“You’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting,
So… get on your way!” – Dr Seuss
So if you have a lot on the horizon (and some daunting changes), I offer you the following image and story:
At the end of the day yesterday, I decided to clear my head (only temporarily worked) and ride a Citibike along the East River in Manhattan. On my return trip, I stopped to take a photo and, to both my surprise and horror, I got doused with East River water! Holy Shirt! Must have been from a boat wake, but no matter where it came from, I have never wanted to touch nor be touched by the East River. I shockingly did not run home (pedal) and grab rubbing alcohol, and a shower. I sat on my bike and laughed (like a crazy person which may have been noted by other people who rode by, wondering if I was just really sweaty on one side of my body). So far, my skin has not dissolved, I have not developed superpowers and my pancreas has not sprung back to life. Bummer on 2 out of 3 of those.
It’s really OK to be scared out of your fucking mind sometimes (I wasn’t actually thinking my right side would dissolve from East River water… well not after I survived the first minute… I’m talking about other stuff… you know, the splash is a metaphor and stuff). In a totally bizarre way, sometimes it’s downright great to scared.
I need to go TRY to climb a mountain now.
Yes, quarter put into jar already.
And my last thoughts for the morning, keep smiling, your enemies will absolutely hate it (and you can always go home and have a good cry later right?).
Memorial Day Weekend and I did what most New Yorkers do (Ok that’s not true. I did NOT go to the Hamptons). I did however enjoy time with friends who happen to have outdoor space (yep, a rooftop get together). Gorgeous right?
I wore a strapless sundress and just inserted my first (drum roll please) unassisted (more drum rolling) Dexcom site in my arm earlier in the morning (woo hoo *Victory Dance*).
Friends arrived at the rooftop festivities with their 2 1/2 year old, Lady B. I joke that Lady B is smarter than I am. The joke is that I’m not joking. This kid quite possibly (possibly = definitely) has a better vocabulary than I do and is so bright that I am considering hiring her to work in my office and run my finances. Anyway, when it became too dark to sit on the roof, we went to my friend’s apartment where Lady B and I sat next to each other on the sofa. We started playing what I would like to call, “Riding A NYC Bus” (lots of colliding into each other). Quickly it was determined that said friend’s loft steps were the “bus stop” and the sofa was the bus. When we sat on the steps we were squished (the steps are narrow, or I have a big butt, or something like that, shhh no judgements), and my Dexcom sensor was right in Lady B’s face every time she spoke to me. I kept her jabbering, not sure how to explain my arm if she asked (I have limited knowledge on 2 year olds. That is also true for 1 and 3 years olds). Lady B and I ran around the coffee table and back to the bus stop. I felt a tiny little hand cup right over the Dex sensor and Lady B leaned up and asked what was on my arm. I stammered and started to explain that my body doesn’t always work correctly and this helps me know how to make it better. She kept patting the sensor, with the gentlest touch, so cautious. Her Dad started explaining it is medicine. She kept smiling, staring at the Dexcom sensor, so I told her it helps me stay healthy and strong so I can play with her. Apparently that was all she needed to know because she pulled her hand away and told me it was time to get on the bus.
The bus game continued (its Manhattan on a holiday weekend, lots of transfers) and my Dexcom sensor became the hot topic (what else are you going to talk about while waiting for the bus right?). When Lady B realized a sticker held the Dexcom on my arm her eyes were as wide as saucers and her whole face lit up. She kept patting my arm and telling me how much she likes “this” (The Dexcom). I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. I’ve had my fair share of frowning looks and stares from strangers in the last few weeks. The weather is warm and I own far more sleeveless items of clothing than I ever realized. When asked, I explain to strangers that I’m diabetic and and quickly explain “it” tracks my blood sugar levels. Depending on the person’s reaction I might say something like I’m under house arrest OR I’m in the Witness Relocation Program and add a giggle, but there I was, playing crazy bus ride, with a little girl who wanted to talk stickers and for some reason, kept nodding her head and saying, “I like this”.