I wake up sweat-drenched, and everything seems normal for just a second. Christmas carols play softly on the radio. The clock reads 2:32 AM.
2:32 AM? Why am I awake? And why am I sweating so badly?
It's been a long time since I've been woken up in the middle of the night by a low. I've almost forgotten what it feels like. And then it hits me; I'm low, and I startle into consciousness. I shake so badly as I weakly grasp for the meter thankfully lying within arm's reach on the nightstand. I struggle to sit up as I test. My blood sugar is 47. I can hardly find the strength to get up and walk two steps to the minifridge. My movements are about as fluid as maple syrup. By some miracle I had remembered just that evening to buy more snacks in case of lows; otherwise I would have been out, and I don't know what I would have done. I fall back onto the bed with my snack in hand, leaning against the wall to try and support myself as I munch on the snack. I feel awful. My heart pounds. I shake it off, but after the snack I am going to take a while to recuperate still. There is nothing left to do but turn off the light and roll back over to sleep; it takes the least amount of energy.
Sometimes, although rarely, I can ignore Diabetes.
In the peacefulness of slumber, in my dreams, I have no disease.
When I'm laughing, with friends, for brief seconds at a time I can forget and put it in the back of my mind.
Driving down rural country roads, or face painting children, or listening to music. Life, in that second, consists of only those things.
But Diabetes is like the sun and the moon; whether hidden by clouds, by light or darkness, in a windowless room, sometimes unseen; it is, and always will be, still there. It has become such an ever-present part of everyday life that your world is unfathomable without it. I don't want Diabetes to be like that, but it is. It has to be, because I live with and treat this disease every single day of my life, and nearly every choice that I make is overshadowed by the ever-present thought of "how will this effect my Diabetes?"
I'm glad there is a month to raise Diabetes awareness, even if so few people are aware of what the life of a Type 1 means. But sometimes I don't want a month. I don't want to raise awareness. Because that means that I have a disease to raise awareness for. I wish Type 1 Diabetes was more easily treatable, I wish that there was a cure. I don't want to have a disease where I have to give myself shots everyday and feel eternally guilty for eating half a pint of ice cream. I don't want to deal with the nasty smell of insulin, and see test strips of mine lying all over campus. I don't want a disease that can't be cured, a disease that too few people know or care about to donate money to. There are more "important" illnesses, more pressing issues, they say. What about the people whose lives are affected by this disease? Are they, their quality of life, not important enough? Do they not deserve better treatments, more pressing searches for a cure, than someone with a different disease, or a different plight? Are we not as worth it?
Let me tell you something you've probably already figured out if you've kept up with this blog. Once you get Diabetes, there is no going back. Life will never be the same. You age beyond your years because you have to. Every day is a mental and physical fight for your life, to stay happy, stay sane, stay healthy. I don't think about it a lot because I can't afford to think like that, but the quality of life for a Type 1 Diabetic is pretty crappy. We've been treating with insulin since the '20's. Where are all the new innovations, the better treatments to make our lives easier? Sure, we have better needles, insulin pumps, less scary looking lancets, but at the end of the day the treatment is still the same: it lies at the end of a needle in our side. I'm inevitably going to get sick of it. I'm already sick of thinking like this, of thinking that I will never get cured. Of thinking that this will be my life forever. Do you know I've never had a Twinkie? Rarely had fast food? My mother never let us eat processed foods as a child? I had a healthier diet than most people I know ever would? It did nothing to stop me from getting this disease. I don't understand how I can watch people eat all of the fried and fatty, sugary foods in the world and yet I'm the one who got this stupid, misunderstood disease - and then be judged because people think it was my supposed "unhealthy diet" that made me this way.
In short... I'm tired of you, Diabetes.
Please just go away.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Happy Belated Diabetes Awareness Month!
It's 16 days into November, and I should have written sooner. But of course, I'm a College student and there's lots to do. Here I am, though, and in November I am officially in my element - it's Diabetes Awareness Month. It's funny how last November I would not have even given a thought to Diabetes Awareness Month. I had never heard of it, let alone thought that one day it would mean so much to me. My goal this month? Simply to further my efforts to spread awareness about this disease to as many people as I can. I've said it before, and here I will say it again: I don't want pity. I simply want as many people as possible to understand and educate themselves about, most specifically, Type 1 Diabetes.
