I read a post on Facebook this morning about a mom who spent a few hours by her kid’s bedside, monitoring a low blood sugar and keeping the snacks at the ready. I thought about my own mom, who carried the bulk of the diabetes burden so that I didn’t have to, and how life felt normal because she made…
(Mr. Grinch, with an insulin twist. Sing along!!) You’re a mean one, Mr. Panc. You really are a heel! You’ve made me a pincushion, all those needles I can feel, Mr. Panc. You make me require boluses before every meal! You’re so lazy, Mr. Panc. Your islets are such shit! Your shape is all corn cobby and your betas all…
Getting into the holiday spirit? Today I’m revisiting the ghosts of poems past with Pizza (A Christmas Poem). Watch out for that pesky, fight-picking panc. T’was the night before Christmas and all tinsel’s in, Not a creature was stirring or making insulin. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that my islet cells soon would be…
Dexcom rings Are you listening? On the graph Lows are blistering. A beautiful sight Is an overnight Walking in no-hitter* wonderland Gone away Are my betas Here to stay Is the data. My Dexcom alarms Protect me from harm. Searching for no-hitter wonderland In the meadow we can build an organ And pretend that he’s a pancreas. He’ll say I’m…
Revisiting some diabetes poetry this week while traveling. This one is a take on R.E.M.’s Everybody Hurts, only with an alarm fatigue component … * * * (With deep, deep apologies to R.E.M. and Everybody Hurts) Everybody Beeps When your day is long And the night, the night is yours for sleep. When you tuck yourself in…
Time to run round neighborhoods! Time to collect up sweets and goods! Tricks and treats and being merry And time for some to run commentary. “Um … can you eat that?” Yes, I can. I can unwrap this Twix bar, man. Can place it in my open mouth Can chew it up and send it south. These things? I CAN….
Mornings start with graph checks and then we’re off to live Not all D things are solid, but we continue, we forgive. Lots to tackle, lots to manage, lots to do in this narration Though efforts might end up a little bit Lost in Translation Details of the day go by in a flurry But I’m blocking all the chaos…
(in homeage to the Toni Braxton’s Un-break My Heart, and if Melissa Lee would just let loose with her version of this, that would be awesome.) Un-Break My Panc You left me when I was small Didn’t make insulin at all Come back and bring back my islets Come and take these syringes away. I need panc to work beta…
(to the tune of the Beatles Help!) Help! I need some sugar Help! I’ll take any sugar. Help! You know I need a snack Heeeelp! When I was younger, so much younger than today I made my insulin and that was that each day But now these days are gone and my islets are uncured Now I find I need a…
(A post from the past, but still relevant, as my pancreas remains lazy.) Oh rotting, feeble pancreas of mine, Won’t you be my Valentine? Won’t you wake from your long sleep And make some insulin, you creep? What makes you sit, all shaped like a wiener, Lazy and dull, with a pompous demeanor? What makes it okay, that for your…
T’was the night before Christmas and all tinsel’s in, Not a creature was stirring or making insulin. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that my islet cells soon would be there. My children were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of pizza boxes filled me with dread. I took out my pen, assessed the…
Sweet little lancet You are so damn tough. I keep you until All your edges are rough, Until your sharp peak Becomes dull and harpoons. Oh sweet little lancet, I will change you soon. Sweet little lancet, You deploy with a thud. It can take several tries To get you to draw blood. And at that point, you’d think, I’d wise…