First of all, I want to say to Muddy that I don't think you gave me bad advice. I think I was already diabetic and it was too late to do anything about it.
Now that I know more about my condition I can look back and see numerous symptoms. If I could only tell people one thing about diabetes it would be NEVER become so busy worrying about stupid bullshit that you forget to live. If you forget to live you are not paying attention to what your body is telling you and that's how I got in this whole mess.
Now I only worry about 3 things. They are 1.) my health and tied at 2.) are love and happiness.
See how this works- my dogs and my house fall under happiness. Kevin is in the love category and so is my family. Lunch falls under health so it is a Top Priority and from now on I take my lunch break at the same time every day and I will not be deterred. Work is NOT on my list of things to worry about because I don't love my job, it doesn't make me happy and it is sometimes adverse to my health. I no longer care if I am employed or not.
I also stopped worry about money. It just doesn't matter anymore. I don't care what people say about me. I don't care if there is a pile of dishes in the sink. I will do what I can do when I can do it and if it doesn't get done today I'm sure it will can wait until tomorrow.
I care about what I eat (health), what I read (happiness), and Kevin (love). Kevin and I have drawn closer together. We have agreed to take care of each other. While I was in the coma Kevin made some promises to God. He promised to quit smoking. He's not doing well. I think he promised God a few more things but he doesn't want to tell me about it. When I was in the hospital I vowed to tell him every single day that I love him. This is what is important, not my bank statement.
I have a new motto: Life is short but wide. I have decided I want to learn to play the guitar. I want to create beautiful things. I want a simple life and I am never, ever going to be in a hurry again.
Life is short but wide. Go live.
The Witchcraft of FreeDragon
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Day the Bottom Fell Out
I'm sorry I've been away for so long, but I have a new religion- diabetes.
About 4 or 5 times a day I make blood offerings to the Vampire God FingerStick. He tastes my blood then judges whether I have been good or bad. I am scared to death of FingerStick.
FingerStick is married to the Goddess Insulin. I must always remember Her and keep her holy. I worship Insulin before each meal. This great goddess both gives life and takes it away.
As with any religion, there is an initiation process- diabetic coma.
I'm sorry if I sound a little trite. The only way to live with this disease is to acknowledge it and then be determined not to let it overwhelm you. Diabetes is the Chariot card- make sure you are driving and not being driven.
I felt fine, just thirsty. Then 2 weeks ago I thought I had a virus. I was vomiting every time I tried to eat. Kevin was not home, he spent the night with his children. I was beginning to get concerned about dehydration so I decided to call my landlord since he lives next door. I got my phone, but I don't remember anything afterwards.
The next morning Kevin tried calling me to see if I was going to work. When I didn't answer he came home and found me laying across the bed still holding the cell phone. He took me to the ER. My blood sugar was over 1,200 which is incredibly high. My body temperature was 89 degrees.
I don't remember the first few days in the hospital. When I did begin to wake up it was like one surreal nightmare. Nothing made sense. I began to think people were trying to hurt me so I decided to escape. I tried repeatedly to get up so the nurse finally tied me to the bed. Later I felt very bad about that and I apologized to him.
A diabetic coma is not exactly like a regular coma where the patient lays unmoving. I could open my eyes, move a bit, moan, and sometimes talk. I remember none of it. I don't remember anyone coming to visit me, not my family, my friends, or even Kevin. Actually, when I woke up I thought he hadn't come to the hospital at all and I felt really angry. Then my landlord told me Kevin took off work to see me and realized just how out of it I was.
I got out of the hospital on Mother's Day. I used to wonder how diabetics pricked their fingers and gave themselves shots. Then the nurse told me I couldn't leave the hospital until I learned to do these things. I was willing to give birth to penguins if it meant going home. So I can test my blood and I can give myself shots. As long as I think about insulin as being part of my food I am fine. But I feel squeamish if I think about stabbing myself in the stomach with a needle.
