Facing the Fear

At 27, sometimes I feel like my body is failing me, like I’m just waiting for the next thing to go wrong. I feel like I’ve been living in fear since the day I was diagnosed – fear of passing out from a low, fear of complications, fear of losing a limb or even my life. I even feared writing this blog entry because this is the scariest part of diabetes and sometimes the reality of it is just too hard to take. But like any other fear, you have to crawl out of that hiding place and face it.

I am reminded of the fear every single day. It is a constant thought, always in the back of my mind. With at least 4 finger pricks a day and clear tubing always attached to me, how could it not be? While it is always there, I try to not to let it get me down. However, I’m not always successful in this – I’m only human…(and a worry-wart diabetic).

While having diabetes is enough a reason to justify the fear, since my diagnosis, the fear has intensified by the other health related challenges I’ve had to face: hypothyroidism, high cholesterol (for diabetes standards), and the kicker, celiac disease. All of these, and diabetes, are autoimmune illnesses. When the blood work was initially run to check for celiac, my Dr. mentioned that since I already several autoimmune issues she would check for several others because as she put it, “when there’s one, there’s usually at least another.”

For the last week, I’ve been worried that there may be another one to add to my diabetes resume. With daily symptoms of heartburn, nausea, unexplained highs and lows, feeling full after a just a few bites, and abdominal pain, the fear that something else could be wrong with me has been overwhelming.  In these situations, google can be your best friend or your worst enemy. In one google search of my symptoms, my fears were justified and intensified all at the same time.

My “google diagnosis” is gastroparesis – a condition in which the muscles in your stomach don’t function normally due to damage to the vagus nerve which means that it reduces the ability of the stomach to empty its contents. The most common cause of gastroparesis? You guessed it – diabetes. High blood sugar levels cause chemical changes in nerves and damages the blood vessels that carry oxygen and nutrients to the nerves. Over time, high blood sugars can damage the vagus nerve that leads to stomach muscle failure.

When I was lying in a hospital bed, learning about the complications of diabetes, I wondered how long it would take to develop my first complication. If I have gastroparesis, the answer would be 10 years, 6 months, and so many days, as this would be my first “diabetes caused this” complication. That alone is tough for me to swallow. Add to it the gastroparesis complications and treatment search results, and I am one scroll-down-to-continue-reading away from the worst breakdown I’ve had in years.

I just can’t go there right now- the possibilities and what if’s are just too painful. I’m trying to save the energy on worrying about it until a Dr. actually gives me another challenge to face. It’s hard not to consider what could happen next and I have until my Dr. appointment next Thursday to weigh all the outcomes, to muster up the strength to face whatever happens next. 

With Appreciation and Love

For those who buy sugar free chocolates on Valentine’s Day instead of the real, blood sugar bursting stuff.

For those who ask questions, who are eager to learn more about this disease…even those who asked “Is that a pager”?

For those who are patient through the rollercoaster ride of highs and lows, both physically and emotionally.

For those who hold the same hope in their heart as I do for a cure.

For those who have proven to me that LOVE can get you through anything…

Happy Valentine’s Day. You mean so much to me.

Balancing Act

It’s a quarter till, my shoe laces tied, gym bag packed, ready for Zumba class, and I am wolfing down a Hershey’s candy bar as if it’s my last meal.  No, I’m not trying to give myself an excuse to workout harder – having diabetes is a good enough excuse for that. My blood sugar is a jittery 55 and I feel that at any moment I could drop to the floor if I don’t eat something.

One of the first things I learned about blood sugar was that food made it go up and exercise and insulin made it go down.  I know it sounds simple, but keeping the balance between up and down is tricky and often frustrating. Since I’m about to exercise for over an hour, I know that I need food to get my blood sugar up to a level comfortable enough for me to workout.  In a hurry to get to the gym and to get my blood sugar up, I consume the entire candy bar so fast, I barely even taste it.

