THE Diabetes Post

I've meant to write this for ages. Tonight I finally shall, while the realization of diabetes- already so imprinted in my mind and life- is still somewhat new to my life.

When I began college in the fall, everything was normal: my weight, eyesight, energy level, etc. As the months passed by quickly, the board, however, slowly grew fuzzier in my sight. Eventually, what began as an only mildly unfocused image

morphed into a slew of unreadable and unidentifiable

symbols. When I could no longer ignore the reality that my eyes had deteriorated severely, I took the issue to my mom, who eventually made an appointment for me at an optometrist. Some time later, I found myself facing the characteristic eye chart- and failing miserably. I cannot recall what the optometrist said

about my sight, but I do recall that it would have been illegal for me to drive without glasses... And that I was to inform the DMV of my condition. (Because I live in a family of procrastinators, I never did.)

At about this same time, I began to notice- forgive me for mentioning this, but its the hallmark of diabetes- that I had to urinate a lot. An exceptionally high amount of times, actually. At first, this meant perhaps 6 or so times a day. Initially I attributed the increase to the increase in fluids I'd been so unusually guzzling. Then the urination frequency increased: I tried to keep a running tally of each day, but it became tedious and I often forgot. I do remember the numbers, though: 15 one day, 17 a next, etc. While I was awake, I had to use the bathroom.. ALL THE TIME. All that hand-washing, especially in winter, dried my hands terribly. Fissures formed over my knuckles, causing my hands to feel rough and ache with rawness. Another thing the handwashing caused (along with my high blood glucose, though I did not quite know it yet) was a fungal infection in my nail, which I'm still fighting.

More annoying, though, than my urination was what I felt inside my body. My thirst grew greatly, and soon only sugary drinks would quench it even temporarily- and I mean temporarily (I'd be thirsty again in less than a minute). I drank from every water fountain I passed, rushed to every bathroom every fifteen minutes, and- this is what began to really worry me- had no energy and achy calves.

As Christmas came and left, things got even worse. My formerly 120 lbs body was at 110 and losing weight steadily (a pound or more a day, actually). Lethargia kept me laying down nearly all the time; that, combined with my thirst, kept my boyfriend busy as he shuttled water, snacks, books, etc. to me. Fuzzy-headed, I could hardly even repay him with worthwhile conversation- I could scarcely concentrate. When I went to sleep at night, I prayed to God that something terrible wasn't going on, and when I'd wake to the most terrible leg cramps I've ever felt, I knew that prayer was futile. My mom worried that I "wasn't eating enough fats," and, because I'm a social recluse, only her, my grandmother, and my boyfriend were worried.

The last days before my trip to the doctor and then promptly to the hospital were spent first at my grandmother's house and then my mom's friend's house. It is then when things really began to feel dire. With my grandmother, I lazily followed about as my aunt, grandmother, as we went from store to cafe to store to store to home. I ate a great deal, confident that I'd "pay for it" on the scale. Baklava, cookie, tons of hummus, soy ice cream... I ate far more than my share and the next morning found I had lost three pounds overnight. I was at 107.

Without pause, the next day I went to my mom's friend, Jeana's, house. Again I indulged. Again I drank more than my share of liquids. In fact, a strange thing happened with her: I brought a bottle of water with me in the car on the way to a local mall. I finished it in a short amount of time and planned to drink upon arrival at the mall, about ten minutes from

where we were. However, her son engaged me in conversation, and as I replied my mouth's moisture was quickly eroded. At first it was hardly an issue... But in five or so minute's time my mouth was parched as it NEVER has been. I could hardly form words, I could not swallow, I could not articulate but the simplest words- and that with a lisp.

After arriving back home from my travels, I was ready to request a doctor's visit. This I did and my parents quickly obliged. My weight was 100 (I am 5'7").

Now, up to this time, I still was stupidly unaware that I had diabetes. I knew my symptoms matched diabetes', but, being a vegan, I was worried I had what ex-vegans claim was their ultimate health downfall: some super terrible deficiency, possibly of a b vitamin. I had began to take B vitamins and protein powder as my health deteriorated, hoping they would help. Everyone else, though, seemed to guess at the truth: my teachers, my grandmother, Jeana, my boyfriend, my aunt... Yet I could not fathom that I would get an autoimmune disease (it's still funny that I have one).

Anyhow, the doctor knew immediately what was wrong. Without tests of any sort I went to the emergency room. While I was still in doubt, they tested my glucose level. "HI."

Yep. Diabetes.

I stayed in the hospital for two nights/three days. My initial glucose reading was 638 or so; very, very high, but not record-breaking. My family and boyfriend came to visit each day (no friends had I to come see me...). They gave me three glucometers, two sorts of insulin, syringes, a sharps box, and test strips, then sent me off. I wasn't really ready to deal with all the diabetes-related things, and I'm still not. I don't think I ever shall be ready. It's a hard thing.

Posted here are some pictures of me in the months before my diagnosis. My weight,initially, was 120-125 lbs. or so. In these pictures, I had already lost weight, energy, and, of course, the function of my pancreas.

