AN OPEN LETTER TO FELLOW DIABETICS

by Terry Waldron

All of us, especially the newly diagnosed, can learn a little by hearing the "testimony of our brethren," so to speak. We gain from sharing the stories of our journey through this difficult but interesting disease called diabetes. Here is my story:

There I was, working—feeling like hell, dragging my tail through every day, not understanding why I felt so tired and foggy in the brain. Eating, sleeping (passing out) and wondering what type of cancer I MUST have...else why would my pretty-good brain not be working well anymore?

Mine is, unfortunately an all-too-common horror story: drifting from doctor to doctor, with one complaint after another...all real problems—but the doctors were missing the main feature; that many of these things are aspects of diabetes.

Eventually, someone discovers it (and we can only guess at how many years it was an undiagnosed part of my everyday life), and now begins phase two of a story I hear over and over: Inadequate care.

The doctor I was seeing was, I am sure, good at some things; but he did NOT seem to know much about diabetes. We went through the exercise of taking little green or blue pills and sending me home with more pills and diets that didn't translate into the reality of my life...all the while getting readings consistently in the 300mg/dL and 400mg/dL range. Let me paraphrase Martha Stewart... "This is NOT a good thing!"

When I finally ended up in a hospital emergency room, unable to breathe because my lungs were disintegrating (lung embolism), the ER doctor, discovering that I was a diabetic, asked how much insulin I was using.

"None. I've been using the pills, etc.," I was able to wheeze out.

"Well, you ARE NOW!" he said firmly. He ordered many shots of insulin every few hours, and I began to gain some control over the disease that very day. But SO much damage had been allowed to happen in the meanwhile! Everything that diabetics can get— eye problems, kidney problems, foot ulcers—the works...had gained a hold on me. I live today, thanks to insulin.

Now, if your pancreas is in pretty good condition and you have what is aggravatingly referred to as "five cents worth of diabetes," then it is still quite likely that modification of diet and taking the pills, the "oral meds," may get you through quite well for a long time.

But if you are one of us for whom it is not working...STOP IT! Stop doing what doesn't work and get to someone else! I know...changing doctors is a painful process. And I know very few people LIKE to take shots...But I got over that in about an hour. Here is how I did it:

I had to have a serious little talk with my inner-self...the one inside who knows all my private fears and secrets. I had to decide that day... "Do you want to live, or are you ready to go...?"

Continuing my life as it was, with no hope of ever even having one good day again, I would have probably said, "So long, it's been interesting, but I have to die now." I did not want to continue if that's all there ever was to be. But, I just had a feeling that, from what I had seen and heard about insulin, that it was worth a...shot...so to speak. Sticking that needle in the first time is the most unnatural thing I can image a person doing, very close to the stupidity of sucking the smoke of burning leaves deep into one's lungs intentionally!

There I sat in my hospital bed...newly loaded syringe in my hand (I had just been taught how to draw up a dose) and now was the moment of truth. "If I wish to live, I will do this and I will do this as much as I have to." I followed my little booklet to the letter... Stuck the needle in my upper leg—quickly.

"Hey! I can do this! I CAN DO THIS! HEY! I'm going to live now, world!!" ( It was the first day of some control over my blood sugars that I'd had in YEARS.)

So, life is great now, right? No. A lot of damage had been done and much of it is yet for me to deal with. But, at least, I have one tool I can use.

When I hear of people who just don't think they can give themselves a shot, I want to slap them upside the head with a board. Do you want to LIVE or are you ready to die? If you choose death, it isn't a neat, tidy way to go. It's not fast. It's cell by cell. Very dumb way to CHOOSE. I feel like telling them to go get a 50 lb. sack of sugar and eat it until they're in a coma. Then, you'd better have a living will, or the doctors are required to let you 'veg' out like that for a long time... OR...choose life. Comas are so boring!

Each day I give myself my insulin I say to myself: "Well, it's time to choose life again." And you know what? You find MANY spots that don't have many pain receptors and you don't need a needle longer than half inch. Little kids can do this. Don't say you can't. You can. It's easy. It's not FUN; but we CAN do this!

Whenever I catch heck for having periods where I lack good control, I just say to the doctor: "It's a difficult disease. You do the best you can, and I'll do the same. And sometimes even then, there are going to be THOSE days... It's what makes playing on this planet such a romp!"

Remember twinkies? Remember fudge? Ah, well...like innocence...it's but a memory. "Sweet" dreams!