Eye doctor

In honor of National Diabetes Month, I went to the eye doctor today. That's not really true, I always go this time of year but it sounds good, right? Anyway, the appointment was not too exciting, which is always a good thing. Still no signs of retinopathy. Yay! And it's funny because I had Lasik surgery back in December of 2004 and since then every time someone checks my eyes they comment about how great they look, that they almost can't even see the scar and what a nice job the surgeon did. Personally, I pat myself on the back a little for that one because who'd a thought a diabetic could heal so well?!?

The one little downer though is that even though I had 20/15 vision right after the Lasik surgery, it has slid a little in the last 18 months or so. My left eye is now about 20/25 and my right is about 20/50. (Keep in mind before the surgery my vision was about 20/450. Yep, folks, I was legally blind without my contacts!) The right one is the one that drives me a little crazy but I'm still going fine without corrective lenses. I keep a pair of glasses in the car in case things get blurry on the road at night but I hardly ever wear them. In the long run, I'm still very happy with my vision and my eye health.

Well, that's the most exciting news from my day. Hope you had a good one!

~Layne

It's Over!

That's all I could think as I drove home today from my interview. Well, I'm using the word "think" here very loosely because at the end of a long day that started at 6am with a 2 hour drive, consisted of meeting 20 million people, asking and being asked 50 kazillion questions and walking all over the two hospitals I was a little, uh, fried . . . to say the least. So I vegged out the first 20 minutes or so of the drive.

But then I got to thinking about today's interview and I also thought back on my previous interview two weeks ago. I had so much floating around in my head, comparisons, facts, people, place. . . I thought my brain might actually ooze out of my ears and onto Interstate 4 as I drove back home. Before I went on this interview I had really thought my decision clear but today the waters became very murky. I have two great institutions to choose from. Two great Level 3 NICU's that I have to choose between. (That is, if I am lucky enough to get an offer from both. But I do have to say I think I did really well on both interviews.)

So this looming decision weighed on me. How was I going to choose? Would I make the right choice? Then I thought of the past 2 years . . . had it really been that long? December marks 2 years since I graduated, full of hope and ambition. But that two years had brought some really rough times. An fruitless job hunt in Orlando, months spent in an NP position that ended up being completely unfulfilling and infuriating, the highs and lows of interviewing at my one hope at a position in Orlando and then getting turned down and then stepping down to a RN position just to regain my sanity. When it comes to my career, the last 2 years have been emotionally and physically draining to say the least.

And then it dawned on me. . . what a wonderful problem to have. And at that second I thanked God for the opportunity to experience this problem. A choice between two Level 3 NICUs were I can persue my passion and really learn. These are exactly the kinds of places I have been looking for. Sure, it's a commute. But this is something I have been wanting (and missing out on) for so long. And I am so, SO grateful that I am finally in a place where I can work in a place that fits me. A place where I can make a difference, do what I love and learn new things about a field I am truly passionate about every day.

And that's what I thought for the rest of my ride home. It's over. The search. The stress. The greif. The uncertainty. It's over.

Thank God.
~Layne

PS: A diabetes related note: Wouldn't you freaking know that I got low twice! On each interview!! Luckily I brought snacks that I stowed in my purse to be ready for this exact situation, but seriously?!? Some days I really think having diabetes is like taking a toddler with you everywhere you go. There are those important days where you just pray it will, sit down, shut up and just behave and not embarrass you. Oh well. ;-)

Nervous Nelly

So, the above title isn't quite true. I'm not all that nervous. More like anxious. But why don't I tell you what all this is about before I start dissecting my feelings. I have an interview tomorrow with a hospital a little less than 2 hours away from my house. (I guess we'll see what the actual driving time is tomorrow, huh?) It's an all-day interview which is pretty typical in my field. And I'm excited to meet the team and see the hospital but I'm also wary becaue I'm beat from my two days in a row of sun-up to sun-down shifts and I have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to arrive to my interview on time.

This is my second interview in two weeks. Since I went to the NANN conference back in September and caught up with old colleagues and brushed up on the latest research I've found myself yearning more and more to get back into the NNP role. I know, I know. I said I was happy as a nurse . . . and doubly happy with my 15 minute commute. And I am. But it's hard not to miss being in the NNP role. It's what I trained for, it's what I'm passionate about and it's why I have all these school loans, for crying out loud!

