I still haven’t decided if I’m going to make a Thanksgiving meal or not. I do love turkey, and it wouldn’t go to waste even though it’s just me and Jason. I’d freeze some of the leftovers, possibly make soup from the carcass, and the rest would make sandwiches and re-heated dinners for several days. I thought about making just a turkey breast because it’s smaller and easier to cook, which also means I’m less likely to screw it up, but I happen to prefer the less heart-healthy dark meat. I’ve also considered just roasting a chicken or some game hens, but the problem with those is that they’re not turkey.

Back when I was a teenager, there were a few years that my mom got a smoked turkey, and this is a great option because technically, it’s already cooked. It just has to be heated in the oven so it takes less time than a regular bird, and it’s far moister than any other turkey you’ll ever eat. My issues with that are that I don’t know where to get one where I live now, I don’t know if it’s too late to order one (my mom always had to order them in advance), and then of course, there’s the guilt I’d feel about the high sodium content which is a given with any kind of smoked meat.

I’m still deliberating, although I’m well aware I had better figure it out soon. I did look at turkeys while I was at the supermarket a couple of days ago, but I only saw ginormous ones. If I make a whole turkey, I would at least like to get a small bird. Turkey is my favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal though. Luckily it’s the part that I can indulge in without worrying too much about my BG, and it’s possible that’s why it’s my favorite. I love stuffing, but it loses to turkey because I’d be chasing that high for hours if I ate too much of that.

Cranberries

Turkey is not complete without the cranberry sauce, in my humble opinion. Of course, your standard canned cranberry sauce has enough sugar to put me in DKA because I don’t skimp on it. I don’t like the canned stuff though - especially that jellied crap (bleh!) - because I discovered how much more yummy and fabulously easy it is to make cranberry sauce about ten years ago. I don’t normally go for “diabetic” recipes or sugar-free foods unless the SF version is just as good or better than the regular version. I think this is better than regular cranberry sauce because that stuff is too sugary and ruins the natural tartness of cranberries. The glorious low-carb nature of turkey would be ruined if I had to use canned, so this has become one of my Thanksgiving staples. No matter if I’ve eaten Thanksgiving dinner at home or at someone’s house, I make sure to have some. I love it on turkey sandwiches too, so I buy extra bags of cranberries to freeze in case I feel like making some during the year.

If you’re hosting Thanksgiving this year, make this in advance, as early as this weekend, so you don’t have to bother with it on Thanksgiving. If you’re going elsewhere for Thanksgiving, make a batch and bring it with you if you’re able. The basic version is just the cranberries, water and Splenda. The rest of the ingredients are for flavor and texture, so you can add that stuff or add something different (finely chopped dried apples or apricots, black pepper, cinnamon, caramelized onions - use your imagination).

Way Better Than Canned Cranberries

1c Splenda
1c water
12 oz. fresh cranberries, rinsed
3T orange juice
1/2c orange sections
1t orange zest
2T finely chopped celery
2T finely chopped walnuts or pecans

Boil water and Splenda. Add cranberries, juice, sections and zes. Cook for 20-30 minutes or until water is reduced, berries have burst, and sections have fallen apart. Remove from heat, cool, and add celery and nuts. Cover and chill. Makes about 3 cups. 1 serving = 1T.

I’m in a pretty blah mood today, and really, I’ve been feeling blah the last few days. I’m sure part of it is the cold weather which I’ve come to dread and despise. I assume my intolerance for cold weather is due to diabetes-related less-than-awesome circulation. I don’t know if that’s really the case or not, but I don’t have a better explanation. I know I used to be OK with cold weather. I even used to snow ski, and the thought of standing on a windy, snowy mountain used to be exciting. Now it makes me want to put on another layer of fleece, and not leave my house until May. Also, there can’t possibly be a better explanation for my deathly cold feet other than circulation loss. Seriously, if you touched my feet, you’d think I was a cadaver, they’re so unnaturally cold.

Dark Cloud

My contempt for cold weather is part of the reason I’ve focused my current job search on places with warmer climates. I’m limited though because Jason hates hot, humid weather as much as I hate cold weather, so I’m trying to stick with locations that aren’t humid (sayonara, East Coast). The job search is stagnating though which is also contributing to my blah mood. I’m still optimistic that things will come from the connections I made on World Diabetes Day, but the reality is I need a job with benefits. I’ve already blown 3 months of COBRA, and while 15 months sounds like a decent chunk of time, I know it’ll fly by, and I’m already getting intermittently panicked that I’ll be forced to get on Jason’s super crappy, uber-expensive plan. I know I’ve already talked about it several times, but it’s always on my mind. I’ve been sending out resumes, and the only response I got was from a facility that isn’t currently hiring, but will keep my resume on file. It’s next to impossible to not feel discouraged when all I can do is compulsively check my phone messages and email to see if anyone has responded to my resume.

