Category: Babblings

Crazy World of Diabetes

So, my blood sugars are fairly good most of the time. I had a 152 a couple of weeks ago when I forgot to take my meds in the morning AND at night AND decided to cheat a bit with some onion rings. NOT a good combination. I think I came home and rode the bike, even though it was late, to get things back down. I noticed that my number were a few points higher than normal for a week or two. When I say a “few points”, I mean 100-110 instead of 90-100. Nothing to get too worked up over … unless you tend to be obsessive like me. I honestly never knew how competitive I was with myself.

They are going back down: My 7 day, 14 day and 30 day averages are right at 100 (99, 100).

But … this is a funny disease. We stopped for dinner tonight after a trip to Cinci to see a new doctor (if you need a great doctor for “rheumatoid” lung, just holler!) at Champ’s. I ordered the Walnut Crusted Chicken. It was yummy. The sauce they served with it (on the side) was even yummier. It had honey in it. Oh my. I love honey. It was delicious. I went easy on it.  Diabetes. Honey. I was good.

2 hours after eating? 104. I don’t get it. I am happy, don’t think I am not. I just don’t always understand it. A few nights ago, I had some Chinese food. Cashew Chicken. I had about 2 tablespoons of rice and two of the filling part only of crab rangoon. It was in the mid 120’s, I think. Two nights later, I had my leftovers, with no rice, and I ate something else. I can’t remember what right now. 89 2 hours post prandial.  One night, I had bacon, eggs and … drumroll please: POPCORN. Now, I buy the small bags of Orville (isn’t he just adorable?) and add butter to it. My blood sugar was something like 83. I took it three hours after eating, just to be sure, it was 81 or something like that.

I can have popcorn but not rice. I wonder what would happen if I ate a yummy, delicious piece of fresh corn on the cob? I would slather it with butter … I just might need to try it. I miss corn. And watermelon. I still dream of a large bowl (think big Tupperware bowl!) full of watermelon.

I am proud of the work I am doing to keep my feet attached to my legs. I would miss my feet more than I miss that bowl of watermelon. I have never been really good at moderation … but maybe I can get there one of these days.

Offer!

We got the process going to look for a house a couple of days. Walked out of Wright Patt CU with a pre-approval letter. On our way home, the real estate agent he referred us to had already called me. I was barely 10 minutes away from his office when I heard from Barbara Waddell. I told her what we were looking for, what was important and what we might be able to live without. She had a few listings sent to me within just an hour or two that night. Ask my mom: when I looked at one of them, I said more than once, “This is our house!”

Many of the houses were quad-level homes and we thought they might work. We actually went to one on Friday night. It had an above ground pool and a great deck. Steps everywhere! The house was very … sterile. It didn’t feel right to me. It was very nice and everything was new but it certainly was not a lived in house. No “homey” energy. If it weren’t for the stairs and the close proximity of the family room and the living room. There had already been three offers on the house and it had only been on the market 9 days. It just didn’t feel right. (Found out today it was bought for less than 70K last year and it is being flipped … nothing wrong with that but it explains my vibes from the house).

We started looking at houses at noon today. The first one: shudder. I found this one. Great price … black mold and worse. Again, shudder. The second house we went to is just under 1900 square foot and a ranch. NO steps. It is well-cared for, lived in and tastefully decorated, though I don’t like the border in the kitchen and the wall paper is a bit busy (green gingham).

WE went to look at a third house but couldn’t get in the front door. I looked in the door and the foyer led to 8 steps up and 8 steps down. I wasn’t too worried that we could not get in as I was not thrilled with the steps. The fourth house on our list was on a major road, not too far off and no way to turn around in the driveway so one would have to back out onto the main road each time. It also was another quad level and to get into the backyard, after going to the lower level, we would have to walk up some pretty steep steps.

We sat down right in that kitchen and decided to call Alex and make an offer on the second house!

We put our offer together this afternoon. Our agent spoke to their agent and it sounds as if it will be a go! I am so freaking excited and want to puke all at the same time. Things are falling perfectly into place. Now the work of packing and crossing our T’s and dotting our i’s begins.

RJ asked that we be on bus line … there are two that run through the neighborhood. Michael will be thrilled to be minutes from his girlfriend’s house (RJ, OTOH, is now much further from his girlfriend’s house). Maggie doesn’t have a a boyfriend, so we are good in that regard.

