It isn't very often that I complain about my disease, but I've had it about up to *here* (insert high-on-the-totem-pole-body-part here) with listening to other people's petty hurts today.
I have Type I diabetes.
Everyone out there has heard of this disease, probably has known someone with it or someone who knew someone with it. They've heard about the needles, the finger-sticking, the constant carb counting. They've seen the commericals with happy, healthy-looking children or adults running around saying how their life has changed because of wonderful advances in diabetes treatment. They put it out of their minds. They think it's no longer as big a deal.
Let me tell you what hasn't changed. Let me issue you a wake-up call.
I wake up every day and begin another obsessive compulsive relationship with food.
I have to count every single crumb that goes into my mouth. (Think about that for a minute. Really think about it. Most people never do.) If I fail to do the above, I risk blindness, kidney failure, heart disease, amputation, or death. If I do the above, I still deal with extreme fatigue, headaches, blurred vision, tremors and mood swings.
If I catch a cold, scratch my knee, stub my toe, get a yeast infection or foot fungus, I lose control over my disease. If I get my period, lose too much sleep, work out too hard, eat too much, or sit in class too long, I lose control over my disease. Sometimes I lose control over my disease for no reason I can pinpoint.
If I lose control of my disease, I could end up at the very least flat on my back, and more likely in the hospital, in a coma, or dead.
On good days I can look forward to at least ten needles of different shapes and sizes throughout the day. That can double on bad days.
On good days I tire out in half the time of a normal person. On good days I have to take naps to keep up with a normal person. On good days I dream so vividly I feel like I've been on a treadmill instead of asleep. On good days I control my routine, but I still have to stay in a routine.
On bad days I become incapable of coherent thought. On bad days I shouldn't workout and probably shouldn't drive. On bad days my feet swell up like balloons until the skin nearly splits. On bad days my joints feel like they are in a vise. On bad days I don't sleep. On bad days my routine controls me.
So just for the next day or two, I don't want to hear about your colds, your trials and tribulations at the doctor, your aches, your pains, your headaches. I won't bother you with mine on a daily basis. But next time you feel inclined to complain to me at length, just remember that I understand more than you know, and next time I can't or won't do something you can do so easily, remember that there's a reason.
(Everyone who knows someone with a chronic illness needs to go to butyoudontlooksick.com and read this. She is more eloquent on the subject than I could ever be. I encourage all of you to buy a spoon and wear it for those you love who are counting them.
