Because November is a month for diabetes awareness and for a diabetic to reflect on the beauty of being alive - and being grateful for modern medicine - was the same month that my pancreas decided to be ironic and start those first fights - which we all know as the ending to the honeymoon.
Four. Count that f.o.u.r. hypers in a week. That may not seem like much to older diabetics, but I have never had my blood sugar go over 200 four times in a week since my diagnosis 17 months ago. My low-carb and refined sugar-free lifestyle did not help me at all that week before Thanksgiving, as I was tempted a bit too much. I blame being ready to go home for a long holiday, and truthfully any other reason than the fact that my pancreas is now ready to fully give up on me. But my guesstimates and puny insulin injections for the food that I wanted, but didn't need or deserve, were not enough and had made me physically and psychologically sick with grief and worry.
But my epiphany came early one morning and I finally realized why my sugars have been consistently high and inconsolable with 1 or 2 units of insulin all month long: my honeymoon is coming to an end. I now have to relearn everything about food and my body's reaction to it. Oh, and of course I now have to get used to the large amounts of insulin that I will have to inject in my side, not just once or twice a day, but every time I eat. I now look at my 3 pm apple and almond butter with a skewed sense of agitation.
My pancreas' transition of course had to come at the time of my life when everything is in transition and change. In two weeks I graduate from college, and in less than a month I start a new job, move to a new town, and live on my own like a (gulp) real adult. I can imagine my pancreas' sly smile at this moment. He says with a stubborn tone and a gleam in his eye, "I have given you all of my beta cells for much longer than others have. You should be grateful. Too bad that it falls during a time of stress and transition. Such is life!" Aren't pancreases so snarky?
The other day I couldn't take it anymore and sulked. After school the only logical thing to do was buy a box of chocolates, talk cry to my mom on the phone, and eat the whole box until I felt better. Don't worry I covered it...with shot after shot for the rest of the night. Such is (a diabetic) life!