Everything changes. 

Like standing on a highway overpass and watching the red brake lights and the starry white headlights ebb and flow, streaming so fast and so furiously that you barely see each individual car. 

As time passes, I notice how quickly each year fuses into the next.  Today, the last day of December, always proves to be one of reflections on the past and expectations for the future. 

This past year has been one of great change for me, personally.  I’ve faced my fear of flying, thanks to my supportive boyfriend (and the help of a few little xanax pills).  I have moved from my home town, away from my friends and family, to embrace a bold career move in CT with dLife.  I have lost my dear grandmother.  I have found such joy in my new little niece.  There have been tears.  Fears.  Tears for fears.  (Couldn’t resist that one.)  Laughs.  Insane workouts.  Ridiculously ping-ponging blood sugars.  An annoying car.  Paper cranes.  Countless car rides to CT during which plans for EXIST were hatched.  A little Siah Sausage continued to churn up chaos in my life.  Chris continues to inspire me and make me rediscover just how fun love – and life - can be. 

Life moves on, quickly and surely and without care as to who is hanging on.  Two thousand and six has been a year that has sent my life spinning. 

Posted by Kerri. at 02:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

options

A stark departure from the sarcastic fun of "Uzi," Chris's new short film, "Balance," is now ready for human consumption. 

Trailer here:

I think every office in the country is filled with quiet little mice this week.  Good thing I'm a loud, cage-rattling mouse.  Favorite cheese:  Mozzarella.  Italian mice across America raise their tails in cheers!

(I have end-of-the-year fever.  Can you tell?)

Posted by Kerri. at 08:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

options

As we ready ourselves for a trip home to RI for the holidays, I wanted to wish all of you in the Blogosphere (and in Real Life) a very Happy Holidays! 

See you next week!

Posted by Kerri. at 02:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Dasher and Dancer have been doing cartwheels in my head and I can't even tell you how annoying Blitzen has been these past few weeks.  The holiday stresses are making me nuts.

Time to bust out another round of Top Five.

You may remember such Top Fives as The Original One from May 2005, or the October 2005 Edition, or even the one back in April.  Well here we are again, with the 2006 Year End Top Five. 

2006 Year End Top Five

1.  Top Five Resolutions for 2007

2.  Top Five Albums/Songs You're Embarrassed to Admit Loving

3.  Top Five Fictional People You'd Like to Ride in a Hot Air Balloon With

And the bonus question:  Who's your favorite reindeer of the bunch?   

Posted by Kerri. at 08:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Growing up on NPH and Regular, there was a lot of talk about snacks.  And there was a lot of talk about “free foods.” 

Free foods, according to my doctor at Joslin and my mother, were snacks like pickles, cucumbers, Jell-O, and sugar-free popsicles.

“Eat all you want!  Go on,” my mother would urge.  In those pre-pump, peaking insulin days, it was all about chasing that meal plan and adhering to the guidelines.  Two starches, one protein, a fat, a milk, and a fruit.  Rinse and repeat.

Except for the “free foods.”  I was encouraged to go hog-wild on those suckers.   But my palette soon became tired of pickles and popsicles.

“Why can’t a Snickers bar be a free food?”  Grumble, grumble.

The one free food that always brought me glee was Jell-O.  My mom used to make “jigglers,” which included a package of Jell-O and two packages of Knox unflavored gelatin.  They were prepared in the big lasagna pan and she would leave them in the fridge for me to snack on.  Sometimes she would add a small bit of whipping cream to the mixture and it would settle on the top, creating a very thin layer of fantastic Jell-O flavored custard on top of the aforementioned Jiggler. 

This was a free food I dug.

And I still dig.

A few nights ago, I made some Jell-O.  The tea kettle whistled and I poured the powdery mixture into my mixing bowl, adding the boiling water while I stirred.  (For the record, nothing stains a countertop quite like red-flavored Jell-O mix.  And yes, the flavor is always “red.”  There are plenty of claims on those boxes but strawberry, raspberry, mixed fruit - they all taste … red.)

