My big effort to get in shape at the beginning of 2011 fell prey to a massive undertaking at work, getting a submission to the FDA in. I swear, I almost killed myself getting that done. The lab work was grueling, along with the organization of the project to ensure that the timeline (calling it "aggressive" doesn't do it justice) was maintained. I thought that I had to get it done and that it would be worth it when I did. I did and it wasn't. All it did was set the stage for future expectations which took me ever more away from any opportunity to get to the gym. Secretly, maybe I was happy.
I still don't really like working out. It's never really makes me feel great. Not directly of course. But then again, none of this is because I like doing it. It's because I no longer have the right to do something just because I want to. I pissed that away over the previous decades. Now we're at things that I have to do. If I want to have any quality of life in these remaining years, this is all what I have to do. I digress.
It's entirely possible that I was simply looking for a good excuse to remove myself from the gym, an irritating place (still is, I don't like people and have obsessive/compulsive issues with interrupted routines; this makes the gym frustrating often). Living far outside of town meant that I didn't have to go in after I got home. Or on weekends. Or ever. Did I mention that my symptoms continued to get worse?
It was getting to the point, particularly last summer, that deep down I knew I was diabetic. There was no denying it. Except that I did. At every turn. I couldn't be diabetic, because I was too young and that would suck a lot. I would have to change everything that I did, give up everything that I loved and lead some sort of hollow existence. If I just ignored it, pretended that I wasn't, then it couldn't hurt me. I had ostriched myself. Fear is a powerful motivator. I was afraid. I still am. Diabetes is scary and it's not easy. Which is why I'm here.
Weight started slowly falling off, which, given that I really hadn't change my lifestyle at all, was another warning sign. Thirst at work was... troubling. I spent a lot of time moving between water coolers and bathrooms. It came to a head towards the end of December. I don't know when it started, but I do remember noticing that my right food was a little numb. Like it was asleep. All of the time. This was probably the case back in my old place where it was cold all of the time, but my new house tended towards warm. This was not right in my world. This was the moment that I had to face all of my fears and acknowledge the painful truth that I had been avoiding for so very long.
An appointment was scheduled, 27 Dec 2012, and the doctor (Dr. Pam Trimmer, lovely person) set up some labs for me for me on the following Friday, 29 Dec 2012. This was the first time in over a decade that I had used a scale. 264 lbs. That's a big freaking number. Not as bad as I feared. I'm glad that I never actually saw myself hit 300 lbs. I may have, but I doubt it; I think that 280 lbs was probably my biggest. Which is far too large for someone my size. Really, for most anyone of any size.
Friday blood was drawn and urine sample taken. It was a fasting glucose test and, a little background information here, you want to be in at under 100 on this. Between 100 and 126 is pre-diabetes. It means that unless you change your life, you won't be pre anymore. I was 312. That is another big number. That is a terrifying number. I was called first thing Monday morning to notify me of that. Also that I had protein in my urine and high blood pressure. The former means that my obscene glucose levels were likely already chewing away at my kidneys. I happen to like my kidneys. She proscribed me a glucophage, metformin, and blood pressure meds.
Metformin is not super pleasant to be taking. It's apparently hard on the kidneys. That's a fact that causes me no small amount of stress. It's also hard on life. The medication affects a number of different aspects of your body, including your liver function and how your body absorbs sugars from your intestines. Probably some other stuff too, but I'm not a pharmacist or doctor. It's that last part which is particularly unpleasant. Especially when you first start. All things considered, I was very lucky with the side effects. From what I've learned, metformin is by far the most gentle of the diabetic meds on the market.
A follow up appointment was scheduled and my paperwork to get counseling was initiated. That's a lot to take in when you've just woken up (02 Jan 2012 was a holiday for me... yay). I was scared. So terrified. I knew that I was diabetic. I just didn't know it was that bad. That's... bad. Really bad. My blood was swimming in sugar. All of tiny little razors slicing things up inside. Fear is a tricky thing to deal with. Normally when it's external, it's something that I can at least begin to address. But I was afraid of myself. I still am. I'm afraid of the consequences of all of the decisions that I make. So far I don't have a long track record of making good ones in this realm.
Food became a source of fear and anxiety. I didn't trust it. It had failed me; I had failed myself. Six months ago this blog would more likely have been a verbose discussion of epicurean delights. I love to cook. Loved. I don't anymore, not really. I hope that I will again someday, but it's hard. All I do is look at what I'm allowing myself to have against what I used to have. The contrast is... well, it's significant. During that initial time I slashed what I was eating. Carbs were the enemy and I didn't understand, not really. I had no guidance, no guidelines, nothing to help me get back to healthy. Those two weeks were not a good time. I don't know what others went through after diagnosis, but prior to a follow-up.
My diet became Cheerios in milk, green salads and soup. I was eating under 700 Calories a day. To maintain my, admittedly unhealthy, weight required over 2700 Calories a day. This was very dangerous behavior as well. Luckily, nothing bad came of it, at least nothing that I know of yet. The metformin was wreaking havoc on my system and I never received the blood pressure meds. Best way to reduce blood pressure? It's not stress someone with high blood pressure by not sending in the meds; well, maybe it is.
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