He who smelt it ...

Let's just start off by saying that a high fiber diet is good for you. It lowers cholesterol and decreases your chances of developing colorectal cancers.

On the other hand, fiber has been known to increase your chances of ... farting.

Yes. Flatus. Passing gas. Tooting. Pooting. Breaking wind. Cutting the cheese. Or, as my nephews so eloquently put it when they were young, "Making air poops".

Let's also get strainght that I'm not a morning person. I can wake up early if I need to but I don't like it and I don't think my brain starts working until about 8am.

So, I was slogging away on the treadmill at 6am this morning with my iPod on that was blasting my workout music (alot of harder alternative rock and some old school punk, by the way) and I was focusing on not falling off the damn thing (sad story - for another time). After a few minutes, I noticed that the people on the treadmills on either side of me had moved farther away.

Also, remember that walking and running causes the psoas muscles (hip flexors) to "massage" the colon as well.

I didn't think too much of it as first, until there was a little gap in my music and I heard myself "let off a little gas". I realized that the "silent but deadly" farts that I was letting loose for the last 5 minutes - were not "silent" - and obviously everyone else not wearing headphones in my vicinity noticed. Then I got a little whiff of the offending gas as it percolated through my gym shorts after a little spurt of speed at the end of my 2nd mile, and I realized anyone with a snese of smell probably noticed too!

At first, I was a little embarassed (I saw my heart rate monitor increase a little) but that soon passed. Sure, I may become to be known at the gym as the "farting guy with the obnoxious tshirts" but I don't care - it may even work to advantage - I'll always have some space around me at the time of the day when I'm at my most "antisocial-ist".

Peace. I'm going to go have a salad with cucumbers.

Procrastinat ...

Having trouble with motivation these days. Mentally, that is. Physically, I'm surprising myself by getting up early enough to work out on work days.

I "blurbed" that I want to write a book - I still do - in fact, I got some unsolicited encouragement from some old friends - but, I just need a little kick in the ass.

Well, I've been working on my flexibilty - maybe I'll try to kick my own ass ...

It's the bitch of living ...

Ok - I need to rant a little.

Sometimes in life, you can do everything right and still get screwed. Now, I don't pretend to do everything right, but I try most of the time. And believe me, it's tiring.

I woke up at 5:40 am to go to the gym before work (so I can spend time with Peter and Laura after work). I did 26 minutes of cardio on the treadmill, then another 26 minutes of circuit weight training, followed by stretching and an attempt at core work. I ate a relatively healthy breakfast and then hydrated with non-carb fluids all morning. I thought I was living the diabetes straight-edge.

Around 11am, I felt crabby. Not just a little crabby, more like set-a-basket-of-puppies-on-fire-and-then-put-out-the-flames-with-my-urine crabby. It didn't help that I had a run of particularly trying patients that were pushing all my buttons.

I knew I had to test my blood sugar. My CGSM said 110. No way. Uhn-uh. That can't be right.

I pricked my finger and the numbers glared back at me: 399.

Fuck.

I don't test for ketones, because I luckily don't produce them too easily, but I new I had to change my infusion site, put on a new CGSM patch, give myself a shot of novolog in the butt and spend the rest of the afternoon checking and chasing my blood sugars. All while continnuing to perform my job at a high level with intent and compassion.

I'm normally pretty resiliant, but my "highs" have been starting to take the wind out of my sails these days. I think I'm "burnt out" on my diabetes. I spent the next few hours not giving a crap.

But, too f'in bad. Even if I want to give up and take a holiday from my diabetes, I can't.

I can't because the diabetes never takes a holiday from me. If I ignore it, it doesn't ignore me - it slowly breaks blood vessels in my eyes, ruins neprons in my kidneys, causes inflammation and plaque in my arteries, overloads my nerves causing them to short out, messes with my emotions and makes my nights fitful and sleepless.

So, I felt sorry for myself. Then I felt angry that I have to deal with all of this. Then I felt envious of those who can go work out and play and be active without ever having to worry about getting low or wonder if you have a power bar in your back pocket if you do. Then I bargained with God that if he lets me win the lottery, then I'll be the healthiest person he had ever met. I never felt denial, though - I've had this too long and that emotion has been played out and dried up for years.

But, as I always do in these little moments of crisis, I then felt acceptance which brings me some peace. I take a deep breath, give myself a little insulin and figure out what to eat at lunch that won't be too bad for my sugars.

