Out the Window: Preparing to Sail Solo

I have thirty-four red marks on my outer thighs from the insulin infusion sets and continuous glucose monitor sensors that make their home beneath my epidermis for up to a week at a time. The tissue in my upper buttocks is currently too scarred up to even use to inject insulin.

I have a nice long scar at the base of my abdomen from having two c-sections to free children who grew very fat in utero from the excess sugar in my bloodstream. I currently have one penny-sized bruise on my stomach from the Symlin I inject there two to three times daily.

I don’t even want to think about what my kidney tissue or the back of my eyes look like, not to mention the inside of my vascular system after fourteen years of being ripped up by red blood cells that are strapped down with too many glucose molecules stuck to them because I couldn’t figure out how to perfectly mimic my own dumb pancreas. But, my feet- my feet still have their flip-flop tan well into December.

Diabetes has beaten up my body in so many ways over the years. It has done its best to screw with my mind. It has preyed on the fears of those who love me. But there have always been some things I will not let it take from me, the first of which is that flip-flop tan.

When I was diagnosed, my well-meaning doctor told me that I could never walk barefoot again, that from the moment my feet touched the ground in the morning until I retired them in the evening, they were to be strapped into a closed toe, well-fitted shoe so I would not lose them to gangrene. It was the first piece of well meant doctorly advice I chucked.

To a Southern California beach girl who was raised in the water, that new law was worse than the threat of the complications he had just handed down. The flip-flops went on that next morning and have rarely been off except to be replaced by a pair of heels once in a while when going out, or top-siders when on the water.

During my first year with diabetes, I read a few books on my new disease. Most chapters I skipped because they just listed in detail all the horrible complications I was certain I would never get. But there was one precaution I came across that I tucked in the back of my mind, knowing it was one I was going to have to eventually chuck out the window also.

I read in some odd passage that as a diabetic I would never be able to fly a plane alone, drive a big-rig, or sail a boat alone. I was not so upset about not having a career as a long-haul trucker, the hats never really looked that good on me, and flying I have always seen as a way to get to all those amazing places I want to see, not as a pastime in and of itself. But to be told that I wouldn’t be able to sail alone did not sit well with me. I knew it wouldn’t be something I could prove to my doctors the next day, but it was on my list.

As I have lived with this disease, I have learned the many different moods of diabetes and some very effective strategies to try to tame it. I have seen the technology come so far so quickly that things that once seemed scary and risky now seem very attainable with good, solid planning and a lot of attention to detail. Sailing solo is one of those things.

Unfortunately, the old wisdom prevails. People are being told the same old story when they are diagnosed. Here is the list of things you can’t do, you shouldn’t do, you will never be able to accomplish. Their dreams are being crushed at a time when it is so crucial that they be given hope and encouragement. Instead of helping them adjust quickly to a whole new way of living, they are being sucked dry of their hope of leading a normal life.

The time has come.It is now upon us. It is time to chuck outdated proclamations out the window. It is now safe to sail alone with proper planning, with a Plan B and a Plan C and a Plan D for when things don’t go the way you expect.

I’ve had enough conversations with the diabetics already out there sailing, gleaning anything I can from their experiences. I’ve read the horror stories of sailors who had trips where everything went wrong and what made the difference in their survival. I know I can be okay with enough attention to my body, and how it reacts on land, to food and exercise and stress and temperature and lack of sleep and inactivity, and a lot of activity.

In February 2011, I’ll come back with a whole body tan from four days sailing a 22′ Catalina the 100 miles from Key Largo to Key West, having proven to myself and to my doctors and to the world at large that diabetes should not slow us down.

