Everything was fine for awhile. I had my sugars controlled to stay within the accepted normal range. I was still losing a bit of weight which was definitely good. I had the occasional lapse and enjoyed a sweet here and there, but always following the advice from the nutritionalist to avoid the other sugars if I knew I was going to lapse. Then it started happening. My sugars slowly inched up out of control. I started to exceed the upper ranges almost every time. I took myself back to the doctor to find out what I needed to do. Medicine time.
I went on an oral medication, GlucoPhage, to help the control. This brought it back in and life was good. For a few months. The sugars started creeping up again. I thought I had found the fix but I guess not. Now we added Prandia to the regimen. Again, good for a few months, then out of control again. I tried a variety of combinations over the next couple of years. Always got the control back, but never for long. Finally, the doctor ran a test to see if my pancrease was still working. The results came back like I expected and feared. It was basically dead. Gone. Caput. Crap.
The time had come to start sticking myself with more than the lancet to test my blood. On to the insulin and on to the most difficult part. The insulin freed me from the iron-clad restrictions I had been following because I now had something to fix my falls off the sugar wagon. Not only that, but it meant I was actually able to process everything I took in so I started putting weight back on. Not a lot, but certainly enough to effect my self-worth. The spiral into funk started again.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Learning a new life
The fact that I was now officially a diabetic didn't sink in right away. I continued to lose weight and watched what I ate. The numbers dropped back into the normal range and I felt I had "conquered" the disease. Big mistake. This is a disease that can't be conquered, but will in fact conquer the victim if they ever drop their guard.
After a couple of months, the numbers started rising again. Back to the doctor and onto an oral medication. Success. Normality again, or at least what could pass for normality for someone afflicted with a life long illness. When I had to go back again and got a second drug added to my regimen, the depression hit again. I felt it was unfair, I had most of life still ahead of me and here I was handicapped before it began. No wife, no kids. Who would want a cripple for a husband? Little did I know I was going to meet the woman of my dreams, but that's another story.
It took awhile to get out of my funk. I finally woke up one morning and realized I was actually luckier than most. I was relatively healthy, had a good job, a great family and was still able to do almost everything I ever dreamed of doing. I hadn't lost any appendages to the disease. I didn't have to stick myself with a needle (not yet at least). As long as I exercised moderation, everything was fine. If only that had lasted.
After a couple of months, the numbers started rising again. Back to the doctor and onto an oral medication. Success. Normality again, or at least what could pass for normality for someone afflicted with a life long illness. When I had to go back again and got a second drug added to my regimen, the depression hit again. I felt it was unfair, I had most of life still ahead of me and here I was handicapped before it began. No wife, no kids. Who would want a cripple for a husband? Little did I know I was going to meet the woman of my dreams, but that's another story.
It took awhile to get out of my funk. I finally woke up one morning and realized I was actually luckier than most. I was relatively healthy, had a good job, a great family and was still able to do almost everything I ever dreamed of doing. I hadn't lost any appendages to the disease. I didn't have to stick myself with a needle (not yet at least). As long as I exercised moderation, everything was fine. If only that had lasted.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Good advice
I went to see a nutritionalist shortly after I was diagnosed. She gave me some of the best advice regarding the control of my disease through diet. She said to remember we are all human and there will be times we fall of the wagon of our self control. If I knew I was going to want the dessert, I should skip the starches. If I really wanted those garlic mashed potatoes, I'd have to forego the dessert. It would be a matter of determining the rate of my metabolic processing of carbohydrates.
Every person reacts to the various forms of sugar in a different manner whether they are diabetic or not. For some, a snack of 25 grams of carbohydrates would affect their blood sugar the same as five 5 gram snacks 15 minutes apart. Likewise others would have a drastic spike in sugar after the large snack with a minor spike with each snack, even more so if the snacks were spaced further apart.
After twelve years of working on it, I still haven't been able to find the one that fits. My sugar levels are based on a daily evolving recipe consisting of stress, sleep, food, exercise and allergies, with some special daily ingredients throwen in to add spice to it all. I'm a software engineer and should be able to determine the pattern of my disease. I tried at the beginning but my fingers rebelled after being subjected to nearly 10 daily pricks as I drew samples to chart my sugars versus the various components I could control. Little did I know my pancrease was in it's death throes and was either throwing too much insulin or not enough.
Every person reacts to the various forms of sugar in a different manner whether they are diabetic or not. For some, a snack of 25 grams of carbohydrates would affect their blood sugar the same as five 5 gram snacks 15 minutes apart. Likewise others would have a drastic spike in sugar after the large snack with a minor spike with each snack, even more so if the snacks were spaced further apart.
