Type 1

This morning I had another appointment with my specialist; more blood drawn and more treatments and words and definitions thrown at me. For the past 6 months I’ve been fighting really hard to keep diabetes at bay. Having already been through Gestational Diabetes 4 years ago with my last pregnancy – I was always aware that I could later develop Type 2. But was told that I shouldn’t worry about it, it’s rare.

I didn’t stop monitoring my blood sugar and things never went back to normal. I was able to control my blood glucose and my A1C’s for a very long time, I even went on a very drastic diet (with medical supervision) to lose weight, as that can lead to diabetes as well – AND IT WORKED.

You guys, I did it all. I got lazy some times because I needed a break, yes. But I’ve been fighting and denying and trying really fucking hard to keep myself healthy.

But, actually? I’m Type 1 and from what I heard today, will need insulin for the rest of my life. My body has completely rejected my pancreas. I fucking hate that organ.

This isn’t a death sentence, I know. Although?? It could be, if we don’t get things under control – and no matter how hard I try or how much medication they put me on … it has been out of control for months now. I’m exhausted.

I feel angry and defeated and completely lied to. Except I think I’m the one who’s been lying lately. Afraid, scared.

And all of these things? They could go away completely when I inject myself tonight for the first time with insulin. And it could all be better and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

So, I’m ok. For all intents and purposes. I will survive – I’ll even thrive doing it. But it’s raw and fresh and finally has a name and I’m pissed off and scared and hurt.

There’s something blue in his ear


I called the phone nurse this afternoon thinking we’d be told to give him some tylenol and wait it out a few days. There’s been some wheezing (increasingly worse) and today he started complaining about pain in his ear.

He has a history of ear infections and I just figured we were due for one about this time of year but because of the wheezing the phone nurse said we should have him looked at – only they didn’t have anything available for the next 48 hours. She suggested Prime Care but we literally live 4 blocks from our hospital … so I took him to the ER to see a doctor.

“There’s something blue in his ear”

Oh? Is that normal? Does that mean he has a really bad infection?

No, like an object. A sticker?

Oh. Well He does have a history of sticking things in his ears.

And sure enough – he let me take a peek. There it was, a sticker, shoved down his ear canal.

Turns out he has croup as well, confirmed by a chest x-ray. They tried too many times to get the sticker out of his ear and it was torture watching him bite his lip, tears streaming down his face repeating “I’m not brave! I’m not brave!” while they jerked around his tender ears for the sticker.

Needless to say – we were referred to the ENT and hopefully tomorrow they’ll have a gentler way of extracting the sticker.

After they were done fussing with his ear you’d never know he wasn’t feeling well expect that after a late dinner of eggs (his favorite) he fell asleep while Aaron was singing to him.

Sweetest boy ever.


Just try and convince me otherwise.

Crows feet

As in plaster application to a ceiling. Not so much a fan, and no, of course this has nothing to do with my having to lay on my back staring at it for 2 days.

Operation: Stop Itching

This post is all about me telling you how I hurt myself. Sounds like a total blast, I know. I also go in to detail about the crazy that is Chiropractic’s and how much I love the practice. That part’s interesting.

Yesterday I hit my head, then tried to lift something heavier than normal and then stopped being able to sit, stand or bend without pain. I was already making a list of the things that I wanted my Chiropractor to look at during my next visit: my elbow, my right leg, my hips and gosh – my hands and legs sure get numb fast lately.

Add to this – the paralyzing lower back pain.

If you’ve ever been to a Chiropractor you’ll know that when you hit your head they usually start to play with your feet. Your stomach hurts? CHECK THE FEET! Your elbow? How about your knee. Your back? Check your jaw bone, then your neck.

I had almost everything wrong with me today and as a bonus, I couldn’t move. Instead of crying through the entire visit I tried to do a lot of light hearted laughing or some odd version of a lucid person being lucid.

Folks, it hurt so bad. SO EFFING BAD.

There’s a whole lot of “Does it hurt here? Here? How about here?” when you’re at the Chiropractor and almost every time that was asked of me I winced, made my squishy face and cried “yea” through deep breathing.

