Support JDRF during October's Diabetes Awareness, Walk for the Cure! Month

Today marks me officially having Type 1 Diabetes for 20 years.

October 18, 2002. First diagnosed, at 12 years old.

To date: over 45,000 finger pokes and 6,500 injections.

Coincidentally, October is also Diabetes Awareness Month.

Sometimes I pretend don't realize my birthday is in a few days and I've often let Christmas and holidays creep up on me, but this date resonates oh-so-very-clear in my brain, every year.  Which is odd, seeing as that original day, everything seemed rushed and panicked, but now I feel like the details grow clearer with time.

The challenges, the fears, the cost (both monetary and mentally), I've always turned these into positive outcomes--perseverance, responsibility, advancements.

I never wrote about how some days, I don't feel like everything is sunshine and rainbows. Or what it's like to have your pump be nicknamed "robot parts" as a humorous coping mechanism.

Usually, going to my endocrinologist is a simple check-up.  Blood sugar level-good, A1C-within range, overall mental status towards the disease-decent.

Except, last week I went for my quarterly check-up, and then the doctor and I got personal.

He read the extensive notes about complications and illnesses that often times caused me to go to Urgent Care, and a few times, be hospitalized.  He read about how I cannot feel a large part of my left thigh due to irreversible nerve damage.  He adjusted my medicine that makes my nerves calm down a bit, so that my feet don’t always feel “prickly” from nerve damage too.  He read about the viruses that I’d caught during teaching, or other’s germs, that landed me in the hospital because my blood sugar spiked high, or went low because my immune system is compromised and wasn’t strong enough to fight the illnesses on its own. 

All of these, no matter how well I try to keep my diabetes under control, are just complications and side effects I can try my best to fight, but will occur as the years go on.

I used to think being a Type 1 Diabetic wasn’t such a bad thing. I've adjusted to being a Diabetic, and the finger pricks, pump site injections, and continuous glucose monitor (CGM) doesn’t bother me too much.  This year was a struggle. Not from the daily diabetes monitoring, but rather from the unfortunate complications associated from being a Type 1 Diabetic.

A few weeks ago, my blood sugar went low at night, and The woke up to my sensor going off, and me struggling to find a fruit snack, and led to his and my first real scare of nearly passing out. He’s also dealt with my blood sugars going above 475 when I have an illness, and the struggle of several shots through the course of the day, and measuring dosages to try to avoid DKA.

As a teacher, I’ve now had students who see my pump and then smile and flash me theirs.  It’s almost comforting for me and them—there’s a common bond, and a sense of “it’ll be okay, I get it.” Unlike the time, I had a teacher who literally said, “I don’t want her in my class, because I am not willing to cope and administer accommodations because of her illness.”  This was very emotional for me, but it led me to having one of the best teachers, and now close friend and mentor, so the outcome worked well, but no child should ever feel like they don’t belong, because they have an auto-immune disease that they were unable to avoid.  I have them for the year to understand their same battles, for them to feel more comfortable when their monitor or my monitor beeps from an alert, and they don’t seem to feel how I did when I was their age…going into the restroom to take an insulin injection (because an insulin pump didn’t exist my first few years) and feeling uncomfortable taking a shot in front of strangers.

Type 1 Diabetes is not something I want my students or future children to have; it’s a strong reason I support and advocate for stem cell research and funding for JDRF.

Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease in which a person's pancreas stops producing insulin, a hormone that enables people to get energy from food and occurs when the body's immune system attacks and destroys the insulin-producing cells in the pancreas, called beta cells. While its causes are not yet entirely understood, scientists believe that both genetic factors and environmental triggers are involved. Its onset has nothing to do with diet or lifestyle. There is nothing you can do to prevent Type 1 Diabetes, and-at present-nothing you can do to get rid of it. Type 1 Diabetics need insulin, blood glucose testing supplies, among other expensive medical tests, visits, and supplies to proactively control this disease.

Positives from JDRF Research:

• Multiple injections have been replaced by insulin pumps, and multiple meter reads into a real time glucose sensor have greatly enhanced my quality of life pertaining to health.
• In 14 years, I've gone from trying to record everything in a paper ledger and sneaking to the bathroom for injections to flipping through digital computer reads and pushing buttons on my pump, which has allowed me to become more integrated with people and events.
• I am able to help others understand that though this disease will always be part of me, it does not define me.
•  People ask which Type I have, which shows progress and information spreading to others!

