MY RESCUE

I have a silver female Yorkie rescued from a puppy mill. A puppy mill, if you don't know, is exactly as it sounds, a place where dogs are bred, repeatedly, and the puppies are sold to stores, like the ones you find at the mall. The parent dogs are kept in wire cages, with wire bottoms, stacked one on top of the other, several dogs to a cage, kept outside in the weather, very little water and food provided, and absolutely no love and care. This is just a bit of information, the ugly truth can be read about at http://www.humanesociety.org/issues/puppy_mills/.

This Yorkie of mine has been with me for a little over a year. She was emaciated, shaven to the skin to remove her matted hair, had an ear infection, a open wound in her cheek, and, among other things, suffered severe psychological trauma from the abuse she had received. She has come a long way with my family's patience and love. I have to say though that I have received the most reward from her than anyone on earth could provide. You see, she has saved me, my life, many times, for she is what some would consider a "medical dog."

I have Type 1 Diabetes and am insulin-dependent. I have a continuous glucose monitor that I wear always and it has an alarm to alert me to severe low blood sugars. Unfortunately for me, sometimes while sleeping I don't hear the alarm. But,...my rescue Yorkie does. She runs into the hallway and barks loudly and non-stop, runs back and forth from the bed to the hall until she awakens me and I walk to the kitchen to check my blood sugar. She is so excited and happy that I am up, then she sits on the kitchen rug until all is fine and we go back to bed together. The first time this happened, my alarm went off, unbeknownst to me, and I awoke to her screaming bark, I got up thinking she needed to go outside to potty. Walking downstairs to take her out, I wondered why I felt so disoriented and drunk, I checked my blood sugar and my glucose read 40....very, very low for someone with injected insulin. I had no idea whatsoever that I was in trouble and probably would not have awakened, instead I most likely would have slipped into a coma. This gorgeous little girl saved my life. She came and comes to my rescue. I saved her from being killed when the puppy mill could no longer make her breed at the young age of 4. She now saves my life sometimes twice a week. I feel so lucky with this angel caring for me. I am so blessed, so grateful, so rescued!

A.K.A. BITCHIN' IN THE KITCHEN

During a phone conversation with my brother yesterday, he asked, "What is the name of your blog again?" I began to explain why the name, such a serious name, "Auntie V's Life and Cookery" was chosen for this blog: I am raising my niece-Auntie has become my identity most hours of the day; I have many life experiences to discuss and share (many of you will ride along on that wave with me nodding, "yes, yes, I get that") such as: chronic illness-several; the murder of my sister by the hands of a man in a domestic situation, life and grief as the surviving victim of homicide, loss of a parent to cancer, marriage, adoption, post traumatic stress disorder/dysfunction (there are more applicable 4 letter words to describe this illness, and I'm not talking about "love"), living life following a mild traumatic brain injury, and then there is the life or the non-life of a generalized anxiety disorder agoraphobic, ...you get that picture clearly by now, although I could continue. The cookery part, well, who could bear to write about all the disastrous life bits all the time and besides isn't food a mini vacation? The real reason is that no matter what I am doing, I am doing it, usually, in the kitchen. My brother and I decided at precisely the same moment, consumed with laughter, that the alias name of my blog would be "Bitchin' in the Kitchen."

So welcome to "Bitchin' in the Kitchen" with your host, lost in the midst of certain chaos, touched and displaced by life's shocking blows, yes, you guessed it... Auntie V! I'm not irrational, just consumed by fear, confused by sleepless nights, hypoglycemic reactions or hyperglycemic distortion, post traumatic stress and the panic that comes with that i.e. "shakin in my boots" "can't leave the house" "are you talking to me?" Robert DeNiro paranoia (of course, I'm exaggerating). At times, I'm just an Auntie trying to figure out how to be a Mom. I am, in fact, one excellent cook. Test me, try the recipes.

Where did this life come from? Believe me, it is true, God made mountains so we couldn't see too far down the road. This was not on the 10 year plan, but this has been my life for all of 10 years and for some things, like the Diabetes, much longer than that. I am here to stay, even though at times I wonder how I can cope with one more minute and entertain the thought of running down the street screaming, or some similar escape. I'm not leaving yet, I've got a lot to share with you all and I hope it moves you in some way, hopefully not backward! Most importantly, I'm attempting to take this suffering not in vain, but as a lesson of life, a spiritual path to be followed and shared, to be communicated as the common human experience. I know we are all suffering, but we can do it together with peaceful love and support. We can hold hands just like in Kindergarten and we all will make it across the street together.
I tend to speak directly from the heart, but I enjoy laughing and hope to pass that along some as well.

If you hear me "Bitchin in the Kitchen" just know that the loving compassionate me is still here, seeking peace and understanding, I just sometimes have to lighten up a bit for the sake of us all! Anytime you feel like it, just chime right on in.

