An Example of Why I Struggle to Understand

Last night both hubby and I were tired, really, really tired. He had not taken anything out for dinner, came home from taking the cat to the vet and well, we had nothing easy for tea. So we guiltily decided to have chicken and chips (me with gravy) from the local Chicken Treat.

I was dreading the reading 2 hours after tea, it would be high, I just knew it would. Well, guess what? It was the lowest reading I have had since taking my BG in the last six weeks!!! So then I thought, I must have a high this morning when waking to make up for that low. No, that was also the lowest I have had in the last six weeks.

So you see what I mean about doing my head in. There are nights when I have had the lowest GI meal, made from low GI cookbooks and I have had a super, super high BG reading.

It really truly does my head in, in a BIG way.

Dealing with a new life full of little pricks

For a needle phobic, my new life of twice daily injections is hard. There is only so much self talk that one can do without going slightly insane. There are days when I truly wish I could walk away from my new life full of little pricks.

I prick my finger when I first get up, and then try not to stress too much about the reading. I then go and inject myself and have to wait until I can have my breakfast, for unlike insulin, Byetta needs to be injected about 1 hour from your meal, but no longer than an 1 before. So my daily morning routine of getting up, having breakfast, then showering and leaving for work has needed to be adjusted.

Then I have the issue of getting home in time to inject with enough time before the evening meal. I am certainly not used to having this much restriction on my life. Then I have to remember to prick my finger 2 hours after the meal - again trying not to stress about just how high that reading might be.

My drug needs to stay refrigerated, so the whole going out to breakfast or dinner, and taking the drug either with me or getting to and eating within the 1 hour limit, is just too much to deal with at the moment. So does this mean no life outside of home for me? I know it doesn't, but it sure feels like that, right about now.

I am trying to stay as positive as I can, and the truth is, I need to deal one day at a time, for when I think of another 20-30 years of this, I think I would rather just kill myself now. Not trying to be dramatic here, but it truly is doing my head in.

My Mum, bless her heart, goes through the same thing - although she has only just started with insulin injections and at present she only has to inject before bed, but she is 80 and wasn't diagnosed with D2 until in her mid 60s, so while she has dealt the it for around 15 years, my journey could be much, much longer. I know she means well when she tries to boost my spirits, but in truth it only makes my journey down this path harder. I have seen the strain that trying to do the right thing all the time diet wise has done to her, and she is lucky (probably not the right word) that my step father was also diagnosed with D2 about six month after her. So she has someone along on her journey that truly understands.

My hubby is trying really hard, God bless him, but he really doesn't get it at all.

So yes, this is a little bit of a pity party post, sorry I try not to do them too often. And yes, I know it could be worse, and their are others out there, including children, dealing with other much more life threatening and gut wrenching diseases ... but right now I sort of don't really care what any one else is dealing with, but I am sure tomorrow, I will be able to put it all back in perspective. So excuse me for the indulgence, but sometimes it is easier to write it than hold it in.

The only bright point, is that the new drug does seem to be bringing my readings down, sometimes even close to normal - silver lining in dark cloud - I hope so.

Down the Rabbit Hole

And she fell down the rabbit hole, tumbling over and over again until she landed in a heap at the bottom. And what did she find there? Not a magical land, not potions to make her big or small. She found reality. Her reality, the one she had denied for so long. Here it was, ready to hit her with a big stick and still she couldn't look it in the eye.

She felt lost, so lost, she knew not where to look, for she could not face her reality, the one with a D and 2 in it.

How had she got here, well she really knew the answer to that one. It wasn't following a white rabbit, it wasn't falling down a rabbit hole. It was the fact that she had not dealt with it right back at the beginning, denial is a wonderful thing ... until it bites you in the bum.

Not only had she denied it to herself, but it seems her hubby as well, and while she is busily trying to get with the program now, he is still in denial, still killing her with kindness, still denying that this bloody disease is a killer, it maims and it makes your life miserable.

Alice's only light was that at least she only had to deal with it now, at nearly 57, and not from a young age when there is a D and a 1 involved.

She would somehow find the courage, find the strength to fight the fight, but this day, right now ... she couldn't face the reality of what is to come. But tomorrow, she needs to put on her armour and look her reality right in the face, for she will be learning how to use a potion, with a needle attached, to try and bring her back to health.

But does she had the strength to do it day after day ... only time will tell.

Feeling Just A Little Stabby

I think I have mentioned before that Menopause is like PMT on steroids, in my case not all the time, but when it hits, everyone needs to duck (or run away) as I get more than a little stabby.

Add to that very hot weather, arthritis pain, diarrhoea (from my meds), the fact I am having to check my blood sugars twice a day (and all the mental crap that that involves) and the inability to fall asleep quickly at night and I am sort of out of control.

So much so that the other night I was playing the Psycho shower scene in my head, my hubby was the victim - all because he was snoring and snoring and snoring. This man snores on his side (both of them) and his back. He snores from the second he falls asleep, so I try and fall asleep before him - for if I do then his snoring doesn't wake me up. Trouble is lately, it is taking me quite a while to fall asleep and even when I do, I wake often and he snores all night long.

So the couch and I have become firm friends - and I don't sleep all that well there either, but at least I don't want to stab my hubby, or smother him with a pillow or hit him with a frying pan. He reckons he needs to start wearing a bike helmet and full body armour to bed just in case my rational mind stops controlling the need to beat him to a pulp.

I think he needs to go and see someone about his snoring, it is much much worse. Last night he was running a marathon with his legs as well - classic signs of sleep apnoea.

Normally his snoring is not a problem because we have been sleeping apart in separate rooms. However, a couple of months ago my son came back to live with us (temporarily) and he is in the spare room. So while it is kind of nice to be sharing the marital bed again, it won't be if a murder occurs in the bedroom, and really, I love my hubby very much and he is so good for me and to me that I think it will be the couch and I for a while longer.