I pull away my shirt from my stomach and grimace when I see the skin.
My stomach loosely resembles rainbow -
On it, several discolored bruises lie, ranging from blue, to purple, to yellow and light green.
It is ugly.
I don't care too much about it now, but what about during Summer? What about swimsuit season? What will people think when they see my stomach, dotted from side to side with the ugly marks?
There are parts of Diabetes that you can't escape, no matter how hard you try. The bruises, the fingertip pads stained with dots of red from old lancet marks. The lows that force you to have to eat even when you're not hungry, at 2 in the morning, or just an hour after breakfast.
Diabetes isn't pretty.
I like using my insulin pens. Ok, well, actually, I hate them. A lot. But seeing as insulin is not really a choice - well, they suddenly ain't that bad. I enjoy the freedom of being able to give myself my shot and then go off into an almost-Diabetes-less la-la land. Oh wait, until my next meal. Oh wait, until 9PM when it's time for Lantus, what is hopefully (but not always) my final insulin shot of the day. Life can seem almost carefree... until I look at my callused, ugly fingers, or my sore, bruised hips and stomach.
The stomach is my area of choice - it absorbs insulin the quickest, usually doing the best at preventing spikes of High Blood sugar. An insulin shot in a different area can affect me differently. I spent a while on the internet after seeing my stomach, trying to research if this was a normal side-effect of the insulin, or just user-error on my part. A combination of both, probably. In some places - like my arms - I always seem to bruise, no matter what. I have my father's skin - delicate light and paper-thin - not made-for-Diabetes skin. My frame is frail for a person who gives insulin shots every day - there are few easily accessible areas of fat for me to inject into. I site-rotate, of course, but after 4 or 5 or 7 shots a day it can be easy to hit close to the same area.
I guess this is just my stomach's way of telling me it's time to give it a break.
And here I thought its only form of communication with me was through gurgling...
Hey Lacy, I feel awful for you when I read this, but I am here for you. I know it is not always easy, but you're a trooper. I know you can make it through this. Hopefully in our lifetime, they'll find a cure for it. Maybe, hopefully. But you have a good spirit about it and I find you amazing and someone to look up to. You're an awesome role model.
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