Thursday, July 16, 2015

Retinopathy, Neuropathy, Diabetes, Oh my

Retinopathy.
Neuropathy. Decreased healing. Increased risk of infection. Slowed healing times. Adhesive Capsulitis. Immune System changes. PVD. Alzheimer's. Skin changes.

It's another day in class, and we are talking about Diabetes and its rainbow of complications. It's a favourite topic of the health field, and I'm fairly used to it by now. Even the part where the professor says "Raise your hand if you know someone with Diabetes" and everyone in class raises their hand - or, "raise your hand if you know someone with Diabetes aside from Lacy" (and still nearly all of the hands go up).

Diabetes is a big deal. The rates are increasing year by year, in both the younger and older population. I hate having Diabetes, and as much as I would like to say that managing it has become vastly easier over these past 4 years, it seems like it's still as much of a daily struggle as always.
But sometimes I am thankful because it helps me to relate to a lot of people that struggle with this disease also. I remember back a couple of weeks ago, one of my first times volunteering with a group of geriatric individuals with my class to provide an exercise program.
One of the patients I was taking vitals for was mentioning her Diabetes, and how she didn't like getting low, especially after eating Dinner. "I'm already full," she's saying to me. "I don't want to eat again right after!"
"Well, have you tried glucose tabs?" I asked her. She responded with a "Well, yes... but I don't think they really work for me. I take one and it doesn't do anything!"

I thought for a second. "You're eating just one when you're low? You have to eat 4! They're 4g/carbs each. You need about 15g/carbs to raise yourself up from a low."
"Oooooooh. Really?! My Doctor never told me that... ugh, how frustrating!" The patient explained. "It's ok," I told her. "I have Diabetes too. I know it's frustrating. But you should try 4 instead. It helps!"

We had a long conversation about Diabetes from then on, and like many times before it was almost a bonding experience. I've had this before; working with patients, I always wonder if it's ok to bring up my Diabetes, especially if they're struggling with it, too. Sometimes I feel self conscious. I want my interactions with patients to be all about them and the last thing I want to do is turn it around to myself. But I feel it helps me to relate with a patient if I mention that I am Diabetic and they are, too. Suddenly I'm not just a health care professional; I'm someone who lives and breathes and understands the same kind of struggle, even just a little of a fraction of that piece of struggling, with someone. Personally, I feel as though it helps me relate to patients. I remember sitting sad in the hospital, casually and bitterly throwing aside all of the advice that people decided to throw my way. No one had Diabetes, they didn't understand.

But then Marie walked in, calm and cool and beautiful and collected. She pulled out an insulin pen, flashing her stylish and personally engraved medical ID bracelet and showed me how much better it was than syringes and vials. Told me I had an endocrinologist appointment with her across the street when I got out of the hospital. And more importantly, gave me a sliver of hope; hope that my life could be normal, hope that I could be like her. Even with Diabetes. If she could be like that, so could I.

In that case, having someone relate to me made all the difference in the world. It makes me feel better: makes me feel that I was diagnosed with this disease for a purpose. Maybe that's silly; maybe it's just a twisted coping mechanism for trying to justify why I live this life with this disease every day.

But regardless, I know this:
When we're sitting in integumentary class and I'm up on the table, shoes off and about to have a diabetic neuropathy/foot screen exam because that's what we're practicing every day, and my heart has a slight twinge of fear; there's the slim chance, what if? What would I do? 
And the talking about losing feet sensation really gets to me; it makes it worth it. I'm not in this struggle for nothing.

And having a foot screen that comes up as "low/no risk" for foot loss sensation makes me feel even better, that I'll be able to stay healthy to someday better help other people like me. Maybe one day I'll be the one going into the hospital room, and there will be a girl just diagnosed with Diabetes there, feeling quite alone and upset and angry at the world; maybe she'll feel like no one understands. Maybe I can help. Who knows?

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