However, there is one (very big) problem with this: There are no openings in Orlando. Zero. Zilch. Nada. And it doesn't look like there will be any for at least 2 years. Maybe more. So I developed a strategy. I networked like crazy at the conference and met a few recruiters and a few hospitals, with openings in Florida, all expressing interest. My criteria was this: the hospital had to be within 2 hours of Orlando and it had to offer long shifts (long = 16 to 24 hours). I compromised with myself in order to find a job. It sucks to have to drive 2 hours to a job so I only looked at places with long shifts so that the number of times I had to drive back and forth to work would be drastically decreased. For example, I interviewed somewhere that primarily does 24-hour shifts. So I would do 3 24-hour shifts in 2 weeks, give or take. How sweet is that?!?

I also decided not to entertain any more of this Level 2 business. If I'm driving that far I would only look at Level 3 NICU's. These are the NICU's that keep the sickest babies, house more specialties, perform surgeries, etc. This is the kind of place I want to be in, where I can really learn my stuff. If the hospital was a teaching institution or in a university setting, all the better.

I narrowed the field down to the 2 strongest contenders. And that's where we are now. I've gone on one interview and tomorrow is my second. These interviews are exciting, for sure, but also nerve-wracking and exhausting. Throw in a 4 hour round trip and who knows what shape I'm going to be in tomorrow. Hopefully I'll remember to post! :-)

So I should go now and prepare (aka write up my questions, print out directions, pick out an outfit, etc). Wish me luck and pray that my diabetes stays in check all day!!

TTFN!
~Layne

Can we say busy?

Okay so today ws not such a good second day for NaBloPoMo. I came to work this morning and found that my assignment was in one of my favorite rooms. The twin room is oh, so quiet, oh, so calm and really lends itself to a relaxing day at work with the babies. Which, in turn, should hve lent itself nicely to me havig pleny of time to write my daily blog post.

Today? Not so much. No one told my babies that Halloween is over. Because I had little twin girls "trick-or-treating" me all day long with the alarms, the dings, the xrays, the ultrasounds, the tubes, the wires, ventilators facing the wrong direction, monitors out of reach . . . this room, this assigment, and these poor little girls were a hot mess.

And now, near the end of my shift, so am I. Not to mention I am currently typing on a mobile laptop station that is uber-ghetto and is currently missing 3 keys with several more on the fritz. So please forgive the spelling errors. And the lack of an actual interesting post.

But hey! I posted!! Go me!

Until tomorrow,
~Layne

NaBloPoMo

So it's November and that means NaBloPoMo is officially here. I actually think I'm going to give it a shot. (No pun intended from the diabetes blogger over here.)

For those of you who don't know, NaBloPoMo stands for National Blog Posting Month and it is a way for wary and/or wayward bloggers (such as myself) to jump back into blogging by committing to posting daily for the entire month of November. No weekends off, no holidays off. At least one post, every day.

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that I've only freakin' had 18 posts so far this year! So how in the world can I commit to 30 posts in 30 days? All true. But I'm going to do my best and hpoefully this will help to instill blogging as a new habbit of mine, so that my absences won't be so long and, uh, so frequent.

It also means I'll probably be blogging about anything and everything just to get material in. But take into consideration what November holds in store: I'm about to go on my second job interview in as many weeks, I should hear back about potential job offer(s!) within 2-3 weeks, my first Thanksgiving as "the hostess" and decorating our new house for the holidays for the first time!! All very exciting, busy and even somewhat life-changing stuff. Come to think of it, how am I going to fit in time to blog? Oh well, it should be interesting, so stay tuned!

~Layne

Pack your bags . . .

. . cause you're going on a guilt-trip. Read on. . .

Nick has had Type 1 diabetes for as long as he can remember. Now, as the holiday season approaches, this little six-year-old is hoping he'll get the one gift he's always wanted: a future free of diabetes.

"I keep tossing pennies into wishing wells and my wish is always a for a cure," says Nick.

At a time of year when most boys Nick's age are dreaming of puppies and baseball mitts and race cars, this little boy is dreaming of a cure.

This is the start of a letter I received recently from the JDRF. And every letter is like this one. In fact this one is disappointingly tame and not as tear-jerker-ish as they usually are. These things are so over the top, so transparent it's sickening. They drive me crazy!