After twelve years of working on it, I still haven't been able to find the one that fits. My sugar levels are based on a daily evolving recipe consisting of stress, sleep, food, exercise and allergies, with some special daily ingredients throwen in to add spice to it all. I'm a software engineer and should be able to determine the pattern of my disease. I tried at the beginning but my fingers rebelled after being subjected to nearly 10 daily pricks as I drew samples to chart my sugars versus the various components I could control. Little did I know my pancrease was in it's death throes and was either throwing too much insulin or not enough.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Shock and Dismay
It might appear I was only slightly affected by receiving the diagnosis. This was far from the truth. I was shocked at the disease striking so early. I knew I would be a diabetic, just not until I was well into my 50's. Dismay and disbelief took hold and held sway for a number of months. I followed the prescribed regimen of diet changes and continued to walk through the hills of San Francisco for my exercise. My smoking habit of three packs a day was definitely a thing of the past.
Before I moved to San Francisco, I was living in Evanston, IL, the first suburb north of Chicago. Living probably isn't the right word, it was more like existing. I would go out with friends but was really an observer as opposed to a participant in what we did. I was always there for my friends but never leaned on them as they did me. It's always been my habit to be the mediator, or fixer, to those around me and never care for myself. This definitely manifested itself in my habits. I was a heavy smoker and drinker and continued to put weight on, finally ballooning to over 250 pounds of unhappiness before I left the city to start over. The move is another story completely.
I figure the weight and genetics finally conspired to bring me to a halt before it got too far. At the same time, I think I knew too much about the disease so I found out earlier than most people. Initially I was a Type II but now I have to take insulin daily to help control the disease. I still have bouts of dismay, or more likely despair, about being a diabetic even though I know it's a very manageable disease. The problem is complaining about it won't change anything so I don't say anything because then I would be whining about the bad hand I was dealt when compared to others, my dad has Parkinson’s, it is such a minor life bump. I guess that's the male part of my brain coming forward and telling me to tough it out, what choice do you have?
Before I moved to San Francisco, I was living in Evanston, IL, the first suburb north of Chicago. Living probably isn't the right word, it was more like existing. I would go out with friends but was really an observer as opposed to a participant in what we did. I was always there for my friends but never leaned on them as they did me. It's always been my habit to be the mediator, or fixer, to those around me and never care for myself. This definitely manifested itself in my habits. I was a heavy smoker and drinker and continued to put weight on, finally ballooning to over 250 pounds of unhappiness before I left the city to start over. The move is another story completely.
I figure the weight and genetics finally conspired to bring me to a halt before it got too far. At the same time, I think I knew too much about the disease so I found out earlier than most people. Initially I was a Type II but now I have to take insulin daily to help control the disease. I still have bouts of dismay, or more likely despair, about being a diabetic even though I know it's a very manageable disease. The problem is complaining about it won't change anything so I don't say anything because then I would be whining about the bad hand I was dealt when compared to others, my dad has Parkinson’s, it is such a minor life bump. I guess that's the male part of my brain coming forward and telling me to tough it out, what choice do you have?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
In the beginning
It's coming up on 12 years since my diagnosis. I'm a fifth, or maybe sixth, generation diabetic. I've known about the disease and the likelyhood of my becoming one of the epidemic in this country for many years. A close high school friend was diagnosed as a child so I feel I'm one of the luckier ones since I was well into my 20's when the news was given to me. With my family history, I knew it would be only a matter of time until I was diagnosed with it. I just wasn't ready for it so soon, but then, I don't believe anyone is ever ready for that type of information.
During the winter of 1996, I starting losing weight even though I was eating more than I had ever before. I was thirsty all the time, yet had to go on the hour, every hour. This was definitely interfering with my sleep. I start having gum problems and tingling in my hands and feet. I called my mom to ask if she knew what the main symptoms were since her brother was the one from her generation to have it. Turns out I had 4 of the top 5 on the list. Off to the doctor for the test. By the end of January 1997, I had been diagnosed as a Type II diabetic. Exercise and diet control were all that were needed to keep it under control, at least that's how it started.
During the winter of 1996, I starting losing weight even though I was eating more than I had ever before. I was thirsty all the time, yet had to go on the hour, every hour. This was definitely interfering with my sleep. I start having gum problems and tingling in my hands and feet. I called my mom to ask if she knew what the main symptoms were since her brother was the one from her generation to have it. Turns out I had 4 of the top 5 on the list. Off to the doctor for the test. By the end of January 1997, I had been diagnosed as a Type II diabetic. Exercise and diet control were all that were needed to keep it under control, at least that's how it started.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)