Me, Too

It turns out I'm diabetic, too.

I got the diagnosis a week and half ago.  It's not a big surprise--my father and grandmother were diabetic, and were diagnosed when they were younger than I am now--but I was hoping to dodge this particular bullet.  No such luck.

I'm on medication so far.  No insulin.

Darwin reacts to being diabetic by ignoring it as much as he can.  He hates needles, so he won't check his blood sugar.  He wouldn't go see a specialist until I pushed him into it.  (The specialist's help made immediate improvements to Darwin's health after the first visit, which made Darwin a convert there, at least.)

I'm reacting by going crazy in the other direction. Needles don't bother me in the slightest, so I check my blood sugar half a dozen times a day.  I experiment with food and activity.  What's my sugar level after eating this food?  After drinking that liquid?  After doing this amount of exercise?  I monitor every feeling and sensation.  Why am I thirsty?  Is that a dizzy spell?  Where is this faint nausea coming from?  I downloaded an app to keep track of all the data.

Darwin, at least, is checking his blood sugar more often because I can do it for him.  I'll poke him fast and get it over with, whereas he always needs a long time to psych himself up.  I've become an expert with the lancet.

Some times I take it in stride: "Hey, you just have to take a few pills every day and cut back on sugary and starchy food, which you should do anyway.  What's the big deal?"

Other times I feel like I've been smacked in the head with a tombstone: "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

And now I have a new blog tag.