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Posts tagged ‘Chris Sparling’

Diabetes on the Red Carpet … Ish.

For Chris’s Sea of Trees premiere this past weekend at the Cannes Film Festival, diabetes was almost the furthest thing from my mind because we were so damn excited about the event.

Diabetes came into play for a brief moment when I was looking for a dress. I tried to adopt a “dress first, diabetes second” philosophy, picking a dress that felt comfortable and pretty without caring if my insulin pump fit into it. After spending some time looking for and trying on a bunch of dresses (a post I’ll never write, because I made the mistake of looking for formal ball gowns in the same week that girls were shopping for their prom dresses, leaving the ladies that worked at the dress shops very confused about why this older woman was coming in amongst the sea of teenyboppers and leaving me just as confused about my place in this world of women … not my best moments), I settled on a navy blue dress that hit the marks for fancy and comfortable without making me feel like I was trying to be someone I was not. Trouble was, my insulin pump did not fit into the dress easily. Or at all. Instead, it felt once again like I was clomping around with a toaster clipped to me. Which is why I decided to go on injections for the night and not wear my pump. Going MDI meant I needed my CGM data more than ever, though, so I kept my Dexcom sensor on my lower back, underneath some of the lace overlay for the dress, which perfectly masked the subtle bulge of the transmitter. (Hee hee … bulge.)

Thankfully, going back to injections and monitoring via Dexcom receiver wasn’t too tricky because my insulin pens fit easily into the glittery clutch I had for the night, as did a tube of Glucolift. I decided not to carry a glucose meter for the night because it was too bulky. Chris tucked my Dexcom receiver into the inside pocket of his tuxedo (“You turned it to vibrate, right?” “Yes, I promise you won’t go off during your own movie.”) I deliberately ran at the 160 – 180 range so I wouldn’t go so low as to need a snack or so high as to need to dash to the bathroom.

Aside from checking my Dexcom a few times before we arrived at the event, diabetes took a wicked back seat to the whole experience. Instead, we were able to focus on the surreal aspects of the event itself.

Cannes SEA OF TREES red carpet

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

CSparl on the red carpet

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

After party for SEA OF TREES at the Cannes Film Festival.

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

After a grumbly critical review the day before, it was amazing to watch the filmmakers receive a two and a half minute standing ovation after the screening. I have always felt proud of Chris and I recognize his tremendous talent as a writer (insert all my bias here), but it was so nice to hear from people who felt the same way, both in his industry and in our diabetes community alike. We are very grateful for everyone’s support, and it means the world to me to know our DOC family supports one another in diabetes-related ventures and decidedly non-diabetes adventures.

Thanks for being there on this insanely odd, hard-earned, and exciting journey, you guys. I’m forever grateful.

Inside Track: Chris and The Atticus Institute.

This afternoon’s post is an interview with the screenwriter in my house … because he lives here, too.  With our kid.  And the cats.  He wrote and directed a film called THE ATTICUS INSTITUTE, which is available on-demand and on iTunes today!

*   *   *

Kerri:  We’ve done this before, but we’re doing it again.  So hi.

Chris:  Hi.

Kerri:  So you’re my husband, you’ve come here into my office and you are sitting right next to me.  And you haven’t left yet.  So what would you like to talk about?  Today’s a big day, right?

Chris:  Is it trash day?

Kerri:  That seems like a not-so-nice thing to say about your film.

Chris:  I thought you were being passive-aggressive about the trash needing to go out.

Kerri:  That’s Friday.

Chris:  Right.  So today is Tuesday, which means that it’s the day my film, THE ATTICUS INSTITUTE, comes out on VOD and DVD.

Kerri:  And that also means you have three days until the trash goes out.

Chris:  Now you’re just being aggressive.  Regular aggressive.

Kerri:  Fair point.  Okay, so for people who don’t know what THE ATTICUS INSTITUTE is, can you give a brief “this is what it is?”

Chris:  In short, it’s a pseudo-documentary about the government’s efforts to weaponize possession.

Kerri:  And you wrote this film.  And directed it.  I know this because I am your wife.

Chris:  And because I was away shooting a film for two months.

Kerri:  Right but you’ve written a number of films, and this was your true directorial debut.  So how was that, going from putting it on the page to putting it on the screen?

Chris:  I liked the process.  I liked being able to see my vision through to the end, instead of passing off the baton.

Kerri:  Hang on, I wrote “bison” instead of “vision.”

Chris:  I’d like to see my bison through to the end as well.  If at all possible.  But wildlife aside, I liked being able to fully explore this idea.  Rather than the more familiar version of a possession movie, where the church sends in an exorcist and all that jazz, I wanted to take a scientific approach in dealing with the supernatural.

Kerri:  So you wanted it to be more grounded?

Chris:  Ultimately, yeah.  I wanted to play out the scenario of “what if there was a government confirmed case of possession,” studied and proven scientifically, and then show how the government might want to militarize something with that much power.

Kerri:  Wow.

Chris:  Yeah.  So it’s pretty much a romantic comedy.

