An Open Letter to Fellow DIabetics

An Open Letter to Fellow DIabetics

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!