It is Sunday evening and, while I am so full I can hardly breathe after my FabSuperSoupSupperToThe Extreme, I still want a cookie. Somebody help me.
Perhaps it's because I've become a maraca from all my doctors "filling me up with alla these pills" that seem to have stoked all kinds of latent food cravings that I've managed to keep at bay since the eighties. Perhaps I am simply insatiable, but I have found great joy in my salt/sugar free universe of late: lots & lots of fresh broccoli, corn, red cabbage, black beans, lentils, split peas, polenta, blueberries, oranges, homemade applesauce, lasagne with spinach, cinnamon/all spice oatmeal, chicken/turkey, whole grain pizza with mozzarella [kosher for passover], egg noodles and longhorn cheese, whipped fat free cream cheese on a whole wheat bagel...um...what can i say? Your DivaCardista likes her cheese, especially at the nexus/axis where it meets some kind of pasta or whole grain bread. And if you boost that with the lycopene of a well-tended tomato, I'll be happy as a clam-named-Sam.
Good news is I've redoubled my effort and committment to going to the gym. Five times last week. (I am so determined to come off this insulin...not to mention these @*$^! steroids...) I just have to restrict this whole gotta-have-a-sugar-free-something-in-my-mouth thing to the weekend. Or at least special occasions, like maybe tomorrow when my girl, The Bronx Bohemian, and I plan to see the waterfalls.
Ah me: I've got a musical play on deck for the singles ministry retreat in September, two books to complete and a website to update. Aside from the every so often feeling that I've been hit in the face/chest with a bag of full nickles and really fat, sausage-like feet, life is very full and very good. The writing has proved to be life saving and has indeed been helping me to reclaim my righteous [writers] mind. Who knew how scrambly, dusty and dormant that part of my brain had been (or for how long?) Thank God for new beginnings.
Oh yes: please go see "Meet Dave". It really is an entertaining family film. (How many times can you actually say that?) And if you like Eddie Murphy even a little bit, you will be glad that you went, unlike, say, my personal experiences with the overlong "Get Smart" and the somewhat creaky "Indiana Jones". Yes, I was surprised at how well the film held together and held my attention. And I really enjoyed it, to boot.
Donnie McLurkin preached his heart out today. And am I glad. Did my soul good. I hope your pastor/preacher blessed your soul real good as well.
Here's hoping you've had a grand and lovely weekend and shall have a happy & healthy week to come.
New Blessings,
DivaCardista
blessedstarcards.com
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Fat Like a Tick
SO much is new, I hardly know where to begin...
i have been steadily working on a brand new play for the singles ministry retreat this fall and the process is absolutely life giving. our theme is centered on purpose and living like there is an intrinsic reason why each person has been sent here. Catalytic stuff. I'll let you know how it all shakes out.
What else? 4.25 gas...old hat...oh yeah: the hospital.
"evrytime i move, i lose/ when i look i'm in..."
Just got out as my sugar spiked 600--yes, you read that right--and it took a solid week to get it down from the stratosphere. Boy, am I sick of the hospital. But, even more, we are so over steroids!!! So, rather than falling on my sword and submitting to whatever the docs say on the Mount of Sinai, for the first time, I am taking on the role of empowered patient and liverdoc and I are going to actually dialogue about the strategy to get me off of these whack pills that have done everything from distort my body to making me prone and consequently subject to the skin popping world of diabetes, which I have never had before. Pray my strenght in the Lord, saints.
Had this 70yr PuertoRiquena as a roomate for just about the whole time I was [across the street] in The Jug. She was a pip. On the last day she was there, a day before I got sprung, a lovely male friend of mine came to see me. Even though I looked not unlike the crazy cat lady from the Simpsons, in my hospital drag, we had a nice visit. Nothing like a good friend when you are feeling low. Anyhoo, skip ahead to the day roomie is about to be taken home by her family. In walks this Eastern Bloc Phychiatrist who seemed to want nothing more to tighten me up for the weekend with some something direct from the apothecary to help me take the edge off, as twere.
"Are you depressed?"
No.
"Do you sleep through the night?"
No...
"Are you hopeless?"
Nope.
"Have you considered suici...?
NO!
"Why do you cry?"
Um...
[because we are at war? And because steroids gave me fat ankles, a depressed pituitary, a fat yellow face, high blood pressure, diabetes and medical bills that are threaten my FICO score hourly? Shoot, why do you cry?]
"They say you are depressed. Let me give you something to..."
I'd rather have your business card, just in case I might want to talk later.
And as soon as I made it known I was not about start shooting up and getting high with/because of/due or in response to him, he was gone like a flash. Like a vapor.
My roomate's response? "Honey, all you need is a papi chulo & you'll be just fine. You don't need another drug."
Scared of her.
Also, re: fat like a tick:
All the time, people hate on hospital food. And as many perfectly lovely places that I have had the best of the best cuts of meat, swirls of potatoes and infusions of all kinds of leeks, acai, basil, mint and sweet vidalia...your DivaCardista can get her grub on in a hospital. All week long, especially since I knew each meal cost a car note, I ate everything I could. And was not shy about asking for more. Now, of course, as a "newly diagnosed diabetic" [Sideshow Bob shudder here] there were/are limits, even beyond sugar and carbs. Yet, I managed to emerge from each meal...fat like a tick.