Kerri:  I know you’re being cheeky, but honestly, this film isn’t a horror film.  It’s not like a jumpy-out scary sort of thing.

Chris:  No, it’s not.  It’s creepy more so than scary.  It’s unsettling.

Kerri:  Do you find it unsettling to sit here and do a formal interview with me?

Chris:  I wouldn’t exactly call it “formal,” since you’re in your bathrobe.

Kerri:  Fair point again.  Thanks for taking the time to talk with me today.  I appreciate it.  Please take the garbage out on Friday.

Chris:  Since we are now being formal, I seriously want to say thank you to the people in the diabetes community.  They’ve been a great support to you, and I’m grateful for how supportive they’ve been of me, too.

*   *   *

Thanks to Chris for the interview, and for the taking out of garbage things.  You can download ATTICUS from iTunes, watch the trailer here, and follow CSparl on Twitter @chrissparling.

Going Solo.

Seven weeks is a long time.

It’s a lot of garbage days (I hate, hate taking out the garbage, especially since we have a crew of vindictive raccoons who have made it their agenda to bust into the garbage cans of everyone on our street, spreading trash all over the place and laughing maniacally whilst wearing hats).  Seven weeks is a lot of grocery store visits and pharmacy trips.  It’s a ton of bills.  Seven weeks is so long that your brain turns to inoperable mush.

Chris came home yesterday, after being away for seven weeks on a film shoot.  I don’t discuss much about his job here because it’s his news to share, but for the last two months, it has been hard not to discuss his absence, since it was affecting everything about my life.  Normally, our respective business trips are short.  For me, being away for a full week is a tremendously long time, and that is an anomaly.  For Chris, his travel jaunts are less frequent but usually longer, sometimes dipping into the eight – ten day away range.  This is something we’ve learned to handle, as a family.

But seven weeks?  Eff that.

Seven weeks is a long time to spend thinking about single parents and to build up even more respect for them, as the experience redefined “challenging” for me.  And I only experienced simulated single-parenting, my husband away but with a timeline for return.  It was while he was gone that I revisited the post-pregnancy feeling of not knowing whose needs to tend to first:  mine, or my daughter’s?

Unless I was away for work, I went to sleep every night with Birdy sharing a bed with me.  (Which was fine, except for the nights when she had a nightmare and would wake us both up, hollering about “the lemons are watching me!!” or the mornings when I’d wake up with the help of her tiny hands prying open my eyelids.  “Good morning, Mawm!”)  Every morning kicked off with a Birdy focus, unlike regular mornings, where the first thing I do is test my blood sugar and then go retrieve the kid, knowing I have Chris as back-up.  Good diabetes habits that I have forced (and then enjoyed) for the last year or so went a bit pfffft as Birdy became the focus and I was flying solo.

“But your health needs to come first, so that you can best care for your daughter.”

Shut up;  I tried.  Everything was a circus.  For five of the weeks of Chris’s trip, I was finishing up final edits on a book I’m writing (submitted to the publisher two weeks ago – more on that later!), which meant that once Birdzone was in the sleepzone, I was up until all hours, combing through pages to tweak content.  And the last two weeks of Chris’s trip included two trips for work, leaving my daughter under the capable (and so appreciated) watch of my mother.  “A good night’s sleep” was a laughable goal.  “Exercise” became either chasing my daughter while she rode her bike at a breakneck speed or brief stints on the ellipmachine in the basement (because going to the gym/for a run while she was awake wasn’t an option, and most times I was so spent that I couldn’t eek out much in terms of exercise).  Emails went unanswered.  Deadlines were pushed.  Pigtails were installed at uneven angles.  Bananas ripened and rotted due to neglect.

(But we always had gluten-free banana bread baking, because that has become a favorite past-time of the Bird’s.  So there was that.)

Diabetes became like a second kid, only one I don’t want to snuggle with.  It needs to be walked.  Fed.  Checked on and monitored.  It’s a needy little sucker.  When it whined and needed tending to, I had to explain to my daughter why we needed to wait a few minutes.

“Do you have whoa bwoodsugar?  Your Dexcom is howering [hollering].” Birdy asked me when I was popping glucose tabs into my mouth, car keys in my hand.

The term “whoa bwoodsugar” took on a whole new meaning when I was solely responsible for my daughter.  Being a parenting soloist for seven weeks made diabetes management pretty freaking tricky.  I’m thankful Chris is home now, because for the duration of his absence, my target blood sugar went from 150 mg/dL instead of 100 mg/dL, in efforts to avoid hypoglycemia while I was the only adult in the house.  My meter average followed suit, which was a frustrating increase after so many months in a comfortable zone, but I knew it was a temporary fix.  My job was/remains to take good care of my kid, and that’s hard for me to accomplish when I’m low as all hell.  It was an enlightening (read:  WTF) experience, and one that, for all of its challenges, I’m glad I proved to myself that I could handle, thanks in large part to friends and family, and the blessings of a flexible job.

But, for a dozen different reasons, I’m so glad Chris is back.  Because, at the end of the day, he’s the one who gave those hats to the raccoons in the first place, so he should be the one doing battle with them.

 

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