Robin's Outdoors

I have diabetes. It’s a pain in the ass.

I had gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with Taylor. I was able to control it with diet and exercise and avoided insulin. My blood sugar didn’t go back to normal in the hour or two after birth like it should have. It took six weeks, a good indicator that sometime in the next 15 years I’d develop diabetes. I patted myself on the back at the 15 year mark. After 17 years my A1c crept up to pre-diabetes level. Skip the boring details and now 19 years later, pre-diabetes is Type 2 Diabetes. I’ve known for a few weeks and am just now finding my voice.

It’s been hard to figure this out. I haven’t been able to make sense of some of my glucose readings. I was happy the day 40 minutes of kayaking dropped my blood sugar by 40 or 60 points, I don’t remember which now. I was baffled when I checked my sugar, found it high, went for a 45 minute walk and got a higher reading. Dammit! That’s just not fair.  I poke my finger, squeeze my finger, make myself bleed, let a tiny test strip suck up blood, and wait five seconds for a number before I go to bed. It made no sense to me that when I repeated the process in the morning, usually 10 hours after eating anything, that my morning number was higher than my evening number. Seriously! What the hell? A few crackers for carbs and cheese for protein before I go to bed seems to be making my pancreas and liver get along better during the night. They’re never going to be bff’s. I’m taking it as a personal attack. They’re making me store excess sugar as fat during the night and that’s the last thing I need.

I go back to the doctor in September. I don’t have a lot of hope that I’ll have my A1c down enough to stay off meds but I’m working very hard toward that goal. My biggest food weakness is anything salty and crunchy like corn chips, potato chips and Tostitos. Add some dip or Queso and I’m a happy girl. Suddenly, it’s not as hard to stay away from them. I had a few moments recently when I wanted to yell “could you please just give me a break while I adjust to this and put the damn chips away,” but I can’t do that. This is my disease. This my problem. I can’t shove my problem on someone else. It’s very, very hard at times to want something so badly you can almost taste it, so badly that it makes your mouth water, look at it, know you can reach out and take it, and not do it. I have new will power.

I’m being a bit childish about this. I don’t want to learn how to adjust a medication to match my physical activity. I want to get dressed, get my rifle and walk up and down ridges while hunting without thinking about blood sugar and medication. I don’t want to think about how kayaking strenuously across a pond might screw up my blood sugar. I don’t want to think about it going too low. I don’t want to adjust my day-to-day life to eat at a certain time. I don’t live by the clock. I don’t want to deal with this.

Dealing with it is not optional. I’m 48 years old, want to live a long, active life, and I have diabetes. I have no choice. I have to deal with it. I won’t be childish much longer. The more I learn the more control I have, and the more control I have the less I feel like a four year old. I’ll get there but in the mean time, I’ll probably shed a few more tears.