Maybe that stuff works on other people. Maybe this is the way of every charity devoted to helping children in some fashion, whether they are "suffering" with diabetes or starving in Africa. But as someone actually living with diabetes. . . as someone who, 15 years ago, could have been the kid in the letter, it just gets to me. I can't feel sorry for these kids and I won't. I never expected anyone to feel sorry for me and if they tried I promptly assured them that I didn't need their pity. I'm not saying I was a completely well-adjusted kid with Type 1 DM but I was also a firecracker and fiercely independent. I never liked anyone thinking I was anything other than completely with-it and capable. And . . .

(Fair warning: What I'm about to say may make me a huge jack ass in some people's eyes but, oh well.)

I think the JDRF really dropped the ball with this type of advertising and fundraising strategy. Because GUESS WHAT?!? I have juvenile diabetes. And you know what else? I'm not a kid. Does that mean I'm not worth a cure? I've been living with this crap for almost 20 years, I grew up with it and I dealt with it as a kid but I grew up. Thank God. I hope every kid with diabetes gets the chance to grow up. But what happens when they do? Are we going to slap them on the back and say "congrats!" for outgrowing your childhood despite the rigors of diabetes. Oh and, by the way, no one cares about you anymore. You aren't cute and freckle-y and pre-pubescent so you aren't worth a cure. You know what? Screw you!

And that's how these stupid letters make me feel. Like the only people with diabetes who matter, who deserve a cure are the kids. Well most of us started out as kids and, here's an update: we didn't outgrow this disease. And for those with diabetes who got it in college or in adulthood, that's a whole different kinda hard. And, most days, I'm glad I didn't have to go through that particular battle. Puberty and diabetes? Yeah, that's a rough combo. But living your whole life like nothing's wrong and having a career and a family and then, Oops? Everything changes! How you eat. How you think. Every day for the rest of your life. Yeah, that definitely sucks too. At least I don't remember much of my transition from pre-diabetes to post-diabetes.

Bottom line? JDRF, please stop laying it on so thick. I will definitely keep donating and I will "walk for a cure" and do anything I can to help find a cure, because I do need a cure. But I surely don't need a guilt-trip. And to anyone else out there who thinks diabetes is just a little kid disease: Open your eyes and you'll see a whole lotta adults, even "young adults", who are already veterans of this disease. And we all need, and deserve, a cure.

Stepping off my soapbox now,
~Layne

PS: We played an awesome game today and smoked Georgia!! Go Gators!! And Happy Halloween!! Bring on the trick-or-treaters!!

Blast from the past

Okay, so a couple months ago Kerri over at Six Until Me has had a few posts where she dug up some of her old school diabetes equipment and what-have-you and reminisced about the "good old days" back in ancient diabetes times. Well, she and I started out on this diabetes road at sort of different parts of the overall timeline, so we don't exactly have the same memories of this stuff. She was diagnosed in 1986 (I think) and I was diagnosed in 1991. I know this doesn't seem too far apart but many of her memories didn't really reverb with me. For example, she remembers a time when you didn't use a meter to read your blood sugar, you just compared your strip to a color chart on the vial. I vaguely remember these types of strips being an option but by the time I was diagnosed, blood sugar meters were pretty common and that was what I was started on right away. And, unfortunately, there was no such thing as cutting the strips to make them last longer. :-) But it was funny trying to dig back in the cobwebs of my brain and remember this stuff.

Anyway, these posts have had me daydreaming about all my old diabetes acoutremonts and scrambling to find evidence of all my past relics on the web. It took a while because I couldn't for the life of me remember the old meter names. I knew I had an AccuChek as my first meter but do you know how many reincarnations of that thing there have been? Holy crap! Who can remember the exact model? But recently? SUCCESS!! I found a few pics of my old meters here. (And, btw, it was the AccuChek Easy.) So, for your enjoyment:

So even though by that time we, as diabetics, had advanced from peeing on sticks and/or comparing crusty old blood to color charts, this is not to say that these machines were very sophisticated by today's standards. No sirree. They needed lots of blood (which got all over the machine . . . or maybe I was just messy, who knows) and it seemed like it took forever to get a reading. It didn't have a countdown clock, so I couldn't tell you exactly how long it did take, but it felt like years.

