. After many weeks of procrastinating, I finally urged my doctor to order a blood test. I went in to the lab on January 23rd and was called by my doctor 24 hours later while I was driving to school. The tone in her voice immediately caught my attention and set me in a state of alarm. She informed me that my blood sugar the day before was above 300 mg/dL and I was to avoid sugar and be referred to an endocrinologist immediately.

Luckily I was able to see an experienced endocrinologist the next day, and he diagnosed me with type 1 within minutes of being seated in the exam room. I was in complete shock, and felt confused, angry, and overwhelmingly sad all at the same time. I felt a struggle between trying to remain alert to the bombardment of information he was feeding me, and trying desperately not to cry. The doctor left the room to retrieve my new meter and insulin pens, and I lost it. Luckily I had some moral support with me, but I have never felt so alone and lost. I kept thinking, “how did this happen?” and, “what did I do wrong?” To have gone many years without having anything major occur medically, not even a broken bone, it was a major shock to hear I had something irreversibly wrong with me. I not only had something wrong, but I could not do anything to change it.

The next few days were extremely challenging to say the least. I was unable to give myself insulin and had to have someone else do it for me for the first couple days. I would sit and look at the needle and could not conceive of how this tiny piece of metal was going to go through my skin. I just kept thinking it was so wrong, and foreign. I also cried. A lot. And I researched online and in books so much that I felt as though I could speak at a lecture on the biology of diabetes. I found the knowledge empowering, and the more I grasped what my body was actually doing, and not doing, I became more confident in my ability to control my state.

Now, 500 days later, this diabetic routine is normal to me. I can hardly even remember a time when diabetes wasn’t on my mind. The memories have faded of when my blood sugar was not a concern, and when I was able to look at food as just food. The last year and a half has been a giant emotional roller coaster, full of ups and downs, but they have changed me. Sometimes I get the look of sympathy from others when I detail my hardships with this disease, anywhere from medical costs to just the simple annoyance of pricking myself all the time, and I have found myself realizing that although I would not choose to have this disease, I consider myself lucky. I am lucky of course to not have something worse, but having gone through this change has made me look at my life through a new and clearer lens. My bottom-line now is a cliché idea, but it is so true … life is short, and you only get one shot, so make it worth it, no matter what.

* * *

Thanks for sharing your story, Jessica. (And for the record, Jessica is the one with the fantastic hair on the right in that photo. Also for the record, I just realized that today is my 8,209th day with diabetes. Holy crap, my pancreas is lazy.)

The Faces of the Philly Meet Up.

2009-06-26T14:02:21Z

The conference I'm speaking at this week is about social media and how pharma and patient bloggers can work together to benefit the patient community.

My main points are to drive home the fact that even though we might be perceived as "target markets" and "diabetes consumers," we are people first. We're people before we're patients, before we're anyone's consumer base, before we're diabetics.

People.

And last night, I had the distinct pleasure of hanging out in Philadelphia's Black Sheep Pub with a bunch of people who just happen to have diabetes. Sitting among all these shining faces (because, holy crap was it hot in there), I wished that Big Pharma was there with us to see the real people behind the diseases about which they create power point presentations.

Hey Pharma! See us! We're your "target market!"

It was great meeting everyone last night! Thanks for coming out in that heat, and I'm looking forward to seeing you guys again!!

A Sparling Sighting in Variety: Buried.

2009-06-25T14:05:09Z

This morning's Variety article reads as follows:

"After starring with Sandra Bullock in romantic comedy "The Proposal," Ryan Reynolds has lined up a much grittier proposition for his next film.
Reynolds will star in "Buried," playing a civilian contractor who's kidnapped in Iraq and awakens buried in a coffin in the desert, armed only with a cell phone, a candle and a knife.
Rodrigo Cortes will direct a script by Chris Sparling; production will begin this month in Barcelona.
Peter Safran will produce through his Safran Co. banner with Adrian Guerra of Spain-based Versus Entertainment, which is financing the film. The picture will shoot entirely in Spain, which is home to Cortes, best known for directing "The Contestant."
Reynolds takes the job after the showy role of Deadpool in "X-Men Origins: Wolverine" and "The Proposal."
He decided to go the indie route as a way to stretch his acting chops in a movie with a claustrophobic premise, and one in which he holds the screen through most of the picture.
Reynolds, the writer and director are repped by UTA."

