So, I need a place to vent.
I’ve been T1D for almost four years now (diagnosed two days before I turned 21 – 12.21.2011), and I’ve adjusted and coped with a lot. I have good and bad days. I’m having one of those bad days.
My endo persists that I have good control, and that I might still be honeymooning because I have good numbers, but I still beat myself up from going from 5.7% A1C to 6.5% (I have an appointment in two weeks, we’ll see what it’ll be like then). My glucose averages aren’t as steady or good as they used to be, and I’ve gone up 5-6 units in the last six months. Granted, I work as a freelance designer, so I’m stressed all the time about finding work, and then working crazy hours.
My regimen is literally 17 units of basal insulin per day (formerly Lantus, switched to Toujeo). I correct with 1/2 unit of Humolog if it hits 200. That’s it. No mealtime insulin. I exercise when I can.
What has that wrought me? I don’t eat that many carbs, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I don’t eat nearly as much as I want to because I’m terrified to eat anything more than 10-15g carbs per meal. I was a fruit fiend before I was diagnosed, now I’ll quietly panic after eating a sliver of an apple in my salad, or decline all sides with my omelette platter at IHOP.
Why do I not take multiple injections? I’m sensitive to short-acting, and had a few scary instances using it. Maybe I haven’t been properly trained to use SAI either. I tried experimenting at Thanksgiving and I couldn’t understand it, and I ended up feeling sick and depressed.
I’ve talked to my doctors about pumps or affrezza or what have you, but they insist I don’t need it for how ‘good’ my numbers are.
I feel sick off and on, because I don’t think I’m eating right/enough. Paired with my hypothyroid, it’s hard for me to keep up with my active fiancé, and that breaks my heart.
As you can imagine, being this strict is exhausting not only for my body, but socially. Since moving to the big city to pursue my career, I began talking to my coworkers about my condition, feeling it was necessary to explain why I don’t want to eat a cupcake or partake in yogurt parfait Fridays. Most friends understood, other people would still crack diabetes jokes when I’m in earshot; or a friend would try to understand, but then alienate me from food socials because “they know I can’t eat [x]”.
Another example, my soon-to-be in-laws only ever ask me, “How’s your diabetes?”, as if that’s ever going to change, or that it’s the primary part of my identity. I know they mean well, but they’ve disrespected my wishes not to ask about my health on more than one occasion. It’s as if ‘diabetes’ is written on my forehead and they can’t see past that…
Hell, I hate the words ‘diabetes’ and ‘sugar’ IMMENSELY. I grind my teeth when I hear them.
Basically, the combination of eating terribly and being treated like a fragile lamb has inhibited me. I thought divulging information about my illnesses would help me cope with my diagnosis, but I find myself more and more wishing I never said anything to anyone at all. My fiancé is also away on a contract job for several months (possibly more than we anticipated), and he’s my most trusted lifeline. I feel alone in this well of anger, insulin, and needles.
I don’t really need advice as I need someone to understand where I’m coming from. I haven’t truly felt like myself since I first heard from my doctor, “You have diabetes,” right before Christmas those few years ago. ):
TL;DR I feel like shxt and people are shxt.