Diabetes Class

Hello:

Ah, the joys of diabetes! Who knew that having a potentially fatal disease could have so many side benefits for a gay man. I mean Viagra, and induced rapid weight loss by just eating a sugary food for a day or two. Three days of M&Ms and my abs are cut for a circuit party. First, I want to say that I'm not a typical diabetc. That is to say if the typical diabetics are the people in my diabetes class. As part of my new diagnosis I was sent to a series of classes of how to manage my new disease!

I was quite distressed about my new diagnosis. I found little compassion from anyone in the medical field. There was this nonchalance about the whole thing. Like a I was a lung cancer patient who refused to quit smoking. "Its your fault" I read in thier eyes, "you shouldn't have eaten those sugary orange slices". In fact I was eating those with an Orange Fanta just minutes before I had my blood sugar measured. My blood sugar: 1000+. Ten times the normal level.

So I went to the class. I was running late and I passed a rotund woman struggling up the stairs. I got into the class and looked at my classmates. Before I tell you about them let me describe myself: I'm 5'11, 210lbs, 32waist, 36 chest. I'm fit and trim. I workout a lot, I like what I see in the mirror....naked. So here I go into this class and I look at the students. Fatty McFatfat, Rotunda and the circus fat man were seated around the room. I asked timidly: "is this the obesity class?" Angry looks shot at me thenI realized I was in the right place. Just then, the plus size woman I passed from outside came in huffing and puffing, she was sweating and looked like she had just run a mile. Genuinely concerned, the diabetic nurse asked if she needed water or CPR.

"I'm sorry I'm late" she said in a sort of guttural wheeze. "I had to climb all those stairs"

There were four stairs.

The trim, pert diabetes instructor began her lecture. She emptied out her bag which was full of fake food. The same kind of food that comes with that child sized Barbie Kitchen I never got. I watched the others drool over the rubber food. I could swear they were salivating and licking thier chops at a simulated peice of cake. The instructor discussed exercise and diet, yeah whatever, I'm a health instructor tell me something I wasn't doing or didn't already know. I was angry. I work really hard to keep in shape. I look good, naked even! Now diabetes is making me sit in a class full of hungry fat people. I was thinking: diabetes sucks, I want some candy.

I never returned to that class. Maybe there's a diabetic class for fabulous people.

Today's Hiaku:

Candy is poison

You'll go blind, lose a toe

Diabetes sucks

Politeness

Hello Friends:

I'd like to thank Kevin for his actual surprise that I feel politeness is important. Since returning to the "rudest city in America" I can really appreciate how politeness and good manners can really make your day and how one simple rude remark can ruin it. Kevin may remember a time when my acerbic wit, and painful, albeit truthful, observations were directed at him. What I didn't know was the that the undiagnosed diabetes in combination with my antidepressants really made me a bitch, and for that I apologize.

Now that I have my blood suger under control and I've increased dosages of my other meds, the voices in my head that pointed out small flaws in the people around me have quieted down. Thank goodness I don't feel the need to point out cheap shoes, bad taste or recent weight gain to the people I care about. I assume they felt bad enough about it without me having to rub salt in those wounds.

So Alfredo and I have a system for addressing rudeness. We train people to be polite, everyday. How? Well, in our building nobody would say good morining. So when we leave for work, we make a point to greeting everyone as they leave. At first thier mouths would strain and mumble a "buenos dias" or a "good morning." I could sense the deepest pain in their souls at having to utter these words. After a year of this they avoid us completely or when they feel cornered they blurt out a hearty "Buenos Dias!" even before my greeting. I am quite proud of the work we've done here.

Today's Hiaku

Good Morning, Hello
Her jaw is locked at dawn
Buenos Dias, gringo

My Poodle makes me Manly

My Poodle makes me manly.

You know I've been meaning to get this off my chest for quite awhile and with this blog I finally can. I want to know what the problem people have with poodles.

I own a small poodle. When I mention that in company I can see the amused faces and snickering. What's amazing is that people don't even feel guilty about expressing their obvious prejudice against them. I don't want to make this an American thing, but I find the bias extremely pronounced among my countrymen. Don't get me wrong, I am as patriotic as any dog owner, I even started to call my dog a "freedom" Poodle. People go out of their way to mask their Poodle desires, they spend thousands on cockapoos, labradoodles and golden doodles. I know the truth: they want a Poodle.

Often when I walk Scruffy the Poodle, I get comments like: "You're a pretty big guy to have such a small dog" or "You own a Poodle, are you a homosexual?" or the classic: "what a cute dog!" Okay the last one doesn't mean anything. Still, what is being implied is that Poodles diminish manliness, they don't enhance it. What rubbish!

I want you to know: Scruffy the Poodle is one tough pooch. He was feral, yes feral, living on the mean streets of Miami. The vet said he had probably been on the street for several months! Can you say that about your dog? Can you say that about yourself? No, I didn't think so. So let's get this straight: Poodles are tough, Poodles are cool. Poodles are macho!

Blog #1 Hello

Hello All!

It's been awhile since I've written to all of you but since moving back to Miami last year I figured I 'd let the clock run out on my 30's and restart life and my blog at 40. Many of you got my personal stories about our son and what it was like to be a gay dad. So here we are a year later and I'm an empty-nester, firmly entrenched in middle age and dealing with life's ups in downs in this chaotic paradise called Miami.

For those of you who don't know me I'm a 4th generation Miamian who recently spent 4 years in San Diego. I have a 18 year old-son, a partner of 13 years and as mentioned above I recently turned 40. Some other relevant facts of my life include: I have a poodle (which was rescued from a feral existance), I commute to work by bicycle here in Miami(which classifies me as an adrenalin junkie). I am passionate about politics, poodles, and politeness all of which seem out of favor in this early part of the 21st century.

Of course being 40, this will also be a health blog. I have survived the major epidemics of the late 20th century: HIV, Crack, and Diabetes. (Ok, I've never done crack) but I survived the bad crack jokes nonetheless. I am a health educator by trade and it seems I am the crash test dummy for plagues and chronic diseases. So here is my little blog.....

Tomorrow: What do people have against poodles?