"Diabeedus? Oh yeah, that’s the disease that elderly folks who don’t watch their sugar and people who don’t take care of themselves get. I’m not like that."
Oh yeah? I said that too.
I was diagnosed in 2007. 10 years of denial followed. Even as my body began falling apart.
It began a year or two earlier. I had, on average, eight to ten different health issues going on at once. I considered each a minor concern, that I’d eventually drop in at the doctor’s office and have him/her look at. When I had the time.
Finally I conceded to myself that these annoying little troubles were collectively making day-to-day life more and more difficult. Tingling in my feet, night sweats, occasional extreme thirst, bouts of frequent urination, blurry vision, headaches, loss of concentration, lack of drive, lack of sexual desire – lack of desire, period; I wanted to spend entire weekends asleep. I chalked it all up to the signs of aging, exhaustion and possibly a mild depression.
I reasoned I needed to snap out of this “funk.” Did I think I needed emergency medical attention? Hardly.
Then they all started getting worse. One night my feet were cold, and I couldn’t warm them up, even bundling them in bed covers. They got so cold that I couldn’t feel my own toes by wiggling them against one another. The next day after work I brought home a foot tub. I filled it with warm water, to sit in a chair and let them soak. I’d been on them too much. I needed to get my circulation back.
That’s what I thought, anyway.
I put my right foot in, and after a few minutes I realized that the water had gotten cold. So soon? I thrashed my foot around, gently, trying to test the temperature… I raked my hand through what I thought was a tub of lukewarm water, and scalded my fingers!
The water was as hot as if from a cauldron! I lifted my foot out, to discover I’d scalded my foot! It was purple, and already beginning to blister!
Holy shit!
That’s when I realized I needed to call a doctor, immediately… Yet, I still didn’t make the most crucial connection. I thought – oh gawd, there’s something wrong with my nervous system… or with my circulation!
What the doctor told me was a revelation. I’ve rarely felt so stupid in my entire life. All of these minor issues were actually symptoms of ONE BIG ISSUE. He made it so simple that even I understood right away what the problem (singular) really was.
“You’re diabetic.”
Still, even then, after being informed in blunt terms what was wrong with me, I denied how serious it was. I still seemed to think that a simple prescription would make it all better. Problem solved.
I began with Glucophage® (metformin hydrochloride), used for blood sugar management, and lisinopril, an inhibitor drug used to control blood pressure and fight kidney abuse. My doctor told me that I needed to start considering those risks too.
Then he sent me to a podiatrist – to have my feet checked. Checked for what? I got my first needle test. The nurse merely had me lay back in my bare feet on the exam table, with my eyes focused elsewhere, and poked each foot, gently, with a needle. I was supposed to tell her when she had poked me, based just on what I could feel.
I thought this would be a piece of cake. I knew I could tell every time I felt a needle, and when she’d held back. Like it was a game... “How about now? … And now? … And now?” Etc., etc. When she told me I’d missed four out of ten pokes, my jaw hung open. I thought she was playing me.
“What does your diet consist of?” What did ‘diet’ have to do with my feet?
I was embarrassingly honest, and described my average food intake, which in retrospect likely set off alarm bells galore in her head.
Now here’s where it gets tricky. I was NOT a candy freak, by any stretch of the imagination. I had stayed reasonably clear of sweets and refined sugar. My diet, to my mentality, was not that of a future diabetes patient.
What was I ‘addicted’ to? Artisan breads. Savory baked goods. Stuff associated – to non-diabetic folks – with reasonably healthy lifestyles. I didn’t get out much to exercise, save for long walks, and my involvement in local theatre kept me active enough, or so I thought.
I still connected diabetes to sugar. My grandmother was a diabetic, who referred to it as ‘Sugar Diabeedus,’ and my father was also diabetic. I remember them both retiring to their bedrooms once or twice a day to stick their thighs with hypodermic needles, for their “inslun” shots.
They both had Type 1 Diabetes, which today we might call “Diabetes Classic,” like Coke Classic. Their pancreases had stopped producing insulin, a natural hormone that keeps the glucose you consume from eating you alive from the inside-out (sort of like how Coca-Cola eats rust off a bumper?). Your body uses glucose to produce energy – your body’s fuel. But an overabundance of glucose is injurious to your machine, in some cases it shuts the machine down. It opens the door wide for kidney failure, liver failure, heart failure and stroke risk. It wreaks hell on your nerve ends as well – causing a condition known as peripheral neuropathy (the cold, numb feet and lower legs).
But I was different; I had the ‘new’ diabetes. Type 2. Also known as “Adult Onset Diabetes,” it’s Type 1’s man-made counterpart – a genetic, molecular Frankenstein’s Monster. It is brought on by – surprise – the common pop-culture diet; carbohydrate-heavy, chemically refined foods that fill our supermarkets, convenience stores and even – ironically – our mass market pharmacies like those of Rite-Aid, CVS, Walgreens, etc. That bag of chips displayed at the cash register line. The quick-fix foods that pep you up on a slow drowsy workday. Fast-food lunches on the fly. Prepackaged snacks and smart-drinks that are handy and placed to be quick, easy and grabbable on-the-go.
