The Right Answer Is To A Different Question

photo by zugaldia

People have come to me for more than 20 years with techie questions. More often than not, the answer they need is not the same one as for the question they asked. Typically, someone asks me how to do something like copy print settings to a different tab in Excel. I’ll usually take a minute to ask what the purpose of the spreadsheet file is before I answer, just in case there’s an entirely different process they could more easily use for better results. Maybe it’s a pivot table that would do the trick, or perhaps they should consider using Access vs. Excel. Verifying that the overall process makes sense before sweating the details of individual steps has often uncovered missing pieces. I don’t know how many times it’s turned out that the problem with a report someone is having is because a necessary piece of information wasn’t being tracked in the first place.  

The habit of querying someone’s larger goal as part of the problem-solving process is why I tackled autoimmune diabetes differently than most. Everyone else asks very narrow questions specific to insulin and how best to control its delivery. When I was handed the problem, I did what I usually do. I stepped back and asked, “What’s the goal here?” And lo and behold, the goal has nothing to do with insulin. I realized the primary goal is to revive my pancreas. Secondary goals include keeping blood sugar under control in the meantime and minimizing damage. Insulin does nothing for the primary goal and is a pretty clumsy and expensive way to address the other two. Insulin is clearly an answer to the wrong question.

Sure, it’s maddening that everyone else is looking over there, huddled around the wrong spot. But logic is logic. And, of course, now that I’ve found something pretty damn promising, and am waving both arms shouting “Hey Y’all! Check this out”, the few that even bother to look up can’t really hear me over wind that’s blowing the other way. They’re too far away to see I’m not wearing a pump and don’t have any needle marks. After squinting at me a moment, they turn their attention back to the subject of their companion’s “Oohs” and “Aahs”, the package at their feet sporting the latest insulin device accessory.

Refusing The Needle: A Diabetic’s Natural Journey To Kick-Ass Health by Russell Stamets

ebook available for all devices at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/145608

and for kindle at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007P6L5C4

tags: type 1, type 2, autoimmune, diabetes, lada, natural, alternative, diet, supplements, acupuncture, meditation, lifestyle

White Knuckle Driving

photo via www.volvooceanrace.org

I've been avidly following the Volvo Ocean Race (www.volvooceanrace.org) for the last few months. It’s an irresistible mix of cutting edge technology, mother nature at her most AWEsome, human spirit, grit, endurance, and all that stuff. The most recent leg for the six teams on these 70 foot, spartan, blisteringly fast sailing machines is from New Zealand through the Southern Ocean, round Cape Horn at the tip of South America and up the coast to Brazil. The photos and video and position updates sent every 3 hours are unprecedented in the picture they paint.

Why this on a Diabetes blog? There are plenty of ways to connect it. I, for one, have no desire to actually do this kind of sailing, but the days of bone jarring pounding these guys are enduring right now in 40 knots of wind and 9 meter seas would make it impossible to test blood sugar or inject insulin. But what first occurred to me reading recent updates was an analogy between how the helmsman steers the boat in the massive waves and the daily swings in blood sugar or even stress that we all navigate.

At the top of each of these huge waves, the helmsman has to choose very carefully how he steers down the face on the backside. The boat is going more than 20 knots. If he steers too sideways to the next one, it’ll crash over him and roll the boat. If he steers too straight he’ll drop off the wave or bury the bow  down in the trough, slamming the boat to a screeching halt. This is hard enough to do in the daytime when you can see the direction, height, and specific gnarly nature of each of these hurtling watery masses of energy. But at night, it’s just the sound of a breaking wave crest, over the screaming wind, that hints at the next wave’s character. I want to be like the guys who successfully drive at night with finesse, feel, and intuition, avoiding the 2-story drops off the top of waves that crack the carbon fiber supports and rag-doll toss all the guys not-sleeping below.

OK, got it? Ocean waves are like the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or blood sugar readings. How we transition from one to the next determines the rate of our steady progress and minimizes damage!

Potty Mouth Poll

graphic by Mike Licht

Dear reader:

I could use your help. Now that the comments feature of this blog is working properly, I’m looking for opinions on a question of style. As a child of 1960, I’ve grown up in a George Carlin world. Much of the powerful, memorable, progressive communication of this era has been punctuated with words that, used strategically, grab you by the shoulder and say “Wake up and listen dumbf**k, this is important!”

Of course, some people have always gone far beyond “strategically”, and used almost nothing but Carlin’s 7 Dirty Words. Currently, in song and on TV, the f-word is the most common preposition and punctuation mark. It definitely has less power used that way. And some people have sensibilities such that they hear nothing in and around what they perceive as vulgar slang.