We will take all good wishes and vibes that you care to send our way.

Coleman Air Bed

I have a Coleman airbed that I bought back in January. I was tired of going to CONs (youth conferences for youth in Unitarian Universalist congregations) and not being able to get off floor I slept on). Sure, I had a short airbed but I needed a taller one since the fall last summer.

I bought it … and wasn’t even able to use it the first time. I was sick the morning of the CON I bought it for and Shannon used it in my place. She said the kids were in awe of the magnificence of it!  I have used it a handful times since then … once for a CON and a few nights at my mom’s. It was inadvertently overfilled a couple of nights ago and a small hole appeared. It was on the “flocked” side. Didn’t realize this until 1 a.m. when I woke up and realized we were deflating.

Alex tried to repair it but I am not sure it stuck. My sister and her daughter slept on it one night and, though Kelly couldn’t hear any hissing indicative of an air leak, it was certainly deflated in the morning and when my mom sat on it, her butt almost hit the floor.

The temps have risen again and are not cooling off at night to anything reasonable for sleeping. Sure, we have window units in the old, not-well insulated house. The upstairs one doesn’t do a good enough job of cooling off my room at night. Being of a certain age doesn’t necessarily help my plight any. I like a cool room. Chalk that up to growing up in a drafty house in Michigan, where my dad would keep the thermostat turned way down at night. My bedroom was the only one upstairs. I used to have so many blankets at night I would have to wake up to roll over.

I went to Walmart to purchase a new blow up bed. I know, I know … that may have been my first mistake. I spent 80-something on the first one (I bought one that came with a pump as the other pump was MIA at the time) and didn’t want to spend 80+ dollars on a new bed this week. I chose the Coleman as that is what we currently had and figured it is a good brand name. It still might be but their customer service leaves a lot to be desired.

When we set the bed up last night, it was obvious it is NOT as advertised: a queen double high bed, 19″ tall. That is a 12″ ruler Maggie is holding on the floor next to the bed:

Coleman air bed

 

I decided to call Coleman Customer Service this morning.  Kudos to them for being open at 8 ET even though they are in the Central time zone. The woman I spoke to was friendly but not very aggressive in making things right. Now, I don’t expect them to fix the older bed … I have no idea where that receipt is hiding. When I complained about the bed that was too short, I was not given a satisfactory answer. I was told, “Well, it probably happened in the factory. Mistakes happen.” No real apology. I was told I could take pictures of everything and then send them a copy of the receipt in order to have them send me a new bed.  It will take a week. Doesn’t help me tonight, now does it?

It is not that big of a deal … I can go return it to Wally World and get a different one. I even mentioned I would likely buy a different brand tonight (I might or might not) and she just said, “Have a good day!”

Here’s the thing: the box is clearly just the right size for the bed that was in it. It could not hold a larger sized bed than it already did. The box clearly states 19″ deep. Get this: there is a caveat that says, “Actual size may vary”. I took that to mean the actual inflated size may vary an inch or two in the total length and/or width. Not by 6″ in height/depth.

The UPC number, so buyer can beware, is: 007650107839 and the model number is 2000009098.

I realize they couldn’t send me a new bed out to arrive today. I realize they can’t do anything about the bed that was purchased at the beginning of the year. I am just dissatisfied with the whole way she handled it. No apology. No “what can we do to keep you as a customer”. Not what I would call over the top customer service.

Now THIS is customer service. And if I am ever in the position to stay at a Ritz-Carlton, I will!

 

Off to the doctors we go …

Today was a day for doctors. I had two appointments and mom had one. It was IT Friday for me (half day off … once a month for three months in the summer) so I added a half day vacation to the mix and took the whole day off. Saw my surgeon at 9 a.m. Maggie came with me as we were heading over to Mom’s from there.

She put some silver on my wound to help heal it a bit more. It gets a bit oozy after a shower and has “leaked” a bit. See me in a month.

Had a good visit with my primary care doc …. I love him. If I didn’t, I would change to mom’s doctor. She is a gem and I love her, too. Dr. V is happy with my numbers but did say we could work on getting them (especially my fasting) a bit lower. I am upping the dose of Metformin I take to 1000 in the morning and staying with the 500 mg evening dose. He gave me a script for Januvia as well as something for the neuropathy in my toes. Thankfully, my feet are 100 times better than they were before my diagnosis but still tingle and hurt, especially at night. Will have an A1C taken soon as well. Just need to head to the lab.  I am shooting for lower than 6 and thinking it will be around 5.6 but won’t complain if it is a bit lower.

