“Reflections on a Life with Diabetes: A Memoir in Many Voices” arrived in the mail last week. I devoured it whole.
The book—which contained one of my contributions—was published in 2004. I missed news of its publication because, in the interim between writing and submitting my piece and its’ eventual printing, I moved to Bayfield, WI. Once I wandered into the woods I became a creature of the forest and, literally, lost track of my previous life—and pursuits—in the city. (See September 21, 2009 post: “Reflections on a Life with Google.”)
Sure enough, reading this book was an affirming, alarming, fear-inducing, reassuring, and ... a power-full and power-filled experience. Of course, I write this sentence immediately after testing my blood sugars for the fourth time today and discovering—after a day of higher-than-normal sugars—that I’m now too low. Don’t worry. I’m chomping on an apple as I write.
The stories contained in this book are reminiscent of stories told in the diabetes support group I formed and co-facilitated in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. Members of my support group—and this book group—share our fears, challenges, hopes, and failures openly with each other because we trust that those of us with this disease understand. We’ve lived life, day-after-day and year-after-year, knowing how unruly and unmanageable, how frustrating and flagrant, how debilitating and rehabilitating diabetes' effects are on our lives and relationships. And—most significantly—on our bodies and souls.
I formed my support group several years after my diagnosis when a relaxing soak in the tub segued into a four-hour plunge into unconsciousness. After several years of living with insulin-dependent diabetes I quickly learned the dangers and disasters of insulin treatment for the disease. But I also discovered from other women in our group that there were untold complications that haunted and plagued us as well.
The most frightening story came from a group member who suffered from autonomic neuropathy. Over a 14 year period her internal organs slowed ... and then shut down one by one. Diagnosed at 21 she too-soon experienced stomach, kidney, and intestinal problems that led to a pancreas transplant. When the transplant failed, her complications continued to mount. She died at age 35.
THIS BOOK is a support group too. It goes beyond the firsthand experiences of people with diabetes to include family and friends. And this collection of stories and poems is filled with emotion: longing, regret, strength, resilience, anger, fear, and reconciliation.
It’s liberating to delve into the subterranean expanse of diabetes, a place that’s typically occupied only by those of us who live with diabetes and those family members and friends who live closely with us. The reader quickly confronts his or her misperceptions about diabetes. Clearly, low-sugar diets and regular exercise are minor players in a complex regimen of self-care.
I’m proud and honored to be included in this collection of stories and poems about life with diabetes. It proves undeniably that anyone who lives with this illness cannot be labeled or categorized by the one-word descriptor: diabetic. We—and those who love us—have learned to incorporate diabetes into our lives but not to become it.
One thing is clear from reading this book: There are still too many misperceptions about this disease ... so much unnecessary shame. Too many fearful and challenging moments when we discover diabetes’ debilitating effects on body and mind, energy, relationships, and so much more.
But this book also proves something I’ve known for many years: We are survivors. As we balance on the tightrope of diabetes self-management we discover that, despite the highs and lows (blood sugar and otherwise), we will continue on ...
Showing posts with label Reflections on a Life with Diabetes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reflections on a Life with Diabetes. Show all posts
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Reflections on a Life with Google
Last night I Googled “Steph Winter.” I was curious. What pieces of my personal information dangle listlessly and/or skyrocket around the universe on the World Wide Web?
My inspiration to conduct this Google research came after last week’s visit from two friends. We discussed the dangers of identity theft over lunch. One friend then insisted that it was important to regularly monitor our own public information.
I’d also recently listened to a public radio story that profiled a man who’d purposefully tried to stay hidden for a minimum of 30 days but was discovered—via previous public profiles and current fabricated profiles—in less time. This man, I believe he was a journalist, was surprised to discover how easily he could be found and how quickly his ruse could unravel through bits of information posted on the internet.
Well, it didn’t seem likely that this Steph Winter would be found any time soon. I plugged through page after page of listings. Page one indicated that I was signed up with LinkedIn, a professional networking site. I admit, I signed on at the invitation of one of the aforementioned friends but I’d never gone any further than posting my name and business information.
Next came innumerable other Steph Winters—there are a lot of us! We twittered—not me!; facebooked—seldom!; played competitive online games, posted info at MySpace, participated in flixster, and posted videos, poems, pictures—not me!, not me!, not me!, not me!