Posted by Kerri. at 02:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

options

I've been tagged by my fellow dLife columnist, Scott Johnson, to lay out my Top Five Favorite Christmas Tunes.  Here they are, in no particular order:

It’s Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - When Bono and the boys start rallying about coming home for Christmas, it’s pure holiday magic.  I love this song.  LOVE IT.  (YouTube clip here.)

Jingle Bell Rock by Bobby Helms – The scene in Home Alone when the Culkin kid sticks a cardboard cutout of Michael Jordan on the train set so it looks like people dancing – undeniably classic.

O Holy Night – One of the prettiest Christmas songs I’ve ever heard.  Quite possibly one of the prettiest songs ever, holiday or not. 

Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer – I know every word to this song.  (Who sings this one?)  Granted, it’s extremely macabre and not very seasonally charming, but the line “You should never give a license to a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves” makes my face ache from grinning.

And my top favorite Christmas tune: 

The 12 Days of Christmas (The Muppets and John Denver) - When the Muppets sing the 12 Days of Christmas, I just about lose it.  Best Christmas tune ever.  And when Animal lurches in with “Twelve Drummers Drumming,” I laugh every time. 

"Five golden rings!  Ba dum dum dum!"  Classic.

I'm not sure who hasn't been tagged, but feel free to tag yourself.  Ba dum dum dum!

Posted by Kerri. at 11:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Friday:  Played host to a big juicy hamburger and a frothy cappuccino.

Saturday:  Two glasses of wine at the house party and a few handfuls of popcorn.

Sunday:  Big family dinner that included delicious pasta and a bevy of Christmas cookies.  

Sunday night:  “I ate like a baby piglet this weekend.  And I haven’t been to the gym since Thursday night."  Looked at self in bathroom mirror and firmly resolved to be strong for the rest of the holiday season.  I made it through Thanksgiving without a hitch – no reason to cave for Christmas. 

(Rocky theme, “Gonna Fly Now,” starts playing in my head.)    

“Come on, Kerri.  Back on track.  Get to the gym tomorrow after work.  No more messing around.  Keep it all in check.”  I end my pep talk and, for a split second, am convinced that I see Larry Bird looking back at me in the mirror, much like Luke saw Obi-Wan. 

I blink, and his image is gone.

Monday morning:  Damn this girl who made gingerbread cookies.  The whole platter is right by the coffee machine, whispering to me. 

“Kerri …. Kerri … we are delicious gingerbread cookies!  We are tasty and warm and why don’t you just lace in a few units and eat one of us?”

“No, Evil Cookies!  I will not bend to your sugary seductions!”

The cookies sigh in unison.

“But Kerri, a unit and a half!  That’s all it takes!  Come on … we have fresh, white icing as our buttons.”

I had to eat one just to shut it up.

Damn you, holiday confections!  And my sincerest of apologies to L. Bird and to Kevin (I caved, man). 

Posted by Kerri. at 09:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Even though I claim I'm not waiting for a cure, I still want one so badly. 

This article has my attention today.

I'm afraid to hope.

Posted by Kerri. at 02:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Amongst the bags of wrapping paper and bows, scotch tape and ribbons, and the general chaos that is holding my house hostage, the foolish felines have still been able to nap in the midst of it all.

Abby, all 15 lbs of her, was smooshed up against the side of the couch.

Young Sausage was equally as smooshed, just a few inches away. 

It must be nice to be a cat. 

I'm getting them jobs for Christmas. 

Posted by Kerri. at 09:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

options

We two were all nestled, quite snug in our beds,
While fat cats named Abby made nests on our heads.
And Chris in his bedclothes and me tucked in mine,
Lay down our two heads for some earned sleepy-time.

When inside my body there arose such a clatter,
My liver awoke to see what was the matter.
He peeked at my glucose and spied with such vigor
That I was dropping low – I needed some sugar!

My liver, he poked me, and I shifted a bit.
Then awoke with a start and reached for my kit.
When, what to my startled blue eyes should appear,
But a reading of “50” and a small bit of fear.

