Thursday, August 25, 2011
I broke up with my boyfriend. Bottom line is that I was not happy. At all. I felt trapped. I felt controlled. I was getting more and more depressed every week that went by. It just wasn't pretty and I knew I had to get out. He did not take it well. He has made me out to be an evil person, kicked me out of my own apartment, and is threatening to tell the cops that I attacked him if I show up there. He has gotten me so frightened that I am scared to go back. Now I am sleeping on my mother's couch. Just where I started before I met him. My furniture is there, and I am now living out of bags.
If I wasn't already having a horrible time with diabetes, this has made it a billion times worse. I don't want to eat, but when I do, I don't even think about taking a shot. I am finding it hard forcing myself to. I have checked my sugars maybe 3 times in the past few days. If that. It's like I pushed it aside. Right now, I don't even care anymore. I give up. I surrender. Please, just go away, Diabetes, while I handle this!! I can't handle anything. I am crying too much. I am shaking too much. You are just too much of a pain in the ass. Just go away and leave me be!!
I really just want to hide. I'll go admit myself into the hospital right now. But then again, I can't. I have to figure things out. I have to go to work. I have to go to school. I have to find a place to live. I have to actually deal with life. I can't just hide. I actually have to be responsible. Argh.
I really should just blame myself for this. I am the one who broke up with him. I should have known this would happen. I feel so stupid and so lost. I am done. I have lost it.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
I see my dietician tomorrow morning. This is the first time in months that I am not looking forward to it. Last time I was there, she gave me instructions to keep the log and she recommended things to add to my diet. You might know, if you have been reading my blogs, that the log went out the window a little after the 4th of July. Forget about the diet suggestions. I can't afford the things she wanted me to eat. Not to mention she recommended milk. And I hate milk.
I feel so awful. It is like I am going to school the day a huge project is due, but it was a project that I never got around finishing. I am so ashamed. When she asks me how I did, I will bow my head in utter shame and tell her that I failed miserably. I won't even be able to look her in the eye because I am afraid of what she will say. I am going to have to try and prepare myself for the disappointment that I will hear in her voice.
Her reaction isn't the only thing I am worried about, though. You see, she is trying to work with me to figure out what me insulin to carb ratio is. In order to do this, you have to keep track of everything that goes into my body. I have to keep track of what my blood sugars are at least four times a day. Basically, I have to see what food is doing what to my body and my sugars. What I have written down would have been a really good snapshot. I had a good two weeks of information. The only problem is that the day I stopped logging was the day my sugars went bonkers. I should have kept it up but I just couldn't do it. All that work for nothing.
I could give her what I have, but what's the use? It has lost all relevance. Now I know what she is going to have me do. Start again. Start fresh. But the just means that I have been wasting months waiting for this appointment with nothing to show for it. Now I have to wait a few more months and hope that I can do it. Again. I hope I don't aggravate her too much. I understand how important this information is. I just hope that she realizes that I do.
Or maybe I could just tell her my dog ate it. Sigh.
Thanks for reading and the comments.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
I had heard of this before. It is when a Diabetic gets so fed up with the constant day-to-day, hour-to-hour management of their disease, that they just simply give up. It might last a little while, and for some, it may last forever. Now, she reassured me that I wasn't to that point...yet, but if I don't jump back, there is a good possibility that I could find myself in that predicament. I refuse.
I ended up doing a little research online about the matter to try to find ways of avoiding the burnout. I found a little information here from the Joslin Diabetes Center. It helped a little bit, but I thought maybe others could benefit from the tips it gives.
What I really need is to focus. I need to be in touch with my nurses more often, because they are my cheerleaders. I found that going to all those appointments, as much as they were a pain in the ass to get to, were truly helping me along. The Diabetic Online Community is also a huge help, as I have previously discussed. The only downside is that I cannot talk to them face to face, and sometimes, face to face is what I need.
I need to do whatever it takes to not burn myself out. Has anyone else ever fell into this hole? How did you get out of it? Please, let me know! Tell me your stories! I would love to hear them.
Thanks for reading and thanks for the comments!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
When I get depressed, the signs are very recognizable. The dishes pile up. The clothes remain unwashed. My spirit and life disappear for a while. I get overwhelmed and the longer things go on this track, the harder it is for me to bounce back. This is not a good thing for a diabetic. Not at all.
Type 1 Diabetes can be overwhelming for anyone, depression or not. There is so much to think about--so much to worry about. Add depression into the mix, you've got yourself a problem.
I'm not sure if it is the diabetes that is causing my depression this time, or if it is just depression itself. It may be that my sugars being so high lately is causing me to lose hope, or if my depression is causing my high blood sugars. Either way, it is getting harder and harder everyday for me to focus. It is to the point where I don't even want to eat because I don't want to have to deal with giving myself insulin. I don't even want to check my blood sugar level because I am afraid to see what it is. It all just makes me want to cry and hide away in my bedroom.
People ask me why I don't see anyone about depression or why I don't take medication for it. The thing is, every time I have seen someone, I always end up answering my own questions, and I feel like I am paying them for nothing. I just feel like I can always just get myself out of it. And I always do. I have tried to take medication for it, but it never worked for me. Again, I have always been able to get myself out of it. I don't need to put a magic pill into my system. Sometimes I feel like maybe I do need to and I am just being stubborn, but it doesn't matter either way. I pay too much for my other medications anyway. I can't add another one into the bunch.
