Okay, I figure I've got the best husband in the world. My body is playing some really nasty tricks on me these days, and I suppose that my biggest fear is that I'm going to die from all this crap, but my hubby? He's giving me this big supportive hug this morning that I never in a million years expected, and now, all I can do is cry.
As I said, my body is playing some really nasty tricks. I went to the doctor this week, not so much complaining, but just telling him what my body was doing lately...
Symptomology: Thirsty all the time, so much that I can quench it with even a quart of water. Feet are bothering me, potty all the time--and white fuzzy stuff growing in the stool that I just cleaned a day or so ago...
Try to be a woman and tell that to a man doctor...
Exhausted all the time, can't seem to get anything done--no energy, general malaise..you getting a picture here?
He pricked my finger. He put it on a meter.
384
He wrote me up for a fasting blood sugar exam the next morning, which I did faithfully.
Two hundred fifty something.
He diagnosed me with diabetes now.
You need to understand something very important. I am not a pill taker. It was impossible to keep me on birth control. I'd forget the pill, and have another monthly cycle after a few days. I figured it was causing more harm forgetting than to take it, so I stopped taking it and started to practice a rhythmic cycle, which didn't sit really well with my second husband, and probably was the biggest leader to our divorce (along with his constant unfaithful behavior and going nutzoid on my son--but I digress)...so now, doctor has me taking all this STUFF...
Nexium for my tummy issues
Thyroid medication
Cholestrol medication (because that's high too)
Diabetes medication
Claritin (for the nasal issues, which I hope will go away sometime soon)
An Antibiotic to clean up the last of this crud I've had for nearly two months.
The biggest part of my concern is that everyone that I knew with diabetes is gone. As in DEAD? So now you get the full panorama of my fear. I'm scared this crap is gonna kill me. FAST. And the doctor? He's not a lot of help in that area. He's talking about heart issues such as congestive heart failure and well, let's face it--while he said that he thought that I could live into my 90's even with diabetes, historical data doesn't really bear that out. Know what I mean? So I'm terrified of dying.
I'm also terrified that food becomes my master.
Never have been one of those types of people who allowed anyone or anything to get in the way of doing what I want to do, diabetes just changed all that in an instant. I can't "skip breakfast" because I have to get to the office--no! I have to eat, and that takes up time in my day that I just don't have to spend! Which means I get up earlier to make something good to eat, and when you're tired to begin with, sometimes getting out of bed is a TRIP that you just can't seem to manage--especially on cold winter days when you're exhausted from working all day the day before. And all the salty, crackery snacks are a thing of the past now. I can't eat half a bag of doritoes instead of dinner.
And let's talk about dinner.
Who the heck has time to make dinner? I will tell you! People who stay home for the day! Mothers who stay home with the kids, for instance. I work a 40 hour week--more if I have to leave for a doctor appointment, and when I get home, making dinner is the LAST thing on my mind. All I can think about is sit in my chair, knit or watch television. I hate eating. I hate messing up the kitchen. I hate trying to figure out what to make, too.
I need a live in house-keeper. Somebody who does nothing but take care of me. I used to eat because I was hungry, and I would probably grab the easiest thing on the shelf, just so that I wouldn't have to waste time that could be spent unwinding from a hectic day at the office. Yes, work definitely cuts into my free time a little too much. You could remove the word "little" there, and have a more accurate description, I think.
And my heels hurt.
MY HEELS HURT.
This is my body telling me slow down, sit down, unwind. You are carrying too much body weight and you're killing me.
The sitting down part isn't what bothers me--it's that the dog needs to go for a walk. Dinner needs to be made for my hubby--and of course, that's become a real issue here. Since I don't give a flying squirrel butt whether I eat or not most days, he's eating more bad stuff for HIM because HE doesn't want to spend his free time planning/cooking/cleanup for his own dinner, so he'll grab the easiest thing on the shelf, too.
And let's not even start about the stress at the office. I'm hearing that my supervisor is planning on me answering another phone line. I'm already doing two people's jobs--and she wants me to three people's jobs. Can you say 'MAJOR MELTDOWN'? I knew you could. It's on it way, and by golly, if I go off like Mount Vesuvius, it won't surprise me--but some other people may not "get it", and end up with the attitude "Let's leave Tenna alone for a while, shall we?" When really what I need is somebody to take care of me!!!!
I need my mommy!
Or a mommy substitute.
You know, I think I could take care of myself if I didn't have to take care of everyone else in the universe. God help me, that *IS* how I feel sometimes. I think that feeling is common among people who work in human services. You come home, and you're just all helped out, and you realize that you have to go into the office tomorrow and do it all over again.
And Christmas is coming. I can't even think about Christmas--at least not for any great length of time. No one knows what they want for Christmas until the last minute. I know what I want the day after Christmas (which, by the way is my birthday, which is SO convenient for a person who knows what they want 365 days from now, because you still have 24 hours to go out and get it, right?).
So, the stress level just jumped from about 10 to 20 out of 10, and I'm feeling the strain. I cried to my hubby about it last night, and he told me to call my mother and read a book. So I went to bed at 8pm and didn't notice when he climbed in, and ignored him all night. This morning I get a nice supportive hugging. The hugging was terrifically nice, but seriously, people--shouldn't he have hugged me last night when I was going through FRANTIC? I don't know--maybe it was a surprise to see me simply fall apart and it scared him?
Well, folks, I've about drained out the tear ducts, and have to dress for work. I'm already late, but you know, I actually DID find something to eat for breakfast, except for a fruit, which I'll pick up at the office (banana, probably), which will make a nice snack, and
Like I said. Food is my master.
Sigh.
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