Of course, this means that I'm paralyzed with fear about what to post next, now that people are actually looking at me! I was going to post something about my current steps in healing from injury and moving forward with exercise, but I think I'll do that next time; last post was so serious that I think I'm going to go a bit lighter.
Music is a big part of my life, as well as theatre. I'm in a nerd-rock handbell group called Pavlov's Dogs, and a serious semiprofessional choir, the Amadeus Choir (you can listen to our performance of Bach's B-Minor Mass, recorded by the CBC (Canada's national public radio and TV broadcaster, here - I'm next to the pulpit in the photo, with a music stand because of my broken elbow at the time). Recently, though, I've also started singing with a five-woman a cappella group (no name yet), and it's been a lot of fun. The other day, we were practicing a version of the old standby, Mr. Sandman (original version, by The Chordettes, here). A couple members of our group do burlesque, so I wound up writing a burlesque version of the song on the way home (what else could Mr. Sandman bring?) that I won't post here. After I finished it, though, I thought: if Mr. Sandman could bring us dreams, a guy, and various other things, why couldn't he diversify, and, like a medical Santa Claus, bring me a new pancreas? This is all a long preamble to present my diabetes version of Mr. Sandman, performed by 1950s singing group the Diabeats:
Mr. Sandman, (bring me a) pancreas please
Let me deal with carbs with devilish ease
Remove this blight that tries to erase us
And keep me constantly in homeostasis
Sandman, I’m so alone
Can’t process sugar just on my own
You know test strips don’t grow on trees
Mr. Sandman, pancreas please
Mr. Sandman, pancreas please
The pump is nice, but control’s still a tease
You know I just want to stay alive
I’m sick of glucose tabs and Error Five
Sandman, give me a rest
This regimen's got me feeling oppressed
When I wake I want perfect A1cs
Mr. Sandman, pancreas please!
Mr. Sandman, pancreas please!
I'm like an engine, without any keys
When I am cured, I won’t be a boaster
I’ll just cheer when I step off that glucoaster
Sandman, a dream’s what you make
But nighttime lows kind of keep me awake
If you want me to catch some “Zs”...
Laugh at insurance companies...
Have time for more fun, less disease...
Mr. Sandman, pancreas please!
(And make sure it works this time!)
So, finally, happy Blue Friday, everyone! Here's my special Blue Friday dress:
Stylish *and* awareness-raising!-Ilana
Lookin' GOOD 'Lana! Losing weight and getting toned and it shows. Keep your eyes on the prize and Good Luck. -Kirz #HAWT #HardWork #GettingActTogether!
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