© Features” the other press ¢ Barbara K. Adamski e opfeatures@netscape.net December 10, 2003 Penny Arcade Lynn Paus OP Contributor I used to get a lot of grief from my friends and parents over the fact that I let my kids indulge in countless hours of computer-game mayhem and murder. There were a couple of years that even I was worried that my children’s virtual life had irrevocably taken precedence over their “real” life. I read articles and watched TV documentaries about the dangers of violent video games and was almost convinced that I, bad mother that I was, was allowing my children to slide into a world of isolation, self-absorption, and violence. What a crock that turned out to be! My children and their friends are still gamers, but they’re also hard-working employees or business owners, prolific readers, good friends to each other, and caring sons/daughters, grandsons/granddaughters, and broth- ers/sisters. They pay rent, taxes, and contribute to chari- ty—and they're not lone voices within the gaming com- munity. This year, that gaming community did them- selves proud over Christmas, thanks to a charity drive ini- tiated by the founders of the on-line cartoon strip: Penny Arcade. Deciding that they'd read one too many stories com- paring video gamers to serial killers, Penny Arcade creators Gabe (Mike Krahulik) and Tycho (Jerry Holkins) decid- ed to dispel the myth that gamers are anti-social and potentially dangerous killers-in-training. They initiated a charity toy drive in conjunction with the Seattle Children’s Hospital and Amazon.com to make Christmas a little brighter this year for those youngsters stuck in the hospital over the holidays. An Amazon Wish List full of kid-friendly video games, movies, and toys was created for the kids, and the readers of Penny Arcade were asked to browse the wish list and place an order to donate a toy. Worldwide, the Penny Arcade readership is approxi- mately 150,000 strong, and as Gabe wrote in a post on the Penny Arcade website, “We are arguably the largest community of gamers on the internet. The important word there being community...You guys have proven yourselves to be a powerful force when stirred into action. Here is your opportunity to use that power to do some real good.” And good they did. Gabe and Tycho’s belief in the generosity of their fellow gamers was proven immediately by the overwhelming response as donations from around the world came pour- ing in. The toys first filled a garage and then spilled over into a warehouse, and between the US Thanksgiving hol- iday and December 20th, toys and cash donations total- ing more than $125,000 US had been received. The 190,000+ kids who use the services of the Seattle Children’s Hospital will benefit all year long from the kindness and compassion of gamers who dug deep this year to make a difference in the lives of some sick kids at Christmas. For information about Child’s Play and for pictures of some of the donations collected, check out .Gabe and Tycho are already talking about expanding the reach of Child’s Play and making it an annual event. Daily Balance Living with diabetes Holly Pattison The Martlet VICTORIA (CUP)—Kyle pinches his belly and plunges the two-inch needle in at a 30-degree angle. A fine plastic tube slips out of the needle’s core and stays lodged in his abdomen. The tube con- nects 58 centimetres of coiled tubing to Kyle’s new insulin pump, which clips onto his waistband like a pager. “Tt looks like a sewing needle,” he grins, holding up the silver sliver. “Doesn't it hurt?” I ask. “That thing’s bloody long.” “Tt smarts,” he says. “But you get used to it.” Kyle twitches his goatee in concentra- tion. I watch him smooth the white suc- tion-cup bandage that protects and secures the lodged tube in his belly. He joins the site to the tubing with a snap. The pump beeps as he programs it to deliver a steady stream of insulin. Switching to the continuous flow pump from intermittent insulin injections com- pletely changes how Kyle, 32, has man- aged his diabetes for the past 18 years. As a Type 1 diabetic, Kyle needs daily doses of insulin—a hormone produced by the pancreas that breaks down sugar in the blood to use as energy. Diabetics essential- ly have dud pancreases. We've been together a few years, but I’m still sometimes surprised at how meticu- lous Kyle needs to be about his health and the round-the-clock time spent on blood tests, injections, and meals. Gradually, I learn. Besides being a writing student drawn to fascinating details, I’m curious how this new treatment will change his life. An internal motor drive in the pump clicks as clear fluid starts to push through the rigging and into Kyle’s body, seeping into the subcutaneous tissue beneath the skin. The insulin pump is Kyle’s lifeline. He can detach himself for up to an hour for swimming or showering (or sex)— otherwise, he’s permanently hooked. This steady insulin stream is called a basal rate. (A vial of insulin once shattered on our dining room table. The sprinkled fluid was sticky and smelled like pepper.) off the old site with his index finger. “Sometimes it hurts if it goes in at a weird angle,” he admits. A weird-angle insertion happened the first time Kyle changed his infusion set. The site was tender, but it was such a new sensation overall, he wasn’t sure if it felt “wrong” or not. Later, as we sat with my two kids in the theatre, Kyle felt the symptoms of a high blood sugar reaction: dry mouth, confusion, tiredness, and the frequent need to go to the bathroom. “T get this funny feeling in my sinuses Fifty years ago, before the discovery of insulin, diabetes was a death sentence. Separate doses are programmed for the pump to deliver insulin to cover carbohy- drates eaten, called boluses. Basal and bolus are two words pumpers learn to live by. The whole works needs to be changed every three days. Every puncture leaves its mark—a wash of fading red bumps from previous sites freckles his belly. They're more pronounced than the fine punctures previously left by syringes on his arms, legs, and abdomen. But Kyle says, “Sticking myself with this big needle once every three days is much better than the six or more insulin injections [a day] I used to take with a smaller needle.” He rubs a sticky ring of bandage glue Sear Page 14 e hittp://www.otherpress.ca when my blood sugars are high. It’s like a taste that I can feel at the back of my throat,” he says. He had to leave the theatre and start a new site. The plastic tube stuck into his belly was bent, blocking enough of the insulin’s flow to jolt his blood sugars into the high teens. The difference with the new site was almost immediate as his blood sugars started to drop, but he felt sick for more than a few hours. Normal blood sugar registers around five to seven. Kyle’s blood sugars range from two to 20. To test himself through- out the day, Kyle pricks his finger with a bloodletting device, which sounds like a medieval instrument of torture, but is actually a pen-like tool that shoots out a small blade, or lancet. It clicks as it jabs into his finger and retracts. The pearl of blood is sucked up by a match-sized test strip that sticks out of a blood glucose monitor, which measures the amount of sugar in blood. If he tests high, he boosts himself with insulin. If he’s low, he eats. He charts each result on a graph. On bad days the jumping lines look like the EKG of someone having a heart attack. The more often Kyle tests, the more accurately he can manage his blood sug- ars. (He once estimated that he’s poked his finger over 18,000 times.) But he can’t always afford the supplies he needs. “I test more often if I know how I’m going to pay for my next batch of test strips,” he says. Pharmacare or medical plans such as the University of Victoria Student Society's (UVSS) cover only some of a diabetic’s medical expenses, which can reach $500 a month. Kyle’s had to cut corners with his care—less frequent testing is one exam- ple—but his long-term health may pay for it. So might the government. “T’ll stick it to them when I have to go for kidney dial- ysis twice a week,” he morbidly jokes. Needle injections are cheaper than pump supplies, but Kyle won't consider switching back. “This is the first time in my life, since I was diagnosed at 14, that I’ve had any semblance of control over my diabetes,” he says. “If you had cancer would you opt for a less-effective treat- ment?”