There is no other feeling like a hypoglycemic episode. When I went to college and told my roommate that I had diabetes, I told her that sometimes my blood sugar might drop, and that when it did, I might appear to be drunk or just plain out-of-it. Typical low symptoms for me are shakiness, loss of focus and concentration, extreme hunger, and that “I’m going to pass out” feeling. This episode is no different. I feel like every bit of me is trembling, inside and out. My body is telling me to eat something as my mind wanders elsewhere.

Although I have never passed out from a low, (knock on wood), the fear of that happening never goes away. What if I passed out at the gym? How would they know that I’m diabetic? I’d hope that they’d notice my insulin pump. I’d hope that I remembered to wear my medical ID bracelet. How would they know who to contact? I keep my emergency info in my gym bag but what if they couldn’t find my bag in a room amongst everyone else’s? It’s hard to think about all of these what if’s but like everything else in life, all I can do is be prepared.

Before heading to the car, I throw out the Hershey’s wrapper then check to make sure I have candy and my blood sugar meter in my gym bag. My blood sugar has risen to a comfortable 132. My body feels steady again, balanced and ready for my workout and whatever else lies ahead.

The Perfect Fit

This is me, nearly 5 years ago, shopping for a wedding dress. It’s a day I’d always dreamed about – what type of dress I’d pick out, how I’d wear my hair and what length of veil I would choose. As I’m looking through the racks of gowns, sure, I’m thinking about all of these things but in the back of my mind, there is one glaring question: where the hell am I going to hide my insulin pump?! I panic and for a minute feel sorry for myself that I have to deal with this. I want to enjoy my shopping day and this moment I’ve dreamed about so I quickly end the pity party.

I have options here. My first option is to use the garter specifically made for my pump which I bought to wear under my hot pink, (yes, hot pink), senior prom dress. I immediately recollect many trips to the bathroom during prom to hoist the garter back up above my knee so it wouldn’t fall to the dance floor. Ok, scratch that - I plan on dancing my ass off at my wedding (and I did!), not running to the bathroom to fidget with my pump and deal with diabetes.

Another option is to clip it onto my bra. There’s a science to this and the elements all depend on the style of dress, how low the neckline falls, and how well your genetics, (and puberty), panned out for you. Since puberty treated me mediocre and I don’t know what style of dress I’ll ultimately choose, I’m not comfortable with this option either.  I put these worries on hold and head to the dressing room.

Since being on a pump, the dressing room is now not only the place where I see how the clothes fit me but how they fit my pump. There’s a science to this too. If trying on pants, I clip the pump onto my bra while changing in and out. Once buttoned, I do the usual side to side to see how they fit from all angles. If all looks good, the deciding factor is how well my pump fits in the pocket of the pants. No matter how much I loved the pants, I wouldn’t buy or wear anything that didn’t have the right type of pocket to fit, and somewhat hide, my pump comfortably.

Opting to be “unattached”, I try on all of the bridal gowns I picked out without wearing my pump. I’ll worry about where I’ll conceal it after I’ve picked a dress.  Only a few of the dresses are high enough contenders to qualify for trying on a veil but there was only one dress that I wanted to put on again – the very first one I tried on. 

Back in the dress, standing in front of the mirror, I just know that it’s the one. It’s light ivory, with just enough beading throughout its A-line skirt. The neckline is a low sweetheart, too low to hide my insulin pump. But in that moment, I don’t care. I’ll figure out a way to fit diabetes into my wedding day just as I have had to fit into my everyday life.

Here I am on my wedding day, in the dress. You’re looking at one happy, insulin-pumping-diabetic newlywed but you wouldn’t know that at first, or even, second glance. What you don’t see is the evidence, my insulin pump. When all other options failed, I turned to the only thing I knew I would be comfortable with – a pocket.  Sewn into my slip under my dress, this 2”x 4” pocket gave me the freedom to dance my butt off and to enjoy the day I’d always dreamed about.