Now, during this life saving/life changing week, I learned a lot as well. For example, even though grape juice is a great source of antioxidants for some, the sugar it contains is far more than your Diva can metabolize. Who knew? (I was chugging it by the gallon. Literally.)
Another good thing to come out of this week was that zeal and insomnia drove me to read and write voraciously. Was all up in every magazine from O to The Atlantic to Black Enterprise to Time. And got a huge jump on my aforementioned play. I was determined not to let a week of skin popping, saline and nubby sock wearing encourage my brain turn to mush.
Speaking of mush...
Before nine this morning, we are happy to report, I was at the gym for the first time in about two weeks! You'd be surprised what a mere week in the hospital dealing with "sugar" can do to a body. SO I did my gentle "circuit", abductors, adductors--abs the hardest of the two--rescued my dry cleaning and came on home. Groovy, yes? So proud of me...
The heat is beginning to rise precipitously now, so I'm gonna close.
But I surely hope your day is a good one. If so, give a shout.
CoolNew Blessings,
DivaCardista
blessedstarcards.com
i have been steadily working on a brand new play for the singles ministry retreat this fall and the process is absolutely life giving. our theme is centered on purpose and living like there is an intrinsic reason why each person has been sent here. Catalytic stuff. I'll let you know how it all shakes out.
What else? 4.25 gas...old hat...oh yeah: the hospital.
"evrytime i move, i lose/ when i look i'm in..."
Just got out as my sugar spiked 600--yes, you read that right--and it took a solid week to get it down from the stratosphere. Boy, am I sick of the hospital. But, even more, we are so over steroids!!! So, rather than falling on my sword and submitting to whatever the docs say on the Mount of Sinai, for the first time, I am taking on the role of empowered patient and liverdoc and I are going to actually dialogue about the strategy to get me off of these whack pills that have done everything from distort my body to making me prone and consequently subject to the skin popping world of diabetes, which I have never had before. Pray my strenght in the Lord, saints.
Had this 70yr PuertoRiquena as a roomate for just about the whole time I was [across the street] in The Jug. She was a pip. On the last day she was there, a day before I got sprung, a lovely male friend of mine came to see me. Even though I looked not unlike the crazy cat lady from the Simpsons, in my hospital drag, we had a nice visit. Nothing like a good friend when you are feeling low. Anyhoo, skip ahead to the day roomie is about to be taken home by her family. In walks this Eastern Bloc Phychiatrist who seemed to want nothing more to tighten me up for the weekend with some something direct from the apothecary to help me take the edge off, as twere.
"Are you depressed?"
No.
"Do you sleep through the night?"
No...
"Are you hopeless?"
Nope.
"Have you considered suici...?
NO!
"Why do you cry?"
Um...
[because we are at war? And because steroids gave me fat ankles, a depressed pituitary, a fat yellow face, high blood pressure, diabetes and medical bills that are threaten my FICO score hourly? Shoot, why do you cry?]
"They say you are depressed. Let me give you something to..."
I'd rather have your business card, just in case I might want to talk later.
And as soon as I made it known I was not about start shooting up and getting high with/because of/due or in response to him, he was gone like a flash. Like a vapor.
My roomate's response? "Honey, all you need is a papi chulo & you'll be just fine. You don't need another drug."
Scared of her.
Also, re: fat like a tick:
All the time, people hate on hospital food. And as many perfectly lovely places that I have had the best of the best cuts of meat, swirls of potatoes and infusions of all kinds of leeks, acai, basil, mint and sweet vidalia...your DivaCardista can get her grub on in a hospital. All week long, especially since I knew each meal cost a car note, I ate everything I could. And was not shy about asking for more. Now, of course, as a "newly diagnosed diabetic" [Sideshow Bob shudder here] there were/are limits, even beyond sugar and carbs. Yet, I managed to emerge from each meal...fat like a tick.
Now, during this life saving/life changing week, I learned a lot as well. For example, even though grape juice is a great source of antioxidants for some, the sugar it contains is far more than your Diva can metabolize. Who knew? (I was chugging it by the gallon. Literally.)
Another good thing to come out of this week was that zeal and insomnia drove me to read and write voraciously. Was all up in every magazine from O to The Atlantic to Black Enterprise to Time. And got a huge jump on my aforementioned play. I was determined not to let a week of skin popping, saline and nubby sock wearing encourage my brain turn to mush.
Speaking of mush...
Before nine this morning, we are happy to report, I was at the gym for the first time in about two weeks! You'd be surprised what a mere week in the hospital dealing with "sugar" can do to a body. SO I did my gentle "circuit", abductors, adductors--abs the hardest of the two--rescued my dry cleaning and came on home. Groovy, yes? So proud of me...
The heat is beginning to rise precipitously now, so I'm gonna close.
But I surely hope your day is a good one. If so, give a shout.
CoolNew Blessings,
DivaCardista
blessedstarcards.com
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