What Are You Grateful For?

That's the text of a bumper sticker on the car that was in front of me as I drove to the pharmacy this afternoon to pick up my first-ever prescription for Metformin, 500 mgs. You can look that up if you don't know what it's for. Personally, I am not ready yet to say the word, or apply it to myself. If you don't mind, I'm going to spend at least a few more days Not Saying it at all.

I feel guilty and afraid and incredibly pissed off. I took a sick day today just to give myself time to freak out in the privacy of my own home – to cry and wail and smash flowerpots against the back wall with an old axe handle. That did seem to help some. I feel calmer, at least for the moment. Other things I did today:

1. Woke up way too early, in semi-panic mode, just like I used to do when my anxiety disorder was in full bloom lo these many years ago. Charming.

2. Waited almost three hours before being able to call in sick, because the voicemail at my office was not working for some reason.

3. Spent six hours online, trolling for information and support.

4. Agonized over whether to eat anything, what to eat, when to eat it, how much to eat, etc. etc., and over the fact that I will never be able to relax about eating ever again for the rest of my life.

5. Finally did eat a little of the tuna salad Mr. A made for me last night, felt better, and realized that yeah, learning how to "manage my blood sugar" probably will make me feel better than I've felt in a really long time.

6. Talked on the phone to a nurse from my doctor's office, who was heartbreakingly kind and called on her own initiative because she saw how upset I was yesterday and had gathered some more information and phone numbers for me, and set up a private appointment for me to see the registered dietician who's only really supposed to see people in a group class – the next series of which doesn't begin for another TWO MONTHS.

7. Talked to the registered dietician, who also sounds very kind and reassuring, a real take-charge kind of person, which is exactly what I want right now.

8. Decided to change doctors. My current one has never struck me as especially warm or engaging, and after yesterday I've realized this relationship is just not going to work for me at all. He started our visit by asking me (as I sat on an uncomfortably crumply tissue paper sheet, vulnerable and naked and only half-covered by a ridiculously small "gown") how I felt. "I feel totally fine," I said. Which I did. "Well, you're not fine," he replied. "You have __ (the word I don't want to say right now)." It felt like a slap in the face, the way he said it. Under the circumstances though I decided to let that go, and launched into my questions – I'd done several hours of research before my appointment – which he responded to very briefly, almost sort of just brushing me off, and finally by saying, "You sure ask a lot of questions." Well, yeah! I'm trying to understand what I need to do about this supposedly life-threatening medical condition you've just told me I have! At the end of the appointment he left me with a prescription, a flyer for some stupid class at the hospital that doesn't even start until June (I later found out), and instructions to come back in a month. A nurse left me a voicemail later with a phone number for some organization that will send me a glucometer, but I have no idea how often I'm supposed to test, or how to use the meter, or what to do with the information when I have it (that's all going to be explained in the class, which – did I mention this? – does not start until JUNE). I'm totally freaking out, and I'm getting nothing from him. I'm outta there.

9. Took Tater for a half-hour walk at a moderate pace.

10. Ate one cup of Cheerios with a half-cup of 2% milk (total carbs: 27) and got in the car to go pick up my prescription.

At which point I saw that bumper sticker, which reminded me that really, despite the crazy-scary-enraged mega-tsunami of emotions I'm being battered around in right now, I am actually, at this moment, still alive, and lucky enough to have access to health-care (though that's one of my greatest worries right now – have I just become permanently uninsurable? Am I ever going to be able to go into business for myself now?), and there are plenty of things still to be grateful for – not the least of which is the fact that now that I know why I've been feeling generally crappy and lackluster for so long, maybe I'll finally be able to start feeling better. Everyone on the message boards says they feel better now than they ever did, even before they had it – you basically HAVE to take care of yourself or suffer dire consequences. Plus, once I lose all this weight I'll look so much better naked. So I guess you could say I'm motivated.

Motivated, but still just totally overwhelmed and exhausted, and fairly weepy and anxious, and just generally wanting to Not talk about it, or think about it, or tell anyone (Mr. A already knows, and has been living up to his name – Mr. Amazing, which is what the A stands for, in case you'd forgotten).

Tonight I have to start taking this medication, which is reported to cause nausea, vomiting and diarrhea. So that'll be fun. Tomorrow my meter should arrive in the mail, after which I can begin stabbing myself on a regular basis ... although I still don't know how regular, since my &#% doctor has neglected to give me any instructions on its use. Luckily I will be seeing the dietician on Thursday, and she specializes in this particular condition so I'm hoping to get some good information from her. And possibly a referral to a different doctor. Maybe that guy who talked to me when I called the hospital last week – he seemed like a gentle, compassionate type.

One thing my doctor did say that I was happy to hear was that all the other numbers in my blood work were excellent, and so were my circulation, reflexes, ears, eyes, heart, and everything else he looked at. He said he was shocked when he saw that one particular number; apparently I'm in very good health except for my blood sugar. He also said that if I do everything I'm supposed to do, I will most likely not have to be on medication for very long, and that most people can live just as long and healthy a life with this condition as without it, if they take good care of themselves.

Ugh. I'm tired of thinking about this for now. I will close with this text from the front cover of the May issue of Shambhala Sun, which I happened to pick up at the pharmacy because it has Alice Walker on the cover – and I love that woman.

Alice Walker: This is the best of all times to be alive.

Pema Chodron (one of my heroes): Why we have to turn our usual way of thinking completely upside down.

Traleg Rinpoche: Training your mind to turn adversity into awakening.

Susan Piver: Why more openness means less fear (something I already know works - hence, this blog).

When I opened the issue to flip through and see if I really wanted to buy it, the first words that caught my eye were, "Let difficulty transform you. And it will. In my experience, we just need help in learning how not to run away."

Largely because of my meditation practice, I can say I'm much less afraid of life than I've ever been before, and more willing to be transformed – which is good, because my life is going to be different now than it was before yesterday, whether I want it to be or not. I don't really have the option of running away from this; it's something that has to be faced, and right now – not later, when I feel "ready" or "motivated" or whatever. Today.

And to the person who commented yesterday, thank you. I feel stronger being able to share. If it makes someone else feel less alone, I'm glad. It makes me feel less alone, too.
diabetes