Wait a second ... is that a Sparling in there?

Oh indeed it is!!! That's a Chris Sparling right in there!!!

I am so, so proud to announce news that I've been itching to share for a while now. Chris's script, "Buried," is being made into a movie this summer. In Spain. Starring Ryan Reynolds. More details to come here in a few weeks, but for now I remain a very proud Sparling.

Thanks for being part of not only the diabetes journey here, guys, but the life one. I'm really happy to be able to share this news with you all!!

Why I Wanted a CGM.

2009-06-24T15:44:34Z

I'm often asked about why I chose the Dexcom CGM over the Minimed, and I have plenty of posts here on SUM that talk about my experiences with the two devices:

And then fighting for insurance:

And after I had won insurance approval, Dexcom and I joined forces:

Dexcom Disclosure.
Even though I still talk freely about the Dexcom Pros and Cons. :)

Phew! But part of even starting this process was wanting to go on a CGM to begin with. I'm often asked about the different continuos glucose devices and pros and cons of each, I get just as many questions as simple as this: "What made you ready to go on a CGM in the first place?"

I know that for going from injections to pump therapy, I was frustrated with the lows that were happening three times a week, and how my ex-boyfriend was constantly finding me motionless in the bed at 4 am, covered with sweat. After 17 years of injections and after two years of an A1C that wouldn't budge, I made the decision to use an insulin pump.

After deciding to wear one medical device, it was easier to try another one. A few years of pumping made me feel comfortable with the 24/7 attachment of a diabetes device, so when the continuous glucose monitors became more prevalent on the scene, my interest was piqued. At the time, I was in a serious relationship, thinking about having children in the future, and realizing how my blood sugars still weren't running better, despite my increased education and effort. It was time to try something a bit different.

With a CGM of any kind, there's a certain security that comes with it. I feel more confident speaking at events when I can look at the graph on my CGM and see that I'm holding steady. Same for getting in the car for long drives, or on a plane for a few hours. After twenty plus years of only having snapshots of what my numbers were like, I now have access to the streaming video, so to speak, of continuous monitoring.

Yes, there's also the "Hey, you're a robot" component to this. I can't lie. When I look at my body and I see all these things stuck to me, in addition to the red dots of diabetes devices past, I feel a little overwhelmed. But it's part of living with this disease. (Most of the time, I'm able to shake off the robot feeling and just let Chris call me Rosie. Whoops - there's the digression.) I actually feel okay with wearing two medical devices. It's sometimes cumbersome and inconvenient, but for me, the pros outweight any cons. I hear a lot of bad news about diabetes, about how this many years with type 1 can really cause a landslide of issues, about how life can be compromised. And I don't want that.

Regardless of what happens in my future, I want to make every effort to be as healthy as I can, both mentally and physically. And I'm ready to keep trying. That's why I blog. That's why I raise awareness. That's why I pump.

And that's why I wanted a CGM.

Channeling Grammie.

2009-06-23T14:28:50Z

Last night after work, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things on my way home. The place was post-work packed.

I was wearing a dress with a bit of a busy print, and loud, clacking heels, so I wasn't really a shrinking violet. But it wasn't a big deal to be a big over-dressed for grocery shopping - I was just running in and running out as quickly as I could.

I go to the produce section and fill my cart with a few items, then I remember that Chris asked me to get fruit. So I went over to the selection of apples, which had apparently just been refilled, as they were piled high. High as in like two dozen levels of red, shiny apples. With a plastic bag in my hand, I reached out and grabbed an apple. And then another.

And then I reached for a third.

Which must have been precariously placed.

As every apple in the stack came tumbling towards me. Like in a cartoon.

"OOOOH!" I yelled, whipping my arms around like a windmill in effort to stop the avalanche.

"OOOOH!" I yelled, as I pressed myself against the side of the shelving to keep the apples from hitting the floor, letting them pile up against me instead.

"OOOOH!" I yelled as the apples created a slope against my body and then starting falling faster from the tower, rocketing off my shoulder and flying high into the air.

"OOOOH!" The woman a few feet away yelled, as an apple ricocheted off the shelving and landed in her cart.

I was dying of embarrassment. The apples were hitting the floor with a loud thunk and people were staring and the grocery store produce guys were running over, trying to help, but their laughter rendered them useless.

"Oh my God, please make this stop. Please, can you just make the apples stop their onslaught!" I pleaded, my arms filled with fruit.