 

Frustrated

Almost two weeks ago, I noticed my left leg was red and swollen, below the bruising from The Fall. I kept an eye on it. My doctor was out of the office that Friday so I waited until Monday to go in. I half-thought about canceling the appointment as it appeared to be a bit better but I am no longer taking chances. I was put on a 10 day Z-pack (normally they are 4 or 5 day). I have one more day left (tonight) and I noticed last night that the swelling appears to be coming back.

On top of that, my blood sugars are slowly creeping up. My 14 day average is: 104 and my 7 day is 109, err, it was 109 last night, now it is 107. What a difference two more entries make, eh? My frustration is that I am not eating anything differently from when it was lower (more in the low 100’s and more 90’s) than I am now. So, do I need more Metforim or is this related to the (possible) infection or is it because all exercise has stopped for the past couple of weeks?  Or a combination of all three?

Maggie and I have been staying at mom’s apartment with her as we have an old, not well-insulated house with only window units. Our bedroom faces the south and is not shaded and is upstairs. When the temps were not getting below 80 at night, we sought refuge at mom’s. I have to say, I am enjoying the peace and quiet over there, the no chaos (unless the males are visiting) and the air conditioning. Frankly, it has been too hot to go home and exercise after dinner and then come back. So far, I have only done some time on the exercise bike. I started at 20 minutes for the first two days then upped it to 30. The last two times I used the bike, I did 45 minutes.  I am sure I will have to start over with 30 minutes and build back up.

I am just frustrated with my levels. I am sure my A1C will be below 6 as I rarely get above 130 (and my 90 day average is: 114). I am FAR from where I was late February. I know that. I demand perfection from myself in some areas. I guess this is becoming one of them.

While I am kvetching: I miss fruit. Really and truly. I want a big bowl of ice cold watermelon. A big one. Not a cereal bowl. Peaches. Ripe, deep purple plums. That’s it: I am talking to the doctor on Friday about upping my Metforim to see if I can add fruit to my diet.

Here we go again …

hopefully for real this time. I am committed to blogging about my low-carb journey. Maybe this will help someone else who thought they could never lose weight. While I am not willing to state publicly how much I used to weigh (nor how much I weigh right now because I know most of you can at least use a calculator!), I will say this: I still have a lot to lose but I have lost over 35 lbs since the middle of March.

My world changed on February 23rd, 2012 when my (now fired, but we will get to that later) doctor called to tell me that my fasting blood glucose test came back over 300. That is high, if you are not aware of that. I went in for an A1C test (this test is indicative of what your average blood sugars have been for the past 3 to 4 months). It was not pretty. My A1C indicated that my average blood sugar level was about 320. Ugh. It did explain my eyesight and how bad it had been getting. I could no longer see the computer screen, even with my bifocals, when I was at someone else’s desk helping them with an issue.

Below is a more complete story of the beginning of my journey.

On June 18th, 2011 about 6 p.m., my life took a drastic change. As I was walking out the front door of our house, I tripped or stumbled (will never really know … except I know I was not pushed – yes, that was asked in the ER) on our porch and I took a nosedive. I went flying down six steps. I landed on the cement landing at the top of another set of 7 or 8 steps. Cement steps. I am lucky I landed there and didn’t tumble down. I likely would not be here today. I broke my left elbow and my right hand (the bone that goes up to the pinky, to be exact). Neither doctor was willing to do surgery and leave me totally incapacitated unless it was totally necessary. It wasn’t. And how can I forget the best part … braces. Again. I had them as a teenager and have them again now. Dr. Raj refuses to tell me when I will get them off. I am betting on never. Seriously … if you need ortho work in the greater Dayton area, I will hook you up.

Here is a picture of the palm of my hand. I had never seen bruising there before.

fall

Here is a picture of the steps I fell down. This was taken from the bottom of the steps I didn’t fall down and on the first day of school, Fall 2011.

133

I also deeply bruised my right shin and my left leg right under the knee. When I say “deep bruises” I mean deep. Likely bone bruises. I was done seeing both of my doctors (I had two: one for the elbow and one for the hand) and the bruises showed no signs of going away. And, they are still a bit visible today, over 1 year later.