More rapid than rapids, I sprang from the bed,
Unsettled the cat asleep up on my head,
I moved down the hallway, stumbled a smidge,
And made my way towards the juice stashed in my fridge.

Cracked open the bottle, drank down my eight sips,
Used the edge of the counter to steady my hips.
“This grape juice is tasty,” I said, don’t ya know. 
“I wish I could drink it when I wasn’t low!”

I stood in the kitchen, admired our tree
As its white, twinkling lights glowed and comforted me.
The juice did its job as it coursed through my body
And after a spell, I felt not quite as shoddy.

I turned on my heel, shuffled off back to bed
Where my boyfriend was sleeping with two cats instead.
Slid under the covers, quick pass with the meter,
The result that popped up confirmed I was much sweeter.

I snuggled back in underneath the warm covers,
The cats got excited and meowed at each other.
Crisis averted, my body called “truce!”
And I drifted to sleep, ever-thankful for juice.

Posted by Kerri. at 08:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (28) | TrackBacks (0)

options

I put the key in the ignition and the car growled to life (as only a VW can), filling my car with the opening bars of “Well there’s Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Blitzen …”  What a holiday way to start the day – escorted to work by Mr. Bing Crosby himself. 

Despite the fact that it’s been freakishly warm, (Global warming – do we really need more evidence than 50 degree weather in the middle of December?) it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas.  White lights have popped up all over the streets of my little town and the shops downstairs from my office are playing host to wreaths and bright red bows.  It’s a pretty little scene. 

As I listened to Rudolph and sang along as loudly as I could  during my commute to work, I interjected the “Like a lightbulb!” and “Like Monopoly!” parts into the song, as I learned when I was a little kid.  Do kids still do that?  Does my six year old nephew know all these silly parts to the Rudolph song?  Do your kids know them?

I came across this article from News Target last week, about Santa Claus being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.  Strange read, indeed. According to the article, Santa asserts that "I want to beat my diabetes and get my weight under control without popping pills … And it's just too risky to take insulin injections when my reindeer tote my sleigh across the sky."  

Moving to something less Christmassy but just as mis-informed, I also found this podcast via Julia’s blog:  This nutcase Mickelson is spouting off about the “genetic flaw of diabetes” and asks “Why would somebody with an obvious genetic flaw chose to reproduce?”  I listened to the podcast twice and almost completely lost my mind.  I have made efforts to articulate a response to this pinhead who actually goes so far as to quote a book from the turn of the century about eugenics, which states that someone with genetic flaws shouldn’t have children.  He goes on to assert that we, as a society, don’t practice that anymore.  And then he has the nerve to drop his voice and ask “Why not?”   He doesn’t want his taxes to fund the treatment of diabetics.  He says that those who “can’t pay, can’t play.”  He says a lot of things that made me furious. 

If you can stomach listening to this whole podcast, I applaud you.  I had to take several breaks due to my intolerance for his Nazi-esque viewpoints.  Listen for yourself here.  And then listen to James Hirsch set him straight here.  Despite the attempted apology from Mickelson, he’s still an ignorant fool and should be deeply shamed.    

Posted by Kerri. at 09:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (22) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Slim fitting pants with no pockets.  A shirt with no practical place to stash anything. 

Ah, but I'm still wearing it.

It's not tucked into the waistband of my pants.  It's not lurking in my bra.  It's not taking up residence in a pocket or clipped to a belt. 

"Where's your pump, Kerri?"

"In my sock."

I don't know why I didn't think of this before.  With the infusion set in my outer thigh and the 23 inch tubing more than enough to traverse my short stature, the pump can be easily tucked into the top of my trouser sock.  And with a slight flare at the bottom of my pants, the bulge can't even be detected. 

Tricky little spot for my high-tech little buddy. 

This may not be as fashionable in the summer, but it's working out just fine for winter wares.  And granted, I may look a little bit strange when I reach down into my sock to bolus, but I'm willing to take that risk.  Maybe investing in a remote for the pump?  (Does anyone use a remote for their pump?) 

I may need to have a little chat with Santa.

Posted by Kerri. at 08:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

options

*Dun dun (the Law & Order noise)*

Prosecution Attorney:  Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you the evidence.