My doctor says I am doing very well with the food. I have decided to focus on what I can have. I can eat any kind of meat I want. Steak, chicken, fish- if it's meat I can eat it. I can have all the pickles I want. I can still drink whole milk and eat cheese. I can't eat ketchup anymore, but I can have mustard. Sometimes I think of a food I can't have and then I feel a little depressed.
They are making wonderful advances in diabetic care. Things get better all the time. Insulin comes in what is called 'pens' (because it looks like an ink pen). A dial on the end tells me the dose and I just press the button. I don't have to fool with vials or needles. They make meters which draw blood out with a laser, so there's no need to prick you're finger (these are expensive, but available) And in the labs they are growing insulin producing cells so I think one day you could just get cell transplants and then be cured of type 1 diabetes (that's me). I think that may be perfected soon, maybe in 10 years or less. So I don't feel like I have a lifetime condition or incurable illness. I just feel like for now FingerStick will be by my side.
About 4 or 5 times a day I make blood offerings to the Vampire God FingerStick. He tastes my blood then judges whether I have been good or bad. I am scared to death of FingerStick.
FingerStick is married to the Goddess Insulin. I must always remember Her and keep her holy. I worship Insulin before each meal. This great goddess both gives life and takes it away.
As with any religion, there is an initiation process- diabetic coma.
I'm sorry if I sound a little trite. The only way to live with this disease is to acknowledge it and then be determined not to let it overwhelm you. Diabetes is the Chariot card- make sure you are driving and not being driven.
I felt fine, just thirsty. Then 2 weeks ago I thought I had a virus. I was vomiting every time I tried to eat. Kevin was not home, he spent the night with his children. I was beginning to get concerned about dehydration so I decided to call my landlord since he lives next door. I got my phone, but I don't remember anything afterwards.
The next morning Kevin tried calling me to see if I was going to work. When I didn't answer he came home and found me laying across the bed still holding the cell phone. He took me to the ER. My blood sugar was over 1,200 which is incredibly high. My body temperature was 89 degrees.
I don't remember the first few days in the hospital. When I did begin to wake up it was like one surreal nightmare. Nothing made sense. I began to think people were trying to hurt me so I decided to escape. I tried repeatedly to get up so the nurse finally tied me to the bed. Later I felt very bad about that and I apologized to him.
A diabetic coma is not exactly like a regular coma where the patient lays unmoving. I could open my eyes, move a bit, moan, and sometimes talk. I remember none of it. I don't remember anyone coming to visit me, not my family, my friends, or even Kevin. Actually, when I woke up I thought he hadn't come to the hospital at all and I felt really angry. Then my landlord told me Kevin took off work to see me and realized just how out of it I was.
I got out of the hospital on Mother's Day. I used to wonder how diabetics pricked their fingers and gave themselves shots. Then the nurse told me I couldn't leave the hospital until I learned to do these things. I was willing to give birth to penguins if it meant going home. So I can test my blood and I can give myself shots. As long as I think about insulin as being part of my food I am fine. But I feel squeamish if I think about stabbing myself in the stomach with a needle.
My doctor says I am doing very well with the food. I have decided to focus on what I can have. I can eat any kind of meat I want. Steak, chicken, fish- if it's meat I can eat it. I can have all the pickles I want. I can still drink whole milk and eat cheese. I can't eat ketchup anymore, but I can have mustard. Sometimes I think of a food I can't have and then I feel a little depressed.
They are making wonderful advances in diabetic care. Things get better all the time. Insulin comes in what is called 'pens' (because it looks like an ink pen). A dial on the end tells me the dose and I just press the button. I don't have to fool with vials or needles. They make meters which draw blood out with a laser, so there's no need to prick you're finger (these are expensive, but available) And in the labs they are growing insulin producing cells so I think one day you could just get cell transplants and then be cured of type 1 diabetes (that's me). I think that may be perfected soon, maybe in 10 years or less. So I don't feel like I have a lifetime condition or incurable illness. I just feel like for now FingerStick will be by my side.
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