We’ve broken down, taken the leftovers to Goodwill, and we’re picking up signs.
Don't Call Me Sugar
Chronicling the War between the States (of high and low)
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/wrap-up/
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/slowing-down-now/
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/we-sold-the-horse/
Perhaps not as quickly as we’d like, but it’s moving.
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/items-are-moving/
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/our-spread/
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/sales-are-beginning/
Hi folks, it’s time for the Eovino Family JDRF Junk-tique Yard Sale to benefit Juvenile Diabetes Research!
Come see us on Saturday, May 5, 2012 from 7:00 AM – 2:00 PM. We’re at 807 Ferrylanding Drive, Richmond, VA 23236
Items include the following:
- Tons of girls clothing
- Childrens toys and books
- A Little Tykes Storybook Cottage Toddler Bed
- Baby items
- And much, much more!
Pricing is as follows (unless otherwise marked):
- All kids clothing – $0.50/item
- All adult clothing – $1.00/item
- Stuff a plastic grocery bag of clothes – $5.00/bag
- Shoes – $3.00/pair
- Books – $0.50 or 3/$1.00
- Small toys – $1.00
Be sure to come out and support Lucy Lu and the Sole Train and help us find a cure for Diabetes! And if you have stuff to donate, let us know. We are accepting donations!
Please note that all sales are final.
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/fill-your-trunk-with-our-junk/
I rejoice that there are owls…. They represent the stark twilight and unsatisfied thoughts which all have.
- Henry David Thoreau
We never seem to be able to completely master this diabetes thing. Week upon week of good readings, and then suddenly Lucy edges up higher. The endocrinologist ups her insulin dosage. And then the lows hit. The lows. Highs aren’t good for her, but the lows feel bad. Shakes. And nerves. And tears. She gets so upset, and I can only begin to imagine why. I really can’t fathom what it’s like to have so little control of your body, the way she does.
This was the story, last Saturday morning. Lucy wasn’t feeling all that great, but as soon as she tested her blood, she was in a free-fall. The monitor beeps, she looks down at it, and that “oh s**t” look washes over her face. I don’t even need to ask her what the reading is; I know it’s low. It confirms the way she was feeling, and she starts sobbing and shaking even worse. I take her into my arms to console her. I repeat to her, over and over again, that everything is going to be OK. She just needs to get this out of her system. After a few minutes, she mumbles something into my chest. I have no idea what she said, so I ask her to repeat herself. And she says what sounds like “I need a little owl.” This can’t be what she meant, so I ask Lucy to repeat herself and again I hear “I need a little owl.”
I hate to ask her to repeat herself again, but I have no idea what she’s talking about. She looks up at me and gives me that you-are-an-idiot-dad look that only your precious 11 year old can give you and tells me “I. Need. To. Let. It. Out.” And we all start laughing. Any time she needs a little owl, she’s due.
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/sometimes-you-need-a-little-owl/
I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night
As we rushed to pack the car and head to my in-laws yesterday slightly after noon, I realized that Lucy probably hadn’t eaten any lunch. I shouted over my shoulder to her, asking if she’d tested and eaten. When she replied that she hadn’t, I barked at her that she needed to test and that I would make her some lunch to eat in the car. As I slapped PB & J on some bread, I could hear her sniffling just a few feet away. I raised my head and could see her on the verge of tears.
As we’ve been saying throughout this first year of diabetes, Lucy has been handling this like a trooper. Better than anyone could possibly imagine, with far more poise and grace than your average eleven year-old. But there was my little girl, about to burst at the seams. I took her into my arms. She buried her head into my chest and began sobbing. There was nothing I could say. Bless her heart, this damned disease owed her a good cry. ”I’m just so frustrated,” was all I could hear through the crying.
I don’t blame her for being frustrated. How could she not be frustrated? She can’t skip a meal when she doesn’t feel like eating. She can’t just hop into the car and go without making sure she has a bag full of medication. Candy is something she eats to keep herself from passing out.
So I held her in my arms and told her to just let it all out. Just go ahead and cry until she was done. Mary and Allie joined us in the hug. All of a sudden, the crying stopped. She looked up at me and said “I love you, Dad.”
I’m thankful for so many things, especially my three girls. But this disease, and what it does to my little girl? No thanks there.
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/what-im-not-thankful-for/
Honeymoon lasts not nowadays above a fortnight.
Samuel Richardson, Clarissa
We saw the endo today for the first time in a few months. Lucy’s numbers had been running a bit high of late. Nothing to get too worked up about, but definitely noticeable and with more readings outside of the green zone than inside it. We’d been a bit curious about it, bordering on concerned but certainly not alarmed. More of an annoyance than anything, really. It just seemed odd that things had been under control for several months, and now a string of highs.
Dr. X. fed the monitor readings into his computer, showed us the graph, clucked a few times and announced to us that “the honeymoon is over.”
Honeymoon, you say? Ah yes, I remember our first honeymoon… Long days on the beaches of St. Maarten, nights in cheesy casinos, walking through small towns, eating French food, paying too much for Diet Coke. What a week. The type 1 diabetes honeymoon? As with most things diabetic, it sucks. Remember that type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease, that your body’s immune system has decided for some unknown that it would be a good idea to KILL YOUR PANCREAS. It’s not like when we invaded Grenada and were there for what seemed like a long weekend; the pancreas doesn’t die all at once. No, this war drags on for a while; more like our current engagement in Afghanistan. The beta cells in the pancreas are killed off over a period of time; insulin production becomes more fitful and finally stops completely. So insulin dosages that were on target to control glucose levels become insufficient. The length of the honeymoon differs from child to child. It can be as long as two years; Lucy’s lasted seven months. Some kids never have a honeymoon. I would imagine that in all cases, it ends just when you think you have things under control. So thanks for that, Lady Di. We appreciate it.
http://www.dontcallmesugar.com/the-honeymoon-is-over/