Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

At Seventeen (Mice, Mice, Baby)

Today marks a couple of milestones. One of my very dearest friends turns 30 (Hi, Chris! I love you!) and my diabetes diagnosis turns 17 (two inexorably linked events in my head; as I've said before, the first day of diabetes + birthday cake is really effing confusing for a twelve-year-old).

I was going to say hi, diabetes diagnosis, I hate you. In some ways (many ways) I do hate diabetes as much or even more than I always have. It's pretty awful. The roller coaster ride, the wheel of fortune, the tower of terror...I could just keep naming rides and metaphors, but you get the picture. Diabetes is unpredictable and wild. It's just like a seventeen-year-old (or, as I imagine a wild seventeen-year-old to be; diabetes rebellion aside, my teenage wildness looked a lot like mildness).

My D is seventeen
I've had some very bad years
I've had some much better years
They happened very recently
I found the D-O-C
Much lower A1c's
My D is seventeen

On the other hand, my D has been the biggest learning experience of my life, and I've always said that I love learning! My D has made me a ton of friends, and I love friends! My D has given me so much to write about, and I love writing! It's funny; if a genie materialized before me right now and told me he could cure me, I would say yes in an instant, but if he said "I can make it so you never had diabetes in the first place," I don't know what I would say. It's made me a better, more controlled, more compassionate person. In some ways, it's made me special. I still think it had a hand in getting me into my first-choice university, which was an incredible experience and has affected my life in immeasurably positive ways.

I learned the truth at seventeen
That while D sucks, you have the means
To only suffer, or to smile
We're only on this Earth a while

In any case, today I choose to smile. Here is a cupcake my sweetheart gave me for my Diaversary (Bailey's frosting and chocolate cake). He's a guy who's in it in sickness, in health, and in cupcakes! I love him very much.

When I was newly diagnosed, I was told that there would likely be a cure in five years. I know most of us in the same boat could finish that sentence. I really held on to that idea. In a way, my first five years (until I actually turned seventeen) of diabetes were me in denial, trying to mark time until the cure was found before I went off to university. In a way, the healthiest (though most depressing) thing I've ever done is to basically "Let It Go" - let go of a hope for a cure in my lifetime. I'm not going to say I wouldn't welcome it, but I want it to be a nice surprise, not a "what took you so long?" To that end, I know we're all sick of seeing studies that report "A CURE!" - in mice only. As a Diaversary present to myself and you, I present my most elaborate parody ever. Please put on Vanilla Ice's seminal tune, "Ice, Ice, Baby," and rap: "Mice, Mice, Baby." I love you guys! I don't love fake cures.

Yo, D-O-C, let’s kick it!

Mice, mice, baby, mice, mice, baby
All right, stop. Commiserate and listen
I know these scientists are full of ambition
Ideas grab a hold of them tightly
One experiment and they’re on the nightly
News – it’s a cure? Yo, we don’t know
Though I know we want to think so
It seems so extreme, a dream too true to handle,
But please, remember to breathe, it’s a scandal

Calm down. Don’t rush the lab rat room
It’s hard to think when some hope pierces the gloom
But deadly, to wish instead of taking care of me
Less than five years, who cares about A1c?
Hate D or leave D, you still better play
Don’t put off to tomorrow the tests of today
Diabetes is a problem and maybe they’ll solve it
But this cure won’t do much unless they can evolve it

MICE, MICE, baby
They cured some MICE, MICE, baby
They cured some MICE, MICE, baby
Not humans, mice, mice, baby

Now that conclusions are jumping
With the hype kicked in, the media are pumping
Make a quick point, they anoint, but they’re fakin’
It’s as much of a cure as a diet of bacon
And we’re equally burned, ‘cause they show us a symbol
Of progress when evidence isn’t so nimble
And a high horse is ridden by those in the know
Breaking the news to the newbs caught in the show
It’s just “cure” v. 5.0
How much smoke can a headline blow?
If I gave this cure a try, then my meter would say HI
Not a chance, I just have to keep getting by
Diabetes will pursue me and I can’t stop
A mouse won’t live five years, me neither, I’ll drop
Then I’ll be dead.

Yo – so you know what, buddy? I appreciate the studies.
I’m glad the tiny beasties no longer have the ‘betes
No more sad squeaky sugar-filled mousy entreaties
But my body’s not a mouse’s, a mouse’s isn’t mine
And when is the day when they tell me I’M fine?
I feel like a chump with my ear to the wall
Running after a cure like a mouse stuck in a ball
Platitudes ring out like a bell
It’s hell, just a shell, well, don’t fall under the spell
Falling hopes are dashed real fast
Optimistic’s just sadistic and I’m running out of gas
My bumper needs a jumper ‘cause the deck seems stacked
I’m just trying to survive with a pancreas that’s cracked
D-Police on the scene, you know what I mean
They pass judgment, act like I’m a mean sugar fiend
Diabetes is a problem, but that doesn’t solve it
And this cure won’t do much unless they evolve it

MICE, MICE, baby
They cured some MICE, MICE, baby
They cured some MICE, MICE, baby
Not humans, mice, mice, baby