The produce guy closest to me tried to stem the flow of apples, but it was fruitless. These apples were powered by inertia and determined to make a spectacle of me.

"Miss, you need to step away from the apples so we can clean them up. Can you move back a few steps?"

"If I move, all the ones I'm holding will fall. And then I will of shame." I tried to talk without moving my mouth, as to not further enrage the apples.

The produce guy tried to hide his laughter. "Miss, step away from the apples. I'm ready to deal with them. In three ... two ... one ..."

I moved back and all the apples I was holding in my arms tumbled to the ground with a SMACK. A sea of large, red marbles on the tile floor. My face was as red as an ... well, you can guess.

"Can I help you clean up? Or can I go? Can I just walk away and pretend this didn't happen?"

"Run, lady. You might want to run."

I fumbled for my purse and my grocery cart and tried to eek away gracefully (as gracefully as one can, with loud heels and a noticeable dress), turning my ankle on an apple only once. People were smirking and laughing, and one old man started to applaud.

I left the grocery store, my face on fire and laughing to myself. I called my mother from my car and told her the story through my embarrassment and tears of laughter.

"I think I'm channeling Grammie," I said.

"Oh Kerri ... you're right," my mother laughed. "Grammie was known for wearing platform shoes in the grocery store and falling over at the deli counter. And you know what? I wore platform shoes to the deli counter when I was your age and I fell over, too! It's hereditary!"

Note to self: Do not buy platform shoes.

Flu'd Out and Father's Day.

2009-06-22T16:04:31Z

The end of last week was a bit of a bust, because I spent the majority of Thursday and Friday hiding in my bed with the flu. (Not the swine variety, though. According to my doctor, "just the flu.") I haven't read many blogs, I haven't answered any emails, and the only thing I've done is devour the first 3/4 of the Twilight book.

Note: I kind of resisted reading Twilight because of all the swoony buzz over Robert Pattinson and vampires and all that stuff. I'll admit it - I scoffed. But then I remembered how rabid I was over the Harry Potter series, despite my best intentions. And then my mother happened to drop the book off at my house. And then I happened to get sick and have little energy for anything other than napping and reading. This perfect storm of events now has me itching to get home so I can finish the book and pick up the next one in the series. Sigh. I'm a nerd. A nerd who has digressed. Hang on ...

I was on the mend by Saturday afternoon, thankfully in time to celebrate Batman's 30th birthday with her at the Ivy Restaurant in Boston. (After some wicked traffic on 95 North in MA, leaving us almost two hours late for the event, but getting into Boston was worth it. I love Boston. And also, the birthday girl was stuck in the same traffic, so at least we were there before her!)

And on Sunday, Chris and I spent time with my father for Father's Day. We don't often have the chance to hang out with my dad, so having a leisurely lunch (steaks and burgers - manly food!) and then some black raspberry ice cream from St. Claire's Annex in Watch Hill before our drive home to CT was a very nice, relaxing way to spend the day.

So what have I missed? (And also, did you know that Sara actually has a paper chain counting down the days to FFL? Go see ...)

Some Diabetes Advocacy Goodies.

2009-06-20T00:15:04Z

Some bits and pieces that I wanted to get out as soon as possible, seeing as how I've been under the weather for a few days and falling wicked behind on just about everything. Here are some diabetes advocacy bits I've been meaning to share!

The NYC support group I visited a few weeks ago has outgrown its Tuesday meetings and is now spilling over into a third meeting, at the end of each month at The Cure Thrift Shop. If you are in the NYC area and you have next Thursday free, here are the details:

First meeting: Thursday, June 25th, 7:30PM-9PM
Meets every last Thursday of the month
Meeting location: Cure Thrift Shop
111 East 12th Street (btwn 3rd and 4th aves),
New York, NY 10003
No cost or commitment. All adults with T 1 diabetes welcome, newly diagnosed or old D veterans. Get in touch to let them know you're interested/RSVP to: support@act1diabetes.org

I will not be able to make the first meeting (will be in Philadelphia for a conference) but if you are able to meet this fantastic group of women, I HIGHLY suggest you do just that.

Next on tap is some news I received from the JDRF about their fabulous Children's Congress. According to the press release, "Some 150 children and teenagers throughout the U.S., and several from around the world have been selected to travel to Washington, D.C. this summer to represent their state and country and remind Congress and the Administration of the critical need to find a cure for a disease they live with every day— type 1 (or juvenile) diabetes.