Diabetes by the Numbers

252 - Last blood sugar reading 684 - Highest blood sugar on record- although it may be a bit inaccurate since the new meters don't go higher than 599 28 - Lowest blood sugar on record- They say you're supposed to pass out at 30 102 - Favorite blood sugar- high enough not to worry about lows and not the "perfect 100" that everyone else strives for 15 - Pounds dropped at diagnosis 19 - pounds gained after starting insulin 8.3 - Last A1C blood test 5-6.9 - "good" A1C range 7.0 A1C I want 5.5- A1C that I would "shit bricks" over 9+ - A1C that makes me cry 36 - Number of A1C test results I have had to endure 8 - Mini boxes of candy I had last night on Halloween 10 - how much I hate Halloween on a scale of 1 to 10 because of the constant temptation of packages of candy just small enough not to register on the "to avoid" list

1,460 - Number of shots I took before giving up the shots and getting an insulin pump, never to look back 42,340 - Number of times I have sliced a tiny hole in my finger to extract enough blood to give to the machine who will grade my diabetic efforts for the last few hours and give me a result that will either make me smile or make me curse, but either way will better inform me of my enemies tactics and how I can outsmart him. 2,867 - Number of curse words spilled from my mouth in reaction to diabetes 1 - Number of entire boxes of Rice Krispies almost poured over my head in a state of low blood sugar 528 - Number of crying spells brought on by my enemy 2 - Number of E.R. visits due to freakishly high blood sugars 1 - Number of official D.K.A.'s because a box of recalled pump infusion sites got out to me and happened to get used at the same time I was battling the flu (and yes I am pulling out every reason in the world that this one was NOT MY FAULT) 2 - Number of crazy docs who thought they knew more about my body than I did and set me up to do or believe down right stupid things like I would never be able to walk barefoot or that to have 7 different basal rates on a pump is "not necessary" 3- Number of amazing docs who know I live with my body and my enemy daily and who work with me to sharpen my battle plan, who give advice on new research, new tests or new technologies to fight the bastard 14 - years I've had diabetes 12 - years I spent trying to battle diabetes on my own 1,000's friends I feel like I have through Insulindependence.org who help lend support and comfort as we fight together 20ish- the actual number of friends I have made through Insulindependence, though their support makes it feel like more 764 - the Number of times I've said to myself, "Now why didn't I join Insulindependence sooner?" and replied to myself, "Oh, Yes, That's right, they've only been around since 2005!" 864,357- people I wish I could tell to become a part of Insulindependence- It will change the way you attack the enemy 62 - boxes of pump supplies, glucose monitor supplies, sensors, tapes, I.V. Prep, glucose monitor strips and other assorted supplies in my closet/pharmacy 42,120- used blood glucose monitor strips I've sent to the landfill 24 strips currently in various crevices in my car 56 strips currently in my wallet/monitor case 138 strips in the trashcan in the bathroom 2 strips in my running bag 33,476 words written in my slightly humorous (but only to the warped minds of the world) memoir on life with diabetes and sailing solo through the keys 16,534 words to write by November 30 to be a winner in the NaNoWriMo or the National Novel Writing Month 551.13 words per day to write to meet that goal 665 words written so far today, oh wait make that 674. 16 Times I've said since I committed to NaNoWriMo last night, "Oh Crap! How am I ever going to be able to pul this off?" 14 sailing books I own and have read- most of which end in hideous disaster and ruin 3 boats I own, though the largest of the fleet is 15 inches long and attached to a stand so it doesn't tip over on my desk 12 - number of feet of the boat I will build this Spring Break 2- number of children who will help me build it 22- feet of the boat graciously donated for me to use for my trip this February by the Key Lime Sailing Club, my favorite sailing club in the world 4- days I will spend sailing alone int he Florida Keys 100- nautical miles I will cover from Key Largo to Key West 480- GPS waypoints beamed to the satellites and then back to mapmytracks.com where anyone can follow along as I sail 168- messages sent to the social networking sites to update everyone of everything I am doing, seeing, hearing, smelling and eating along the way 7500- dollars that I am trying to raise to benefit the oceanic recreation branch of Insulindependence.org 765- dollars I have already raised (thank you, by the way, to all those amazing people who have helped out in this) 105- days left to raise the additional $6735 64.14 -dollars to raise each and every day until I sail 872- times I have said "Oh Crap! How am I ever going to be able to pul this off?" 4696 miles to fly 63 miles to drive 5 sunsets to watch 3 manatees to talk with 82,354 skeeters to avoid 459 pictures to take 152 minutes of HD video to take so I can edit it down to the 3 minutes I am not looking like a total dork 6840 minutes I will be truly enjoying myself as I seek to take some time away from my everyday life to reflect on what diabetes has done to my life and what the fight against letting it take over has done for my character and my life 40,000 words I will have left to write to finish the memoir expressing those new revelations I am sure to have while spending 6840 minutes alone on a boat in the middle of the sea (well, ok, maybe not the middle of the sea, but far enough away from land that it will feel like the middle of the sea) 17 minutes I have just forced you to read far too many numbers 63 useless numbers that have now been stored somewhere in your brain taking up valuable space that could have been used to remember your telephone number when you move into the retirement home when you are 89 1 person you have now far too many unrelated details about that may come together to form a slightly clearer picture of (sorry Mrs. Fullenwider for ending that one with a preposition)