Works-in-progress that JDRF Research will help:

• Probably the most groundbreaking is something that comes out in 2017: An insulin therapy pump that acts almost like a pancreas!  It can sense your blood sugars, and if it detects a high, can automatically infuse insulin to counter!
• Research can help counter those days when I feel like I’m never going to hit that target A1C, can’t understand why my numbers have been outside the target range, or why it’s so hard for others to understand why I don’t feel well so often.
•  Finding a cure can stop the wondering if anyone else shares the fear of passing on the disease to my children.
•  It will help eliminate going to bed thinking What if my sugars drop too low in the night and I don’t wake up? 
•  It will help current Type 1 Diabetics not have to “deal” with the awkward places we put our pumps when we wear bathing suits, dresses, or work out, and let’s not even mention how diet Coke doesn’t taste like regular Coke.

Please visit their site here to learn more, and also feel free to donate to help support the research that helps benefit people like me, and future diabetics, like the 80 children who are diagnosed each day.

Please, please, please consider donating to JDRF (go to jdrf.org and click “Donate”). I’m fortunate for all I’ve learned, for my parents, for Mike, and for my family and friends: for their strong support system.

I’ve grown and adapted to this disease, but there is still progress to be made!

Letters of a Family

To this day, there’s something special about a handwritten letter, whether it’s writing or receiving one.  Every moment, from when you hear the mail truck down the street, which signals the delivery of the letter that you’ve anxiously awaited, to hurriedly opening the letter—ripping the envelope open— and finally seeing what information and thoughts the letter brought.  Then there’s the handwriting— whether it’s the dazzling cursive or shakily printed letters that show the progress of learning to write and spell—there’s a lot more than just the written words in the letter. Accompanying the letter you can find a child’s crayon-drawn pictures of a person standing next to a house on a sunny day, with a flower just as big, or you can find the carefully chosen photographs that fall out from between the letter’s pages.

I come from a letter-writing family; before the dawn of the computer age and e-mail, it was an alternative way to share moments with friends and loved ones.  The letters were a way for my sister and I to write about our week spent toasting marshmallows and playing in the lake at camp.  It was a way to try and keep touch with friends when we moved to another state; to try and remind ourselves no matter where we moved to, we would honor an eternal friendship made through the secret pact of crossing our hearts.

Letters were how my mom, sister, and I wrote about our day when my dad was out on naval deployments and couldn’t be with us. We learned through his letters that he missed us just as much, if not more than we missed him. Even now, in 2013, letters sometimes trump the computers and 21^st century technology in times when my family could only communicate by writing to my sister, Ashliegh, during her Air Force boot-camp.

They are artifacts and memories of intimate conversations between two people—there are events, feelings, secret desires, and even uncertainty of unknowns.

Happy reading,

Krystina

Understanding Technology Concerning Cyberbullying

This clip, which went viral on the internet a few months ago, was shared this in my social media class yesterday, when we were discussing cyberbullying. It's pretty difficult watching a group of 25+year olds get so choked up over something that we can proactively help to diminish. As a warning, it has some trigger material concerning suicide and bullying.

I too followed the Amanda Todd case last year, but not just for the interest in the video and backstory. One of my brothers was bullied in high school, much the same way she was, "jokes and memes" included. 

I'll never forget the punch to my stomach I got when I found out emotional cyberbullying had created physical illness for my brother.  While teaching at the same school my brothers attended, one time one of my brothers specifically asked me to come down to the nurse's office instead of the school calling his parents, because he felt I might have a different perspective.  While I may have diffused the situation a bit by letting it sink in during the rest of the school day, before informing my parents, my reaction and emotional side were very similar to theirs.

Sitting with me in my classroom during my plan period and he broke down.  He said he's been teased, threatened, mocked, even a few physical punches to the head--with most of the bullying done online.  When I asked what they were saying, or if he knew why they were doing it, he said yes.  Worse, some of the teachers were aware but felt the situation might diffuse itself, instead of following school handbook protocol.  These kids, most of them who have been in his classes since kindergarten, found out he had a brain tumor.  They thought saying online things like "maybe if he gets stabbed in the head it'll go away" "just punch the tumor out of his face" or "thank God he'll die early and we won't have to see that big head of his" was funny.  You can imagine the horror and sadness I felt; think of how my brother, a high schooler dealing with a severe medical issue, felt.

My brother has a facebook and twitter account, which my mom has access to, as do I, and we try to keep a "watchful eye" on the accounts.  What upset me the most was that my parents and I didn't catch even a whiff of the bullying.  We monitor his social media, I teach at his school, I even teach and tutor some of the students who were bullying!  The problem with online social media is the rapidness things can be done or changed and accountability. Comments/messages can be posted in mere seconds and then "deleted" just as quickly.  Unless you're hovering over your child while using the computer (which would be similar to following them everywhere when they're playing outside), you can't catch it all.