Summer of 2010; still healthy and likely not diabetic.

Semi-skeletal; dull and listless.

This one's sort of funny in that I was considering taking advantage of a free diabetes test that was offered in the area this day but, out of fear, decided against it.

Sunken cheeks, but not so terribly dead- looking.

I did not take any pictures in the "last days." I felt ugly and was ugly- pasty, painfully thin, lacking exuberance. I did not want to be photographed... Though it would be interesting to see such photos now, if they existed.

A Simple Night

I went on one of my (used to be) signature walks tonight. It was a beautiful occasion to do so: slightly windy and, although cloudless, with a hint of impending storm in the air. For a moment, it was nice to be alone and in the ever-more-slightly-decrepit streets of my neighborhood.

I do like being alone a lot more than other people seem to. In fact, when I've been surrounded with people for more than, say, a day, I relish time spent completely alone. But, except for (thankfully!) the presence of my boyfriend 3-4x a week, I have, perhaps, too much time on my hands in which to be with me.

Because of my affinity with being alone for a great chunk of time (at least, more often than other people tend to desire to be alone), I used to fancy myself as a private person. But reality proves otherwise. Last week, my pastor commented on how I tend to say private things (nothing too private, I'd hope) on Facebook. Those things I say- little things, inklings of things, random thoughts I wish people would listen to in real life- are outpourings of a spirit starved, rightly or not, of relationships.

My boyfriend, only somewhat jokingly, says the reason I haven't any friends is the fact that I have chosen to be a Christian vegan and have unwillingly become a type 1 diabetic. That, combined with my natural tendency towards shyness and my seeming inability to adequately connect with people so as to make them see me as a source of a friendship, makes for a kindly (I'd hope) yet lonely self.

At this point, despite all the difference, despite my doubts, despite it all, I'd love to just have a decent (girl) friend. She needn't be vegetarian or vegan, just need to be willing to try the vegan cookie or breakfast pizzert here and there. She needn't be Christian, just open to hear of my various spiritual quandaries. She needn't be diabetic, just able to shove sugar down my throat if need be or inject me with my brand-new, shiny glucagon shot (lol). She needn't be as much of a stick in the mud as I, just be okay with a typically-toned down friendship and have the ability to remain sober. She needn't be pretty, thin, healthy, or anything. She'd just need to want to be my friend, and that is the problem.

Because I lack such a friend, I allow my thoughts (my pearls) to fall before others who care not (swine) in such an unrefined and vulgar manner as to render them immediately coarse and base (and to render my being as a trampled, shred of the human I'd like to be). Because I am shameless, I shall not discontinue this practice.

For instance, my future fertility is heavy on my mind. Secondary amenorrhea has set in, and though the outcome of the blood tests I took nearly two weeks ago have not been divulged to me, I fear my diabetes has brought on PCOS or some other similar hormonal imbalance. Whatever it is, the absence of my period seems a harbinger for the absence of the ability to have a biological child. That, coupled with my semi-poor blood glucose control, worries me that any child I might have will either 1. die of miscarriage, 2. be stillborn, or 3. simply not come into existence.

What Are My Roots?

I used to know the answer to such a question: writing, reading, sleeping, thinking, long walks alone, praying, deep conversations, dreams; in other words, melancholy mixed with depth and joy(the effects, I'd say, of higher living). I was lonely, I was sad, and I was bitter quite often, yet I knew who I was and who I should have been (which is not who I was, by the way).

Now, I'm not so certain. Wait. I am certain, I'm just not as able to connect. I know it's all the same and that it is all still there, if only I would slow down or crash enough to remember how to be me (at least sometimes). My life is ensnared, or so I'd say today: at home, a set of problems entangles me; with one friend, another; with another group, yet another; and so on for every situation I find myself in.

I suppose this is what stress is. Before, I despaired over life and death. Now, I despair over the intricacies of life and of growing up. Strange: the former worries did not tax me with such strain as these ones do.

I miss the people I used to dream with. Where have the dreamers gone? Drugs enveloped some, life and the running of time, others; but what of me? Why can I not dream so happily alone as I once did with others?

Better than that: God, why have you given me no clear way to dream with others? Those I am close to lack spirit to dream, and I am slowly draining, too.

Whatever you were, you are not.

In that fact I rejoice.

For each realization that hits me brings less and less of a sting and more and more of that subtle acceptance which I so wished I would never have to face... I never wanted to fall to the depths of despair and be helped up and out only by myself, God, and the occasional merciful act of a stranger or acquaintance... I wanted to fall and be picked up; I wanted my distrust of life to be transformed into a wonderful adoration of the human ability to connect to each other and remain loyal, despite all circumstances. I wanted the bitter tears I cried, waiting, to be recognized, respected, and ultimately conducive to the reinstitution of a thing un-began.

Instead, I was made to gradually learn that not all that glitters is gold- even if it once resounded in your heart as a truth that could never be adulterated or broken. I was made to realize that life, like death, is something that will always be experienced alone- though, of course, you may have your moments of higher connection and need never be devoid (nor should be devoid) of human interaction. I have learned that I can brighten someone's day, but not always their life... I can feel something with all my intensity and not budge someone else's will. This I have realized in the nearly three years since the era I experienced of mental isolation and bitterness at life came to an epoch when I saw the first blonde boy who I ever had liked.