An Aptitude For Solitude

On my way to Back to School Night, the horizon peeked out through the open car window. I smelled the ocean and pictured myself for a moment out on that ocean with nothing surrounding me but the sea, watching the sun rise and the sun set for four days in a row.

I realized how much my soul needs some version of extended solitude. Some people are made for that kind of thing, some think it torture. For some it cleanses their souls from all the sludge that builds up on land and brings them back more ready to attack life, for some it drives them to madness.

I am a member of the former group. I have always had an amazing aptitude for solitude. It is what often has made me forgo going out with a group of friends to finish a project at home. It is what allowed me to survive one very lonely freshman year of college where I would go for days on end without talking to anyone except for the guy who made my sandwiches for lunch.

It is, also, what has driven me to plan this solo adventure, to push the boundaries of what is thought possible for a diabetic, and what has caused me to spend countless hours planning and arranging and seeking out sponsors to get it off the ground.

Many people have asked me why I couldn't bring someone else along with me. A few were concerned for my safety, a few trying to solve the problem of finding a boat to charter from companies that seemed to outlaw solo sailors I tell them there is an extreme difference between sailing solo and sailing with crew. It's in the freedom to indulge every whim right when it hits. To go out as far from land as I want without having to consider another, to see what I want to see, to stop where I want to stop, and to drive on when I want to meet a goal.

It is so unlike my life on land, where it is always a compromise, when I am pulled in a million directions other than the one I truly want to go. Work pulls. Bills pull. Even having to choose a place to eat involves balancing the needs and wants of everyone else. Tony needs to eat clean foods and needs to eat in the next fifteen minutes. Shea won't eat meat. Eli will only eat foods that involve begin dipped in ketchup. I need to sit in a place that involves direct sunlight on my face and all of this has to be done for under twenty dollars.

But, it is not so when you are solo. It is all me. It is simple to balance the things that I want. One opinion to sway the vote, one need to satisfy, one desire to fulfill.

It's not just about indulging my will, though. It's about testing myself without having any fallback. No one else to confer with or lean on when things go wrong, no one to brainstorm with if something breaks, no one to choose a course or to figure out where we went off course and what point on the chart that huge tower actually is. It will just be me.

When the wind picks up or the boat gets grounded, I alone will have to fix it. If you want to know yourself, to truly know of what you are capable, you have to put yourself in those situations where there is a chance that you are in over your head. It is only then that you can find the outer extents of what you are capable of. If you never get to the end of your rope, how can you ever know how long it is?

I hope I am able to find that point so that I can come back knowing that I can handle anything this pedestrian, land-locked life can throw my way. We will have to wait and see...