Highs and Lows

Thursday, November 30th began with celebration of my son Emerson’s 8th birthday. In the morning, he blew out a candle on a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin, and we sang Happy Birthday and gave him gifts: a Justice League comic book, Green Lantern action figure, and dozens of kisses. The day was filled with moments of nostalgia, recounting his birth in 2009 at St. Vincent’s Hospital, looking back at historical pictures of the first time meeting his sister, Ate Jazzy, several toddler pictures of him holding a plastic bat or empty beer bottles (don't worry; my husband and I drank the beer). Throughout the day, my son was treated like a local celebrity, his family, friends, teachers, and classmates giving him extra attention. It was a day of delights, including a dinner of Japanese food, his preferred cuisine.

The celebratory spirit dwindled around bedtime when I noticed nits in his hair and had to spend 45 minutes combing through and eradicating them, something I have had to do several times since the kids started elementary school. By the time I was done, there were no tears; just strands of hair and exhausted bodies.

Around 9:30, the whole family was asleep though I could not go to bed because my blood sugar had risen above 250. One device that helps me manage diabetes is a Dexcom continuous glucose monitor (CGM); when blood sugar is above 180, it beeps every fifteen minutes; this constant sound does not allow one to sleep. Instead, I took a correction bolus of insulin, went to the attic to do yoga, meditation, and read a few chapters of Wonder. Eventually, my blood sugar normalized and I went to bed.

Unrest became a theme of the night. I had a dreadful dream: I was at a forum where Trump was yelling rhetoric against immigrants and spitting into a microphone then he came over to me and yelled at me, words I don’t recall. I remember feeling powerless and angry. Then I made a poster and wrote the word HOPE in bold letters. This woke me up around four a.m. along with a beeping CGM; this time, low blood sugar: 70.

Again I awoke, having to confront the horrifying reality that the man I dreaded in my dream is still POTUS. This is the most unbearable hardship, worse than lice or diabetes; at least the latter areas are manageable and in my control. When my sugar is high, take insulin; when low, load up on carbohydrates. When most of the US government supports a tax plan that will benefit the top 1% of the nation and add to the national debt, when the president vilifies and ousts young Dreamers but does not vilify men in government who have been accused of sexual harassment, it is difficult to stay positive.

My dream, however, reminds me of the importance of HOPE. We must work together as a democracy, regardless of political parties, to equally distribute power and wealth, and to act with more integrity and decency toward all citizens, documented or undocumented. To voice my concerns about the current GOP tax plan, I called NY Senator Kirsten Gillibrand (212-688-6262) and Congressman Dan Donovan (718-351-1062). The least we can do as constituents is talk to our elected officials about current policy.

The only nightmare we cannot awake from is that of silence and inaction. The only way to have hope is to have and share a voice, to take action against injustice and oppression. There is an imbalance of power in this country that threatens our democracy. In order to celebrate our nation, our democracy, we must work together to balance our highs and lows.