For now, I will just deal with it. Make the motions. I get scared, though. My depression has never been this bad since being diagnosed. I am not sure how I will handle it and for how long it will last. I am reaching my hand out for help. I am desperate for someone to take it because I cannot do this alone.
Thanks for reading and the comments. Thank you for your support.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
I am a compulsive over eater. I eat when I'm hungry. I eat when I'm not hungry. It really doesn't matter. I think about food constantly and I always go for that second helping.
Before I was diagnosed, my biggest issue with my addiction was, of course, gaining weight and, well, eating crap that I shouldn't. I ate fast food--a lot--and that can't be good for anybody. I never really cared much, though. I just ate whenever I wanted and never thought much about what was going into my body. Life was good, I'd say. I still look back on those days with envy. Nowadays, I have to care, and sometimes, frankly, it really sucks.
When I went to go see my nutritionist recently, she told me that average women who are diabetic usually consume about 30 to 45 grams of carbohydrates per meal. My eyes widened like a child who had their favorite toy taken away from them. She explained a lot about serving sizes and which foods had 15 grams of carbs. I almost laughed, but I also almost cried at the same time. There was no way, I thought. I could easily eat 75 to 100 grams of carbs, and probably still want more. I really, didn't know what to say. The worst part about it is the fact that all my favorite foods have the most carbs. Pasta and especially potatoes. How depressing.
I do realize that I can eat these things. I just have to take enough insulin to cover what I ingest. Easy fix, sure. I'll just sweep the "30-45 gram" rule under the rug. If only it really worked that way. I used to eat a bowl of mashed potatoes, and 2 hours later have a plate of french fries. Taking all that insulin can't be good. Of course, eating all that food can't be too good, either. Sometimes, though, I just don't know when to stop!
I guess I just really miss the freedom I used to have. I used to just eat. Now I have to think about what I am eating and prepare myself for it. I can't just eat a candy bar on a whim. I have to take a shot. Ice cream (yes, Wendall), I have to take a shot. My glory days are over, it seems. But are they really?
What I realize now is that all of this has a silver lining. Eating healthier. Thinking about what I eat. I don't just look at carbs now. I look ate protein and fat content. I look at vitamins. It is almost like I am budgeting. Everything that I eat has a purpose now. Everything that my food is made of has a function and it does its job, as long as I eat what my body needs. It goes without saying that everyone should adopt this outlook, not just a diabetic like myself. Everybody needs to eat healthy and give their body what it is craving.
Now, I haven't fully gotten to the point where I am eating great. I still go for the mashed potatoes. I still get that second helping of my favorite recipe of fettuccine alfredo. I still crave, well, crap. It will be a long road until I get to the point where can eat 30 to 45 grams of carbs and feel satisfied. Until then, I am not quite sure what to do. If anyone has any tips at all, please comment. I need any advice that is willing to be given. Thank you in advance.
One more thing I wanted to add before I end this post. I just wanted to let everyone know that I made a Facebook page for my blog and if you enjoy reading my blog, I invite you over there. I feel silly saying it like this but please "Like" me! =) Here is the link: The Late Diabetic on Facebook
Thank you for reading!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
I have had all sorts on infections in my past, but ever since being diagnosed two years ago, every single time I get any type of infection, I red flag them in my mind--especially when I get them on my feet. I am sure you have read all about my catastrophic dog bite. (If you have not, you can read all about it here.) When the doctor mentioned the word "amputation", I will not lie, it scared the crap out of me. Who wouldn't be scared? Now, every little thing that goes wrong with me, I think the worst.
I do realize that not everything is going to be life threatening, or even limb threatening, but my imagination has a tendency to run wild. And it does. Every time. I used to think I was invincible, but I have met a few people who made me come to terms with the fact that I, of course, am not.
Shortly after being diagnosed, a man became one of my coworkers. He had one leg. Everyone stared at him, and I, being the understanding person that I am, looked passed it, and he eventually told me that he lost it to Diabetes. Another man, who I have mentioned before, had a few of his toes removed, and then his entire foot. He eventually lost his life. It is so sad and so so scary to think about. I don't mean to frighten anyone, though. I really don't.
I know, that things like that happen to those who have poor control over their diabetes. People tell me all the time not to sorry so much because these are circumstances where their blood sugars were too high for way too long. Well, let me tell you, when I was bit, I had dreadful control, so it was definitely something that could have happened.
Now that I am in control (for the most part, at least) I am calming down a bit. I don't freak out over everything. Just over some things. Like my big toe. I am quite attached to it, thank you, and I would like to keep it.
Thanks for reading and thank you for your comments!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Recently, I have been getting very discouraged. I was keeping a log book for a while, but I skipped a week and I just can't seem to get myself back into the habit. I still test, as I should, and take my shots like I should be doing. There is a problem, though. Something went wrong. It is as though the dosage of insulin that used to be perfect for me, has failed me for the past week or so. The other day, I went to sleep with a blood sugar reading of 85. When I woke up the next morning, it had skyrocketed to a shocking 150--for no reason. No reason that I can come up with, at least.
Today, I woke up a bit late, so I had no breakfast. I didn't check my blood sugars, either. It wasn't until after 3pm when I actually ate something. I checked my blood sugar, and again, it was in the 300s. The night before that, I ate a banana before I went to bed. A banana! I could understand a little bit of a spike, but this was ridiculous.