On page four of the Google listings ... jackpot! I found a link for Frances’ and my business—Same Spirit Healing Arts LLC—published in Travel WI. Next, my name was captured from a copy of the Town of Russell board meeting minutes on May 12, 2009. I’d spoken out against nude dancing at the bar across the road from our house. Then, a link to an article I wrote for the Minnesota Women’s Press many years ago. I’d interviewed the owners and operators of Sacred Sites Tours. The two women tour guides loved my writing and subsequently posted my article on their website.
Okay. So now I was cooking with gas.... On page five of the Google listings I found my blog address. Page six mentioned my appearance at the Bayfield County Board of Supervisor’s meeting on September 30, 2008. Public input about a proposed zoning change to permit an airstrip and 380-acre development in the Town of Russell included Steph Winter reading two short quotes from Moby Dick which had “dramatic meaning.” Yep, that was me.
Finally, on page seven I discovered what I did NOT know about myself.... I’m a published author!
Many years ago—I’m not sure when—I responded to a call for submissions for a book about living with diabetes (in Poets & Writers or another literary magazine). I wrote a piece about walking the tightrope of diabetes self care. In it I included an incident where Minneapolis police found me blacked out in my bathtub with a film crew from the national TV show, “Cops,” conveniently present. I heard that my piece was accepted, later received a letter from the editors notifying contributors that they were still searching for a publisher, and then ... nothing.
In 2002 Frances and I moved to Bayfield. End of story ... or so I thought. In 2004 the book, "Reflections on a Life with Diabetes: A Memoir in Many Voices," was published. Or, at least, that’s what I found out last night.
Huh, I was convinced that I knew everything there was to know about me. Silly. Yet, don’t you think it’s just a tiny bit crazy that we can discover things we don’t know about ourselves while surfing the internet?
My inspiration to conduct this Google research came after last week’s visit from two friends. We discussed the dangers of identity theft over lunch. One friend then insisted that it was important to regularly monitor our own public information.
I’d also recently listened to a public radio story that profiled a man who’d purposefully tried to stay hidden for a minimum of 30 days but was discovered—via previous public profiles and current fabricated profiles—in less time. This man, I believe he was a journalist, was surprised to discover how easily he could be found and how quickly his ruse could unravel through bits of information posted on the internet.
Well, it didn’t seem likely that this Steph Winter would be found any time soon. I plugged through page after page of listings. Page one indicated that I was signed up with LinkedIn, a professional networking site. I admit, I signed on at the invitation of one of the aforementioned friends but I’d never gone any further than posting my name and business information.
Next came innumerable other Steph Winters—there are a lot of us! We twittered—not me!; facebooked—seldom!; played competitive online games, posted info at MySpace, participated in flixster, and posted videos, poems, pictures—not me!, not me!, not me!, not me!
On page four of the Google listings ... jackpot! I found a link for Frances’ and my business—Same Spirit Healing Arts LLC—published in Travel WI. Next, my name was captured from a copy of the Town of Russell board meeting minutes on May 12, 2009. I’d spoken out against nude dancing at the bar across the road from our house. Then, a link to an article I wrote for the Minnesota Women’s Press many years ago. I’d interviewed the owners and operators of Sacred Sites Tours. The two women tour guides loved my writing and subsequently posted my article on their website.
Okay. So now I was cooking with gas.... On page five of the Google listings I found my blog address. Page six mentioned my appearance at the Bayfield County Board of Supervisor’s meeting on September 30, 2008. Public input about a proposed zoning change to permit an airstrip and 380-acre development in the Town of Russell included Steph Winter reading two short quotes from Moby Dick which had “dramatic meaning.” Yep, that was me.
Finally, on page seven I discovered what I did NOT know about myself.... I’m a published author!
Many years ago—I’m not sure when—I responded to a call for submissions for a book about living with diabetes (in Poets & Writers or another literary magazine). I wrote a piece about walking the tightrope of diabetes self care. In it I included an incident where Minneapolis police found me blacked out in my bathtub with a film crew from the national TV show, “Cops,” conveniently present. I heard that my piece was accepted, later received a letter from the editors notifying contributors that they were still searching for a publisher, and then ... nothing.
In 2002 Frances and I moved to Bayfield. End of story ... or so I thought. In 2004 the book, "Reflections on a Life with Diabetes: A Memoir in Many Voices," was published. Or, at least, that’s what I found out last night.
Huh, I was convinced that I knew everything there was to know about me. Silly. Yet, don’t you think it’s just a tiny bit crazy that we can discover things we don’t know about ourselves while surfing the internet?
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