47 Hours

Tonight I woke up in a panic...an absolute panic.  What the hell was I thinking, I can't do this...there is no way I can do this...I'm going to humiliate myself, my family...I'm setting myself up for failure.

For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about I decided to start a new fundraiser for the purchase of my daughter Brandi's diabetic alert dog Hope. Confused? Perhaps I should start at the beginning...well, not quite the beginning, more like the middle of Brandi's story.

My daughter Brandi has Type 1 Diabetes. Type 1 Diabetes is different from Type 2 diabetes in that it's not caused by poor eating habits, being overweight or under active. Type 1 Diabetes is an autoimmune disease where the body attacks itself and basically kills the pancreas so it no longer produces insulin. There is nothing that can be done to prevent T1 Diabetes, there's no cure...there's just lots and lots of insulin injections...and blood sugar level checks...everyday for the rest of her life.

With careful control most people with Type 1 Diabetes can live a (fairly) healthy, long life. Unfortunately Brandi has a second autoimmune disease called Addison's Disease. Addison's destroys the adrenal glands, which unfortunately helps the body absorb injected insulin. The combination of T1 Diabetes and Addison's Disease has made Brandi's body resistant to her insulin injections, which means her diabetes is nearly impossible to control.

Brandi has had 38 hospitalizations in the last two years, the majority of them in the Intensive Care Unit. Diabetes has taken a terrible toll on her body, caused many, many complications, it has weakened her body but not her spirit.

In August 2011 during one of her frequent hospitalizations we were told Brandi needed a pancreas transplant, a type of transplant which our insurance still considers experimental and will not cover. The estimated cost of this transplant is between $300,000 - $500,000.  That's a LOT of money, an overwhelming amount of money...but we're going to make this happen.  We MUST make this happen because losing Brandi is not an option.

In January it became clear that a transplant was going to take a while to get (believe it or not she needs to get healthy enough to survive the transplant), so Brandi's doctor recommended told us we needed to get her a diabetic alert dog (D.A.D.)  We were told a D.A.D. would save her life, and after a lot of research I became a believer.  Of course our insurance wouldn't cover the cost of a life saving service dog either (no big surprise) so now we had a lot more money to raise. We've actually got our diabetic alert dog Hope a month ago and I must say, she is everything we were promised and more. She is, in a word, AMAZING.

It seems as though our life has become a constant rotation of hospitals, fundraisers, doctors visits...and we're still so far from our goal. Although we have two years to finish paying for Hope we want to get it done as soon as possible so we can go back to our main goal...raising money for a transplant.

For the last year I have been saying I'd do anything to save my daughter's life...ANYTHING.  So after giving it a lot of thought I decided to put my money where my mouth is.kill two birds with one stone.

The truth is that I horribly overweight, about 100 pounds overweight. I need to lose weight, I WANT to lose weight, but I have absolutely no willpower....none...nada...zelch...zip. 

So here's where my brilliant plan was born. I would diet, publicly diet in exchange for sponsors. Anyone who pledged to donate $1.00 for every pound I lost would be added to a Facebook page I created to track my progress. I call it Dieting for a D.A.D. (kind of catchy, don't you think?)  I went a step further though, I promised to not only post my weekly weights, but to also post pictures of the scale so I would be held accountable.

Anyway, that is what led to tonight's almost panic attack. I am going to post my weight, my TRUE weight all over Facebook. I haven't told anyone my true weight in almost....well, I don't know that I've EVER told anyone my true weight. Of course my doctor knows, but only because the rat-bastard insist on weighing me any time I set foot in her office. Just kidding about her being a rat-bastard, she's actually a lovely woman who offers nothing but encouragement on my quest.

So that's where I am, in a near panic over my public weight loss fundraiser.  I'm afraid I won't be able to do this, I'm a stress eater and my life is overflowing with stress. I needed to find a new way to deal with stress so I thought I'd blog about it instead of eating it into oblivion. Easier said than done considering as I sit here writing this I'm drinking a Coke and finishing off a box of snack cakes.

Damn...this is going to be hard!