Take heed, because I’m a high glucose poet
If this applies to me, well, then why don’t you show it?
It’s the D-O-C’s town, and we’re going to make a sound
Enough to shake and kick holes in the ground
‘Cause there’s fast, safe and cheap, or there’s slow, drag, and kill
My BG is always changing but advances seem so still
Strip safety reform, that’s a hell of a concept
Not sexy, but fixing “the D got her as she slept”
The closed loop system, with low suspend will aid
This ninja-like feeling of life lived on a razor blade
So sharp, other people say “damn,
How you measure out a life in shots and milligrams?”
I keep my composure with goals, some strict, some loose
If I’m high, then I’ll cry, if I’m low, I’ll drink juice
Diabetes is MY problem, and I’m going to solve it
With my friends worldwide, we’re going to evolve it

NOT mice, mice, baby
They cured some mice, mice, baby
That must be nice, nice, baby
But we’re not mice, mice, baby
No more advice, vice baby
‘Cause there’s a price, price, baby
We’re STILL not mice, mice, baby!
Not quiet mice, mice baby

Yo, man, let’s get out of here! Word to your support network!

-Ilana

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Di-ronic

This began with an "empty cartridge" alarm waking me up at 6am on a Sunday. My apologies to Alanis. Warning: much like the original, many of these situations do not fit the technical definition of irony (however, I think this song might have a higher percentage of actually ironic incidents than the original).

A young girl, turning thirteen
She gets diagnosed…on her best friend’s birthday
Getting low but not drunk
From your chardonnay
It’s a death row pardon
But you still have to pay
And isn’t it Di-ronic
Don’t you think?

When you exercise
And your blood sugar strays
You eat utter crap
Oh and NOW you’re in range
When the media say
Type 1 and 2 are the same
And who would have thought
It figures

Mr. Play It Safe
Was afraid to drive
He tested every time
Just so he’d stay alive
One day his BG crashed
He’d only gone for a block
The news said – treat him with insulin
He’s in diabetic shock
And isn’t it Di-ronic
Don’t you think?

It’s like everyone
Thinking you should be fat
It’s some clueless guy
Asking can you eat that
Your endo knows you less
Than #dsma Twitter chat
And who would have thought
It figures

And D has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything’s okay and everything’s going right
But D has a funny way, of helping you out when
You think everything’s gone wrong- it makes you the person you are today

An immune system
That’s just making you sick
The nurse judging your whole life
From one finger stick
It’s like you’ve got one strip left
And all you get’s “Error Five”
It’s nearly dying of a low
From the substance that keeps you alive
And isn’t it Di-ronic, don’t you think?
A little too Di-ronic – and yeah I really do think

You do the same thing,
Get a different result
And you always think
That it must be your fault
Your D’s juvenile
Though you’re now an adult
And who would have thought
It figures

Well you never sought
But now you can’t hide
The province pays for pumps
But not the insulin inside?
“Oh, it’s not that bad;”
Well it’s just your whole life
And who would have thought
It figures

And D has a funny way of sneaking up on you
And D has a funny, funny way,
Of helping you out
Helping you out

Friday, April 13, 2012

A Breakup Song

Once in a while, I ask myself, “Self, how do I launch you into international music fame?” Successful musicians capture the attention of their audience by singing about relatable and universal themes. Adele, I’m told, did spectacularly well with a heart-wrenching album full of break-up songs. I was thinking about this. Now, my audience here is primarily diabetics and those who love them. So what better album to drop than a bunch of old-fashioned pancreas break-up songs?


My first single off the album is “The Pancreas I Used To Know,” with very sincere apologies to Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used To Know” (original song here, if you’re one of the two people who haven’t heard it- see what I mean, breakup songs = international fame!)


Now and then I think of when we were together

You self-corrected for each piece of cake or pie

Told myself I’d always be this free

And you’d be a functioning part of me

Now high blood glucose causes aches that might dismember


You can get addicted to a functioning endocrine system

It was a thing I didn’t think I had to attend

But with a random fasting test

I knew you had been laid to rest

And I’ll admit that I freaked out when we were over


But you didn’t have to cut me off

Crap out like I just malfunctioned and then you were nothing

I didn’t ask for constant love

But right now you’re trying to kill me and that’s kind of tough

You didn’t have to stoop so low

Now my glucose is so high you really changed my numbers

I really don’t need that, oh

Swearing at that pancreas I used to know


Think about that time when my immune system screwed me over

Other people thinking it could only be what I had done (that poor Type 1)

No, I don’t want to live this way

Poking at my body every day

Why did you have to up and go?

I can’t help but feel betrayal from this pancreas I used to know


But you didn’t have to cut me off

Crap out like I just malfunctioned and then you were nothing

I didn’t ask for constant love

But right now you’re trying to kill me and that’s kind of tough

You didn’t have to stoop so low

Now my glucose is so high you really changed my numbers

I really don’t need that, oh

Swearing at that pancreas I used to know

Swearing at that pancreas I used to know



…I think I’m going to have to work a bit harder for international fame. Maybe BlΓΌnt Lancet will sign me?

-Ilana