These children—ages 4 to 17, representing all 50 states and the District of Columbia, and all diagnosed with type 1 diabetes—will converge on Washington, D.C., to tell their stories and urge lawmakers to help find a cure during the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation’s Children’s Congress 2009, from June 22 to 24."

Also part of this Congress is Nick Jonas (OMG he is so hot ... if you're 15), who will be testifying to request federal funding for diabetes research. With Nick will be Mary Tyler Moore and Sugar Ray Leonard, locking it down for diabetes research. This is a very cool event indeed.

And lastly, as I mentioned before, I'll be in Philadelphia on June 24th - 26th for a conference, then hanging out with some members of the diabetes community. If you are local to the Philly area and would like to join us for a diabetes meet-up on Thursday night, please email me at kerri (at) sixuntilme (dot) com (with the subject line "Philly"). Would LOVE to have you join us, if you can!

That's all I have for the moment. More stuff coming later, as I sift through emails. :)

Sick Day.

2009-06-19T14:53:37Z

The weather - I'm under it.

I've been trying to work through some kind of flu for the last two days (hopefully not the piggy kind), so I'm taking today as a sick day.

Going to the doctor later this morning and spending the rest of the day hiding in bed. Most likely covered in cats. (I think this may be the cat flu? Sigh. I'll be more clever next week.)

See you Monday!

Working On Working Out.

2009-06-18T13:43:23Z

Way overdue on a new vlog post, but I was inspired by George's post yesterday about getting back on track with exercise. So here's my vlog post about diabetes, working out, and what motivates me to move.

Some of my reasons are a little goofy, but I think whatever gets me to exercise is well worth laughing at myself a little bit. What gets you to break a sweat?

Magic Beans.

2009-06-17T13:46:50Z

Lows are The Suck. I am not a fan.

But if I could treat every low blood sugar with Jelly Belly jelly beans, it would almost be okay.

(The pear ones are my favorite and even when I'm low, I save them for last.)

That is all.

Do I Have the Right?

2009-06-16T15:24:29Z

Over the weekend, Chris and I (and his sister and dad) ended up in a harborside restaurant in South County, RI. We stood in line and read the chalkboard menu until it was our turn to order from the girl behind the counter.

"What can I get for you?"

"Can I have an iced coffee? Do you have iced hazelnut?"

"I'm sorry - we don't have hazelnut. But we have snickerdoodle or french vanilla. Either of those work for you?"

"Snickerdoodle sounds awesome. Is that a syrup? Is it sugar-free?"

She gave me just a quick look. Not judging, just looking. "It's definitely sugar-free. Medium or large?"

"Large," I said, and she turned away to make my coffee and I saw the pink Animas pump clipped to the side of her black pants, the tubing sticking up all crazy.

And instantly, I want to ask her a million questions.

With the Dexcom and the Animas being integrated sometime "soon" and with my only pumping experience being with Minimed, I wanted to ask her how she liked the Animas. I wanted to see how long she'd been diabetic and did she go to Joslin, too? Did she know any other diabetics? How long had she been pumping?

I wanted to tell her that the tubing gets all crazy on my pump, too, sometimes.

But do I have the right to make her diabetes my business? Just because I write about it doesn't mean I have the right to grill her about her diabetes. She wasn't asking me why I wanted to make sure the coffee was sugar-free. She was just going about her business. Did I have the right to poke into hers? Just because she wears an "external symptom" of her diabetes in the form of that pink pump, did I have the right to ask her about it?

There have been a few times when a diabetes discussion was thrust on me without my invitation. "Hey, what's that thing on your hip?" becomes this moment of advocacy that, while effective, wasn't what I wanted to do that day. Sometimes I just want to order my coffee without being grilled about why I need to make sure the syrup is sugar-free. Other times I'm blogging about the teeniest minutiae of life with diabetes. I oscillate between wanting to be a diabetes advocate and someone who lives a quieter diabetes life. Sometimes I don't want to talk about it at all. That day, I didn't want to be an advocate. (Or a pain in the ass.) I just wanted to get some coffee and enjoy the day.

Maybe she doesn't want to talk about it, either.

She made my coffee and added some cream. I handed her my money.

And I left without saying anything.

It's not always what we have to talk about. There's way more to us than this.