Exhibit A:  One young woman, Kerri Morrone, and her recently changed out Minimed infusion set.  As you can see here, the set is placed in her right thigh and was changed at approximately 4:41 pm.  Her blood sugar was steady at 146 mg/dl.

Exhibit B:  Miss Morrone and her boyfriend, out to dinner.  They order their meals and Miss Morrone boluses 4.6 units of Humalog to cover her delicious hamburger.

Defense Attorney:  Objection!  Relevance of the hamburger being delicious?

Judge:  Sustained.  Counsel, may I remind you that the deliciousness of the meal is not what is in question here.  Please don’t make the jury any hungrier for lunch than they already are.

Prosecution Attorney:  Understood, Your  Honor.  Moving back to the evidence, I present Exhibit C, which is the logbook for the night in question.  As clearly seen here, her blood sugars were steadily on the climb, despite Rage Bolusing that took place over the course of the dinner, totaling more than 10 units:

7:48 pm:    265 mg.dl
8:08 pm:    312 mg/dl
8:45 pm:    394 mg/dl
10:12 pm:  445 md/gl

It was at this time that Miss Morrone and her boyfriend decided that the infusion set was crap and ...

Defense Attorney:  Objection!  Crap, Your Honor?

Judge:  Overruled.  If the prosecution states that the set was crap, it was crap.  Let's move on.

Prosecution:  Upon arriving home, Miss Morrone took an injection of Humlag, using a syringe, and stated to her boyfriend, “I’ll do a 2 am testing.  If my blood sugar has come down only as a result of the injection, I’ll rip the site and replace it because obviously it’s crap.”  (Casts a glance towards the Defense Attorney, who rolls his eyes.)  Her bedtime blood sugars were 375 mg/dl at 11:19 pm and 257 md/gl at 11:48, before she went to bed. 

The alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but she woke with a start and just started talking out loud.

“Chris, I need to test.  I need help."  Her voice was deadpan, as though she was merely conveying directions to the market or ways to scramble an egg.

In one swift movement that didn’t even require turning the light on, her boyfriend took her testing kit from the bedside table and unzipped it, handing her the lancing device.  The moments that followed were blurry to my client, but her logbook and her juice-stained mouth reflect what happened:

2:02 am:  47
2:13 am:  37
2:30 am:  66

It was at 2:30 that the alarm finally went off.  My client, feeling much better after some juice, ventured off to the bathroom to rip her site and replace it with a new one.  Upon removing her site, blood came pouring from the site and my client needed to use a bandaid to stop the bleeding.  She replaced the old site, washed her hands, and went back to bed.  Your Honor, her boyfriend spent the rest of the night waking up to check her blood sugar to make sure things were okay.  The results are as follows:

3:53 am:  153
6:46 am:  164
9:37 am:  83

Your Honor, it is our position that the infusion site was indeed not performing its assigned duties and caused unnecessary pain and suffering for my client, also not allowing her to enjoy her cappuccino at the end of the evening because she was so high she felt like she had sweaters on her teeth.  We are requesting that the infusion set be sternly reprimanded and given to the cats to bat around until it is unrecognizable.

Judge:  I see.  We’ll have a short recess, after which time the defense will state their case as to why their client, The Infusion Set, refused to deliver insulin and allow Miss Morrone to enjoy her evening out.  We will reconvene after the recess.  Adjourned. 

Defense Attorney and Prosecution Attorney gather up their things, all the while sticking their tongues out at each other.  I smile gently at them from my seat, feeling much better and thankful that the ridiculous ping-ponging from the night before was over.

Posted by Kerri. at 12:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Grab coat.  Fumble with keys.  Mind is racing.  Eyebrows furrowed.  What feels so wrong?  I'm on the moon.  Tired.  Can’t focus.  Unzip black meter case.

Beep.

Clink.

5 …

4 …

Meowing from the floor.  Cell phone buzzes in my purse. 

3 …

2 …

1 …

53 mg/dl.

Eight sips.

Eight minutes pass.

81 mg/dl.

