Kamikaze

My new life had started, one where I would forever (or until a cure is found, if I’m feeling optimistic) have to be injecting insulin in myself.

I had a pen of Levemir and I was supposed to start using it once a day – I started with basal insulin only, baby steps. All day I was nervous because I knew that the time would come when I would have to give myself that shot, I really couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wasn’t feeling well so I went to bed early – the time had come. I laid in bed trying to get some courage – my Dad’s words resonated in my mind: he said it was unfortunate that I had gotten diabetes, but it was great that it was a treatable disease and in the grand scheme of things needles are nothing. True, but still those needles were going to have to go through  my own skin. It sure didn’t help that I have a very vivid imagination, so whenever I think of something I actually see the whole film run through my mind. In this case the film had a huge monster size syringe that was going to have to break through all the skin cells, and those cells were struggling to make space for this foreign object trying to cut through them. I felt like a kamikaze on the final mission, there I was piloting my plane ready to crash it down over the enemy, but instead I kept on making circles above because I was too scared to bring myself down with the plane.  It was not going to happen…I was probably in bed for a couple of hours holding the insulin, when finally my husband showed up and saved me from my misery by doing it for me. I just wanted to have him do it all the time, but he was right that it was something I needed to learn myself. I knew he was right but I still didn’t want to do it.

The day after the time came again, and I promised myself that no matter what I had to do it, also because my husband had already told me he wasn’t going to do it anymore. So there I was, I went to lay down in bed again – mainly because I was always afraid I would faint and fall – and convinced myself that I was just going to take the plastic protection off the needle and do it . So, once the cap was off, there would have been no turning back…and I kept on looking at the syringe, then at the site that I had prepared on my belly, and I didn’t feel one bit more courageous than the night before. Needle, belly…why on earth would anyone willingly want to stab themselves? I sucked….it felt humiliating not be able to bring myself to do such a simple yet essential act…so I had no choice: I held my breath, uncapped the needle and…bang! There it went, OUCH. It wasn’t the fast and easy stab it was supposed to be, instead it was a slow unsteady one that did indeed hurt….but it worked, I was finally a graduated Kamikaze!

 

kamikaze

Advertisements

It’s good to be fit

I was 32 and feeling really good about myself. I got a new bicycle and started riding it to work every day, about 7 miles each way.  Despite the occasional angry drivers who tried to run me over (what do these people have for breakfast?), it was a extremely refreshing ride.   On weekends, I enjoyed taking my doggies on hikes along the beautiful Northwest trails. These were long, strenuous walks rewarded by the amazing views at the top.

I had lost quite a bit of weight even though I was eating more than ever: I felt great about that because I figured my metabolism was kicking in, putting all those calories to work.  I was always craving apple juice and was drinking tons of it, thinking it was helping me to stay hydrated.

I took a week off to join my family in China. It was very exciting to meet them there, although being a vegetarian it was hard to find things I could eat, so my diet consisted mainly of white rice and not much else. While I was there I was getting very painful cramps on my legs, which I attributed to the many hours sitting in the plane. My sister, who hadn’t seen me in a few months, mentioned my hair seemed to be thinning. Since I had noticed that myself, as soon as I returned home I went to see a dermatologist  to check what was going on. He told me it was alopecia and said I could try some Rogaine but not to worry about it. I did however passed on the Rogaine because I don’t like to take medicines if I can avoid them.

Around that time I started getting frequent yeast infections which I’d never experienced before. My ObGyn prescribed some very strong suppositories which I reluctantly tried, but they were not much help as the infections kept coming back. So I started eating more yogurt, hoping that it was just a phase and it would pass soon enough.

Little did I know that all this was the beginning of a new life,  and not one I would have ever imagined for myself.