And who knew how much I'd appreciate capillary action when I was learning about it in the 7th grade but DANG! Those old strips really sucked. You had to aim for that stupid little square and good luck with that when you only have the coordination of a 9-year-old and are low and shaky to boot. And there were times when you'd look at the back of the strip (the part the meter actually read) to see how much more blood you needed and none of it had passed through! It sure looked mostly full on the other side?!? WTF?

This was my next meter, the One Touch Profile. I loved this thing and thought it was the shiznit. Only 45 seconds until I get my result?? Plus a countdown clock, plus an easy circle to aim for that is nestled snugly in the meter before I apply so I don't have to mess with it and get all smear-y. And it looked so modern and cool too! Looking back, holy smokes, those strips were huge! But as a whole it was definitely a step in the right direction.I've had so many meters over the years. Any time I'd get a free offer, I'd try a new one. Why not? They always came with a few free strips so no biggy. But the next meter that I really liked, that really stuck was the One Touch Ultra. I fell in love with the strips that magically (see: capillary action) sucked in the blood and how tiny this meter was. I never needed the extra blips and buttons and I ignored newer, shinier models that cropped up as time went by. I kept this thing for years. I will say this: Yes, this meter takes a tiny amount of blood. But who can just get that tiny amount. Again, maybe I'm a big doof or maybe my calluses are the problem but I get these big ole' drops of blood and then what do I do with them?? Hmm, question for another day.
This is my current meter, the Freestyle Lite. And honestly, I love it. So many of the little problems I've had with meters over the years have been solved. First, no coding. Awesome, brilliant, why couldn't we do this sooner? Sheesh! Second, a light-up strip for testing in the dark. Again, brilliant!! Do you know how many times we've been in a movie and I made my husband whip out his cell phone and aim it at the meter in my lap?? If only we could do glow-in-the-dark syringes we'd be set!! Another small thing that I love is that if you insert the strip before the little drop of blood starts flickering on the screen, no biggey. . . just go ahead an test. Any other meter I had would give you an error message and make you start all over. I'm impatient and I do this a lot so this little thing gives me great pleasure! :-)
My only con for this meter is that the little dots on the strip where you load the blood are a little awkward. Unlike the other strips I've used, there is no landing strip where you can neatly see the blood fill up until you have enough and the positioning is awkward. But I guess no meter's perfect.

I don't know why this turned into tales from my meters past when it was really just supposed to be a couple of pics of ancient meters I'd used. Oh well. It is amazing when you think about how far diabetes technology has come in the last 15 to 20 years. Anyone else with me on these old meters? I know some of you folks had to have used one of these dinosaurs, I can't be the only one!! Please share!

Hasta la pasta,
~Layne

Semi-required Disclaimer: I am not, repeat NOT, getting paid by anyone to endorse these meters or anything diabetes related. Please do not get your panties in a wad because I discussed pros and cons of stuff that I actually use in real like in a public forum. But to anyone listening: free test strips would be welcome and appreciated! :-)

Bad day

So a couple weeks back I did something really stupid. I went to work . . . and left my insulin at home. Yeah, I told you it was stupid. Problem is I don't work in a normal office job where I could just take my lunch break and run home and get it. Nope. I work in a hospital where I can't exactly leave my patients and go home. The best part is that I didn't realize I had done this until after I had eaten lunch. See, I was low before lunch and feeling super shaky, so I decided to eat first and then take my insulin, just to let the food get a little head start. (In the past, when I don't do this, I sometimes feel low forever since my insulin is kicking in before or at the same time as my meal.)

So I head back to work and plan on giving myself a shot once I'm back on the floor. Problem is? No Apidra. I have my Lantus, but not my short-acting insulin, the one I take with meals. Then I remember taking it out of the bag the night before so I could take a correction bolus before bed. I could just picture it sitting on my nightstand, mocking me.

In the past I've worked at hospitals that keep insulin in their medication refrigerators. But my unit is the NICU and babies don't get the same insulin we do, so I would always just walk over to Labor/Delivery or Mother/Baby and draw up what I needed. Everyone knew that I was diabetic, I'd worked there for years . . . no harm, no foul. No such luck at this new job. Someone suggested that I talk to our resident PharmD, maybe she could hook me up with some Humalog or even Regular insulin, just to tide me over. Again, no luck. She did suggest calling the outpatient pharmacy in the hospital (the place where patients who are being discharged can fill their prescriptions before going home). I called them but Apidra is so new, they don't carry it. But they do carry Humalog! Except that to get it I would have to call my old pharmacy, transfer the script, have it filled for hefty price, yadda yadda . . . lotta hoops to jump. Dammit.

