I’ve been setting the timer on my phone to 15 minutes a lot lately. 15 minutes to pre-bolus, 15 minutes to wait out a hypo, 15 minutes of yoga and meditation practices no matter what.
Before I was diagnosed I absolutely hated time. I never wore a watch or even looked at my phone. Even as a kid I never wanted to learn to tell the time. Why be constrained by a limitation like that?
Everything had more validity to me when time wasn’t involved. Why does anything ever have to end? Like a yummy meal, or time with a beloved or friend, a day at the beach. Maybe my abhorrence of time has to do with losing my mother at a young age. Having to face endings for me was complicated and traumatic. Being forced to rush through something felt unnerving. As a dancer I was bound by time and timing, but it never bothered me, because the timing of the music, or the timing of the movements to the music uplifted me, reminding me that all creative endeavours are happening in the presence of timelessness. Not that I could put that into words when I was dancing. It was something that touched me and made me cry with inexplicable joy.
By the time I was nine my grandfather insisted I learn to tell the time. He bought me a Timex with a red strap. We went painstakingly through the details of the big hand and the little hand, what all the numbers meant and what each part of the day represented. My mum bought me a digital clock which rolled over numbers like cards. And then I got a clock radio, even cooler because I could wake up to music.
After I met and started traveling with my husband we would wander through international airports looking at expensive watches. He’d point out all the brands. I knew nothing about Panerai and Patek Philipe. I didn’t even know the difference between a Swatch and a Tissot. When I would badger my husband to tell me what time it was he would say, “you need a watch darling” and I’d reply, “my smartphone is good thanks.”
Then one day when I was stuck in an airport on my own, I decided to splurge. If I was going to buy a watch it would have to be the purchase of a lifetime. I decided on a gold Tissot with Roman numerals and a simple link band. I’ve only taken it off a handful of times since then. When I point at my watch to tell my husband, “it’s dinner time, lunch time, time to go, time to clean, time to ‘whatever’” he likes to chide and say, “I wish I’d never mentioned you needed a watch”.
Watches aside, time has changed my life.
Recently I’ve been navigating some soul crushing lows. Waiting for my blood sugar to come up sends me into a wild panic. What if it doesn’t come up? What if I run out of low snacks? What if…
Initially I set the timer on my phone to 15 minutes so that I would know when to check again. But when the lows are scarier, in the low 3’s (below 70 mg/dl) watching the minutes tick down is a lifeline. If I can stay focussed for just 15 minutes, I’ll be okay. If it levels out at the end of those 15 minutes I can relax. If it still goes down after those 15 minutes, I can take more glucose, dates etc and start again. As long as I can watch the clock I know eventually I’ll be back to compos mentis.
Knowing I have a tool to support me during a low blood sugar has absolutely changed everything. I have a deep-seated fear of lows. It’s why I insisted on sticking to a regimented low carb diet for 7 years. It’s why I timed every single part of my day to avoid any deviation, and I why I would restrict my social activities.
My goal for 2020 was all about opening up to life, food and freedom. It’s been interesting to be stuck in one place while I navigate this new perspective. Asking myself…what do I want to eat? What do I want to do today?
If I want to eat heaven in a bowl (a fruit smoothie bowl with crushed seeds and dates) I can. If I want to garden, go for a walk, do a strong yoga practice, I can. If I flub the ratios, don’t reduce my insulin enough or take too much, I’ll be okay.
15 minutes is easy. 15 minutes I can do.
with great respect…