Warm rush of relief. 

Posted by Kerri. at 02:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

options

We've been through so much together.

You've helped me discover that daily exercise can be fun, inspiring, and beneficial to my diabetes life.  You call me to check in on me and you make me feel like I'm never alone with this. 

Remember when we went to that bar in Boston and then took that cab ride up to Cambridge and threw our peach pits into the Charles River?  Or how about when you waited in the waiting room while I was at a Joslin appointment and you made friends with that little kid who kept asking for your autograph?  Didn't he start for you on the Pacers?  Or the time we got stuck on the T and accidentally ended up at the aquarium, so we just went in for the day? (Granted, you made me do laps around the penguin mountain for three hours, but I've forgiven you for that.)

Larry, you've been so good to me and you've really helped me stick to my exercise plan.  I'm fitter and happier, thanks to your dedication to my health.  My boyfriend thinks you are a good influence.  My mother likes you.  Even my nephew likes you, and called your "Big Bird" when he first saw your picture.

You once told me, "Kerri, there's more to life than diabetes.  But there isn't anything more important than basketball.  Now practice that jump shot." 

I just want you to know how much you mean to me ... sniffle ... I promised myself I wouldn't cry! ... Happy Birthday, Larry Bird! 

Dinner is at eight, right? 

(Note:  Everything you just read is complete fiction.  But it would be cool if it was true.)

Posted by Kerri. at 09:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

options

VIRUS ALERT!

"Hampton Inn Maine Scarborough" from Mom Wants a Diabetes Cure.

This is a virus.  Do not click this link.  Pass this message on!

Update:  Do not click on "Mom Wants a Diabetes Cure" from any blogrolling service because that link is also compromised.  Shannon is re-working her blog.  More updates soon.

Another Update:  Shannon has dismantled her old blog and is rebuilding a new one.  She'll be back online soon!

Posted by Kerri. at 08:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

options

5:45 pm:  Traffic was a little grumpy.  I chatted up a friend on the way home from work.

6:00 pm:  Changing my clothes to make the 6:42 train to Grand Central to meet up with Chris.

6:15 pm:  Noticed that I had been trying to read the same email for about ten minutes.  Man, I had a headache.

6:16 pm:  Unzip meter.  *Click*  Oh good.  30 mg/dl.

6:16 and a half:  Eight guzzled sips straight from the juice bottle.  Cats are milling around at my ankles, keeping tabs on their home-alone owner.

6:25 pm:  Fumble to finish dressing.  Still feeling like garbage.  Must make train.  Must talk like robot.

6:38 pm:  In the car, mostly dressed, feeling better but still a bit crummy.  Eating a piece of frozen wheat bread that I grabbed from the freezer (obviously) because when it's frozen, I can gobble it down easier than chowing on a dry piece of bread.  Text Chris:  May not make train. 

6:41 pm:  Park car.  Run like hell from the car to the platform.  The lights of the train are approaching as I coax a ticket from the automated machine.  "Come on!" I mutter.  Half a piece of frozen bread still clutched in my hand.  Ticket prints.  Doors open.  I scramble on.  Finish my froast (frozen toast).

7:45 pm:  Meet Chris in Grand Central.  "What happened?"  he asked.  "I was low.  And I had to run.  But everything is cool now."  He nods and takes my hand.  And we commence our travels to Rockefeller Center to see The Christmas Fun.

I'm such a tourist, but it is just so amazing to see all these sights.  The snowflakes in the background here actually were part of a music and lights show.  I took a video.  It's linked here.

These ornaments impressed the hell out of me.  They were across the street from Radio City and I just couldn't rip myself away.  The sound of the water rushing, the steady hum of the city ... it was awe-inspiring.

Chris took this shot and I thought it was absolutely beautiful.

And, of course, the tree itself.  The camera fritzed out a bit, but we scored a few shots of the massive Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree, all twinkling and gorgeous in the night air.

