the most versatile food.

I reckon it’s eggs! I love eggs. Whether with yolks or not, I love them.

When I was little, my favourite breakfast was toast with soft boiled eggs. Eggs would be cracked and mixed with soy sauce and white pepper and I’d tear off bits of my toast and dunk it into my egg mixture, fishing it out with a teaspoon and popping it into my mouth. I am also a fan of omelettes, poached eggs, scrambled eggs and a good sunny side up with a runny yolk, eaten with a drop or two of dark soy sauce (hey, I’m Chinese).

Now that I have diabetes, it’s a really good thing I like eggs. They’re proteiny, fill me up and have NO CARBS. Win!

Today I made scrambled eggs with diced tomatoes, a dash of non-fat milk dried herb mix, black pepper and creamy light tuna mayo today. Served it with leftover mesclun greens and avocado from last night. That had virtually no carbs in it. Had a slice of wholewheat bread (11g carb) to go along with it as I’m hitting the gym tonight and need a little bit of carbs in the afternoon.

Perfect, quick and easy to wash up.

I love eggs.

April 20, 2010 at 8:29 am Leave a comment

It could well be the effect of raging female hormones at this point in time, but tonight I’ve been feeling a little teary about the whole diabetes deal. The thing about being diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes is that I often feel like I brought it all on myself, and that my pancreas decided to malfunction because of things I did.

I can’t deny that lifestyle was not a factor. It definitely was.

But neither can I deny that there were other factors involved as well – stress, genetics and so on.

It has been a month since I decided to get back on the diabetes control bandwagon. Things have been alright. I have been watching what I eat, and making better food choices. I am beginning to enjoy working out a little again (although I still haven’t started training for my 5K) and I have been keeping track of my numbers. I’m beginning to re-understand that diabetes care will give me a better quality of life and it’s only good for me.

But I don’t really think I’ve dealt with the emotional aspect of my diabetes well yet. As much as I am slowly accepting this crazy condition as part of my life (seriously, Type 2 is crazy. I have no idea why my liver/pancreas like to do things like make my BG level shoot up and refuse to budge after I work out), a part of me still hates it with a vengeance. Gosh, sometimes I wish the word diabetes never existed.

A part of me still longs for a life without having to prick my fingers four times a day at minimum, count carbohydrates (I love my sushi rice and pasta), visit various doctors throughout the year and it makes me feel older than I really am. I am 22, by the way. I refuse to round up my age because my birthday’s not till later this year.

At the same time, a part of me still thinks I need to hide this condition and keep it a secret, that I’ll be rejected by my friends if I remind them that I have diabetes. That they will snigger when I refuse a bite of that lethal chocolate cake which will shoot me sky high and send my blood into sugar-laden paradise. That they will treat me with extra special care.

I forget that they are the ones who sat with me when I lay in a hospital bed, who watched me cry when I was scared to take my insulin shots, who pandered to my initial paranoia about putting food into my mouth and would go out of their way to buy me special takeaway foods when we ordered in. They watched me munch on digestive biscuits in the wee hours of the morning during a stay over because my blood sugar was running a bit low for my liking and I wanted it up before I slept.

I suppose that I feel diabetes is a battle I must face alone. And I admit to feeling alone in this, feeling like an outcast, a leper to some extent. I smile, I laugh, I joke and I take a swig of my Diet Coke, looking longingly at the (sugary) iced teas my friends are drink, and it feels different. I know I am as normal a young woman as anyone else is, yet there is something different about me I cannot run away from. And boy does it hurt sometimes.

I don’t know what or how to conclude what I am writing because the story hasn’t ended yet. I still face days when I look at the mirror and totally dislike what I see. I can only say that in time, I want to be able to look in the mirror and see a strong and beautiful woman looking back at me. One who knows she has a broken pancreas, but who doesn’t allow that to hinder her from doing anything, and who doesn’t hide the fact either. One who knows she is beautiful in spite of the scars, one who knows that the pain she’s been through has only made her more beautiful inside, and out.

April 18, 2010 at 4:48 pm Leave a comment

30.

30 is the number on my new test strip canisters. Guess what, I FORGOT TO CHECK THE CODE, and change it, and wiped out an entire canister of test strips. Now I have no idea what my BG numbers really were. Sigh. 😦

Good news is, I don’t think they’re THAAAAT far off from what I’ve been seeing with my incorrectly coded tests. All 25 of them! Anyway time to take a 3-hour post exercise reading and find out how badly I’m crashing. Toodles.

April 15, 2010 at 3:55 pm 2 comments

My heart is flutterin’!

Don’t try to convince me that American Idol is a trashy show. I love it. But I will love it no more when there’s no more Simon Cowell. I am so in love with this performance by Casey James right now. And I adore his bluesy, slightly gravelly voice. And mad guitar skills! I am sure watching this over and over again is wonderful for my blood sugar. Or blood pressure. Or both. 😀

Psst…it does help that he is slightly cute. Only slightly. I will not relegate myself to the level of a gushing teenager. 😛

April 10, 2010 at 6:38 am Leave a comment

Adventures of Daena who lost her wallet.

So I am a little klutzy and careless. Or ‘blur’ as we call it in Singapore.

On my way home from school yesterday I decided the weather was too hot and I decided that I wanted an ice cold coke light. The best place to get that was the McDonald’s outlet I pass by everyday. I was very good, and ordered a small one and no food to go along. Just recently I’d have definitely gotten the fried wings or 6 chicken nuggets to go along, but I didn’t this time. Yay me!

Anyway I’d been lugging several books around all day and sat down to drink it, leaving my wallet on a ledge at the side of a table. When I reached home, I rushed to have a small healthy pre-gym snack (multigrain toast with peanut butter) and went off for the torturous workout I blogged about yesterday. I forgot to bring my phone and wallet with me and decided it didn’t matter cos the gym’s a leisurely 10-15 minute stroll from my place.