The ironic thing is: I was told by the place I got my glasses that the weird fluctuations in my eyesight might be related to diabetes and I should get it checked. At the time, my health insurance absolutely sucked and I might as well have not had any so I was off to meet a friend at WalMart to get a meter and test strips. I should have followed up on that then but didn’t.

Fast forward to February 2012. I had been hired on at my place of employment after being a contractor for 3 years. Finally … health insurance that was worth something. Let’s back up a couple of weeks. On January 21, 2012 I was to drive some junior high kids to Lexington for a CON (a UU conference for kids). I slept horribly all night long and about 7, I thought to take my temperature. It was 102.5. Crap. I called Shannon, the DRE, and found out the third adult, and second driver, was not able to attend and we were going to have to take my van and her car. It turned out that if i didn’t go, they could all fit in just my van. This was perfect as I was not fit to drive and Maggie missed the one last year when she was sick so my guilt was assuaged. Shannon came to get Maggie and my van and leave me her car (which never moved from in front of my house!)

When I came to about 11 a.m., I noticed my left leg was hot, red and swollen. From the knee down. It seemed to be focused near the bruising I still had from the June fall. I spent the day in bed. At some point, I managed to get my law homework done just before the midnight deadline. Barely. The fever broke that night, hovering at 102 most of the day. The next day, I called a good friend who is a nurse to discuss the red, hot, swollen leg with her. My insurance was not going to kick in until February 1 and I didn’t want to go to the doctor if I could at all avoid it. She had me do some things to check for DVT and we determined it probably wasn’t that and she told me when I would need to hit the ER. I took a wait and see approach.

By the time the first of February rolled around, the redness and swelling had pretty much subsided but was still there. I went to the doctor, who wanted a “pre-physical” appointment (whatever that is) and I talked to him about my leg. The upshot was: if it happens again, call me but you are fat and probably just need compression stockings. Yes, you read that right.

I had a physical on February 17th. On the 23rd, I was home from work because I had a fever and had no idea why. My doctor called to tell me that my fasting glucose was high and he wanted to see me. I made an appointment for that Tuesday, the 28th. Friday, I woke up and my right leg was red, hot and swollen. Centering on the bruise from the fall in June. I needed to go to work and I knew I was seeing the doctor on Tuesday so I decided to wait. I spent most of Friday with a fever. I thought it subsided Friday night but came back late Saturday afternoon.

Saw the doctor on Tuesday, who drew blood for an A1C and gave me the news that I most certainly had Type 2 Diabetes and needed to change my diet and start taking my blood sugar. Now, this quack, err, doctor, said I should take my blood sugar “a couple of times a week” and to not stress too much over it. He also said my leg was just lymphadema and reminded me that I was fat and needed compression stockings but we would have to wait for the pain to subside. Like I said … he is a quack.

He recommended I take a diabetes education class at a local hospital. I called and was able to get in that Thursday and Friday and the following Thursday and Friday as well. Good news … a partner could come with you. I dragged Alex along as I was pretty sure he would get the same diagnosis and this would save us the cost of him going to the class. Smart thinking as I was right.

By that weekend, my leg was getting painful but I kept thinking of what the doctor said. I tried to just ignore it. I had to take Michael and Maggie to a party that afternoon, after picking Michael up from a friend’s house. I hated to call K’s moms and ask one of them to bring him home as it seemed like every time he was over there, I was sick and needed them to bring him home. Besides, I was going to have to take them to the party later anyway.

I went to work the first part of the week. In my Eastern Religions class, I had to visit an Eastern religion worship service. Despite the pain in my leg, Maggie and I went to a Buddhist temple. While there, my leg was extremely painful. Though I had put socks on (we had to remove our shoes upon entering), someone noticed the swelling in my foot and brought me a stool to prop it up. The monk was talking about how sometimes we need to take medicine and need healing and may even need surgery. I began to silently cry. We were in the front row so the wracking sobs, though mostly silent, were quite evident. The woman next to me gave me some tissues. It was if the monk were speaking directly to me and no one else.

The next day, we had our third diabetes education class. A nurse did the two Thursday classes. I stayed after class to show her my leg, which was now very painful, red, hot and swollen. The quack, however, made me doubt myself. I showed her my leg and she was very concerned and, if Alex had not been able to get me an appointment for that afternoon, she was going to send me to the ER. I cried most of the way home from the pain. I called my team lead and let him know I could not come in but would work from home.