Oh, Diabetes. What a life changer it has been. I've come a long way since April 3rd, 2011. Looking on the calendar it doesn't seem so long ago, but these last months have been a lifetime to me. I've gone from needle-terrified to needle-junkie, I don't even blink at the thought of testing my BG, and eating a bowl of pasta or drinking a milkshake are to be considered amongst my greatest accomplishments.
Diabetes... I still hate you. I look back and am proud of myself for living alongside of you, fighting you, not letting you get in the way of my life or my happiness. But I have those bad days, too. I hate when you selfishly put yourself first. I am sad inside when I'm suffering from a low, my entire world crashing down on me, and not a single person even notices. I don't like it when people stereotype me. When waitresses think I'm snobby because I ask for the carb counts of the food. When I take forever to order when eating out, not because I mean to but because I have to find something with a feasible amount of carbs... I miss my freedom. Sometimes I just want to crawl into bed and falling asleep sounds so nice - but wait, I forgot my Lantus. I need to check my blood sugar. That means I have to crawl over to the sink and wash my hands. Put a new needle on the insulin pen. Oh, and by the way, when's the last time I changed the lancet? Uhh, October? I'm annoyed by people thinking me odd for eating lots of vegetables when I'm in the dining hall. Truth be told in a way it's because I'm lazy. I don't feel like counting carbs, and I just want something thoughtless and easy, something foolproof that I know won't raise my blood sugar much. I don't want to play Russian Roulette with my Blood Sugars because I don't know how many carbs are in the fried macaroni and cheese or the pizza or the french fries. I don't feel like guessing and then suffering for it later. And the skin on my stomach and arms hurts from pricking it so much.
Sigh.
This November, I will wear blue on Fridays. I will acknowledge the millions of others fighting this fight with me. Diabetes isn't merely just a month on the calendar, though. For those with it, we know that it is year-round, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, every second of our lives. Diabetes affects nearly every single thing that I do, sometimes without my even realizing it now. It becomes habitual to put a snack in my purse, or grab my meter before walking out the door, or plan what I'll eat at my meals ahead of time based on my blood sugars. I'm not used to it... I will never be. I've adjusted to it, though. I've adapted my life around learning to do what's necessary to survive with a life-threatening disease.
Diabetes is my life - I'm crazy about it and I blog about it, talk to others about it and complain about my blood sugars and the stereotypes occasionally. But it's because I'm passionate about it. I have to be. Living with Diabetes, it is essential that you have something to live for. Something to help you perk up, something greater than your disease, something to get you through those bad times and during the good times make you remember why you chose to fight for your life, each and every day. And ironically enough, Diabetes has become a part of that "something to live for" mentality. I am proud to have something to stand for. To be able to stand beside others who fight this same struggle and long with all of our hearts for the very same thing: a cure. Ok, well, in spirit at least. I've still yet to find another Type 1. But the Type 1 Community out there is huge, and has a way of making you feel like a part of something even from a distance. I am a part of something. I fight Diabetes, and one day, maybe, after a cure is found I will be able to say that I am a survivor of Diabetes.
Diabetes is not my whole life - but certainly a part of it. And I will fight, not just this November, but every month of every year. Because that is our goal: that, someday, there will be an end to this, a cure. I have to believe that. I want to grow up and tell my children about the "dark ages" of living with Diabetes, when I had to check my blood sugars five times a day. I want to laugh as I tell them that, yes, I actually had to give myself shots at every meal and sometimes in between! I want it to be one of those things that may have been terrible at the time, but ends up being something I can look back on from a distance and see how much it's helped me grow. I've got to expect the worst and hope for the best - maybe a cure won't ever be found. Maybe, with my luck, the day after I die they'll have found one. I don't know. As badly as I want to be cured, I've come to terms with the possibility it might not happen. I want a cure terribly, but if I never get one? I'll be okay. I'll keep on living, keep on fighting, keep on hoping that someday it will happen. Always. Maybe I'll never be able to say I'm a "survivor" of Diabetes. But I'm not a victim, either. Every day I live with Diabetes I become a survivor. Each and every morning I wake up, I've survived another day. It's not the same as a cure, but still it's no small thing.
Happy Belated Diabetes Awareness Month, everyone - and don't forget to wear blue on Fridays!