I mentioned to one of my diabetes educators that I tended to go low while I was at work, so she told me to lower my dose on the days that I worked. I tried that, but it was as if that tiny unit deduction I made resulted in a radical high blood sugar reading a few hours later. It was awful. I felt like no matter what I did, I couldn't win! Either have my sugars drop too low, or have them skyrocket! Where is my happy medium?
I am really at a loss of what is going on with my body. What does it want from me? I wish it would just let me know! I feel like I am failing as a pseudo pancreas. It is becoming an extremely difficult job to keep up, and I feel as though I am not qualified for the job. I hope I don't get fired!
Thank you so much for reading and for your comments.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
When I was first being taught how to inject, I must admit, I was scared. I had the nurses do it the first few times, and I would cringe. I had to look away. Surprisingly, though, it didn't hurt. I didn't even feel it. This gave me enough courage to finally volunteer to do my own. The nurse showed me all the possible areas of the body I could use, but I found that the stomach was the easiest. She told me that I had to rotate around to different parts because after a while...well something happened. I wasn't quite sure what, but from the sounds of it, it wasn't good. I do understand now, but back then, I just smiled and nodded.
When I was one my own to take care of my own injections in the real world, I found that I was only comfortable doing it at home...in the bathroom. I was embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to see me. Not even my mother. I am not exactly sure why I felt like that, but I felt that way, never-the-less. I suppose I can partly put the blame on my immature brother who would tell me that he didn't want to see it. It wasn't that he didn't care about me. He just got grossed out. I understand, but it still made me feel very insecure. Nowadays, I really don't care what he thinks. He has just got to get used to it.
The hardest part though? When I am out in public. I tend to go out to eat often, whether it be fast food, a mall food court, or a restaurant. I always had to run in the bathroom to take it--and that would be after I ate because I never knew how much I was going to eat. After a while, I just gave up all together and didn't take it at all. I felt, I think, that it was unsanitary no matter where I took it--especially in the restroom. If I took it at the table, I would get awkward looks from strangers. I shouldn't have cared at all, but I did. I even felt uncomfortable doing it in front of the people I was actually with. They wouldn't give me strange looks though. I think it actually gave them an opportunity to bring up my disease without feeling bad. They would squint at me a little and politely ask me if it hurt. I would assure them that it did not. Every so often, that ended up being a lie.
I guess I got a little too comfortable injecting in the stomach. My skin got tougher and sometimes my syringes would dull. That is when it hurt. It would hurt so bad, it would bring a tear to my eye. The nurse told me I need to throw away the needle after ever couple, if not every, use. As a broke diabetic, I found that to be an impossible task. There was no way I could afford to keep buying them. I had to stretch out my supply for as long as I could. So I get used to the pain sometimes. I have since began to move around my injection sites. I started on my thighs. I guess I will start having to go to the bathroom again to do it.
I still do, though, inject in my stomach while in public. I don't care about the stares anymore. It's something I just gotta do. If anyone asks any questions, I just let them know: I left my pancreas at home.
Thanks for reading and the comments!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Back in the horrible days of last year, I rarely tested. After a few days of peeing constantly and dry mouth, it would finally occur to me to take a look. Of course, I would be so high, that my meter would just say "high". I would take some insulin to get it down, and not think about it anymore. When I ate, I wouldn't even think of taking a shot. Not at all. Once in a great while, I would take it--but only afterwards because it was a complete after thought.
Let me tell you, I was sick all the time. I was nauseous constantly for two weeks at a time. There was never a moment when I wasn't tired. And most of all, I felt like I was starving. It crossed my mind, but hadn't fully set in that I was feeling so horribly because my sugars were high. A few times, I was actually convinced that I was pregnant. I secretly hoped I was, but of course, I was not. Two months ago, I went through a terrible stint of migraines. They were so bad that regular over-the-counter pain killers weren't cutting it, so I had to get a prescription. My eye-sight also started to get very bad. I remember, I was filling out a whole bunch of applications one night and it got so bad that at 10 o'clock at night, I told Troy that we had to run to Walmart to get a pair of magnification glasses.
When I finally decided to start getting better, I started checking my blood sugar levels again. Then, I got sick again. I was consistently in the 400 range and I would take insulin to correct it, only it wasn't working. It would not go down, no matter how much I took. I got a little scared so I called my aunt, who's a nurse. She was worried so she picked me up and took me to the Emergency Room. They gave me and IV full of fluids and anti-nausea medicine. They told me they wanted to admit me. As crazy as this sounds, I refused. They told me I might die. I did not care. Well, I did, but I had thins feeling I could get myself out of another case of DKA without any help. I signed the papers and went home. The truth is, I should have stayed, but I was so uncomfortable and depressed that I wasn't in my right mind. I told some people on a forum I am a member of, and they pretty much scolded me for what I had done. I hated that.
In the end, though, I did get myself out of the water. That one episode of DKA got me on the ball completely and for good. My blood sugar levels have changed so dramatically and I am so proud of myself. I have new goals and a new way of thinking. I feel 100% better and I am ready to take it on full force.
I now count carbs in my head while I am thinking about eating and take my shot. I test 2 hours after, then 4 hours after, just to be sure. I do realize now that I am not invincible. I do not recommend anyone doing what I did, so please, if you are reading this, do not follow in my footsteps. It will not lead to anything good.