I went to the doctor that afternoon and he thought that I might need antibiotics but was still calling it lymphodema and still told me I needed compression stockings once this was over. I asked for pain meds and he very grudgingly gave me 20 of Vicodin. He made it clear he was not happy with it but I let him know how much pain I was in and that OTC stuff was not working for me. He said I would be better in 72 hours. I was counting the down, trust me.

After spending the next three days in bed, working from home on Friday, I was anxiously awaiting Sunday night. No better. Worse, in fact. I was taking 2 Vicodin to sleep and taking aspirin and ibuprofen during the day. I was not doing such a good job of staying on top of the pain. I went back in on Monday and all he did was add an anti-inflammatory. He decided to order an ultrasound of the leg to check for blood clots.

I spent over an hour Monday night sobbing in great pain. I was on the phone for part of that time with my best friend. Judi was telling me I had to get on top of the pain, not let it get on top of me. I was terrified the pain was just going to get worse and that I would run out of Vicodin and he would not give me more. I had been asked on Monday if I had been running a fever. I told the doctor I was not sure. I had woken up sweaty a few times but wasn’t really sure. My temp that morning, in his office, had been 98.4. He never asked what I had been taking or when. I had had a Vicodin at 7 and 800 mg of ibuprofen at 8. At 10, when I saw him, my temp should have been no where near 98.4 when my normal temp is 97 or lower. He never asked.

I called my mother as I had not talked to her for a couple of weeks and felt she needed to be updated. The last time I had talked to her, things were a bit rocky for her. When I talked to her this day, I learned she was likely heading for a divorce and was not sure where she was going to live. I had already been looking at some houses and found that there were some in the area we would likely be able to purchase and make room for her in our lives and home. I was thinking I would meet with some resistance so figured we would buy a house over the summer, invite her to come up for the holidays and show her that she could live with us. I told her right then that she could come here. She accepted my offer and plans were being formed immediately to find her an apartment until we could buy a house and to get her here as quickly as possible. While this has been a wonderful thing, it also added some stress to the next few days and weeks. I was worried about her and she was also worried about me as well as dealing with stress in her life.

I waited until 10 to take more medication as I wanted to take my temperature. Dang it. It was 100. I just cried some more and took a handful of mediation. I took one Vicodin and took another one about midnight, when I woke back up. I was also taking aspirin and ibuprofen quite regularly as well. I called his office first thing to let him know of the fever and to find out when my u/s would be. I was told, “He takes patient calls between 12 and 12:30. Please call back then”. I said, “NO. He told me to call if I had a fever. I do. Tell him and when will you make my appointment?” She was able to get me an appointment for 10 a.m. I woke RJ up to come with me. Even though he doesn’t have his license, I didn’t want to be alone.

Oh, I had gotten cabbage leaves to put on my leg. They help with swelling so I thought … this can’t hurt me. While I was using them that morning, you could see a spot of … something … rising to the surface. Infection. Wanting to come out. It was pretty cool … and gross at the same time. RJ was not overly impressed with my oozing leg. I did let the nurse know this new development as well. As we walk into the imaging place, the lady behind the desk practically jumps out of her window, asking if I am Barbara. She tells me the doctor tried to reach me and he wants me to head to the ER. Well, my cell phone never rang and there were no messages. He didn’t try very hard.

We headed to the ER. I was taken back fairly quickly and they drew a whole lot of blood and the tech put in an iv. The prevailing thought was that I would be admitted for IV antibiotics as I was obviously not responding to what I had been on for the past five days. It took them from 11 a.m. to after 6 p.m. to find me a room. Well, I think they had one for me but they had to wait for an admitting physician to come and see me. It was frustrating and irritating to be kept in there so long. I asked for food and the only thing they could bring me was a crappy sandwich … which I could not eat because of the bread. I pulled off the one piece of ham and the one piece of cheese. Yum.

I got next to no sleep Tuesday night and spent the day arguing with the food police. I was trying to stay very low carb. I was told I had to order at least 45 grams of carbs with each meal on the “carb controlled” diet plan. Oh, they had me on the “heart healthy” plan as well so no cheese. No butter. No cream. My blood pressure is low-normal. My cholesterol is good. I argued with the food police over breakfast and told her, “FINE! Send me a second piece of toast. I will not eat it but send it”. She yelled at me back and said she would just send a banana and I could keep it. I sent it back to her … besides, a full banana is way more than 15 grams of carbs. My nurses had to keep going back to the doctors to get them to stop putting me on the carb controlled diet. It was a mess.

