August was NOT a good month for me. I am glad to see it go.
For the past five years, I have been battling a few debilitating conditions. I’ll get into the details at another time, but I have been under the care of a team of doctors.
Last Friday, I went in to see my new primary doctor. She dropped the bomb that on top of everything else, I am now diabetic.
Big deal, right?
It is for me. I have lived in fear of diabetes since the first person in my family—an aunt—died from it. And the second. And the third….fourth….fifth….you get the idea. I’ve seen the worst of diabetes. The sores. The amputations. And the scariest thing of all: the total disregard for wanting to change health habits. I didn’t want to be around any of it.
So much for wishful thinking.
Cut to the following Saturday. I went to the drugstore to pick up all my wonderful new diabetic apparatus. The pharmacist suggested that I get the new flu shot AND a pneumonia shot (recommended for diabetics my age). I figured, “I’m here, it’s free, let’s get it out of the way”. I got the two shots. In the same arm, even.
I do not recommend that anyone else ever do that. Those two shots knocked me on my back for the entire week. It was not pretty.
Sunday was complete unconsciousness. Monday was sleep, nausea, and an active volcano at both ends. Tuesday was diarrhea and a diet of lemon ginger tea (no sugar!). Wednesday was finally getting the hang of the lancets and the glucose meter. Yesterday was praying for the use of my shoulder—which I still cannot move. Maybe that’s why they call them shots. I feel like I’m nursing bullet wounds.
August is gone. I won’t miss it. I will miss my favorite Haagen Daas ice cream, Red Velvet Cake. I will miss my favorite candy bar, Hammonds Pigs N’ Taters. I will miss French fries, potato salad, macaroni….you get the idea. I will miss my old health habits. But I will do what good diabetics are supposed to do, and be better at it than any of my relatives were. Because I believe in God—and doctors.