--A.k.a. Auntie V

Missing The Verve

Looking out the front door screen, I was annoyed by the bushy, unruly growth of the two trees in my front yard. The wet summer weather in Colorado this year was a delight, but pruning must ensue. A woman I remember well, grabbed the hand clippers with verve and breezed past me out the door and into action, clipping away at the wayward branches. Stooping, reaching, and stretching she worked as I watched with intrigue and awe. Two tiny hands working together with a tiny, inadequate tool cutting and snapping the branches until they fell to the ground. After an hour of this, I went out and asked if she was doing okay. She assured me she was and mumbled something about "more branches must got"...and the clipping continued. She was fierce with her energy and focus. Two hours passed and I, again, approached her, "are you doing okay?" I asked. She looked at me, seeing right through me, glaring at something in her mind, "You know, maybe I'm finished now." Just like that she walked straight into the house still holding tightly to the hand clippers leaving behind a blanket of limbs and leaves covering the grass.
I didn't see her any more that day and without even a goodbye she was gone. Standing in a daze of exhaustion, I looked down at my red, swollen, blistered, and tortured hands. How could she do this to me again, leave me here drained and battered after her 2 hour festivity?
Glimpses of my former self come to me in small increments. Sadness comes along with it and I long for the woman with the vivacious spirit to permanently infuse my body again. I haven't let go of the hope that she will return, but it has been a long time and her visits come less frequently. When I'm fueled, I tackle a task foolhardily, lacking the where-with-all to practice moderation. I guess, I forget about the new, easily fatigued me, the fragile girl, (the one I refuse to accept) and revel in the gift of strength and energy. Like an alcoholic taking back the drink, I am drunk and happy and with that reasoning goes to the way side. Later, I'm the drunk after the party, suffering the repercussions. My husband misses her too; I'm not the girl he married in some ways. He is loving and supportive. Late that afternoon, after he carried the branches away and raked the leaves from the yard, I asked him, "so, how do the trees look?"...he answered in his sweet accepting voice, "they are perfect!"
Wish I was too...
Diabetes is not the culprit this time, although some fatigue comes from always fighting an illness due to my beaten down immune system and all the viruses that tackle me. Most of my fatigue comes from the post traumatic stress coursing through my nervous system. A dancer of constant vigilance watching for the next life threatening danger dances in a circular formation through my body, round and round, assessing every sound and movement around me until my energy is completly used up. My brain goes silent and still, but the dancer continues to dance. At night while I sleep, she dances to keep the demons at bay, she dances away the nightmare; at the slightest sign of danger she dances me awake. I love her and she dances with grace and beauty, but sometimes I wish she'd allow me an intermission. Go dance on someone else's stage for a while and let me live with spontaneity and fearlessness!
In time, I hope to be free and blessed with a life I can live without fatigue, free of the tireless dancer.

30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know

1. The illness I live with is: Diabetes Type 1 (and two others)

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: Fall, 1982

3. But I had symptoms since: Summer, 1982

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: A total life regime adjustment, daily injection, every 2 hours checking of blood sugar, daily exercise, and best aid of all: viewing food as fuel and consuming the most nutrient dense food possible.

5. Most people assume: I am fit and healthy and life is easy for me.

6. The hardest part about mornings are: Waking and still feeling great fatigue. INJECTIONS.

7. My favorite medical TV show is: I do enjoy Grey's because I "get" it, thanks to my RN degree.

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: My glucose monitor; goes with me everywhere and some type of food to raise my blood sugar if needed. If you see me carrying a tiny bag (that woudl be my meter), or a big back pack or purse, it's because I've got lots of stuff to pack with me EVERYWHERE!, much like a baby.

9. The hardest part about nights are: After so many years of Diabetes the body oftentimes stops signaling the nervous system to tell a person when their blood sugar has dropped to a dangerous level. Unlike the famous scene in the movie, "Steel Magnolias" where Julia Roberts has the hypoglycemic reaction symptoms of shaking and sweating, I have no inkling that my blood sugar has dropped. I wake every 2 hours most nights to check my blood sugar. Not a good thing.

10. Each day I take Insulin injections & vitamins. Insulin, no life without it. I take a daily morning injection and injections with food or elevated blood sugar; a walking pin cushion. Well, I do take extra supplements to try to strengthen my immune system, worn down by the daily wear and tear of the Diabetes. I take chromium, cinnamon, vit D, C, Vanadyl. cod liver oil, and eat lots of fruits, veggies, and fish, especially Salmon, full of Omega 3's.

11. Regarding alternative treatments: I think massage and cardio exercise are two of the most under-rated therapies for assisting the immune system and cleansing the body of unwanted toxins. But, by far, the best "alternative treatment" for me is that which lowers my stress response, i.e. exercise-weight training, any creative activity such as pottery, decorating, and of course, writing. Listening to music and dancing alone in the house provide huge boosts of healing energy as well.

