Saturday, June 12, 2010
Life's what you make it
For exactly 12 years I have had diabetes type 1. I remember the day of my diagnosis as if it were yesterday. For months I had not been feeling well. In November 2001, the fatigue and the frequent bathroom visits kept me out of my sleep. There were several doctor's visits and I had my blood work checked on as many occasions. He couldn't tell me though, what the problem was. In fact, he said, it was imaginary. Go figure..
Some weeks ago, I was going through some paperwork and I found a diary of 2001. That's where I wrote down how I felt and how poor my condition was. The results of my blood work were written down as well. Reading it again after having had 8 years of diabetes, it opened my eyes. My blood sugars were way too high all along. How come nobody ever mentioned that? How come my GP kept telling me there was nothing wrong with me? At the time, I had no idea what those numbers meant. I know better now. He should've known better then..
I have accepted my diabetes. It's become a part of me. I admit, it's a nuisance but I can live with it. My insulin pump is a big help to me. On the other hand, being on a sugarcoated rollercoaster day and night is not pleasant at all. Trust me, you feel like crap when lows and highs jump in an out of your body. It wasn't any different in London.. I've had several lows in their 20's but I also drank litres of diet coke to calm down the 400+ hypers. I hate those high numbers even more than the lower ones. It's no fun to slow the group down, because the high numbers make you stroll. The cramps in my calves, the constant thirst, the blurry sight and the overall uncomfortable feeling kill you. But you go on. You don't want to ruin the fun. So you give yourself an extra insulin shot, to make the numbers go down again. The speed at which that happens, makes you feel even weirder. And then there are the lows.. You start to shiver. Sometimes it's even hard to hold your meter to test your blood sugar level. And then your friends surround you to give you a hand. They open your box of orange juice for you, they find you a place to sit down, they help you think straight and force you to keep seated until you're feeling better. Even if all you want to do, is act normal and not be a nuisance to anyone. It's moving to have people around you that care. People that take care of you when you're no longer able to trust your own instincts..
Even the musical made my sugars drop. Because that's what emotions do to me. I lived that story and the songs were so touching, that my sugar level rushed down. A pathetic 22 ruined the game and made me leave the theatre for a while. I didn't want to miss the show, but there's not much else I could've done. I felt like passing out and the heat struck me. What a relief there was a nurse in the lobby. He ran over to me, brought me a chair and sat me down. He could tell I was not doing well and I mumbled I had a diabetic low. He stayed with me until the sugar intake did its job. Perhaps my skin tone looked a little like the Phantoms?