While I'll concede, the school attempted to take action towards the offenders, the damage was already done--he was bullied. 

Examples such as Amanda Todd and my brother show that we're at a new stage in technology where we need to not only learn how to use it, but understand and demonstrate what it's capable of and educating anyone who uses it, along with preventative measures we can take--whether it's filtering, monitoring, or just even talking to people and informing.

"Home"

My dad was in the Navy, so growing up "home" was a new house every year or two, strung together with a new bedroom and new school.  My freshman year of college, I fell in love with what I thought was a deep and profound statement (aka described exactly how I was feeling transitioning into college) about "home" from a quote Andrew (Zach Braff) describes to Sam (Natalie Portman) in the movie Garden State:

"You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone." [...] "You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place." 

Is home where you physically live?

Is it where you feel you belong?

Is it just a memory, or a feeling of some sort?

Almost 25 years later, I still slightly confuse myself when I tell someone "I'm at home" or "I'm going home."  Most believe I'm referring to the apartment I now live in, and most times, I am, but there are the glimpses of my family home that flutter across as I say the word "home".

What do you consider "home?"

Out of the Shadows--Into the Streets

There's an event occurring on Sunday, March 10 that I feel very strongly about, so I thought I'd share it with you. It's called "Out of the Shadows--Into the Streets" and is a march for undocumented immigrants.  Here's an example of a flier that you may or may not have seen, as most are posted in Chicago.

“Out of the Shadows and Into the Streets” occurs for the 4^th year on March 10, 2013 and is a rally for undocumented immigrants to just join in the rally by walking in the streets and giving the attitude that “we are here, we are undocumented, we are unafraid, and we are unstoppable.”  Every year, the national "Coming Out of the Shadows--Into the Streets" day helps highlight the unheard stories in our immigrant communities, and put a spotlight on the stories of the people who this immigration system deems "illegal" and deportable.  

Barriers for undocumented immigrants primarily lay with the fact and fear that these people are just that: undocumented immigrants and can be deported if they announce their illegal status.  This leads to a lack of awareness of where to go for security and aid.  An example is found here, but I want to focus particularly on this excerpt from HuffPo:

Gang of 8 Senate Blueprint Provides No Real Pathway to Citizenship


Prerna Lal, Huffington Post

” …the blueprint glosses over the most punitive and problematic parts of the immigration system. The Senate plan fails to address the growing problem of long-term lawful permanent residents who are subject to deportation for minor crimes. Moreover, the blueprint does not modify the prolonged mandatory detention of non-citizens, which makes the immigration system must more punitive than the criminal justice system. The blueprint also fails to address Secure Communities – a misnomer of a policy that subjects immigrants to detention and deportation pre-conviction, violating the fundamental American concept of due process. Finally, the omission of legislation to resolve the issue of 40,000 same-sex binational couples who are forced to live apart, altogether, has much of the immigrant and LGBT communities up in arms.”

While Lal has some interesting points to the avoidance of obtaining citizenship, I like to think of this march as undocumented immigrants steps towards becoming a citizen, or if not the adults, then at least with the children.

Undocumented youth have very few organizations to utilize to help seek and advance their rights.  In addition, there is a need for an organization to serve as the “front door” for undocumented immigrants to go to when they need social service referrals, but they are afraid or unaware to go for help. 

IYJL-Chicago is an aid and provides resources, and it is my hope it will continue to help and provide an outreach to the undocumented immigrants through educational workshops, legal aid, social services, and an array of other intra-community resources such as Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) and the American Dream Act. When undocumented immigrants “come out” (which they're able to do at the march on March 10) and take risks, they help strategize and create stories to influence the immigration debate.

Fear can be dissolved by creating awareness. Knowing this, I encourage you to either join in, watch from the sidelines, or anywhere you're out of the shadows and participate in the "Out of the Shadows--Into the Streets" march!

The Red Tape in Democracy

Even if you were a victim of Tropical Storm Sandy, you most likely know the 2012 U.S. Presidential Election Results proved that no one messes with Big Bird.  Check out these memes, if you don't know what I'm referencing.

I'm not going to discuss here how Proposition 49 was added to the Illinois Constitution, or how 3 states (Maine, Maryland, and Washington) welcomed Same-Sex Marriage.