Usually when I go in there’s one or two things we focus on, most often my blood sugar and how we’re doing on balancing that with diet, exercise and everything else. Today he started at my head and went all the way to my feet.

I need new shoes. Going to the gym almost daily (not lately!) and walking/running/jogging in bad shoes on a solid, non-cushy surface? Whacks the shit out of my spine. Also my hips.

The way I sleep? Breaks my alignment through my shoulders … every. single. night.

The coffee I drink? The beer I had this weekend? It destroys my gut’s (something that should be healthy) ecosystem. Which then plays tricks on my neck, the elbow, my legs … and my spine.

I was a carnival this morning and his advice to me after bending my limbs in unnatural trajectories to correct my bad behavior? Ice pack my gut 20 min on/20 min off all day today.

Ps: your gut is right below your pant line – on the hipbone-ish. That fun little cavity that gets sexy when defined by a 6-pack? Your gut. (Intestines, etc: obviously – it lives up to it’s sexy nature, duh)

Do we own an ice pack? You betcha! No, no we don’t.

We do however have about 5 different varieties of chocolate chips in the freezer right now and I’m pretty sure that someone once told me there were healing powers to chocolate.

So we’re covered, right?

Picnik collage

I’ll let you know tomorrow.

Most embarrassing conversation. Ever?

Last week I promised that if the world did not end (surprise surprise!) I’d tell you about an embarrassing conversation.

For more frequent updates like that one lets be friends on facebook, mkay?

It all started when we were on a playdate Friday morning and I had a ladies issue that needed attending to. Excuse me, dear readers: I am going there.

I did not have the equipment with me that was needed. And if we’re going to be talking about this then we’re going to be talking about this. I needed a tampon.

My girlfriend happened to have some in her purse, albeit very old ones. So I took the plural “light days” applicators with me to the bathroom and whatever. Magic happened, ok?

Ladi-dah. All is well. Playdate is wonderful. I’m always slightly blonde and foggy-headed so ok, no big deal. I apparently don’t bring feminine hygiene products with me anywhere I go.

However, and this is where it gets awkward, upon returning home it happened to be time to visit the rest room and switch things up a bit. And lets just say I didn’t get a full refund.

Folks: I was certain there was a tampon stuck. In there.

What the? What do I do?

Immediately I start thinking of Danielle whom I had the humorous pleasure of hearing first hand about how she went through a similar situation when I was at BlogHer Conference 2009.

I knew I didn’t want to wait days and days or do anything while my 50% off coupon was floating around my uterus so I decided I should just call my OB. It happened to Danielle, so of course, this has to be kind of a normal thing.


Ring Ring. Ring. WayTooLongOfARecordingForAnOB’sOfficeGreetingMessage

Beep. (That’s me pressing 4.)

Dead silence. No music while on hold. Only the echo of my mind going “When they answer you just have to be honest. Say “I think I have a tampon stuck” and let them ask the questions … over and over again.

PhoneNurse: Hello?
Me: Hi, my name is Jodi and I’m pretty sure I have half a tampon stuck … um … inside. You know. There.
PhoneNurse: Half of one? What were you doing?
Me: Yes, well. Nothing. Just routine maintenance really. It was an older tampon I used in an emergency but only half of it came out.
PhoneNurse: That’s almost impossible!
Me {thinking}: Of course it is! Why yes, yes it would be an almost impossible situation that I would be in this circumstance.
Me {actual talking}: Oh. Well I guess this stuff just happens to me? What do I do?
PhoneNurse: What’s your DOB.
Me: {gives info}
PhoneNurse: Is this Jodi???!!! Jodi?? This is Sarah!
Me: Yup, yeah. This is Jodi. Sarah?? Oh hi! Sarah from highschool! Hey! Hi! Yeah, how are the kids? Oh wow! So weird that you’re the one who answered my call! Huh heh. Heh …. ha….. ha.
PhoneNurse {Now Sarah}: So funny! Yeah! Well we can get you in to see the doctor, want me to get you an appointment?
Me: Yes, lets just do this.

