How Busy Can It Get?

What a week! There was Yom Kippur, my blood glucose continued to run on the low side[1], I was late on getting the synagogue’s bulletin done (thanks to people who got their stuff in late), my granddaughter moved in, I have done w-a-y too good a job of socializing G. Gordon Kitty[2] to me, I’m getting a new pump, I’m having surgery on my hand, and I now have the tomato plant that ate the garden.

There’s nothing like having a fast day thrown into the middle of a period when your blood glucose is deciding to run a bit low. Yes, I had lowered the basal rates[3] on my insulin pump. No, I didn’t lower them quite enough. I didn’t quite make it through the day with a full fast, but I came close: half a sandwich and a glass of milk were enough to get my BGs up enough and keep them there. In fact, it got them a bit higher than I like, but I left them alone, figuring it was better to leave them a bit high than go low again.


I did manage to finally get the monthly bulletin out. One person was quite late getting copy in, which meant I didn’t know how much extra space I had to fill until even later. I like to get the publication done for members to have it before the month begins, but I haven’t seen mine yet. One of the other problems is that my town used to be a postal distribution center, but with cutbacks, mail now goes to Indianapolis for distribution. It’s kind of how the dominoes fall: Somebody getting an article in late makes me even later getting the bulletin out because I have to find filler. Then moving the postal distribution center doesn’t help getting them to members in time.

Then there’s my granddaughter. She’s 19 and, wherever she goes, her best friend goes. We’re used to Best Friend, whose gone on vacations with us, celebrated with us, and even sent me a Mother’s Day card last year. So I have now acquired not one, but two picky-eater teenaged girls in my house. They’ve moved in clothes and televisions, taken out a desk, de-cluttered 64 of my granddaughter’s childhood books from the bookcase — including “The Hungry Snake” — and left a Shop-Vac sitting on my (somewhat) white sofa. It’s probably a good thing I can’t get to the door of her room to see what it looks like inside. I do know that, now that both she and her brother live here, I’ll never see my car again.

Now for G. Gordon Kitty, the wee Ragdoll kitten who joined our family a couple of weeks ago. Since I’m know for having a lot of cats, let me take a moment to explain something: One of the neighbors — and, fortunately, I don’t know which one — put antifreeze out to rid the neighborhood of some bothersome raccoons. Six of my eight cats never returned home. So we brought little G. Gordon home, where he wouldn’t eat or drink or come out from his hiding place. When we did manage to catch him, he got lots of pets and special treats.

Now? I’m his. I’m his toy, his soft, warm bed, his masseuse. He’s too small to jump up on my lap, so he climbs up on the arm of a chair near my desk chair and squeaks until I pick him up. When I snuggle down under a blankie in my chair, he’s under the blankie with me. When I have a bowl of ice cream, I’d better put some in a separate bowl for him if I want to nosh in peace. He sleeps on my chest. He chews on my emerald. At least he stops chewing on my insulin pump tubing when I say “no.” He can be an annoyance — and I can’t wait until he’s a full-sized Ragdoll (males can weigh up to 30 pounds) and wants to sleep on my chest — but I just think about how much I wish the ones who are gone were still annoying me. Yeah, I’m a softy.

Pumps. Yes! My t:slim[4] should be here soon! Maybe it will be shipped this week. I jump every time the phone rings, hoping it’s Tandem Diabetes Care, which makes the t:slim, telling me it’s on the say and setting up an appointment for me to get trained on it. That call hasn’t come yet…

I’ve had a ganglion cyst on my left wrist for some time that’s driving me nuts. If I didn’t have to use that hand to transfer from one place to another, it would be OK. But I do need it to get from my scooter to chairs (and other places that I sit) and back. When I do that, it puts pressure on my hand. By the end of the day, I just kind of sit and think, “I have to go (wherever) and it’s going to hurt.” So surgery is set for October 19. That hand will be sort of out of commission for 10 days or so, but that beats pain for weeks on end. I hope.

I had this scrawny little tomato plant that I had to tie to a chopstick to help it remain upright. It’s now taken over the garden, covering the peppers and eggplants, the lettuce, and who knows what else. It’s kind of filled with green tomatoes. Please let them turn red before we get a frost.

So. Lots of things are going on here. It will be interesting to see how it all turns out.

  1. run on the low side:
  2. G. Gordon Kitty:
  3. basal rates:
  4. My t:slim:

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Jan Chait: Jan Chait was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes in January 1986. Since then, she has run the gamut of treatments, beginning with diet and exercise. She now uses an insulin pump to help treat her diabetes. (Jan Chait is not a medical professional.)

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