Thanks for reading and thanks for your comments!
Monday, July 18, 2011
I have another condition that ails me that I have not yet mentioned. I have a skin condition called Psoriasis. I have had this awful disease since the ripe age of sixteen. It is genetic, so my mother has it, and so did her mother. My children (who are not yet in existence yet) will most likely have it as well. It is actually common for diabetics to have Psoriasis, come to find out, since it is another outcome from a confused immune system. For those of you who aren't familiar with Psoriasis, let me explain just a little. When you get a cut on your skin, a message is sent from your brain to your immune system to heal the skin. When you have Psoriasis, there is no cut on the skin, but the auto immune reacts anyway, building up more and more skin resulting in ugly scales.
I have it on my legs. They tell me the best thing for it is the sun and to go out in it. Ha! I find it hard to even wear shorts out in the summer. The stares and the comments are more than I can take sometimes. I have been known to wear jeans all summer long. I hate it. People think I have something that is contagious. People are ignorant. People are hurtful.
That said, I have come to the conclusion that I have an immune system that is completely backwards. Now that I have Type 1 Diabetes and Psoriasis, I have come up with an analogy. My immune system is like a country who attacks its allies and gives aid to other countries that are thriving. It is a complete waste of resources! Wow.
While research is being done for a cure to both these diseases, everyone is focusing on the symptoms, and results from the initial problem. The Dermatologist gives me ointments for my skin and tells me to soak in the sun. My other doctors give my insulin to cover what my pancreas can't. It works, but it doesn't cure it. It just helps me live from day to day. The underlying problem is my immune system and I think there needs to be more focus on trying to fix that problem. My two diseases aren't the only auto-immune diseases. There are plenty more where that came from. If they could just develop a cure for that, I think that many of us would be A-OK.
Could be me just dreaming, though.
Thanks for reading!
Saturday, July 16, 2011
I had a comment from someone a few posts back replying to my problem with getting low blood sugars at work. He explained that he doesn't tell anyone about it that doesn't have to know (i.e. only very close friends and close relatives). No one knew about his condition at work or anywhere else and he was extremely proud. I suppose to each his own, right? Well, that may be, but hiding it from so many people can be awfully dangerous. What if something happened? I imagine, if this person is so intent on hiding the matter, that he does not wear any sort of identification card. (I don't either, for that matter, but one day I will.) If he ever got so low that someone had to call 911, what would the person say to the paramedics? What would happen. Goodness knows that I don't even want to think about it. Nothing has happened to him in the 50 some-odd years that he has had diabetes, but that is what I call living on the edge. At least, I seem to think so. Once again--to each his own.
Now, I am not saying that I just bring it up to everybody I meet. That would be more like starving for attention. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Mary and I have Diabetes! Wanna talk about it?" Yeah...no. I do think it is important to tell people, especially coworkers, that you have it. If it get's really busy at work and it is time for lunch, someone needs to know that once I take my insulin, I gotta eat. You know what I mean? I don't care if they are sick of the "whole diabetes thing" that some unfortunate individuals call it. That is just how it is. Go ahead, roll your eyes. It doesn't bother me one bit.
I don't just talk about it for safety precautions, though. Today, I felt a bit shaky, so I grabbed a mini juice box (15g of carbs per juice box, by the way. Perfect!) The customer I was taking care of noticed and asked if I had diabetes. We began talking about it, and three others joined in. They talked about people they knew with it, and best of all, they asked a lot of questions. They understood Type 2, as many more people do, but getting to teach them how Type 1 works was actually exciting for me and they were very interested in learning. I cleared up many of their misconceptions and misunderstandings. It was honestly a great conversation.
So many people in this world don't get it. I just read an article yesterday, as many of you did, by this guy Wendall and his opposing of and ice cream social for Diabetic children (Read it here, if you are interested.) He was so ignorant about the entire subject matter that he really should not be writing about it at all. There are so many more people out there that really need to understand the disease and how it differs from Type 2 Diabetes. I wish diet and exercise were the answer. Truly, I do. It is the answer to leading a healthy life, yes, but it won't cure me, sorry.
In closing, I would like to ask you a few questions. Are you private about your Diabetes? Do you feel that certain people just need to know? Or are you completely open about it? Let me know! Thanks for reading!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Through the years, I have had my ups and downs. When I was 21, I weighed 150lbs. and in a few months, I had actually lost 20lbs. I was so proud of myself that I bought myself a whole new wardrobe. It wasn't long until I gained it all back and my new clothes had to be stored away. I kept all those jeans for years, knowing, or at least hoping, that I would one day fit into them again. I began gaining weight like crazy and finally hit 170lbs. (Just to put all this into perspective, by the way, I am only 5 feet tall, so 170lbs. is pretty big.) Then, I got diabetes.
I guess it's no wonder the doctor's thought I had Type 2, because of the weight gain and poor eating habits. That's when all the weight came off. I got down to a size 6 jeans, but only briefly. When They figured out they were wrong, they put me on insulin and that stuff makes you gain weight, let me tell you. The sad part was that I couldn't decide what I liked better--being healthy or being thin. I chose healthy--at least for a little while. When I started to lose control again, I started losing weight as well, but this time, I thought it was because I was poor and couldn't afford much food. The past 4 months or so, though, in my vat of denial, I really did lose a lot of weight. The jeans I had been storing away for so long fit me for a while, but they ended up being too big for me. I got down to a size 2/4 and I was very excited. Too excited. I bought more pants for myself. When everyone commented and asked how I did it, I didn't want to tell them it was because I wasn't taking my medications. I just told them I was eating right. What a lie--to them, and myself.