Oh, Diabetes. What a life changer it has been. I've come a long way since April 3rd, 2011. Looking on the calendar it doesn't seem so long ago, but these last months have been a lifetime to me. I've gone from needle-terrified to needle-junkie, I don't even blink at the thought of testing my BG, and eating a bowl of pasta or drinking a milkshake are to be considered amongst my greatest accomplishments.
Diabetes... I still hate you. I look back and am proud of myself for living alongside of you, fighting you, not letting you get in the way of my life or my happiness. But I have those bad days, too. I hate when you selfishly put yourself first. I am sad inside when I'm suffering from a low, my entire world crashing down on me, and not a single person even notices. I don't like it when people stereotype me. When waitresses think I'm snobby because I ask for the carb counts of the food. When I take forever to order when eating out, not because I mean to but because I have to find something with a feasible amount of carbs... I miss my freedom. Sometimes I just want to crawl into bed and falling asleep sounds so nice - but wait, I forgot my Lantus. I need to check my blood sugar. That means I have to crawl over to the sink and wash my hands. Put a new needle on the insulin pen. Oh, and by the way, when's the last time I changed the lancet? Uhh, October? I'm annoyed by people thinking me odd for eating lots of vegetables when I'm in the dining hall. Truth be told in a way it's because I'm lazy. I don't feel like counting carbs, and I just want something thoughtless and easy, something foolproof that I know won't raise my blood sugar much. I don't want to play Russian Roulette with my Blood Sugars because I don't know how many carbs are in the fried macaroni and cheese or the pizza or the french fries. I don't feel like guessing and then suffering for it later. And the skin on my stomach and arms hurts from pricking it so much.
Sigh.
This November, I will wear blue on Fridays. I will acknowledge the millions of others fighting this fight with me. Diabetes isn't merely just a month on the calendar, though. For those with it, we know that it is year-round, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, every second of our lives. Diabetes affects nearly every single thing that I do, sometimes without my even realizing it now. It becomes habitual to put a snack in my purse, or grab my meter before walking out the door, or plan what I'll eat at my meals ahead of time based on my blood sugars. I'm not used to it... I will never be. I've adjusted to it, though. I've adapted my life around learning to do what's necessary to survive with a life-threatening disease.
Diabetes is my life - I'm crazy about it and I blog about it, talk to others about it and complain about my blood sugars and the stereotypes occasionally. But it's because I'm passionate about it. I have to be. Living with Diabetes, it is essential that you have something to live for. Something to help you perk up, something greater than your disease, something to get you through those bad times and during the good times make you remember why you chose to fight for your life, each and every day. And ironically enough, Diabetes has become a part of that "something to live for" mentality. I am proud to have something to stand for. To be able to stand beside others who fight this same struggle and long with all of our hearts for the very same thing: a cure. Ok, well, in spirit at least. I've still yet to find another Type 1. But the Type 1 Community out there is huge, and has a way of making you feel like a part of something even from a distance. I am a part of something. I fight Diabetes, and one day, maybe, after a cure is found I will be able to say that I am a survivor of Diabetes.
Diabetes is not my whole life - but certainly a part of it. And I will fight, not just this November, but every month of every year. Because that is our goal: that, someday, there will be an end to this, a cure. I have to believe that. I want to grow up and tell my children about the "dark ages" of living with Diabetes, when I had to check my blood sugars five times a day. I want to laugh as I tell them that, yes, I actually had to give myself shots at every meal and sometimes in between! I want it to be one of those things that may have been terrible at the time, but ends up being something I can look back on from a distance and see how much it's helped me grow. I've got to expect the worst and hope for the best - maybe a cure won't ever be found. Maybe, with my luck, the day after I die they'll have found one. I don't know. As badly as I want to be cured, I've come to terms with the possibility it might not happen. I want a cure terribly, but if I never get one? I'll be okay. I'll keep on living, keep on fighting, keep on hoping that someday it will happen. Always. Maybe I'll never be able to say I'm a "survivor" of Diabetes. But I'm not a victim, either. Every day I live with Diabetes I become a survivor. Each and every morning I wake up, I've survived another day. It's not the same as a cure, but still it's no small thing.
Happy Belated Diabetes Awareness Month, everyone - and don't forget to wear blue on Fridays!
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