It't the little grieving process that I (as well as others with type 1) go through about once or twice a week. It's brought on by highs, lows, good blood test results, bad test results, good doctor's visits and bad doctor's visits.

It's the bitch of living. But, I guess it could be worse. I have a good job and a beautiful family and that's alot.

So ... rant is over. For now.

Peace.

A look back in horror ...

... well, maybe not "horror" but 2008 had a lot of sketchy moments for me, the country, our planet.

But - I'm not going to blog about any of them. Who wants to reminisce about the crappy stuff? Life's too short for bitching and moaning all the time.

So, today's the last day of 2008 and I can't believe how fast time flew. In fact, I threw a clock and a banana out the window this morning to compare and contrast how things fly. Not very well, I might add, and now I'm going to be hungry and will probably sleep in tomorrow.

Anyway, family life continues to be fun and comfortable. Peter can be a handful at times, but he's also the spark that lights my way home after work each day. Laura, who hates to be mentioned in anything on the Internet for fear of identity theft (and doesn't know I have this blog), is becoming an awesomier (probably not a word) mom every day. Laura and I are able to catch our breath every now and again, and remember to be crazy-in-love couple of 39 year olds.

Our extended families are doing well and we're thankful for their love, guidance and distractions.

We are starting to make a few "friends" out here in this barren wasteland, so staving off insanity and depression for another year is definitely a plus.

Work is fine - there are sick people in the suburbs as well, I have found. Some of them actually take their meds and listen to my advice. It's shocking, frankly.

I was able to row and scull much more this last summer and while I have an extra few pounds on these days, I'm pretty healthy for the most part (knock on wood). My bonsai's are doing OK and I had my first official visitor to the "Steve Cytrynowicz Saint Paul Bonsai Reserve" this summer (Hi, Linda!).

Laura and I are trying to scrape together offspring #2, but it's taking a few months more than the last time. Keep your fingers crossed that my swimmers are good and her eggs aren't past their expiration date. Guess we'll have to keep on trying (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

So, the economy sucks, we have too much debt, we still live 1300 miles away from our closest family members and we still don't have too many friends in this weird state.

But, all in all, I fell pretty lucky and thankful these days.

So, until the "fugue" clears ... Peace and Happy New Year!

It's starting to look like Christmas ...

... especially with blowing snow and falling temps.

I haven't really been in the "christmas-spirit" the last several years. For no reason, really, just bogged down with life and work, etc.

But I feel an increasing glow from that tiny ember of spirit in my otherwise cool heart these days. I seek out the 24 hour Christmas song station on the radio while I'm in the car. I want to see gaudy front-lawn decorations. I was excited to see that Laura had put up the christmas tree early this year. I look forward to a cracking fire while Peter opens up presents on Christmas morning.

That's probably it - Peter. He's getting old enough to maybe not understand the holiday, but he'll be old enough to appreciate the gifts and family time.

It'll be a few years before he can get the "cool toys" that I'll want to play with, but when I have the chance to make him happy like every 22 month old should be - then I'll gladly call that christmas-spirit.

Peace on Earth, good wil to all men (and women).

Now, I just have to find something good for the wife ...

I want to write a book ...

... but I don't have much talent, any free time or know how to do it.

Plus, it's a dying medium - relegated to take-offs and landings and laying on the beach.

But ... let's see what I can do anyway.

Smatterings ...

... Facebook is still evil. There's an application called "kickmania" where you paste the FB picture of a friend (or acquaintance!) on the body of an unsuspecting generic girl/guy and then you kick the shit out of them - for distance! Like I said, evil ... but disturbingly fun.

... Jock or nerd? I went to my 21st high school reunion (In know, 21st? don't ask), and while a majority of my former classmates were cool, upstanding and interesting people, there were still a handful who were acting like they were still 17. Oh well, not everyone grows up.

... News flash - Minnesota winters still suck after 7 years.

... Children are amazing. I had a particularly enjoyable weekend with my 21 month old. He was pulling out some expressions, actions and abilities that frankly blew me away. I know I'm prejudiced ... but I think he's a genius.

... I've come up with inverse workout law. The older you are, the more you need to work out. The corollary: the older you are, the less you like to work out. The corollary to the collary: the older you are, the harder it is to work out. The inverse of the inverse: everything is completely the oppopsite, the younger you are - less need, more time, easier.

I now know what my dad meant when he used to say to me as a kid, "Steven, don't get old".

Peace