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: Neither! Who deserves to be ill? Life is for living, loving, and laughing. Illness, invisible or not, strikes one down in too many ways. Illness is truly an unnatural state.

13. Regarding working and career: I have not been able to work outside the home for many years. Sadly, when I was working I was often severely penalized by employers for the "bad" days when I couldn't come in to work because I was too sick, blood sugars were elevated, caught the latest virus, etc. Employers ignorant and un-accepting of one's illness can create tremendous pressure on the chronically ill. Did I choose this? Would I choose this? Trust me, even on your worst days at work, you don't ever want to NOT be ABLE to have a job--it robs you of your identity, self-esteem, validation, social interaction, and yes, income. Lack of income makes one worthless in most relationships, fortunately not mine. And what to say when you get the ever so useless and superficial question at social gatherings, "what do you do?" answer "...uh, trying to survive here."

14. People would be surprised to know: Most people see my physical fitness and assume I have not a care in the world about my health. Come spend 24 hours with me anytime.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: Well, my reality changes every year. Every year Diabetes is more and more difficult for me to manage for various reasons.

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: I have never been one to think I couldn't do anything, until lately. Lately, for the first time in 20 odd years of having Diabetes, I am SICK OF IT! I question often whether I can take one more day, deal with one more secondary illness, or have one more sleepless night. I feel suffering and fear more of it.

17. The commercials about my illness: Commercials: lame, set up for pharmaceutical companies monetary gain. Most doctors: lame. What I knew the first day I was diagnosed has not changed. I am the master of my illness. I am the doctor, nurse, and educator of my diabetes. No one knows my illness or how to treat it better than I do.

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Yes, you guessed it. Sleeping. Well, I have never missed chowing like others do. I was blessed with the want for healthy food and small portions. I'm tiny and I can't eat much anyway. But, I do really love pie and resent that I can't have as much as I'd like. I also, don't really enjoy being in the room when people are enjoying loads of food, especially PIE.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: Becoming a doctor. I thought the hours would probably take a great toll on me in the years to come. I was probably correct.

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: I found working with clay, something I'd never had the advantage of experiencing as a child, to be the greatest gift to my overall well-being. Having my hands in the clay calms every cell of my being; requires much less insulin and brings a smile to my soul. Try it, if you haven't.

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: Go to work and eat pie! Seriously, it would be nice to leave the house for once without doing the dance of "do I have the: insulin, glucose meter, water, food, or sugar."

22. My illness has taught me: Healthy people haven't a clue how blessed they are; ignorance is bliss. Healthy people haven't a clue about my struggles to manage and survive my illness every single minute. I am never free of thinking questions such as, "what's my blood sugar", "can I eat this or what will I eat at this restaurant", and the worst one is the constant assessment I must do every minute to ensure I don't hit the floor due to hypoglycemia--blind to it most of the time.

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: "Should you be eating that?" ha...I should say that right back to them. I know I eat really healthfully and most people don't. I can't afford not to.

24. But I love it when people: Treat me like I am intelligent, with dignity. I like it when people offer me the same food as everyone else and let me bow out if I choose. I like it when people say, "do you need to check your blood sugar" because maybe I do, maybe I'm acting funny or choosing the wrong words and don't have the where-with-all to realize it. I also like it when people offer to help me when I need juice or sugar! without freaking out, especially lately since my blood sugar usually has dropped pretty low before I notice it. I also appreciate it when people don't wig out because I'm injecting insulin.

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: Two, of many, I'll share: "Keep Hope Alive" by Martin Luther King Jr. and "If you are going through hell, Keep going!" by Winston Churchill. Never give up on yourself. Believe.

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: You are in charge of how this turns out in the end. Learn about your illness. Exercise and stress reduction are insulin's best allies.

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: Every day is different and you cannot be prepared for the bad...when it comes you must be flexible and say, "yes, this is a bad day, but it too shall pass, and tomorrow will be better." I know this has been, and is, the hardest thing for my friends to accept; most of them think I'm just bailing on them. Honestly, the good days are fewer than they were and when I wake to one of those, I jump! What a gift a healthy day is. Additionally, insulin injections are not always so painful! great new tiny needles.

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Listen with compassion. I find it cruel for someone healthy to say, "yea, I know it's frustrating" Ha! No, you don't. Someday you might.

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: I'm pretty tired, just lately, of being treated like I give up easily, not a quality I possess. People who don't see my illness, often treat me like I'm weak when I'm having bad days. I am not weak and have a strong resolve, always seeking solutions. I understand, after 26 years of being ill, all too well, what it means to have assumptions of good health directed toward you. It's a difficult life, because people expect you to fit right in...not gonna happen.

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Love, support, and hope for a movement towards better treatment for all of us suffering silently. I'd rather speak than hold my breath, in hopes of bridging the gap. Thank you.