Type 2 is not so much a failure of the pancreas, but of your body’s ability to process glucose. You still produce insulin, but your body has lost the organic “app” that sorts it between usable fuel and overflow. Your car has had so much cheap gas pumped through it, it can no longer recognize Premium.
The nerve endings starve. The kidneys dry up. Your pancreas, liver and stomach can’t cooperate. Your Corvette is turning into an old Model T with only one gear. And no ‘reverse.’
All of it created by conditioning – by a frantic, ignorant lifestyle seemingly mandated by an insane world, stretched to breaking between workaholism, feverish non-relaxed downtime, and squirmy partying. Smoking, drinking and recreational drug use may serve as a balm to your frayed soul temporarily, but they are Diabetes’s allies more than yours; the 1,000-round ammo clips to the inwardly turned assault rifle that is Type 2 Diabetes.
Myth #1: Diabetes is what happens if you don’t take care of yourself.
Only partially true. If anyone in your family’s genetic history suffered from Diabetes, you’re more likely to develop it yourself. Despite being a gym-freak, despite sucking down nothing but health shakes and protein bars. You can control it, sure. You can slow its progress to a crawl. But you’re still on its hit list.
Myth #2: Only fat people get Diabetes. And all diabetics are fat.
Oh, wrong-o! There are diabetic patients who are as thin as a rail. Conversely, if a fat person has no family history of Type 1, there’s little chance they’ll develop it themselves. They’ll just be fat, and subject only to obesity. Type 2, on the other hand, is not so inhibited. If no one in your family has ever had Diabetes, you can still get Type 2.
Why? Because Type 2 is not a genetically-transferred disorder, but a product of flawed modern living and eating. In the past – say 65-70 years ago – all Diabetic patients were Type 1. The processed foodstuffs that saturate our world today, didn’t back then. It was assumed that Diabetes was somehow an addiction to sugary foods. The basic treatment: insulin injections. Increased insulin was thought to ‘force’ your body into processing it – an overabundance of insulin to deal with an equal overabundance of glucose.
Most foods that are today processed and laden with chemicals to extend their shelf lives, were back then made using more natural methods – bread, pie crust, jams, jellies, juices, etc. – without chemicals or unnatural preserving additives.
Back then, more people ate fresh vegetables, fruits and meats, not processed crap. Baked goods were handcrafted from basic ingredients, not prepackaged and loaded with chemicals to insure ‘freshness’ after a cross-state truck ride. Even no-no's like bacon, eggs and butter were healthier! Plus, those past lifestyles were not as sedentary – most involved physical labor. There were no mouses to click all day, or screens to sit and stare at.
Myth #3: Diabetes is strictly a dietary issue – control what and how much you eat, and Diabetes will go away.
Well… no. Once you have it, it will always be there, lurking in your system. You can only control it with diet, for a time. As your body ages, it progressively loses its ability to fight as effectively, without the aid of Diabetic drugs. Glucophage, Metformin, and dozens of other designer drugs that, though effective, sometimes even the most comprehensive insurance plans do not cover. Fighting Diabetes becomes a strain to your wallet, along with your body. Eventually, it boils down to insulin injections – at least we’ve done away with old-fashioned hypos.
I remember my Dad’s scary box of hypo needles.
One such designer drug I encountered, Januvia®, though effective, was later found to contribute to kidney failure. For a brief time, Januvia was taken off the shelves, but resurfaced as Janumet® – a prescription drug containing both Metformin and Januvia!
Maybe somehow they think Metformin will offset Januvia’s harmful effects?
Which brings me to my personal major gripe with Diabetes treatment: Big Pharma and its addiction to money. One of the downsides of Januvia before they discovered its big flaw, was that there was NO generic counterpart for it. No cheap version. And no plans to produce one in the future. That was on-purpose. If you needed Januvia, you paid an exorbitant price. Insurance would hardly touch it, being a new experimental drug. You paid that dear price mostly out of pocket, period. Needless to say, some doctors prescribed it as a be-all, end-all in Diabetic treatment. Short version: We can treat you, just empty your bank account into our pockets.
When Januvia was found to be harmful (probably from being rushed into mass production by pharmaceutical companies seeing dollar signs) it was withdrawn, but only temporarily. Did they toss Januvia away and go back to the drawing board?
Hell no. There was still a ton of money to be made. They simply renamed it, adding another drug to it – a band-aid measure. And they were back in business!
