T is for Track Star.

If you know me (and I'm assuming you all do, because who else would read this?), you know two things:  I am diabetic and I hate the military healthcare system.  Don't get me wrong, I am so thankful to have healthcare and to get my insulin needs fulfilled, but when it comes to the Navy docs I've dealt with, well, they leave a great something to be desired (like maybe getting my prescriptions right or being knowledgeable about my condition).

That brings us to a few days before our vacation when I went to the Air Force clinic to get syringes, because the Navy WAS OUT AGAIN.  Fed up to here *points way above head*, I asked how I could transfer to the Air Force clinic, followed my instructions and when we returned from vacation, I had a letter telling me to see a new doctor....  I was relieved, but anxious it'd be more of the same.

When I finally got in to see my new doctor, I was blown away.  Matt came with me to help bust heads if needed.  He was not needed (but I was glad he was there).

My new doctor was amazing.  He knew stuff about diabetes.  He suggested a different insulin schedule to bring down my HbA1C.  I was on board!  I was so super-pumped.

Then.  Then he suggested the unthinkable (for me).  Thirty minutes of cardio five days a week.  Thirty miutes of RUNNING five days a week.  And Matt heard it all, so I couldn't just pretend it didn't happen.

Disgusting.  Awful.  Miserable.

I am not a runner.  I have no desire to be a runner.  People who run marathons baffle me.

But now, I am slowly pacing myself to become a runner.  I started off walking five minutes and running one minute for a half hour.  Now I am up to 4 minutes of walking with 3 minutes of running.

And I hate it.  I hate running.  It sucks.  I do not feel better when I an done running.  I do not feel bad when I miss a day.  It sucks.  And I'm not even actually RUNNING.  I'm walking most of the time and jogging because Matt insists I'll wear myself out if I actually run.

Maybe it will be better when its not so stinkin' hot here, but I just don't know.  I'm sticking with it for now for my health.  But I am letting everyone know that I hate it.

DiaBirthday #6.

Every year, I try to celebrate the anniversary of my diagnosis in a special way. Diabetes themed parties in college, theme park visits, special dinners, etc. This year, with all of the excitement of my impending reunion, I completely forgot about my Diabetes Day until about 6 days before... I didn't make any plans and pretty much expected it to pass without much notice.

Enter the best co-workers in the world. I mentioned my special day to The Best Co-Worker Ever this morning as I was reading the e-mail Mom sent me about it. When she returned from lunch (after a few strange calls for our other co), she carried cupcakes and a bag full of Twizzlers, Good & Plenty's (the Official Candy of DiaBirthdays), other candies and a box of Truvia - quite possibly my new favorite sweetener. They both wrote wonderful things (I'm assuming, half was written in Japanese) in a fantastic card addressed to Adrenaline Andrea.

The first few years, I celebrated my DiaBirthday so that I had something to look forward to, so I didn't spend the day crying and lamenting my bad pancreas. Now it is a reason to be silly and over indulge and maybe even to remind people that I'm a little different, but that's okay. I'm still really cool.

Projects for the Next Year.

Take a photo every day.
One sentence journal every day.
A year in Psalms every day.

Any other suggestions?

Professional Administrative Assistant.

Not exactly what I planned to do with my life, but really, I don't think I could tell you that I DID plan to do anything with my life.

I am going to a three day class in June to earn a Professional Administrative Assistant Certification. This will look good on resumes when I get back to the U.S. And thus, my fate as a secretary is sealed.