At this point, at least 10 nurses had found out what was going on and everyone was scrambling to try to help. One older nurse was even diabetic and took shots! But she used 70/30. Seriously? I don't even remember what the deal with 70/30 is anymore. But at least they were trying to help. Which, while I do appreciate it, also made me feel like the village idiot. Because this lovely incident was they way that most of them found out I had diabetes in the first place. Great impression, right? Then they'd ask how long I'd had it. "Uh, 18 years. . . " I tried to explain no matter how routine something becomes after years of doing it, mistakes are bound to happen. How often do people forget their purses? Or lock their keys in their car? Not often, but when it happens you feel like quite the dumbass.

I finally was at my wits end and decided to just beg the charge nurse to let me just run home to get my insulin. Unfortunately, the unit was particularly busy that day and one of the other nurses had already left because of an emergency with her son. So they really couldn't spare losing another of us. I put one last call into the outpatient pharmacy, just to try to hash out what they could do for me. Turns out they had transferred my prescription and they could get me ONE bottle of Humalog for $25. I was relieved I had options but really annoyed at the idea of paying $25 for one bottle of insulin that I'll never use again. Whatever, I was so over it by this point. My bloodsugar was 439, I felt like absolute shit, not to mention like an idiot and at this point I had put almost 3 hours into this stupid debacle. I was miffed. Even more so when I thought about the fact that I work in a hospital that has tons of insulin available. Just none for me.

So I told the nearby nurses I was walking over to the outpatient pharmacy. It took about 20 minutes roundtrip to go get my insulin and get back. (What can I say? It's a big campus.) At that point I was sweaty, feeling heavy and lethargic and developing and nasty sweet, metallic taste in my mouth. In other words, I was feeling like actual ass. When the person behind the register handed me the bag, I tore it open, drew up my dose and shot up before I even pulled out my wallet to pay. He looked at me like I was some nut-job druggie jonesing for a high. I smiled weakly and apologized.

So, yeah, that was my bad day. And probably what started me thinking about the things I was talking about in my previous post. I mean, who else has to actually go through crap like that? Plus it was the perfect storm of events. On a slow day where we were fully staffed it probably wouldn't have been a big deal to just run home. Annoying, but a hell of a lot less complicated then the 3-hour odyssey that actually took place.

Maybe I should have stood up for myself and just said "Look, I'm diabetic, I left my medication at home and it's an emergency. I'm going to run home and I will be back as soon as I can." I really probably should have. But, to me, it doesn't seem like an emergency. I've been high before. I've even been over 400 before and nothing terrible happens. I feel like crap, then I fix it, then it's over. Then I worry about what havoc it wreaked on my body that I may only find out about in years to come, but that's my paranoia for you. So I just feel like a drama queen trying to convince other people that anything related to my diabetes is an emergency. But after that mess, hopefully, I've learned my lesson and will just stick up for myself and not feel obligated to place my health so low on the totem pole so as not to ruffle any feathers.

Am I the only one stuff like this has happensd to? Any other stories of diabetes-related brainfarts out there? Mad scrambles for supplies? Please share, because I feel dumb.

Don't judge me,
~Layne

Suckage . . .

Recently I've realized that sometimes I just can't tell people the ugly truth, even when I really, really want to. For example, those days when everything that can go wrong does diabetes-wise (like running out of strips, highs and lows that won't quit, etc) and someone asks "How's it going?" What I really want to do is launch into a rant about how I'm a woman on the verge who really just wants to flush her meter and call it a day. And yet. . . . I can't, or anyway, I don't.

Another classic is when someone finds out for the first time that I'm diabetic and they say something like "How do you give yourself shots?! That must really suck?" I won't bother to go into how it drives me nuts when people comment on how they couldn't give themselves shots. Like I choose to do it. Like I'm the brave soul who stepped up, sacrificed myself and opted to take the diabetes so that some other schmuck who didn't like giving themselves shots could be spared from it?!?! WTF?? But I digress . . . Some days I do want to say YES!! I do hate this crap. Yes!! This does suck. And then I would lauch into a diatribe of all the stuff that drives me up a wall. It would be very cathartic, really.