Once I got myself back on track with the Diabetes, though, what would you know? I'm gaining weight again. I am actually embarrassed that I boasted about my weight loss. I am also very depressed about it. I know, I know, it is vain and I shouldn't worry so much about it, but after being so happy, I feel like I let myself down. At least I am taking my meds now, though. Once I am comfortable enough with what I am supposed to be doing, I will worry about how to lose weight. For now, I will just enjoy being healthier on the inside.
Thanks for reading and your comments.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
After I got diagnosed, though, I ended up getting two new jobs. The first one was at a movie theater. One night I was working and this girl I worked with took a cup and filled it with soda. She started to gulp it and looked at me. She said "It sucks being diabetic". All of the sudden, I heard the angels sing. Haha. I didn't just nod, I practically hugged her. I let her know about my little secret and she was so excited. She told me that there were three other people that worked at the theater that had it. It was such a relief.
While working there, I did get a second job at a waterpark for the summer. I was on the cleaning crew which meant I was out in the sun walking all day long. It wasn't bad but when I got too hot and dehydrated, I would also get very low. I had to take frequent breaks. There were two others that were on my crew. One was a 16 year old girl. I asked her for the time and she looked at this peculiar device that was attached to her side. I didn't know what it was, but the other person on the cleaning crew had the same exact device on his side. I thought, at first, that it was just part of work and that I was to get one. Nope. They were insulin pumps. All three of the people on the cleaning crew had Type 1 Diabetes. It was actually quite humorous since our job was the toughest in the entire park. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone.
Since I left those jobs and went back to school, I haven't found anyone else with it. I was hoping to, but to no avail. Not that I have been asking around. That would be weird. I have finally turned to the internet. Through Twitter, Facebook, and now Google+, I have found a vast network of T1's who refer to themselves as the DOC (Diabetic Online Community). As I am just beginning to branch out, I don't know these people too well yet, but I will. The ones I have been talking to are very nice and welcoming. They are the reason why I wrote this blog in the first place. I wanted to thank them all for being there. For merely existing. Thank you, guys. You know who you are.
Thanks for reading and your comments. Thanks for your support. Thanks for everything.
Monday, July 11, 2011
While I waited for my solution to come, I decided to check it my own way--to take an innocent Non-diabetic victim and stab their finger and see what my meter read. This victim was of course my boyfriend, Troy. It would have worked in theory, I suppose, but things did not go well. At all. Why, you ask? Because Troy is, yes I will say it, a baby! He was all for it until I had his finger in my hand with my torture device (you would think, at least) and I swear he almost cried. Wait, I think he may have. I was like "I have to do this at least 4 times a day. Man up!" I guess that didn't work. Needless to say, he didn't go through with it. All I did was laugh at him. I asked him how he acted at the doctor's and he said something stupid about getting a lollipop. Boys. Did I say boys? I meant men, I swear.
Anyway, I got the solution in the mail today and finally tested my meter. Wouldn't you know? It was spot on. I was so disappointed because I knew it was messed up. What I think I am going to do is, next time it starts acting up again, I will get out the control solution and test it then. That'll show them! Or else I will call them up and tell them their solution is defective. Either way.
Has this ever happened to anyone? Do you have any ideas of what may be happening? Please, let me know! I want to know that I am doing things correctly. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the comments!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Taking medication was always difficult for me to do on a regular basis. I got prescribed anti-depressants quite a few times and would take them for a week and never take them again. Did they work? Who knows? I didn't take them long enough to even notice. This is one of the reasons I never took birth control pills. Ok, that's a lie. I did once. I took them for a little less than a month and suffered the consequences for abandoning ship. If you are female, I think you may know what I am talking about. If you aren't, just stop thinking about it and move on. Trust me, you don't want to know.
Now that Diabetes has swept into my life and taken over, I have had to really work hard at not fall back into my irresponsible tendencies. I did for quite a while and look where it got me--almost dieing without even realizing what I was doing to myself. Throughout the time of my denial phase, I was constantly sick and tired. I don't know how my boyfriend dealt with me like that. I couldn't even imagine how many times I must have gone into DKA. I knew it. Did I do anything about it? No. I didn't care. I thought I was invincible. I did luck out though (I'm still here, aren't I?) but that is not the way to do things. All I have to do is thank my lucky stars and move on. I don't want to ever do that to myself again.
I've been feeling so much better since I hopped back on the band wagon. No more migraines, no more nausea. I haven't had to use my awful-looking magnification glasses once! My boyfriend, Troy, must be relieved. The struggles aren't over yet, though. For the past few days, I have been getting lazy. The log book I am supposed to be keeping is beginning to grow holes in it. I was going really good for about 2 weeks and wouldn't you know, I began to push it aside, insisting (to myself) that I would remember everything and write it down later. Yeah, that didn't happen. I keep telling myself that I will just start it again tomorrow. I'll right down breakfast and lunch but forget dinner. I really need to get back on the ball! I have also had a few things to eat without taking insulin. Not good at all. I started getting high blood sugars again and I struggled to get them back down. I did though.
