In The Dark

I think this is going to be one of the hardest posts to talk about. I may even cry while I write it. I think I may have gone off the deep end.I have been so lost that I didn't even realize yesterday was Wednesday, so I didn't post anything. I didn't even take part in my Wednesday night DSMA chat on Twitter that I always had looked forward too. I am just a complete disaster right now.

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.

Thanks.

What Have I Got To Lose?

I went to the clinic today. I had made the appointment a few weeks ago with the nurse practitioner for a diabetes check up. I went in with two clogged ducts in my eyelids, one being infected, and an infected big toe. Why am I telling you this? Well, had I been an average person, these ailments would not have me worried so much. But alas, I have Type 1 Diabetes, which means that I do worry, and I am worried. An average person would have went in, got some meds and be sent on their way. Me? I left with 2 more appointments--one with a podiatrist, the other with an optometrist. Ugh.

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!

I Just Can't Get It Right

Last month, as you all know, I turned over a new leaf. I really started to focus on my health and my diabetes. It was seriously a night and day change. I was excited. My boyfriend, family, nurses and doctors were all excited. I even started this blog to keep myself going. I was doing so well. My blood sugars were down (sometimes too much, but we all know that.) and I was completely ready for the long haul. Until recently.

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.

Where To Stick It

As you all know, I am not one of the fortunate ones that is hooked up to a pump. I do it the old fashioned way. Well, at least the most recent old fashioned way. I have the pleasure of sticking myself with needles every time I eat and than one more time for good measure (My Lantus, that is.) It can be extremely inconvenient at times, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

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!

Sometimes I Just Forget!

I've never been one to follow through with things. I guess you can say it is in my nature to get all excited about something, do it for a week, and forget about it. It is definitely one of my downfalls, but I am trying to change that--especially now that I have a reason to stick to something. I am struggling, though. It's gonna be hard.

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.

Do I Really Need a Babysitter?

So as some of you know (if you have read my earlier blogs), I had been broke and out of work for quite a while and I finally got a job 2 weeks ago. It isn't anything special. Since I don't have a car of my own, I had to find something within walking distance, and out of utter desperation, I walked to the gas station on the corner and landed myself a fine job as a cashier. I only have 2 full days (Fridays and Saturdays) that I work for 10 hours from 5:30am until 4pm. So far, everyone is very nice and I am doing very well, but I am becoming a bit concerned. Since I am working so much on my feet in a fast-paced environment, my blood sugars tend to drop while I am working. Often I have had to step a side and have someone take over for me while I get my sugars back up. They completely understand.

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!

The Art Of Making Your Carbs Count

If there is one thing you should know about me it's this: I don't know anything. Well, maybe somethings, but for the most part, it's gone over my head I guess. Things that I thought I understood have turned out being in the category of "well not quite". My biggest issue I am having right now is counting my carbohydrate intake. It is so overwhelming to me that my mind goes blank sometimes. When I do actually count correctly, it is shocking to see the amount of carbs in the size of the meal I usually eat. I cringe, but I still eat it. Where's my will power? I'll look for it. Hopefully I find it.

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.

The Cost Of Being Sick

Life gets really tough when you don't have any money. I don't think there is anyone out there who would disagree with that. Let me tell you, it is even worse when you are broke and have a disease like Diabetes. It isn't like you can skip out on your medication until you can afford it. You do that--nothing good will come of it, to say the least. When you have to add a healthy diet to the equation, it almost seems impossible. The bottom line is: things are getting really tight, and if I don't find a job soon, I really don't know what I am gong to do.

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.

Driving In The Breakdown Lane

Anyone who has Diabetes can tell you that the period of time after the initial shock is a difficult one. Some call it the honeymoon period. I'm not sure I have a name for it, but it was anything but a honeymoon. The biggest problem I had in the beginning was getting constant blood sugar drops. I mostly got them at work, and to tell you the truth, I really didn't mind. I sort of liked taking more breaks and not to mention--it was another excuse to eat which I love to do. It was also a relief to me. I figured that it was better to be too low because I had been so high for so long. According to my doctor, this wasn't the case. Oh well, I suppose.

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!