The old meanings to my life are slipping... Nay, they have slipped away. Where once there was a yearning for an impossible abstraction, there is now a desire to explore and make better that which is more tangible. No longer can I with easy conscience call up an infinitely trusted friend; I must delegate all things (those day-to-day, or even once in a blue moon, occurrences that bring sorrow, shame, or anger) to their proper place in the scheme of life: oblivion. I do not despise God, nor His ways, though I do, at times, wonder at them. I do not despise those who have "wronged me," for they haven't, if only because I no longer wish to hold them to any of it. ( Besides, I have surely done twofold worse to them). Such is life..... Not "not worth living," but neither is it the dream I always wished it might one day be. It's still worth it. I just hope heaven is a lot more suitable to my tastes, if and when I may ever get there.

Updates (and.. Unhappy 4/20 to us all)

1. I've been falling into my environmentalist, vegan, activist, Christian self again (with more than a few setbacks). I will harness my energy while I can and then work on moderation and prevention of burn out.. For now, I am just happy to have a bit of drive within me. With that said, I am to begin blogging for Youth Noise again (as the featured environment blogger), am seriously considering renewing my once-veganism, am considering my options in charitable, loving work (Hospice is my first choice- I've already filled out and sent an application to volunteer there with the inhabitants), and am considering what I shall do in honor of Earth Day.. I shall likely plant more vegetable plant seeds to be grown over the summer.
2. It's been hard for me to keep my head up, but I have only a bit more than a month to go before I am out of the halls of my high school and headed into the halls of a local community college for dual-enrollment courses. The prospect of change in the area of where I spend 50% of my time is the only secular thing keeping me sane at the moment.
3. I am dreadfully in need of close/closer friends. I've been trying lately to open myself up to others and be more kind and conscientious, but I can never know if it is to work or not.. I guess I have to be the one to take the plunge and trust, don't I? I can't expect friends to come crawling out of the woodwork and lining up for a chance to hear my inner thoughts first-hand. Besides.. I do wish to help others through a mutual friendship, not just gain relief myself..
4. Am I the only one not in support of a "holiday" of getting high without abandon? Think of what the time, money, and energy spent into getting high could have accomplished.. For the $10, 20, $30+ spent on marijuana, tens of starving children could have been fed or had water provided to.. And that is based only upon one person's expenditure on illicit drugs, not to mention the hundreds of thousands who surely rushed to buy weed today.

It's What I Must Do

Crying is not the only indicator-
Arrogance, apathy, and deception are, too
Raw and hurting, we are all
Ever wondering quite what is wrong.

Before, blinded by my own hurt, I was unable to help any with their own hurt, and, as it hurts to see hurt in others but not help, I desensitized myself and tried to see only the callous, hard, often-cruel outside of everyone. Rock-hard shells need no sympathy, after all.

Now, I am forever delving beyond the stony fronts that those around me have erected about themselves. I can forgive anything, these days, because I know that somewhere inside each person that wrongs me or another is a scared, hurt, and raw soul. If I seek that- and it always shows, if only a little- and I cannot help but feel pain for them.

And how great a number of "them" there are! My heartbreaks each day as I watch people make destructive decisions over and over, as I sit and watch-unable to offer any help but friendship and an open heart forever accumulating pain to be converted to love by God. Love, poured out on those who accept it and those who do not. Love, to hopefully, one day, carve (as a waterfall does) a rut through the rock of their hurt and fill them with a love greater than I can offer alone.

With age comes responsibilities..

A silly young thing still I am,
Growing in being every day
Elders know the task I face: keeping others safe.

On this day (June 6, 2009) I headed to the local Department of Motor Vehicles and took the test to become one holding a class E learner's permit. I took said test and passed said test. Now, there's a little piece of plastic authorizing me to drive- with someone an adult over 21 in the front seat, granted- on roads.

To be truthful, I am terrified.

But that is not all I wish to talk of.

With age, I know already, comes the opportunity to begin to lay the foundations for an excellent future. This requires taking up- and keeping- many responsibilities, both common and not.

Age has pushed me, now, to become something or remain nothing. I chose writing- how could I not, it is my heart's calling- to break through my childishness. I now write for two school newspapers (my public high school's and Florida Virtual School's), this blog, and YouthNoise, where I applied to be- and was chosen to be- the "Featured" environment blogger. At home, I do the dishes daily and with less prodding. I have begun to consistently practice the oboe, pray, and read the bible. I plan to workout via rollerblading or DDR three times a week in the coming months.

That may not sound like too much to adults, I am sure. But to me- I could never commit to anything. Which reminds me- age- or should I say, maturity- leads to commitment. I flutter less than I used to; I am growing tired of fluttering, and I despise when I do. I no longer flutter, I have decided to expand- my circle of friends, my love, my skills.

Age.

I'm so young.

But I don't think my life has to be typical. I can pull this all together, God willing and helping.