Tonight I have been trying to remember what I thought of diabetes before I had it. Honestly, I didn’t really think about it. I mean, I knew my dad had it and he’d had since he was a child.
I knew the very basics – that insulin was used by diabetics so their blood sugars didn’t go too high, but they also had to be careful not to have too much, that their BG would go too low. I was terrified of my dad having lows. Even when he had ones he could function through, I would be in heart-pounding anxiety mode, terrified he’d not be able to get his sugar to come up. I knew what to do if he went unconscious but hopingwishinghopingpraying that I’d never have to do deal with that.
I really didn’t think it was that hard- he makes it look so easy! Even so, I have always been overly watchful. But I remember at the same time I was also so used to it that I didn’t think about it- it was normal. He’s always done regular things. I think in my child-brain it only effected him at meal times or bedtime, when he had to do his shots. He’s also had 50 years experience.
Now I don’t know what to think about it. It’s hard and it’s tiring and it’s always in the back of my mind. Every thought I have about myself is coloured by it. What is my work day like? Can I go out to an event, and if I do will I last through a meal that I’ll have to adjust for? Can I go to bed yet? Can I run to the store for something? Am I OK to drive?
I think if I’m going to figure out myself with this disease, I need to start by making myself understand that I have a disease.