I have decided that I really need support. Not just from friends, family, and Troy, but from other individuals living with Diabetes. I am opening myself up here, in hopes that I can find others out there who feel my pain. Thank you for your support and Thank you so much for reading and commenting.
Friday, July 8, 2011
My concern, though, is that one of these times, I am going to be alone with no one there to take over for me. Sure, I can have something right there next to me at all times just in case, but if I have a long line of people, I'm not going to be able to sit there and take it easy while I get back to normal. I'm not sure what I am going to do. I don't want to have to demand someone there with me at all times because I feel like I am asking too much. What if they just can't do it? I am really worried that they would let me go if I start making a fuss, so I have stayed quiet. Should I just not take as much insulin and risk getting too high? I don't know. What should I do?
If anyone has any advice, comments are definitely welcome! Thanks for reading and thanks for your help!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Way back when, during diabetic boot camp while in the hospital, they made it sound so simple! For some reason, I could do it and I was even to the point where I was able to order my "room service" for each meal with the correct amount of carbs they were wanting me to eat. It wasn't so bad. I was a pro! The educator was impressed that I learned so quickly. Then they let me go home..
Now, the one benefit to being broke is the fact that all the cheap, processed foods all have the carb amounts right on the side of the package. Of course, the real nutritional value is absent--but that's a whole different blog all together. It sure did make it simple to count them. Balanced meal? Perhaps not. One time, I made a package of mashed potatoes. I ate as many carbs as I was allotted--all with mashed potatoes. No green veggies. Not even protein. I all of the sudden, knew nothing.
Here I am, now--2 years later. I am starting to count again in order for the dietician to figure out my insulin to carb ratio. This time, I know a little better than to fill my plate with mashed potatoes. I try to eat balanced meals and I try to actually cook rather than eat from a package. It's a whole new ballgame with that, though. Now I have to figure out if an actual potato is large, medium or small--likewise with fruit, or anything else. I must be dense because I don't get it! When I count, do I include the vegetables in the count? What if I had lasagna or some other casserole dish? Ahh! It makes me want to hide. Or worse than that--give up.
I think I'm going to have to have another visit with my dietician--soon. Until then, I might lose my mind.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
There are some days when I want to give up entirely. These days I just want to curl up in a ball in the corner and cry. I want to hide away from the world. I feel so alone in the world and I feel sometimes that nobody really understands what I am going through. Sure, I know a few people online that do, but in my day to day life, I am the only one. It gets lonesome. It gets scary. Having diabetes take over my life is exhausting.
But there are some days when I wake up and I realize that my life isn't so bad. I am taking care of myself and know that one day, my diabetes won't rule my life. It will just be part of who I am. I realize that I am not alone at all. I have a loving family who will always be there for me. I have a loving boyfriend who I look at everyday and know that I want to live for as long as I can because having him in my life is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to live and I want to be happy. The days that get me down always pass. I just have to remind myself every once in a while.
Thanks for reading!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The problem? Well, you see, I don't have a car. I live with my boyfriend who does have a car, but unfortunately there are days when he has class and using it is just not possible. I do have another option, which is using my mother's car. She lives close by and every time I need to use it, I have to sleep over her house that night and take her to work in the morning. Those days are actually a blessing to me because for about half a day, I have the freedom with the car to do what I want! It's nice, let me tell you.
It is getting to the point, though, where I have so many appointments, that I have a sleepover at my mom's once a week. My boyfriend gets sad and depressed when that happens. It isn't like he doesn't understand, because he does, but it still gets him down. At least I know he misses me and that he cares.
Tonight is one of those nights. I have to wait for him to come home from class just so he can drive me over to my mother's. I feel so pathetic when I have to do this. It is so frustrating not being able to just drive to the places where I need to go. I can do without the hassle. I have enough things on my mind that I am worried about and transportation shouldn't be one of them. Anyone have a car they want to give me? Just kidding. I think.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Today, though, I was nervous. It was the 4th of July and for me and everyone else living in the USA, it was filled with great food off the grill and a lot of fun. I went to my mother's for a little cookout and there was so much food that I got a little overwhelmed. Since I love to eat, I would hate to restrict myself, especially on the holiday with so much to eat! I took my shot of insulin and had a great time. I even gave myself a little extra after when my mom brought out the cupcakes. a few hours later I tested myself and I guess my estimates were right on the money because I was in perfect range. I'm getting good at this!
I got a little worried and depressed today, though. If the 4th of July was like this, I can't even imagine what it will be like when it comes to the holidays this winter. Especially when my specialty is making pies. I really want to be able to enjoy myself without having to worry so much about my sugars getting too high. It is just so much easier on a day-to-day, hour-to-hour basis. When it comes to feasts, though, all bets are off. How do people do it? The main course, the finger foods, the cookies, the pies.... Add some alcohol beverages into the mix and you've got yourself a messed up diabetic. Sure, it's half a year away, but it will get here before I know it and I want to be prepared. If anyone has any tips, feel free to leave a comment and share your wealth of knowledge and experience! I am ever so thankful that there aren't too many holidays in a year or else I would go crazy.
I think I did really great today and tomorrow, it is back to work and back to my normal diet.
