Very Old, Very Healthy Diabetic

...or die trying.
I was diagnosed in 1998 at the age of 33 with NIDDM or Type 2 diabetes. I come from a diabetic clan. I even married a diabetic. Are you on the diabetes road, too?
This is my goal: to become a very old, very healthy diabetic by day to day choices regarding eating, exercise and medical management. Walk along with me...

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Things are cooking!

Dr. Parts and the boys from work are off for the weekend camping. Here he is pre-cooking various foods which I promised I would not disclose on the blog, because they are, in the wife's opinion, not terribly healthful for human consumption, diabetes or non-diabetes. (It's Uncle Dave's Famous Beans. If you write your address on a five-dollar bill and send it to him, he'll send you the recipe. It is wonderfully high in fiber.)
This photo is informative, because, believe it or not, even with Big Dave in the shot, you can see about half of the kitchen. Between the camera and him is the sink. At his left hip is the one and only functional drawer in the kitchen.
A ONE-drawer kitchen! If women ran the world, that would be illegal.
I had my psychological consult Wednesday morning. He talked about my pain a little and took a basic history, made sure I was safe, etc.
Besides my family history of diabetes, I also come from a family with a history of depression. So I don't know if it's in the genes or if it's in the behavior patterns that I've learned or what. I live with depression close at hand. The level of depression varies from day to day, season to season.
So when they ask me to fill out a depression inventory to hand to the psychologist when I see him, and I'm filling it out, trying to be honest but not skewed, either way, and I'm close to crying, just from the inventory, I know that's a bad sign.
I hate going to therapy. It is exhausting. And I hate feeling this depressed when I'm on two antidepressant medications. I hate crying through the hour-long session about things that I don't usually think about at all. It's all background. It's part of the landscape of my life. It is baggage. Old baggage, that I thought I had gone through, sorted out and repacked neatly. It's not supposed to make me cry again now.
So, because I was weepy, he's probably going to recommend more counseling. And he's probably right. I just don't want to say so out loud.
I had taken the whole day off, personal time. I was glad I had, since I was still weepy for a while. I took a little shopping therapy mid-day.
Then in the afternoon, they did an MRI of my feet. That was fine. It was noisy, but the tech was kind, and since only my lower limbs had to go inside the machine, I did not feel claustrophobic. I'm not optimistic that it will show anything. I'm hopeful, but not optimistic. I still haven't gotten the appointment with the neurologist. Becca, the helpful scheduler, is still working on it. She has been helpful and told me where I was in the process. I'm sure she's a joy to her department. Maybe I'll nominate her for an employee recognition award....hmmm.
I have been testing regularly, at least my AM readings. They've been high this week. This morning? 207. The culprit was late night chocolate cake. And I probably should have stopped at a half of the store's portion size.
I've also started taking alpha lipoic acid as part of my supplement regimin. My feet do feel better. I forgot about an acupuncture appointment this evening. Uh-oh. I'll have to make up with my Ac, somehow.
And I also feel silly for complaining about my life and my circumstances, when I frequently hear stories about other people's lives, lives into which I would not willingly step. A twelve-year old, diagnosed with a fast-acting cancer, probably only weeks from diagnosis to release. A 31-year-old diabetic man with vision loss and on kidney dialysis. A woman newly diagnosed with ALS. I go through these papers on my desk, knowing that they represent people, lives, struggles and losses. I pray for them.
And I pray that the tide of my depression will recede soon. It will be nice to have the house to myself for the weekend. Dr. Parts took the dog out into the woods for the camping trip. They'll be back Sunday night. I'm missing them both already.

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  • At 4:41 AM, Blogger Rachel said…

    This time of year SUCKS for me. For whatever reason - but my psychiatrist says it's common for late March/early April to trigger depressive episodes. I'm starting to climb out of it, though.

    Btw, I always like a little alone time myself...

  • At 6:01 PM, Blogger Minnesota Nice said…

    On my dad's side of the family I have the Tl epidemic, plus lots of large vessel disease - heart attacks, strokes and aneurysms. Lovely, ain't it?
    On my mother's side is a huge amount of clinical depression. The only good thing about growing up with many relatives having what was then called "nervous breakdown" (now termed "acute depressive episode") is that we fully accepted it - it was never a shameful or freakish thing. I remember when I got my driver's license I had to take my grandmother to have her outpatient shock treatments. It was what it was - dealth with before the advent of psychotropic meds.
    I refused to take meds until about 6 years ago, and was a bit disappointed that they didn't have a more striking effect. Yet, I am certainly a lot more "even" and don't walk around having a "crazy woman meltdown" a couple of times a week. It waxes and wanes, and I guess I have learned to accept it and hunker down when I need to.
    And, I think most mental health workers are uncomfortable with people crying. I know my psychiatrist is. I think he has a huge ego investment in his patients and does not want to fail.
    I certainly hope your retail therapy included some yarn shopping. Do you have the "Mason/Dixon" book - I am starting the curtain and very excited.

  • At 10:07 PM, Blogger Scott K. Johnson said…

    Hey Lori,

    Thinking of you. Fighting depression (and pain) sucks. Hoping you find your way through it all soon.


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