Fast forward to this morning.

I wake up, test (5.5, yay) and shower because I have a project meeting at a friend’s home. I start digging for my wallet and realise, OH CRAP it ain’t there. Dug several bags and several nooks in my room. And it was not there. Mentally retraced my steps, panicked a little and rushed out the door. Only good thing was that my public transport fare card was in my jeans pocket and I could still take the train. So anyway I made a police report, cancelled my ATM/debit card and rushed off for my meeting.

Thing is, I didn’t really eat low-carb today. I forgot to bring my meter out as well so I could only guesstimate what my BG was doing based on how I felt and how my stomach was growling. Midway into the afternoon I got reaaaaally hungry. I’d eaten a light breakfast at 10 but was running around the place in the morning trying to get things in order. I got quite hungry around 3pm. Asked my friend if I could poke around her fridge, and helped myself to a tiny bottle of probiotic drink. I don’t know how many carbs was in it, but an hour later I was still ravenous and could feel my tummy growling. I then ate a small steamed char siew (roast pork) bun, made with evil white refined flour but I didn’t care. I just wanted my tummy to stop growling! It kind of worked and although I was still pretty much starving I lasted until I got back to my neighbourhood at around 7pm.

I was feeling weak, cranky and a little shaky, so I figured my body registered that my blood sugar was dropping. Even though I had no cash on me, I could pay for stuff at 7-11 with my fare card. So I walked as fast as I could to the nearest 7-11 although dinner time was near and bought a bottle of water because I was thirsty, and a steamed chicken bun. I peeled all the bun away from the chicken and ate it. Okay I ate some of the bun too. And instantly felt much better to have some food in my system.

When I got home, my mom had made pasta with veggie and chicken sauce for dinner. I LOVE her sauce. Tomatoes, zucchini, onion, mushroom, garlic, red and green peppers, garlic, and diced chicken. I was planning to just have sauce with salad in line with the whole low-carb thing I am adopting but something told me to eat those carbs. So I had a bowl of spaghetti (yes, more white evil refined carbs) and loaded up with sauce. I ate some sauce on its own too. And I sprinkled lots of chilli powder on it. I like my spicy food! I also had some salad veggies and avocado, and finished off my dinner with a strawberry.

About 3 hours later I decided to test. After feeling my stomach growl again. It was weird because I’d eaten way more carbs than I’ve been eating at dinnertime, but I’d also pretty much starved the entire day. I thought it’d be good to see what happened. It was a beautiful number, but certainly not one I’d expect after the pile of carbs I’d consumed.

5.7, the meter read.

I’d taken my medication but even when I don’t have starchy carbs for dinner and just have veggies and protein, my BG can be higher when I take my post-meal readings.

I am about to test again to see that I’m not on a downward spiral.

But lesson learned today: one definitely needs to eat to live. Come to think of it, I was actually kind of cranky and lost in space during my meeting. I could well have been low (or at least much lower than usual) and didn’t know it. So yes, I am a diabetic food lover and I will continue to love the function of food in my life. As fuel.

April 9, 2010 at 4:36 pm 1 comment

So Your Butt Got Kicked By Aunties.

I signed myself up for twice-a-week aerobics class to get myself interested in working out. There are two different instructors and they take one class each per week. So tonight, I excitedly climbed into my gym gear and shoes, grabbed my bottle and towel and headed to the gym. This week, I must add, was the first week.

OH. MY. GOSH.

The instructor tonight had us using little hand weights. Bear in mind that my arms, once toned from swimming and working out with an elliptical machine and 1kg dumbbells at home, are now jelly-like. They wobble! Ditto for my legs.

Imagine the pain. I was using maybe 500g weights in each hand and every movement after a while freaking hurt. And then, she had us doing ab work. I was silently going *#@% in my head with each crunch. And don’t get me started on the tricep dips. Each millisecond was pure torture. Some (middle aged) ladies in the class barely perspired a drop and I was soaked and spent at the end of the class. The walk home was shaky and my legs pretty much felt like wobbly jello.

I treated myself to a cold shower and scrubbed my grimy self down with my (3-year-old but still fantastic) newly-opened tube of Body Shop Cranberry Body Scrub. Sidenote: Gotta get me more this Christmas! It is divine. Smells like honey and berries! And while in the shower a little thought popped into my head.

With each squat, your legs get stronger and your thigh muscles burn. With each bicep curl and whatever other thing you do with weights in your arms, you’re toning up your arms. It feels like torture now but is only good for you Whatever pain you feel is only temporal but  you can work through the pain because your mind is stronger than your body, and you are stronger, stronger than you think you are. No pain, no gain they say. I reckon it’s true.

I am going to attack every single workout until I am as fit as (or fitter than) those aunties who are kicking my arse at the moment. And of course ensure that I hit my goal of running a 5K in July and a 10K in November.

It’s not just about diabetes. It’s about getting my life back.

April 8, 2010 at 2:00 pm 2 comments

You’ll Never Walk Alone.

Sometimes in dealing with diabetes I feel alone, but thanks to communities online like Diabetes Daily and Diabetes 365, I am slowly regaining my grip on this condition and I know that even halfway around the world, someone understands. And then there is the team at the endo’s office I work with, who are with me as well. I will never walk alone and neither will you. 🙂

When you walk through a storm hold your head up high

And don’t be afraid of the dark.

At the end of a storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind,

Walk on through the rain,

Tho’ your dreams be tossed and blown.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart

And you’ll never walk alone,

You’ll never, ever walk alone.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart

And you’ll never walk alone,

You’ll never, ever walk alone.

April 7, 2010 at 8:45 am 2 comments

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