Sugar
I don't know how to start this post. What do I say that doesn't sound like a huge dire crisis but conveys how freaked out I am? I don't even know how freaked out I am. How I feel about the situation changes like a hot flash -- burly, unpredictable sadness rushing through my bloodstream, I feel it swell until it pushes out of my pores, and then it's gone and I'm left breathless and sweaty. And then it's like that never happened, and no one else in the room had a clue about my internal weather change.
Day before yesterday I was diagnosed with diabetes. Yeah, that sucks. It's a diagnosis that requires a lot of adjustment, both in "lifestyle changes" and in my assumptive world of the future. Things won't just go on as they have been, now I need to be prepared for some different scenarios of my old age. Or not! The unpredictability of the disease process itself is one of the shifts in thinking I need to acclimate to.
It's also a diagnosis with a lot of baggage for me. My father has it, and being similar to him is a deal in my emotional landscape. Also, I have a Fat American disease. How boring. I don't want to Walk for Diabetes. I don't want to join Sugar Buddies at the People's Community Health Clinic. Couldn't I get malaria or be allergic to my own spit or something interesting? No, Hon, I've just got Sugar.
Here's a letter I wrote to my friend yesterday, with annotations...it's just easier than trying to rephrase the whole thing:
Hi J --
I'm diabetic. I got diagnosed yesterday. I'm pretty much fine, it's not dire, but I have to take the pills. And change my life, which is hard. Or not, but then I'll be sick. I'm just really sad about it.
I talked to my people, some, and they've been fairly helpful. T is being stunningly great and will probably do a diet along with me. R and I went out for beers, which is the opposite of healthy, but felt comforting. My sister was awesome, my Dad was totally unhelpful -- he seemed kind of excited about being my diabetes mentor, he's had it for longer than I've been around. I have to talk to my Mom today -- that's the hard one, she'll be real sad too, and scared. I got a lot of advice from most about how to get more exercise and eat differently. They are all good suggestions and likely to be helpful in a little while, but I just want to talk about how I feel about it and I'm having a hard time getting heard. So I'm telling you.
Mama was sad, but not scared, and actually extremely helpful. She listened to me really well.
T and I talked some, finally, last night, and cried a little...we're not nearly done. She has baggage about diabetes too, it killed someone important in her life. How watching me make the choices I make from here will affect our relationship is a worthwhile question. I don't want to be monitored and she doesn't want to do it, but it's inevitable. She's my life. She has a right to have stake in what I do to be more or less alive, more or less impaired. And she's so sad, too...The event of my diagnosis is very definitely happening to her as much as it's happening to me.
I know, ultimately, that this is not that huge a deal...I have bad eyesight and teeth and depression, and those things need to get tended to periodically, and this will fold in. I'm young and in fairly good shape for the shape I'm in, I have few limitations. And I have a grand motivation to change my life in ways that will be wonderful in the long run. Might even increase my lifespan, if I lose a bunch of weight, move around, eat food that's nourishing, rather than shorten it. And it's not shots-four-times-a-day diabetes, I don't even have to check my sugar at this point, just take the pills.
But I know what it looks like, too -- all the difficulties that go along with having it. I can expect trouble with circulation, lots of pain in my finger and toes, foot troubles, diminishing eyesight, decreased sex drive, depression. Even if I do lose weight (which won't cure it, but might allow me not to take meds), these things will probably happen as I age. And keeping my weight down, if I get there, is a struggle that will not go away. Anything else that turns up wrong, an injury or illness, is much complicated.
One frustration I'm having is the crappy education material I'm finding. Tori pointed this out, I concur -- so many sites say "Living with Diabetes is Easy!" and then go on to expound on a long list of SERIOUS restrictions and possible complications. Um, actually, Living with Diabetes is NOT "Easy!", it's scary and unpredictable and filled with annoying structure. And these sites seem to be written (Ms. T) "by a 5th grader writing a book report about People With Diabetes. Really patronizing. And mostly advertising for the really expensive accoutraments of the diabetic -- medication, testing strips, gloucometers, electronic food diary, wheelchairs, on and on.
Or, alternatively, there are sites made for medical professionals, which are unreadable until I get a little better educated. I want to see a PICTURE of what is happening in my cells, I want an EXPLANATION of how my medication is working and what interactions it might have (meds, food, recreational drugs, herbs, OTC stuff -- all of it!) I want it to be comforting and supportive and true. I want to know how LIKELY complications are for me and how I might know they are happening. I want fucking health insurance so I could go to a group and ask some questions. Basically, I want them to treat me like Preterm treats abortion patients, I want them to ask me about my feelings and reassure me and tell me what might happen to my body!!!!!
I got this huge white paper bag of pills -- got several prescriptions for a bunch of little stuff -- and I had this vision of my Dad counting out his pills into those weekly boxes, he has to use 2 to hold all of it. He takes more than 20 pills a day and can't remember which is for what some of the time. I look at my eyes, the backs of my hands, my belly -- I look like him more and more. I favor him in the way I emotionally approach the world. I'm sentimental about him, but I don't want his poor life and this disease makes me feel trapped in a sad destiny.