I also spent most of Wednesday waiting for different doctors to come in and see me. My leg was an oozy mess. It was determined that I would need surgery but we still didn’t know when. So, I was NPO for most of the day. My nurse and I kept joking that the best way to keep my sugar down was to starve me. When the surgeon finally came in, it was scheduled for the next morning. I was told I would have a drain tube placed in my leg. I was still in extreme pain and was getting morphine and Vicodin, alternating about every three hours. Once, a nurse asked what my pain level was before giving me my shot. I said, “1”. She laughed and said, “I can’t give this to you”. I said, “Well, it will be a 7 in 10 minutes when I get up to pee if you don’t give it to me”. I got my shot. Amazingly, when I woke up Thursday morning, there was NO pain. None. I figured they shot me up all night long. Nope. They have to talk to you first. I tried negotiating with the surgeon in pre-op to not do the surgery. Basically, I was told I was going to need it sooner or later. I finally said, “Fine. You are the doctor and just like I tell our sales force, please don’t try to do my job, I will let you do yours”.

In recovery, I had a hard time remembering to breathe. I was constantly hearing the beeping of the pulse-ox machine and being reminded to breathe by my nurse. A couple of times, I heard the machine go off and would take some deep breaths and she would chuckle and say it wasn’t me. She did finally stop giving me narcotics and gave me a shot of tylenol and something else … the non-narcotic pain relievers helped. Because of this though, I had to keep a pulse-ox thing on my finger for 24 hours. Scared the crap out of us a couple of times at night. Maggie stayed with me and was at the hospital for the surgery and spent the night with me. She was great to have with me.

I had two separate dietitians come and talk to me while I was in the hospital. The first one, I pretty much told to leave my room. She was lock-step with the ADA in that I needed to eat 45-60 grams of carbs per meal. I was keeping less than 45 PER DAY. She didn’t like that. I told her to leave. The second one that came in … I wish I had gotten her card because she agreed with me and told me to eat lots of protein (needed for wound healing) and to keep the carbs as low as I could. BTW, by low-carbing, I had lowered my A1C by close to two points in just a few weeks. It was still horrendous, 10.4, but that is better than where it had been just a couple of weeks before.

Telling my story to the many and varied medical professionals I had contact with during this time verified one thing for me: the doctor I was seeing is a quack. I have gone back to my beloved physician (Alex is still seeing the quack and liked him at first, which is why I went to him). I fired him by walking into his office and asking for a copy of my records. His receptionist asked if I was leaving. I said, “Yes” and she asked why. I said, not quietly and with a waiting room full of people, “Because I don’t appreciate being told I am fat and needed compression stocking when I had a f*cking infection in my leg, that is why!”

I ended up with a huge hole in my leg and no drain tube. Instead, It was packed. And had to be changed daily for almost two months. I was thrilled when, after a month, I told my surgeon I wanted nothing more than a shower and she told me I could have one. I would have been in there for two hours if the hot water would have lasted! My surgeon was amazed at how fast and how well I healed. As my dad said, “I will never be a leg model” but that is not the important thing … I kept my leg. I had visions of waking up from surgery without it.

So, that is the tale of the beginning of my journey. While some of it might not seem relevant, I think it paints a more complete picture of how I came to know I had Type 2 Diabetes.

Blogging …

Again. Really. I don’t know why I bother I always forget to do it though I am hoping two people I follow will inspire me. I like to write. I always have. I just don’t make the time for it.

One of these days I will archive my old posts here. I lost a blog once. I had quite a few posts there … stuff about putting the kids in school. About doctors. And dentists. I hate dentists.

Kids will start school next week. I am so excited for them … they will be in a new school, one that will allow them the freedom to express their individuality. No uniforms. No restrictions on hair color (guess who likes THAT one!) Not that those are necessarily bad things … we are just over them now. While they have learned quite a lot in their years of parochial schooling, they are happy to be done with it. We are not Catholic – far, far from it. I still remember one year when they were doing Jesus’ life at our (mostly) non-Christian church. Maggie asked what summer RE would look like. She was thrilled! Her response, “I am so sick of Jesus! I get Jesus in school each day and then again on Sundays!” She likes Jesus as a person and agrees he had a lot to teach us … but she was done with the teachin’.