Posted by Kerri. at 09:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

options

The alarm goes off, forcing my hand out from under the covers to seek it out. I test my blood sugar without thinking, easing the tip of my finger into my mouth to whisk away the blood. Wipe the sleep from my eyes. Pet Abby as she stretches out on my pillow. I shuffle off to the fridge to take out a bottle of insulin, letting it warm to room temperature while I shower.

I pull the tape loose on my set and gently pry it from my thigh.  It’s the one shower per week that I am without an infusion set.  The shower is hot and the sticky residue left from the tape is worked away by the soap.

I think about what I will wear to work as I fill the reservoir and tap out the bubbles.

Siah comes up and rubs against my leg while I connect the reservoir to the tubing of the new infusion set. She reaches for the tubing.  I bat her paws away, “No, kitty.”  She sits, watching.

Prime the pump, keeping watch for bubbles.  Chris stirs in bed as the pump beeps and whirs.  Load the set into the insertion device, peeling back the tabs and removing the needle sheath.

Run my hands against my thigh, looking for a place that isn’t already sore or blotchy. I find a spot and rub it vigorously with the IV prep wipe.  Press the insertion device against my thigh.

Even though I’ve done this hundreds of times before, I still hold my breath before I release the buttons.

The set slides in with a soft click.  I pull back the blue cap, leaving the cannula in place.  Send 0.3 units through the tubing to fill the plastic tube that is now embedded in my skin.  Furrow my brow at the initial cold wince of insulin spreading under my skin.  Tap on the top of the infusion set – “You stay put,” I encourage it.

I decide on black pants and a pretty blue sweater for work.  Nestle the pump into the waistband of my pants and tuck the tubing out of sight.

I put on my watch. Siah and Abby meow at me for food.  And Chris’ alarm goes off. 

Posted by Kerri. at 10:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

options

‘Tis the season for shopping.  Shopping is fun.  Very fun.  And the idea of your spending habits benefiting medical research?  Hmmm … what's that you say?

I had a chance to chat with Allie Beatty, creator of Shop4Cures and a blogger for The Diabetes Blog.

Kerri:  What is your connection to the diabetes community?

Allie:  I was diagnosed with type I diabetes when I was 7 years old. I spent a majority of my childhood and adolescence (trying very hard) to ignore the disease. As I got older, I realized I needed to find a way to accept it, for the role it played in my life, and the things it has taught me.

Kerri:  What was the catalyst behind your website, Shop4Cures?  Tell me about your site.

Allie:  In 2005, I got the bad news from my diabetes management team every diabetic dreads: you’re pushing the limits and your kidneys aren’t looking so good. Rather than accept the consequences, I began investigating. I looked-under every proverbial rock found an answer I had waited my whole diabetic life to hear. The hope of a potential cure for type 1 diabetes will soon be ready for human trials. This was not a band-aid solution, like I’ve heard so many times before. I consider anything coupled with immunosuppressants to be a band-aid. The price tag to launch human trials was $1.5 million away from the total $11.5 million needed for phase I. So I decided to revamp the business objective of my site (formerly financial service related) to sweep sales commissions from online shopping to fund cure research. Shop4Cures is an affiliate shopping site that donates all sales commissions to nonprofit organizations researching cures for cancer, diabetes, heart disease, lung disease and stroke. It’s a simple answer to a complicated problem. The problem is the growing cost of healthcare and the rising number of people affected by illnesses. Federal funding for cure research is strained and these dollars must come from another source, other than tax dollars. Why not fund a critical need from an already exorbitantly successful industry? Online shopping to fund medical research. It’s symbiotic economics.

Kerri:  People always note what inspires them.  What inspires you, in a diabetes sense?

Allie:  I’m inspired by people who can take the experiences they had with the disease and make it into an altruistic virus. Spread your sickness for the better. Does that seem twisted? Not to me. I’ve endured many battle-wounds with this disease. If I can take as many hits as I have (believe me, I’m no stranger to diabetic coma, stroke, or ketoacidosis) and still live to tell about it—my job on this planet is not over. In fact, given the opportunity that I have on thediabetesblog, it feels like I have a brand new opportunity to share anything and everything I’ve got. I am thankful for the things my life has afforded me, diabetes included. Don’t get me wrong: I won’t miss it when it’s gone. But for today, I will make the most of it.