My Dad is very dear to me, and I see him as noble and tragic, and so humanly flawed. I do want to be like him. But not in this way, obviously. And I don't want T to be married to my father, poor girl.
When my mother got on the phone, she said "Hello. There's one thing I want to make sure you hear, You Are Not Your Dad. Do you know that? You're smarter and you have support because you are able to tolerate being helped. You will make different choices, you will be healthier. Do you understand?" I yelped "Yeeaah..." and started crying.
I'm seeing my mortality, and I'm hating that this is part of my life. When the story of me is written, this is true about me. I was gay and funny and fat and I sang and was depressed and a social worker and diabetic. I feel marked. It's permanent. Like a tattoo I regret.
T and I were talking about whether I should get an ID bracelet, not knowing how seriously to take all this, etc. and she said "it's like they say 'Managing Diabetes is E-Z!" and in the next sentence it needs to be tattooed on your body in case you go into a coma..." and I decided I really like that idea. I think maybe I'll get a tattoo.
A tattoo -- "DIABETIC" -- on my arm or stomach maybe, I don't know where...but it appeals to me as a way to own my diabetes. MY diabetes, not my Dad's. If I'm marked against my will, well, claim that shit. Because it won't ever, ever, ever not be true about me until I'm dead.
And I have a lot of shame -- I know, I would tell me not to as well as you will -- but I'm fat and have a family history on both sides! I've known for years this is the inevitable result of my gluttony. What did Tori say? So wise -- "No woman wants to be known by her appetites". So that sucks. I'm trying to make it lighter by saying to myself "don't be mad at yourself, the real test is to change now that you have information." But it's in me, ashamed, that's what I feel.
And then I'm mad at myself for feeling ashamed, because that's what the patriarchy wants and it doesn't make me stronger. So that's not helpful either. All I can do is admit I do feel ashamed, and turn it over and look at it some.
And at the same time I feel the loss of gluttony. Of complete abandon to eat whatever I like and lie around all I want to. Of course, I still have that choice. That's good to remember -- then it makes me proud to try something better. I hate all the counting and measuring that weight loss takes. And it takes SOOOOO LONG to make headway. 30 pounds in six months last time. I'm weary before I start.
But I have to. Argh. I'll be glum a couple days and get it together. I walked to work this morning, I'm going to walk both ways instead of just home, now. Little steps, one change at a time.
I haven't decided for certain what I'm going to do, but I'm eating like I'm on a diet and walking. I think I'll probably decide to lose a lot of weight. But I'm not ready to commit to that now, I just want to sit with the news. I want to grieve it and tell my people and collect sympathy and do a lot of reading and cry and drink a lot of water. That's enough.
Day before yesterday I was diagnosed with diabetes. Yeah, that sucks. It's a diagnosis that requires a lot of adjustment, both in "lifestyle changes" and in my assumptive world of the future. Things won't just go on as they have been, now I need to be prepared for some different scenarios of my old age. Or not! The unpredictability of the disease process itself is one of the shifts in thinking I need to acclimate to.
It's also a diagnosis with a lot of baggage for me. My father has it, and being similar to him is a deal in my emotional landscape. Also, I have a Fat American disease. How boring. I don't want to Walk for Diabetes. I don't want to join Sugar Buddies at the People's Community Health Clinic. Couldn't I get malaria or be allergic to my own spit or something interesting? No, Hon, I've just got Sugar.
Here's a letter I wrote to my friend yesterday, with annotations...it's just easier than trying to rephrase the whole thing:
Hi J --
I'm diabetic. I got diagnosed yesterday. I'm pretty much fine, it's not dire, but I have to take the pills. And change my life, which is hard. Or not, but then I'll be sick. I'm just really sad about it.
I talked to my people, some, and they've been fairly helpful. T is being stunningly great and will probably do a diet along with me. R and I went out for beers, which is the opposite of healthy, but felt comforting. My sister was awesome, my Dad was totally unhelpful -- he seemed kind of excited about being my diabetes mentor, he's had it for longer than I've been around. I have to talk to my Mom today -- that's the hard one, she'll be real sad too, and scared. I got a lot of advice from most about how to get more exercise and eat differently. They are all good suggestions and likely to be helpful in a little while, but I just want to talk about how I feel about it and I'm having a hard time getting heard. So I'm telling you.
Mama was sad, but not scared, and actually extremely helpful. She listened to me really well.
T and I talked some, finally, last night, and cried a little...we're not nearly done. She has baggage about diabetes too, it killed someone important in her life. How watching me make the choices I make from here will affect our relationship is a worthwhile question. I don't want to be monitored and she doesn't want to do it, but it's inevitable. She's my life. She has a right to have stake in what I do to be more or less alive, more or less impaired. And she's so sad, too...The event of my diagnosis is very definitely happening to her as much as it's happening to me.