Thanks for reading, guys!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
So I just wanted to give a brief update and explain why I haven't updated my blog in a little while. I recently received and offer from a Diabetes website to be a regular blogger there and I decided to go on a little hiatus until I started there, which will be in a few weeks. I will definitely keep everyone posted when that happens that you can continue to follow me over there! I am very excited for the opportunity and can't wait to start!
I also wanted to let everyone know that I finally got a job so I can now pay for my medications and food. Things are looking up! I have an appointment today with the Endocrinologist. It will be my first one in a long time so wish me luck!
Sorry this is so brief, but there will be plenty more come July! Thanks for reading and your support!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Something that I did not mention earlier is the fact that when I first got diagnosed in 2009, I had no insurance. It sounds like that would be a bad thing, but I was helped--a lot. The social worker did everything she could to make sure that I got everything I needed and she looked up every free program she could find. The hospital had a free program for people like me so that I could go to the outpatient clinic there. The program also extended to the Endocrinologist. I was also was told about a free prescription program that would send me whatever medications I needed. I was all set.
Since everything was just sent to me for free, I didn't even really think about it. Life went on, as you read, for better or worse. When my efforts began to dwindle, my medications began to accumulate. I didn't even notice when my coverage stopped. They sent me something to reapply, but to be honest, I don't even remember getting it. I guess I was just too depressed.
When I started school, since I did not have insurance, I was required to buy the student insurance they offered. It didn't sound like a bad idea anyway. I also stopped working completely to just focus on school and I was living off of students loans. I wouldn't quite say I was doing alright. My diet consisted mainly of things that cost $1, and as you can imagine, that can't be healthy. After my few months of complete denial, when I decided to start taking care of myself, I called the prescription program to see if I can get some meds sent to me. I was not eligible anymore because of my new insurance. I called the hospital to ask them to write me a prescription. Of course, I had to be seen first. 2 or 3 weeks later, I finally got an appointment. They wrote my prescriptions out and when I went to go pick them up, I began to really worry. It was $25 for one of my insulins. That may not sound like a lot since without insurance it would have cost about $150. I shouldn't complain, right? Well since they both cost be $25, that means I needed to pay $50 a month just for my meds. When you don't have a job, that is a lot of money.
So, as of right now, I am not out of my meds yet, but it will happen. I have already began digging into my rent money to buy food. I guess I will just have to keep digging. I am desperate to find a job and I am getting extremely worried. I will not let that stop me from keeping myself healthy, though. I am determined.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
This went on for months. I did manage to take my Lantus almost everyday, so that is all that Troy thought I needed to do. He just figured all Diabetics had to pee all the time. It frustrated him, but he got used to it. The longer this went on, the more in denial I went. Although I was expecting romance to take my hand and escort me out of my depression, it didn't. I fell deeper and deeper. I stopped going to doctor's all together. Everything just fell to the wayside.
After a while, I moved in with Troy and things started to change a bit for me. I found a new comfort in thinking that we were going to be together forever. I started to dream about our future. It made me happy but at the same time, I was worried. I knew I had to start taking care of myself and I told him that. He had no idea that I wasn't in the first place. The problem I was having was that I hadn't taken care of myself in so long, I fell out of the habit. This meant that I would forget--a lot. Too often.
A few times I would cry to Troy. Sometimes I would tell him I wanted to die. Sometimes I would tell him that I wanted to live--just not with Diabetes. I would warn him that I may not live that much longer. I imagine that I must have confused him and stressed him out completely. He stood by me, though. He was very supportive and I love him for that.
One night, a few weeks ago, I had a new outlook. I wanted to live, no matter what. I wanted to have children. I wanted a family with Troy and I sat him down and talked to him about it. I said to him that I was going to start preparing to have a baby. I reassured him that I wasn't expecting to have one very soon, but that it was going to be my motivation to take care of myself and my body. He smiled and gave me a hug. The next day, I called the doctor and made an appointment.
That pretty much brings everyone to where I am right now. Thank you for reading my story so far, and I hope that you will continue to come back and join me in my journey. If you wouldn't mind, please leave comments or questions down below. I would really like some feedback. Thanks! Until next time!
Monday, June 20, 2011
A few days before I had to go in, I had a few friends over. Now, usually this was not a bad thing, but my mother's dog, Ike, decided he wasn't up for company. Ike's an English Bulldog how has a history for biting feet. When my friends came over, there was utter chaos, and Ike came charging down the stairs. He made his way into the crowd and his teeth barely brushed my friend's foot. I jumped in front of the bullet and before I knew it, he had his teeth sunk into the top of my foot and he wouldn't let go. My brother tried to pull him away, although no one realized he was gnawing on my foot until I yelled as loud as I could. What would you know? I ended up in the ER once again. They stitched me up and wrapped it and sent me on my way.
The next day, I took the wrap off and it was red, swollen, and obviously infected and for a diabetic, that is never a good thing--especially when it is on your foot. That is how limbs get amputated. I went back to the ER 2 more times until they finally admitted me. I was there for a week, again. While they were admitting me, I let them know that I had an orientation in a few days and asked if they thought if it was a possibility that I could still go. They said it was ok, and they would send the message along.
My stay at the hospital this time was less than ideal to say the least. When the day came for the orientation, I took a shower and got dressed, knowing that the day before I told 3 doctors about it and they all said ok. I called my brother to come get me and 10 minutes before I left, another doctor came in and thought I was crazy and said that it was not ok, and that no one should have told me that it was. I made a huge fuss, and he finally let me go. Talk about a communication problem.