In short, there is no real immediate motivation to find a cure. Diabetes ‘management’ is a billion-dollar business! They’ll happily supply you with all the meds you and your insurance policy can afford, stuff diet pamphlets down your pants until you forget your life’s purpose, fire up the operating table, or the dialysis couch, if you need them…
If the motivation (profit) was there, believe me, there’d be a cure tomorrow. It happened in the beef and pork industries. Cows and pigs get Diabetes too. If allowed to run rampant, Diabetes and Arthritis would make raising healthy cattle and pigs financially impossible. A pound of Ground-Chuck would cost $100. How did they maximize profit in the meat industry? By finding a CURE for bovine and porcine Diabetes and Arthritis. We’ve DONE it! (It involves heavy saturation of minerals into their diets.)
So what’s so impossible about finding a similar cure for humans? There’s no money in it.
And people are still eyeball deep in denial when diagnosed.
Myth #4: “The doctor thinks I may be pre-diabetic…”
Oh gawd. Bullshit.
I said that one, too. I’ve heard many people say exactly that while stuffing another bite of bagel & creamcheese in their mouths. It’s like being pre-pregnant. That’s the voice of denial talking – unacknowledged personal terror and shame. If you have the major symptoms, you have IT. Your doctor doesn’t ‘think’ you ‘may’ be anything – you either have it or you don’t, and he/she knows it. We’ve been treating Diabetes medically for a hundred years – its symptoms are not vague. Only our layman understanding of it still is.
I know first-hand the mistake of denying it.
It comes with a stigma that you haven’t cared enough about your own health, that you’ve been consuming all the wrong stuff like an ignorant glutton – that you’ve been a pig! And deserve to be treated like one!
We now realize, that's rarely the case. It’s a disease you can contract merely by coping with life’s hardships the wrong way – like an addict. It’s poor judgments based on a lack of understanding, perpetuated by an ignorance shared by an entire society. It’s a mistake that everyone has made, just not all as vulnerable to its effects. It’s one more type of victimhood that has no cautionary limits for non-sufferers. Something that can be lauded over us. Used against us.
We’re pigs, obviously. We lack common willpower, self-control. We’re getting exactly what people like us deserve: Sugar Diabeedus. We need drugs just to pretend to be ‘normal.’ The scarlet letter.
So… don’t take your ‘Diabeedus’ seriously… tell everyone the doctor only ‘thinks’ you ‘may’ be PRE-diabeddick. Not really a diabetic.
Wait until you can’t feel your own feet past your ankles.
Men, wait until you can’t get your junk hard anymore and start wasting even more money on shit like Viagra, Vitamin E supplements, penis-pumps and whatever other quick & worthless ‘man-cures’ they’ll happily rob you blind for.
Wait until the doctor ‘thinks’ they ‘may’ have to start chopping toes off.
I currently have 9 toes. That’s how far I went before I became man enough to bend your ear like this. I hope you’ve stuck with me this far.
I’m far from perfect. I still mess up. The never-ending battle to balance my glucose is a daily affair. Some days are ‘holy shit, I’m fucked’ days. Some are ’Thank you, God’ days.
But my head is out of my ass, at last. The goal is to maximize whatever time I have left. Diabetes is a ball and chain we carry to the grave. But at least I’ve put the grave into a different zip code for now.
End of sermon is nearing. If you, or someone you know and love, has anything I’ve described going on in their lives… come from that love and get in their face. Don’t shame them – that’s why they’re in denial to begin with; the shame associated with Diabetes. Don’t “bust” them. Urge them to seek legitimate medical help, not a quack who merely placates them.
Buy a glucose monitor and test strips. They aren’t expensive, and available at most pharmacies. If you are intimidated by checking your glucose, get the pharmacist or the counter person to walk you through it. It’s not nearly as scary as the box of hypo needles that diabetics had to contend with 20 years ago. Readings between 70 and 100 are considered optimum.
Being 6’4” and over 200 lbs., for my size, my doctor said 140-150 was fine. Even that number can get difficult. I’ll take all the 90s and 100s I can get.
If your numbers are consistently high, get to your doctor NOW and don’t mince words. Tell him/her everything. The sooner you jump on Diabetes, the cheaper your bills, and the slower your descent.
The night I had my toe amputated, I rushed with a swollen foot to the ER, where they discovered my glucose was 505 – through the roof and launching for the moon. They were surprised I was still conscious!
The swelling? My peripheral neuropathy had numbed me; I had fractured my foot without knowing it, and had walked around on it for several days. My bones were deteriorated to the point of infection. There was NO pain. No reason to notice anything wrong until the swelling began.
They physically dug the infection out with a medieval ice-cream scooper, after removing my right pinky toe.
Don’t go there, is my only advice.
There is no wonder cure, no magic pill, to zap Diabetes in its tracks. That's all click bait and snake oil. Stick around and you'll see their tap dance out of town. Educate yourself, as much as your brain can retain, about Diabetes. It's a gateway disease to a whole litany of medical nightmares. Fortunately we now have treatments that are leagues ahead of what my grandmother and father were limited to. You can still lead a joyful life, even with a sucky condition that doesn't look to go away.