I know, ultimately, that this is not that huge a deal...I have bad eyesight and teeth and depression, and those things need to get tended to periodically, and this will fold in. I'm young and in fairly good shape for the shape I'm in, I have few limitations. And I have a grand motivation to change my life in ways that will be wonderful in the long run. Might even increase my lifespan, if I lose a bunch of weight, move around, eat food that's nourishing, rather than shorten it. And it's not shots-four-times-a-day diabetes, I don't even have to check my sugar at this point, just take the pills.
But I know what it looks like, too -- all the difficulties that go along with having it. I can expect trouble with circulation, lots of pain in my finger and toes, foot troubles, diminishing eyesight, decreased sex drive, depression. Even if I do lose weight (which won't cure it, but might allow me not to take meds), these things will probably happen as I age. And keeping my weight down, if I get there, is a struggle that will not go away. Anything else that turns up wrong, an injury or illness, is much complicated.
One frustration I'm having is the crappy education material I'm finding. Tori pointed this out, I concur -- so many sites say "Living with Diabetes is Easy!" and then go on to expound on a long list of SERIOUS restrictions and possible complications. Um, actually, Living with Diabetes is NOT "Easy!", it's scary and unpredictable and filled with annoying structure. And these sites seem to be written (Ms. T) "by a 5th grader writing a book report about People With Diabetes. Really patronizing. And mostly advertising for the really expensive accoutraments of the diabetic -- medication, testing strips, gloucometers, electronic food diary, wheelchairs, on and on.
Or, alternatively, there are sites made for medical professionals, which are unreadable until I get a little better educated. I want to see a PICTURE of what is happening in my cells, I want an EXPLANATION of how my medication is working and what interactions it might have (meds, food, recreational drugs, herbs, OTC stuff -- all of it!) I want it to be comforting and supportive and true. I want to know how LIKELY complications are for me and how I might know they are happening. I want fucking health insurance so I could go to a group and ask some questions. Basically, I want them to treat me like Preterm treats abortion patients, I want them to ask me about my feelings and reassure me and tell me what might happen to my body!!!!!
I got this huge white paper bag of pills -- got several prescriptions for a bunch of little stuff -- and I had this vision of my Dad counting out his pills into those weekly boxes, he has to use 2 to hold all of it. He takes more than 20 pills a day and can't remember which is for what some of the time. I look at my eyes, the backs of my hands, my belly -- I look like him more and more. I favor him in the way I emotionally approach the world. I'm sentimental about him, but I don't want his poor life and this disease makes me feel trapped in a sad destiny.
My Dad is very dear to me, and I see him as noble and tragic, and so humanly flawed. I do want to be like him. But not in this way, obviously. And I don't want T to be married to my father, poor girl.
When my mother got on the phone, she said "Hello. There's one thing I want to make sure you hear, You Are Not Your Dad. Do you know that? You're smarter and you have support because you are able to tolerate being helped. You will make different choices, you will be healthier. Do you understand?" I yelped "Yeeaah..." and started crying.
I'm seeing my mortality, and I'm hating that this is part of my life. When the story of me is written, this is true about me. I was gay and funny and fat and I sang and was depressed and a social worker and diabetic. I feel marked. It's permanent. Like a tattoo I regret.
T and I were talking about whether I should get an ID bracelet, not knowing how seriously to take all this, etc. and she said "it's like they say 'Managing Diabetes is E-Z!" and in the next sentence it needs to be tattooed on your body in case you go into a coma..." and I decided I really like that idea. I think maybe I'll get a tattoo.
A tattoo -- "DIABETIC" -- on my arm or stomach maybe, I don't know where...but it appeals to me as a way to own my diabetes. MY diabetes, not my Dad's. If I'm marked against my will, well, claim that shit. Because it won't ever, ever, ever not be true about me until I'm dead.
And I have a lot of shame -- I know, I would tell me not to as well as you will -- but I'm fat and have a family history on both sides! I've known for years this is the inevitable result of my gluttony. What did Tori say? So wise -- "No woman wants to be known by her appetites". So that sucks. I'm trying to make it lighter by saying to myself "don't be mad at yourself, the real test is to change now that you have information." But it's in me, ashamed, that's what I feel.
And then I'm mad at myself for feeling ashamed, because that's what the patriarchy wants and it doesn't make me stronger. So that's not helpful either. All I can do is admit I do feel ashamed, and turn it over and look at it some.
And at the same time I feel the loss of gluttony. Of complete abandon to eat whatever I like and lie around all I want to. Of course, I still have that choice. That's good to remember -- then it makes me proud to try something better. I hate all the counting and measuring that weight loss takes. And it takes SOOOOO LONG to make headway. 30 pounds in six months last time. I'm weary before I start.
But I have to. Argh. I'll be glum a couple days and get it together. I walked to work this morning, I'm going to walk both ways instead of just home, now. Little steps, one change at a time.
I haven't decided for certain what I'm going to do, but I'm eating like I'm on a diet and walking. I think I'll probably decide to lose a lot of weight. But I'm not ready to commit to that now, I just want to sit with the news. I want to grieve it and tell my people and collect sympathy and do a lot of reading and cry and drink a lot of water. That's enough.