It’s been awhile – largely because I have been writing and sketching more for other projects, and working full-time and trying to eat well and exercise and maintain healthy relationships. I just read a great blog post from “I Am Begging My Mother Not To Read This Blog,” which I will try to link to this post, because the author could have been reading my mind, and writing it out with more humor and grace than I could. But it did make me realize something that has inspired me enough to get me typing.
I have HATED diabetes lately.
Which is so unlike me.
Because my whole m.o. is to be chipper and cheery about all the great life lessons I’ve learned from having to constantly monitor my body, evaluate my ability to drive, to perform routine tasks like getting dressed and putting on makeup without doing something mega-weird, like putting my blush away in the freezer because I’m low and I’m trying to change my pump and make my lunch to take to work and answer a text about weather or not the roads are clear enough to drive.
I hate changing my pump. For no reason. It’s very easy to do, but I hate it.
I have a secret: lately I’ve been ripping my pod off and going without it for 10 minutes between changes. Just to experience freedom from the robotic attachment, just for a few moments.
Yesterday at 7:30 pm I got a text that my flight that was supposed to take me to Arizona at 5:40 this morning had been cancelled; I guess due to the soft beautiful blanket of February snow that has draped itself over my neighborhood. I was at a bookclub meeting that I had fought to get my blood sugar up in order to drive to. I was in the 50’s for 1/2 an hour and ate some honey on toast and turned my pump down. Finally I was able to leave and go pickup my friend, 10 minutes late, which isn’t much, but seems to be the amount that diabetes insists on setting me back.
I checked my blood sugar when I got the text so I could drive home and start making pointless phone calls, because of course they are not going to reschedule the flight just so I can fly to Arizona for 24 hours. It was something like 248 mg/dl. So here I am in a bookstore saying, “Dammit! I’m so high! This all wouldn’t be so bad if I just wasn’t high!” and then having to say, equally as loud, “My blood sugar, I mean, my blood sugar is high, not me…..cause I’m diabetic, not a stoner.”
Lately, it’s been the straw that has broken my otherwise pretty great ability to make the best and brightest of any situation. It has been the thing that has turned the corners of my mouth down and made me short with people I love. Because I just feel inside of me like a caged animal without control.
On the brighter side (because some habits can’t be broken), reading “I Am Begging My Mother Not To Read This Blog’s” post made me remember that this will pass for me. That probably if I could just walk outside without enrobing myself in layer upon layer of jacket, sweater, scarf for 40 minutes first, I would be able to shake it off. Instead, I am going to have to sled it off, which I think will help both my mind and my blood sugar.
Toning my resiliency today.