My new doctor was struck with a bad case of the flu just when I started working with him on adjusting my insulin protocol. I don’t expect to be able to communicate with him for seven to ten days.
Yes, there are other doctors at my HMO that I can contact if needed. I’ll be fine.
But his illness just brought home to me – again – that ultimately, I am responsible for the day-to-day management of my diabetes. In an ideal world, I would have a team of people helping me. A diabetes specialist, a CDE, a diabetes-savvy nutritionist, a podiatrist, an ophthalmologist, a concerned spouse and family who want to be informed and helpful, etc. I do have some of these helpers, some of the time, but leading this team for the rest of my life is…me.
I’m the one putting myself to bed and getting myself up. I’m the one feeding myself, or not. I’m the one exercising, or not. I’m the one wielding the glucose meter, or not. I’m the one giving myself the insulin injections, or not. It’s my heart, my feet, my eyes, my kidneys, etc. that are at risk.
Being passive will get me nothing but trouble. Neglecting my self-care will be a disaster. I have to run this show 24 hours per day, seven days per week, for the rest of my life. No breaks. No holidays.
Despite the paternalism inherent in our medical system, this whole “follow the doctor’s orders” meme, I have to learn everything I can about my own diabetes and take charge of my own fate, not leave it in the hands of other people, however nice and well-meaning those other people might be.
I live alone. The people in my family are not supportive or at all interested in becoming informed about diabetes. They simply don’t want to hear about it.
I’m flying without a net every, single day and night.
In order to have the best life, the best outcome with diabetes, I have to be as well-informed as possible and be intelligently assertive about managing my own care, not wait around for someone else to manage it for me.
If I don’t do it, no one will.