This is a “hate week” between me and diabetes. Sometimes, all the coping strategies in the world don’t do a lick of good, and you’ve just got to admit that diabetes, well, stinks.
Last week, I wrote about the intense emotional experience of transitioning to the pump. Well, after making that major shift, said pump experienced multiple occlusions, and I had to come back OFF the pump and resume multiple daily injections. Earlier today, my endocrinology clinic gave me a 6-millimeter cannula to try for the weekend (putting me back ON the pump, which I now find myself eyeing with intense distrust every few minutes as I monitor my CGM), to see if that solves the issue. When I go back in next week, we’ll review the numbers and if issues are persisting, we’ll try a steel cannula, which tends to work better for some people who are particularly prone to experiencing occlusions due to bent cannulas. There’s no guarantee that will work, either, but clearly the first round was a bust.
I’m really just done with this stupid disease this week. And so I’m just going to vent. If you’re in a good place at the moment, don’t read this week’s blog entry. Or, bookmark it, and come back to it during one of YOUR hate weeks. We all have them. But if you ARE in the mud with me, let’s vent a little bit, shall we? Because when you find yourself in a true hate week, the best therapy isn’t positive visualizations, or calming breaths, or yoga. Those things are all good, but when you’re really in the mud, the first step is to hit the punching bag. THEN you go do some deep breathing and move forward.
So, let’s start throwing some punches together! Why do we hate diabetes? Let’s count the ways…
1. It NEVER goes away. Ever. We never get to take a break. Not ever. Not for a second. It’s like an odor that sticks to your favorite jacket after ten cycles through the wash, except with diabetes, we can’t just go buy a new jacket!
2. It’s maddeningly unpredictable. A few days everything works like magic — our ratios give us the numbers we expect. Then BAM! One day everything is off, for no discernable reason. And so we adjust, probably figuring out the correct adjustments JUST IN TIME for our sugars to settle back into the old baseline, rendering our new calculations useless.
3. It’s mean. Diabetes doesn’t mess around. We can lose limbs. We can lose kidneys. We can lose vision. We can lose nerve functions. Diabetes is manageable, but it sure doesn’t offer a forgiving set of consequences if we DON’T manage it well.
We could all make much longer lists of “things we hate about diabetes.” But I’ll leave the rest up to each of you. Anyway, these are the reasons WHY we’re going to hit the punching bag for a while. And how are we going to hit this metaphorical punching bag? We’re gonna tell it off. Ready? We’re gonna do this all together now. Everyone else who’s experiencing a hate week with diabetes, gather all your energy and repeat with me:
Hey, diabetes. Yeah, you — you uncooperative, conniving, backstabbing little twerp. Why don’t you go [use your imagination to fill in all kinds of words I can’t print in a respectable publication such as this one]. Bite me.
Ah, that felt good, didn’t it? Yeah, I know. We’ve still gotta live with it, so we’ve gotta make peace with it when all is said and done. We can go meditate now. But during a true hate week, sometimes it’s nice to just tell this [expletive deleted] disease exactly what we think of it first.
Having gestational diabetes increases the risk of postpartum depression in first-time mothers, according to a new study. Bookmark DiabetesSelfManagement.com and tune in tomorrow to learn more.
Source URL: https://www.diabetesselfmanagement.com/blog/diabetes-sometimes-just-gotta-yell-little/
Scott Coulter: Scott Coulter is a freelance writer diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at age 15. He has spent a great deal of time learning how to successfully manage his blood sugar and enjoys writing about his diabetes management experiences. Also a longtime Philadelphia-based musician, Scott is married to a beautiful, supportive, extraordinary wife, and together they are the proud parents of four cats. (Scott Coulter is not a medical professional.)
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