diabetes scares me

With my normally calm, cool, collected and slightly humorous disposition it came as a bit of a shock when I realized that diabetes scares the shit out of me. For the most part I am able to roll with the punches, take what comes my way. I am not a worry wart. I am trusting and laid back. Diabetes and what my future may hold scare me.

When will the first complications show up? It’s been 23 years, so they must be lurking there right below the surface. I have by no means been the poster child for good, tight diabetes control so after this long the complications must be near. That diabetes is something that often kicks my ass scares me too. At times it leaves my body feeling used and broken not to mention my spirit. I am trying to turn the fear into strength rather than let it eat me up inside.

The first big step was realizing that diabetes scares me. I had the image of myself at age 11, when diabetes was new and cool, uncomplicated, something that made me different, whose problems I could handle since I was, invincible, stuck in my head for so long. I hung onto the idea that diabetes was no big deal long after I realized it was a huge deal. If it wasn’t a big deal then it couldn’t hurt me.

The problem being, that if you let diabetes control you rather than controlling it, it does hurt you. My first challenge is to do at least 6 blood sugars a day. I keep telling myself, that the actual number is not as important as simple doing the blood sugars and acting on the results right now. I can’t let myself be afraid of those numbers-they are simply tools. I know that soon I will need to work on getting them in range but I have to be consistently doing the actual tests before I can fine tune things.

The next or rather concurrent challenge is to log. In a word – YUCK! I hate to log. Even when I was young and really didn’t mind having diabetes that much I did not log willingly. My mom had to bribe me to get in the habit of logging before going off to college with a pair of Birkenstocks if I wrote down all my sugars for 3 months. I got the Birks, but not so much the lasting lesson. Although for 3 months I did write down my sugars because I really wanted those sandals. Maybe I should try a less costly reward plan.

If I can face my fear and turn it into positive action there just might be some hope for a decent hbA1C and in turn less fear.



Admittedly, I am pretty blasé about my numbers. Anything under 120 and I usually feel low. Hovering around 200 I feel great. Strange, but true. But 429 on a day when I actually tested before breakfast and again after and made the necessary correction is way high even for me! I woke up with a splitting headache, checked my blood sugar: 165, and guzzled some water and ibuprofen, waited for that to kick in then onto coffee. By the time I left the house the pain was mostly gone. After about 30 minutes at work it was back & by lunchtime had reached epic proportions. I took more ibuprofen with water and went to lie down (one of the few perks of my job is ‘Ladies Lounge’ with a comfy couch in a dimly lit room). Shit, I know I should test. 429 – WTF? I corrected earlier for my 285 and have not eaten anything since. This awful headache, maybe I am really getting sick – damn!

My infusion set came out and I didn’t even notice it. Could’ve been the particular pair of pants that I am wearing, linen drawstring ones that rest dangerously close to the site. Four hours and close to 15 units later, and I am down to 200 and starving! My husband, after making sure I am okay and that it is coming down, tells me that I have to be more careful. I know this is true but I absolutely hate it. My thoughts are so clogged with other things there just doesn’t seem to be the space to worry about this too.

I will probably crash later. I hate having to worry about this hate feeling like this. I am so not cut out for the role of diabetic. ARGH!!!!