Tears.
Needles.
Highs.
Lows.
Diabetes has become a part of me, taken a part of my life forever. And I can accept that.
But lately that hasn't been enough. Lately Diabetes has been... kicking my butt. The month of June was fantastic for me - near perfect control, excellent numbers, steady blood sugars, minimal highs and lows. July, however, has been a different story. Diabetes is different for everyone and my Diabetes has been acting particularly special, in the most retarded way possible.
It all started the weekend before July 4th when I started noticing a gradual string of swiftly raising blood sugars. 110... 120... 156... 250...
Stranger yet was the fact that I was regulating it with Military-like precision. I am probably the nerdiest individual with a faulty pancreas that you will ever meet. I literally carry my CalorieKing Nutrition Book around in my purse to count my carbs almost everywhere I go. I am not afraid to whip it out and start consulting it halfway into an order, despite the stares I often get from waiters and customers alike. If a particular restaurant's nutritional info isn't in my book, I'll research my meal choice online ahead of time based on how many carbs I find are in it. I make it a point to eat healthy food and shy away from items such as Birthday Cake milkshakes, Donuts by the dozen and those delicious Subway Cookies that used to completely nullify my attempts to eat right. I diligently give myself the right amount of insulin each day and before every meal, despite my obvious distaste for needles. I do my best to fit at least some amount of exercise in every day. And when my Blood Sugars hit the fan I went from checking my BG 5 times a day to about 10 times a day. I swam about an hour EVERY DAY. And yet it was as if all of my hard effort had no effect at all. Diabetes didn't care if I was playing the part of picture-perfect patient. Diabetes was still laughing in my face.
These strings of highs have continued for about 3 weeks. My average BG went from 87 to 133 during this time. Words can't describe how disappointed and frustrated I became with myself, and with my disease. I've already been there, done that with the whole Diabetes pity-party phase, but this was round 2 as I began to question the point of life, what I did to earn such apparent bad luck, the long haul of Diabetic living for the next 50 or so years, and whether or not survival was possible if I could hardly take 3 months of Diabetes. "I'M GONNA DIE BLIND WITH NO LEGS BEFORE I TURN FIFTY!" I wailed. I went from a hardcore Diabetes pwn-er to a volatile Diabetic basketcase. I continuously abused my Diabetes supplies by throwing them all over the carpeted floor to my hearts content. (I'm sorry, Meter. Can we still be friends?) At one point I started silently chugging a Yoo Hoo as Josh onlooked. With a serious face, I placed the drink down and said, "Take that, Diabetes," as we both started bursting out laughing.
It's frustrated me though. A common misconception for Diabetics is that treatment is a simple matter of giving insulin shots. Easy, right? But it's not a simple matter at all. Diabetes is a balancing act where you are towering hundreds of feet above the ground on a half-inch wide rope. The stakes are high - they are your life. And quite frankly I have never cared for high-stake games. These days I am just so tired. Tired with my body, tired with my disease, tired of my nagging thoughts. If my Diabetes would cut me some slack, and stop all these ups and downs, it wouldn't be so bad. But this past month has made me realize firsthand just how unpredictable Diabetes is. Just when you think you've got it down, you don't. There are numerous factors all working against you to make Diabetes management difficult, from fluctuating insulin sensitivity to different reactions to different foods, to different moods, times of day and times of the month. I am beginning to think that I will never understand this elusive, impossible disease. I hope that I am wrong.
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