I try to be grateful that I at least have a part-time job so I’m bringing in a little income, but here we are, one short week away from the glorious holiday season. Low funds means a slim Christmas, which in and of itself isn’t so bad, but combine that with no plans for Thanksgiving or Christmas, and it’s just depressing. My parents supposedly have a residence in Philly, but I don’t think they’re ever there anymore so I never see them. We were invited to drive down to Georgia to see them the week between Christmas and New Year’s, but Jason’s mom, who lives ten minutes from us, is also going to be away so we’re dog-sitting for her. Other years we’ve spent Thanksgiving and/or Christmas with her, but she’s going to California to see Jason’s sister and niece for both holidays. One of the disadvantages of not having children is that your families find you far less interesting than your child-bearing siblings. I’m considering making a Thanksgiving meal for us, but I hate my kitchen, and Thanksgiving for two just isn’t very Thanksgiving-y. I’m not usually very bah-humbug, but there isn’t much to look forward to that feels very holiday-like, so, bah-humbug.

I would’ve kept all this to myself, but since everything else seems crappy right now, I might as well not screw up NaBloPoMo. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to piece together something less depressing since I don’t think I could generate anything more depressing.

Diabetes is a family disease. One person (or occasionally more) might have it, but it affects everyone. When I’ve chatted with families about how diabetes affects families when a child is diagnosed, I’ve always used the analogy of an unwelcome, intrusive aunt or uncle who has taken up permanent residence in their home. A family has to accommodate them and make sure their needs are met, but they grumble under their breath and curse them. Eventually, the family grows accustomed to their guest, and their presence is routine, but that doesn’t mean the family enjoys their company or wants them there.

I don’t know if it’s the best comparison, but I happen to like it. I think families with a diabetic child often try to contain and control the diabetes in an effort to minimize its impact at the expense of acknowledging and addressing the fact that it does impact everyone and that’s an unavoidable dynamic. That’s clearly a generalization, but it’s based on my observations so it seems to be true of at least some diabetic families.

Until recently, I hadn’t stopped to consider how that dynamic evolves as we become adults, start our own families, and grow into those families. I’m sure part of why I hadn’t stopped to examine this is because I’d have to look at how diabetes fits into my current family, me and Jason. Since I’ve been thinking about it, it’s started to weigh on me.

Diabetes isn’t that unwelcome aunt or uncle that moved in with my family when I was a kid. Now diabetes is my child, and while it’s not one I planned to have or wanted, I’ve accepted the responsibility and I do what I can to take care of it. It’s frequently not well-behaved, but I’m used to it. I have my bag of tricks that I use to placate it when it starts throwing a tantrum, but I understand its unpredictable temperament, and I’ve learned to adjust and adapt as needed.

For Jason, it’s the problem step-child he would have rather not had. Initially it seemed unassuming and manageable, and I was able to keep them relatively separate so Jason didn’t see just how intrusive it is. Time passed before he understood that diabetes wakes us up at night to crawl into bed, disrupt our sleep, and even wet the bed when I get one of those sweaty lows; that diabetes sometimes has to be fed on its own schedule, not ours; that diabetes requires bringing extra stuff with us no matter where we go and often means turning around and going home when we forget something; that diabetes is a pain that needs constant attention.

I’ve had 30 years to get used to it, and I’ve made peace with diabetes after dealing with the denial and anger. However, I’m wondering, do partners go through the same stages, especially those who didn’t have any prior experience with diabetes? I read diabetes behavioral health research, and I don’t recall ever coming across articles about the adult relationships of former T1 children. That doesn’t mean the research hasn’t been done though. Has anyone investigated this?

My awareness of what it means to him has been increasing, and whether or not anyone is doing any scientific research, I’m doing my own somewhat unintentional research here at home. Sometimes clues fall in my lap when I’m not looking. A while back, I was saying something to him about blogging, and when he clearly didn’t know what I was talking about, I asked, “Don’t you ever read my blog?” His response? “Why would I do that? I know what our life with diabetes is like. I don’t need to read about it.”

Now that I’m growing increasingly aware of the complexity of the effect diabetes has on our marriage, I’ve started looking for clues to help me better understand. We met on match.com, and he had some idea of what I looked like from my pictures, and he knew some basic facts , like that I don’t smoke, I have a goofy sense of humor, I wasn’t having kids – and I’m diabetic. A few weeks ago, I asked him if he would have wanted to date me if he had understood what it meant to live with diabetes, but hadn’t known me yet. First he asked me why I would even want to “go there”. After I shrugged, and told him I just wanted to know, he said, “If all I knew was what I initially knew before we even met, then no.”

These conversations are hard for me because he doesn’t like diabetes (who would?), but it’s a part of me, it’s shaped who I’ve become, and I spend a lot of time on diabetes-related projects of late. It’s not like a bad habit or a personality quirk that I can work on changing, nor is it an issue that we can talk about and resolve in one sit-down. Diabetes is hardly a tidy problem. One doesn’t have a single discussion about it and come up with a neat answer. One doesn’t come up with an answer no matter how many discussions are held. It’s a messy disease in that it affects everything, even things other people would never consider. A conversation about it is a life-long dialogue that we’ll be having as we grow as individuals, as our marriage evolves, and as my child, his step-child, our diabetes changes.