Kerri:  In your opinion, what research method is on the best path towards a cure?

Allie:  Hands-down, Dr. Denise Faustman is the greatest hope I’ve seen in over 20 years. She has cured type I diabetes in non-obese mice. The diabetes was NOT imposed through the laboratory. Her clinical results were reproduced in other labs throughout the world. There is undeniable evidence that she has come closer with her research than any research I have seen or read about previously. The human trials will begin Phase 1 in about 18 months. Once it begins, I will be on it like white on rice. Dr. Faustman is my monument of hope for a type 1 cure.

1. The insulin pump
   
2. Humalog
   
3. Symlin
   
4. Humility
   
5. Maturity  

Kerri:  How do you feel about the blogging community?

Allie:  It’s like someone handed me a megaphone and said, “Let’s hear it.” Not to mention I’ll probably save myself a ton of money in therapy. Seriously, I love it. I love that people actually care what I have to say. Even if nobody reads my blogs– just play along with me. I’ll feel so much better

As for the rest of the blogging community—I love what I read in other blogs. You, Amy Tenderich, Allison Blass, Gina Capone…now I feel like a name dropper (and I hate people like that). In all seriousness, there is something inexplicably welcoming about a site you can go to, read people’s personal thoughts on a topic and think to yourself: THAT’S SO TRUE! Or in some cases, THAT’S COMPLETE HOGWASH! My point is: diabetes is now a topic of world-wide mention and the fact it has isles-and-isles for browsing on the Internet makes me feel all warm and cozy inside. I’m being a wiseass, but I hope you know what I mean. In such a technical place, we can all connect on personal levels with this disease. And I love the blogging community for making this possible.

Kerri:  Finish this sentence:  "Insulin, to me, smells like _________________."

A household cleaner. I previously thought insulin smelled like Windex. However that statement is now untrue because SC Johnson keep adding new scented formulas. Insulin, to me, smells like old school glass cleaner.

Kerri:    If given the chance to have an aerial view of anything from the vantage point of a hot air balloon, what would you chose to fly over and why?

Allie:  I’d run reconnaissance to find where Osama bin Landen is hiding. 

Thanks, Allie!  And what would you, Faithful Reader, choose to fly over in your hot air balloon?

 

Posted by Kerri. at 02:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

options

Don't go to Wal-Mart.  Not even for wrapping paper and ribbons.  Because here's what you'll find:

First off, what is Speed Stacking?  This game is the first thing we saw tonight.  The object is to stack cups.  Into a pyramid.  That's it.

Mind you, this game costs $18.97 (because Wal-Mart is incapable of pricing anything out in a normal fashion).  Almost $20 bucks to stack plastic cups and be timed performing this task.  I'd rather go to a party and do this for free and also score free beer.

Secondly, we found a dead, singing deer tied to the top of a bouncing Jeep.  See for yourself. 

Note:  We stared at this in horror for three full minutes.  Then Chris turned to me and said, "You need to record this."  And then we laughed until we were almost tossed out of the store. And there also is no "thirdly."

Posted by Kerri. at 10:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

options

First off, thanks to everyone who nominated SUM for a blog award.  It's an honor to be in such esteemed company!  Best of luck to everyone!!

And secondly, I have a confession to make:  While I spent the last month writing the first draft of my book, I did have some help, albeit of the furry variety. 

Ms. Siah S. helped me out when the plot refused to thicken.  For once, the little Sausage was helpful, instead of chewing on pump wires and dancing in tap shoes at three in the morning.  And when the NaNo hours started to stretch into the wee hours of the morning, Siah even helped out with the typing, allowing me to dictate.

There are several passages that are written entirely in cat, but I'm having them translated. 

Abby, on the other hand, merely slept on the books I was using for a work project.  Not much of a plot progressor, that one.

Posted by Kerri. at 05:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

options

 
The December issue of EXIST is finally up.  Our apologies for the delay.

  Tomorrow – Sausage almost thwarts a novel.

Posted by Kerri. at 07:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

options