I am going to detail my voting experience for both the 2008 election and 2012 election. 

2008 was my first year able to vote, and I was over 3 hours away at college.  While I supported missing classes, I'm ultimately glad I didn't.  I begrudgenly received my absentee ballot, excitedly filled it out (while double-checking I filled it out correctly), and nervously hoping the USPS wouldn't lose or somehow make my ballot ineligible. Then, I'll never forget as the official call was made, the school's quad was flooded with celebratory students cheering and hugging. There were balloons soon followed by other college debauchery.

2012 was the year I moved out of my parents' home and into an apartment with the boy and our Westie.  I updated my online my address, but didn't need to get a new driver's license since it was in the IL database.  Flash forward to Nov. 6-- I was super excited to receive my voter confirmation registration card in the mail, bring it to my polling site, (which turned out to be a Log Cabin--pat on the back Village of Lombard for that touch of nostalgia.) vote on an official ballot and receive my 'I Voted Today" sticker.  In reality, what happened was I arrived, provided the confirmation registration, proof of my address on a utility bill, and 2 forms of ID then hit a line of red tape.

The lady who made sure I wasn't an impersonator then proceeded to tell me "You have to vote in the city your address lists." 

I countered "No, I updated my address when I moved back in April through the IL database, and gave you proof of my current address and the voting confirmation card that tells me to vote here."

"Well sweetie, that's wrong."

"No it's not.  I get to vote here."

"Let me go check with someone else..."

5 hours minutes later...

"That's fine, but you really shouldn't be voting here."

While angry that receiving my ballot took more time than actually filling it out, (because no I don't want to vote electronically, I want authenticity! We're in a log cabin!) when I did finally submit that ballot to the feeder, hear the confirming beep, and give the doorman a high five all of my negativity towards the voting hold-up was erased.

Victory Democracy was mine!

The Wake-Up Call of the American Dream

The American Dream is a dream that promotes and expands opportunities for all.  It inspires us to be achievers despite what race, gender, or class we may be. It is a dream placed in our heads when we are a little child sitting cross-legged during story time listening to the teacher recite Dr. Seuss and how “You’ll be on your way up!/ You’ll be seeing great sights! You’ll join the high fliers/ who soar to high heights” (9), from Oh the Places You Will Go.  We sit at our art table drawing pictures of what we want to be when we grow up, and besides slight variances, we all, at one point or another, have a vision of a successful career, a family and an abundance of material items that would lead us to perpetual happiness and bliss.  Everyone imagines the storyline and pictures from when we are little, but looking deeper, the dream creates an ideal that is simply unattainable by the majority of the nation.

The American Dream is something that everyone wants to attain.  This leads to a more cut-throat environment, a dog eat dog every man for yourself, an untelevised “Real-World Survivor.” America was originally founded upon the ideals of our founding fathers to become an independent country to have land, freedom of religion, and to let the people have a government that represented and satisfied their demands and dreams.  Then as time progressed, and generations passed, the Dream became more personal and people began wanting to come to America so that, as Spock from “Star Trek” said, “live long and prosper.” 

Despite it all, the want to exceed social, ethnic, or class boundaries and to live a fulfilling life, the American Dream is merely that: a dream.  The concept of the American Dream ignores factors of success such as luck, family, language and wealth one is born into.   Even if people were able to overcome the race, gender and wealth barriers, the melting pot of society would literally spill over because the dream would be attained and people would no longer be working a 12 hour shift placing caps on tubes at a toothpaste factory. 

Though many citizens have an American Dream, it really is little more than wishes and desires drawn up in their heads and occasionally strewn about at that “typical family-night dinner”.   Though the government may be in control by a minute upper-class, the core to America is the middle-class.  This class is what actually fuels the American Dream.  The middle class’ complacency with being “average” has put the American Dream at a standstill.  Yes there are the poor who struggle and have every desirable intention to make it to the top, but very few will succeed.

There will never be the ideal “sunny day and relaxing family vacation free of work and other worries,” or the idea that everyone in society will one day gain tolerance for each other and Miss America will finally be granted her dream of world peace.  Yes, the American Dream may propel us to succeed well in school and continue to put our blood and sweat into our work jobs for economic prosperity, but if the starting point is compared with the ending point, advancement may be seen, but like the great Dr. Seuss said “And will you succeed?/ 98 and ¾ percent guaranteed” (Seuss 32).  This is where we realize that no matter what we do it is not enough.  The American Dream is unattainable.  It is merely a dream we strive for but never reach; the 1 ¼ percent left is the unreachable American Dream.