It seems an odd time though. There are places in my writing where it seems just as jolting NOT to use what would normally flow out of my mouth. I’ve been commonly using the word “crap” for the entire toxic, processed food nature of the current American diet. I could use “garbage”, but it’s weak. It has no emotion. “Sh*t” is so overused, it’s numbing and doesn’t grab anymore. And I want to grab a little. I’m not a dispassionate researcher. I’m a survivor of a significant threat to my life! I’m a preacher spewing a little fire and brimstone, warning my fellow humans that the eating of crap is the 8^th deadly sin!

But, just because I think my considered, judicious use of shoulder-grabbers is justified, doesn’t mean I won’t repel more than a few precious ears. And a message with no audience is worthless. Hence this informal poll. I’m just a few days away from publishing “Refusing the Needle: A Diabetic’s Natural Journey to Kick-Ass Health” and if enough people felt strongly about words like “crap”, I’d have to re-weigh the pros and cons of my lexicon.

If you have an opinion, either way, let me know.

Thanks

Russell

Hiney Holders

A four legged stool is hard to build. It teeters unbalanced unless each leg is exactly the same length. And that length needs to be Goldilocks, right? Not too high, not too low… THIS stool needs to be the sweet-spot height that you can sit on all day and not be sore. Actually, since one of the legs has to do with not sitting around all day, this stool’s height really makes it comfortable to get up and active.

photo by sarabbit

This stool is obviously the right height for your kitchen counter since another leg requires regular healthy eats. The kitchen counter leg height spec also satisfies the third leg requirement for a chill life. (Note: I use “chill” as my reference to the whole stress reduction component of my regimen.) Maybe a chill life means working from home (at the kitchen counter). It could just as well be the stool that’s perfect for your fly tying work bench or your easel.

The fourth leg represents a height that allows you to reach the supplement shelf in your medicine closet. This leg’s an educated guess, but it must be required. Stool designs before mine have had the other three legs and not succeeded. Other stool designs for reversing and re-building from Type 1 LADA diabetes are either missing one of these legs altogether, or are far short (or long).

As always, I respect the opinion of anyone who believes all this talk of stools is just a load of crap.

Don't Settle For Spaghetti Sauce!

The reason these beautiful jalapenos and habaneros are shown here a little wrinkled is that they, and the roma tomatoes are in the perfect state for making salsa. They have ripened in the colander on the counter for several days. Any longer and some will go bad. But right now, the sweetness and flavor is at the max.

Fresh salsa is a joy and prime sustenance for Kathy and me. I started making it every week in 1997 when we moved to Colorado from Santa Fe and found that what everyone else called salsa here tasted more like spaghetti sauce to us. We eat and use gallons of the stuff. Besides with chips, mix it with avocados for some great guac. Top eggs, or any meat with it. It’s one of my pre-diabetes pleasures that’s top-rated healthy.

It’s hard to get the perfect consistency without a Cuisnart. I’ve got an 11 cup unit and here’s how I make a full batch:

-toss in a few cloves of garlic and chop

-when habaneros are not in season, and the jalapenos and romas are average size, I use equal numbers, usually about 15 each. When I can get 2-3 habaneros, I cut the number of jalapenos in half.

Cut the stems off. Toss in the habaneros and chop. Toss in the jalapenos and chop.

-slice romas in 1/8’s and toss ‘em in, filling it up. There’ll be 3-5 remaining.

-add a tablespoon of coarse salt,  squeeze a whole lime into it, and add a couple of tablespoons of balsamic vinegar.

- chop exactly the right duration to NOT leave huge chunks and NOT make soup, about 8 seconds.

-Slice the remaining tomatoes (or as many as you can fit) in 1/8 ‘s or 1/16 ‘s and fill it up.

-chop just a few seconds. The nice thing about the Cuisnart is that the whole thing will get spinning in a really nice vortex that yields the perfect texture with practice.

This stuff will keep for at least 2 weeks in the fridge. We don’t know if it will keep longer because it’s always eaten by then. 

Out of the Wilderness

photo by cheongwah2002

Hot on the heels of the study by Professor Roep is another press release spotted in EurekaAlert! titled “Study finds some insulin production in long-term Type 1 diabetes”. This is the second study in a week refuting the idea that a Type 1’s beta cells are doomed as soon as the autoimmune attack begins:

Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH) research has found that insulin production may persist for decades after the onset of type 1 diabetes. Beta cell functioning also appears to be preserved in some patients years after apparent loss of pancreatic function.

My claims certainly sound more plausible with this kind of evidence. It’s been a huge obstacle just to get people to believe that that a Type 1 pancreas is actually worth fighting for. Now maybe the argument can shift to HOW we can reactivate beta cells. Both the recent studies assume the need to develop a pharmacological agent of some sort. If you’ve read much of my story, you know that I defended and rebuilt my pancreas with diet, supplements, and a huge focus on stress reduction including acupuncture, yoga, and meditation. That proposition will still be a hard sell for years to come. But it seems a much closer goal now.