They got me in to see the doctor within the hour, only I had my kids with me … still. So I quick called my mother in law who was very willing to watch them while I took care of this as soon as embarrassingly possible.

Doctors Visit:

Hi Doctor I’ve never met before. You’re younger than I was envisioning. Oh, yes. Please. Let’s shake on it. OK, hi.

You’re absolutely right. I’m embarrassed about why I’m in here. Can you please say it out-loud a few more times? “Getting a tampon stuck.” “I see many women with the same question or fear.” “Sounds like you came in right away which will save you from infections and {very disgusting descriptive words about symptoms} …” “As an OB this is one of those problems that easily solved, I love these problems!”

Awesome. Explains the career path, bringing life into the world aside, you must be very good at what you do. Hows about we just get this over with?

Oh, you need a nurse in here for this? Of course you do. Please get ANOTHER witness to this situation. I would LOVE that.

Nurse enters, we “solve the problem” and then the nurse says – Sarah {PhoneNurse} wants you to stop by her desk before you leave.

THANKS, NURSE, FOR THE MESSAGE!!! It’s like my own personal assistant following me around.

I was relieved to have lived through all of this for the YoungerThanExpected Vagina Doctor to be all: Nope! No tampon in here! Let’s get you dressed so you can go see your friend EXCLAMATION POINT EXCLAMATION POINT.


Thank you? Thanks. I, uh. Well, good then. You’re sure? The rest of my body can’t swallow things right? I’m not going to have weird stomach pains that turn into an emergency x-ray showing I have a weird formation of cotton floating around, right? Don’t answer that. I’m choosing to believe you. You seemed thorough enough.

Nurse, where’s PhoneNurse-Sarah’s desk?

M’kay. Alrighty then. Wonderful. Bye!

No worries, dear friends, it was great to see Sarah again. Caught up on her beautiful family, assured her I was A-OK and made tentative plans for some coffee. She has my number.

It will be nice to be the one on the other end of her phone next time šŸ˜‰

Before you become a XXX star

Our house has been a petri dish of germs this past week – it started with my husband coming home early and conking out before dinner … now this happens every so often just from stress etc so I wasn’t too worried but when he woke up the next morning I knew we were dealing with the green guys.

Next came Jessica and Oliver – Jessica missed school a couple days this week, the husband ended up losing his voice and I got run over by a truck and had gravel shoved down my throat.

Oh it was fun. Like buckets of acid being thrown on your face fun!

Thankfully the husband could rework some of his schedule to be home with the kids while I was more worthless than your average box of cereal. Ah snap! WORTHLESS I TELL YOU.

I spent the nights tossing and turning and wishing there was a magical fairy who was coming to take all the pain away so I could just sleep, for 15 minutes, for 5 minutes. Anything would have been nice. Instead I woke up morning after morning worse than the night before.

Whu whu whu.

So this morning I called to get an emergency appointment with the chiropractor so he could break my bones into working again and stop all the madness going on in my head. The Chiropractor we see regularly didn’t have an opening so I made an appointment with another guy in the office.

Now. I’ve written before about how going to the Chiropractor is kinda like being in a really bad porn video. The places they have to touch to test a muscle are not very modest, ok. Since we’ve been going to this particular office I’ve grown in my comfort in addressing this issue with the Chiropractors, it’s all part of the medicine and I’m assured that it’s not just me … it’s other patients too.

So. This new guy today, he had to go there. He had to test some muscles that were not very modest and I’m laying there on the chair thinking about how bad this must look from the outside in.

I’m sweating by this point … through my jeans I’m sweating. On my legs, my back, my armpits. A couple of the fixes he had to perform included my jaw, which meant he had to be leaning over me while I breathed in and out with awful, germish breath and I want to die, ok. I just want to die.

One. You are not the doctor I usually see, so this is just awkward.


Three. Contrary to popular belief; I am modest.

We adjusted the supplements I’ve been taking for the blood sugar marathon and I got some tips as to how to avoid throwing my body into this revolt again so I feel like we’re on the upswing. We better be, at least. I’ve got a busy week ahead of me and there is not room for gravel or truck accidents on my limbs.