But I don't. I smile and say "it's not fun but I'm used to it, blah, blah, blah." That's kinda what people expect to hear, after all. They expect a brave front from folks in general. It's kinda like the "How are you doing?" question. What does everyone say? "Fine." And if you say anything else you are usually met with polite tolerance, at best. People want simple and they want happy. They do NOT want the truth. Especially when it comes to something like diabetes, something they really don't understand to begin with. They want to hear that I'm okay, I'm brave, I'm used to it and I don't feel any different from anyone else despite my diagnosis.

But sometimes that's just not the truth. Some days it's really hard to pretend that I don't see the differences between me and everyone else. To feel bitter that those around me have an advantage. That there is life beyond and even without diabetes. There are people who don't have to worry about using their last needle and not realizing it until it's too late. They don't have to worry about getting low in the middle of work and scrambling to find a snack. They don't have to angst over whether to get that really yummy carb-laden non-virgin drink because really it's a choice between temptation versus blood-sugar hell. And then having friends ask why didn't you get that yummy drink you were drooling over? Again, I can't tell them the real answer because then I either sound like I'm making excuses or make them feel bad about asking in the first place. And mostly it just sucks on those days when it dawns on me that the vast majority of folks don't deal with the crap that I do. That my normal isn't their normal. That my normal could be better, calmer, less stressful if it weren't for my stupid pancreas being all effed up.

I'm exaggerating, of course. I don't know for sure that people would make a face, turn and run if I told them the "truth." But I'm assuming most don't really wanna hear it. Because it's hard to hear stuff like that and, honestly, would they even understand if I did go into it? I can always talk to my husband. He's really good about understanding that I have those days when it gets to me and I need to vent. But what about the times when I feel like having a diabetes-related conniption and I'm at work or out with friends. And I just feel like I can't talk about it. Not only do they just not get it but it kinda feels like whining.

I think that's the heart of it. If I say it's all okay then I'm brave and strong and whatever. But if you catch me on a bad day? Can I say no really, it sucks? I've actually had people say to me after they've seen me wince from a shot, "So you still feel those? I figured you'd just be used to it by now." Well, um, NO! I mean it's not the end of the world but occassionally those suckers hurt like hell. So allow me to utter certain choice expletives or screw up my face funny when a stinger catches me by surprise!!

I know most people figure I've had it so damn long I should just be used to it. And most days I am. But guess what? I'm human and the frustration, unfairness and the overall suckage of the situation gets to me every now and then. But I also wonder if saying so would make me sound like a complete and total baby. I feel like venting would be a sign of weakness. As a kid, I was allowed to be bummed about diabetes. But as an adult? Who's had it for 18 years? Is it kosher to still be bummed? To still have down days? Will people get it when I do and not think I'm a huge wimp who just needs to get over it? Who knows?

I'm starting to think maybe I care too much about what other people think. But on the other hand, most everyone out there wants people to understand where they are coming from. So I'm just putting that out into the universe. It's just a rant but it's also something I've been thinking about lately. Otherwise, I've been okay on the diabetes front. Had some insurance issues that were driving me bonkers but that was balanced with an A1C that I was pretty stoked about. (6.5!! YAY!!)

Over and out,
~Layne

Days since . .

Wow . . . Kerri's recent post inspired me to figure out how many days it's been since I've been diagnosed. So I was curious and I Googled and found this website and . . . just . . . well . . . holy crap!

Duration calculation results:

From and including: Wednesday, July 3, 1991
To and including: Monday, June 29, 2009

It is 6572 days from the start date to the end date, end date included

Or 17 years, 11 months, 27 days including the end date

Alternative time units

6572 days can be converted to one of these units:

• 567,820,800 seconds
• 9,463,680 minutes
• 157,728 hours
• 938 weeks (rounded down)

It's funny. I know that I've have diabetes forever. I mean, I don't really remember what it's like not to have it, not to think about food as this complicated thing, to eat without worry, to not have life disrupted with lows, highs and whatever else. But when you see those numbers . . . well, they just seem so high. It's just a different perspective. Crazy.

I don't even wanna think about how many shots I've had or how many times I've pricked my finger. Those numbers would be just insane. Let's just stop while we're talking about numbers I can actually wrap my head around, shall we? :-)

Mathematically yours,
~Layne

PS: Happy, happy birthday to my wonderful husband!! As of today he's given me 4,019 days of happiness. Cheers to the best 29-year-old husband I know!