Another huge problem I came across at the hospital was the nurses and their lack of knowledge about my condition. You see, I take Lantus, my once-a-day insulin, in the afternoon. It is just easier for me that way. The hospital decided they wanted to give it to me a night after a few days. They had given it to me at 3 one afternoon, and that night some ditzy little nurse comes in and starts to fill a syringe up with Lantus. I told her that I take it at 3 and that I already had my shot for the day. She insisted that it was doctor's orders and that they were switching me to night time. She walks over with the syringe and I told her again. She wasn't listening to me. She began to prepare me for my shot and I pushed her hand away and I was getting angry. She finally said "I'll go talk to the doctor" and left. An hour later she comes back and told me that I was right and she was wrong. Pardon my French, but that bitch could have killed me.
After a week, the swelling went down and the infection diminished. They sent me home on crutches and I was finally free. About a month later, my mother came to accept the fact that Ike had to be put down, and she set up an appointment for him to be put to sleep. As much as he was a danger at times, though, he really was a sweet dog and I still miss him sometimes. At least I have a scar on my foot to remind me of him, and I will have the scar for the rest of my life.
If you have been reading my blog and want to read more, please follow me! Thanks for reading.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
It was soon, then, that my personal life began to fall apart. I lost my car, my apartment, and above all, I lost control. I found a new home on my mother's couch and depression set in. My Diabetes got too much to handle for me, and my health concern began to slip through the cracks. That is when the suicidal thoughts began to pull up a chair in my mind. The "lows" that my doctor warned me about seemed to sound like a better idea every time I thought about it. More and more I found myself considering filling up my syringe and just injecting as much insulin as possible into myself. One night, I realized that I needed help.
I remember that night vividly. I had taken my mother's car out for a drive because I just needed to think. I couldn't believe this had happened to me. Why me? I wasn't strong enough to deal with this sort of thing! My life was a mess as it was. I couldn't handle anything else. I began to cry hysterically. I yelled and screamed and pounded on the steering wheel. I almost drove myself off the road. I pulled over and let it out as much as I could. When my fit had calmed, I drove back home to my mother. I woke up her and told her everything I was thinking and feeling. She felt that it was best to go to the ER.
That night was the last night I had those horrible thoughts. Perhaps it was just another step that I needed to take in the long road ahead of me. Just thinking about it, though, brings tears to my eyes. It will still be a long time until I accepted the fact that I am a diabetic. Stay tuned for more of my story!
I was 27 and my life was going fine. All of the sudden, everything started to change. I was getting these strange symptoms that I had never experienced before. I was always thirsty and was taking more bathroom breaks than anyone at work. This went on for about a week or so and I finally decided that there was something wrong. I wasn't exactly sure what, so I went over my mother's house and talked to her about it. Being a Type 2 Diabetic, she immediately recognized the problem and quickly got her meter out and pricked my finger. Sure enough, my blood sugar was well above 500--not that I knew what that meant at the time. Concerned, she rushed my over to the Emergency Room where they did test after test. They eventually diagnosed me as a Type 2 and sent me home with a prescription for Metformin. I was very confused how this could have happened. I was a relatively healthy 27 year old woman who was not in the least obese (which I thought at the time you had to be to get Diabetes). They assured me that it was possible .
I took the Metformin for about a month, thinking "this isn't so bad". Everyone that I told said that it was a good thing I didn't get the "other type". I didn't know much about the "other type" except that it was the kind children got and it had nothing to do with lifestyle or diet. Basically, Type 1 wasn't your fault. I guess I sort of wished deep down that it had been, so that I couldn't blame myself for giving myself the disease.
During this month, I began to drop pounds like crazy. Everyone complemented me and I felt great. I figured it was because of the new diet I was on. One day at work, I had some sudden back pain. I had decided it must have been from lifting a heavy box at work and my boss sent me over to the clinic to get it checked out. It would be two weeks until I returned back to work. At the clinic, the doctor was very concerned and he admitted there was nothing he could do, and so he sent me to the ER. I was in Diabetic Ketoacidosis with an new, official diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes.
I set up residence in the hospital for a week after that. For the first 3 days, they wouldn't let me eat a thing and just gave me fluids and insulin through an IV. It was excruciating. Every hour, they came in and poked my fingers. My room was swarming with nurses, doctors, and CNAs on top of all the social workers, educators, family and friends. Everything happened so fast that I felt like a deer in headlights. I didn't even have time to feel anything--emotionally that is. It wasn't until one of my last nights there when I finally broke down and cried. I felt safe in the hospital and I was nervous to go out on my own to fend for myself. I knew that I didn't have the strength and will power to do it with no one there watching me. Nevertheless, I had to move on.
They sent me home with a goody bag of stuff, including my very own testing meter as well as pamphlet upon pamphlet of information that would end up just collecting dust. I stayed out of work another week and when I returned, everyone was my new best friend, assisting me in any way they could. I assured them I was fine, but was thankful for all the support.
This was probably one of the worst moments of my life, as you can imagine. My story goes on, though. I will continue it in my next few posts to get you up to speed with my situation. What I hope to do is help others through this blog who have gone, or are going through, the same thing as me. I am here for you, if you need me. Feel free to comment to message me with anything you want! And please, keep coming back to hear more of my story!