I haven’t posted on the blog in several weeks. The main reason for this is that I’ve had a terrible time focusing. It wasn’t my strong suit even before the pancreas failed, but now that I’m diabetic again, I have more to think about. I’ve had to cram glucose tests, insulin shots, and worry into an already cluttered brain of a writer.
Then the unexpected occurrences of low blood sugar can throw me off my game for hours. Depending on how low it goes and how long it takes to turn it around, the rest of my day may end up on the scrap heap.
To keep that from happening, I have to interrupt what I’m doing to eat, even though I’m not hungry. I have to think about how many carbs are in each meal and every snack. Then I have to think about if it was too much or not. If it was, my sugar goes up and I have to interrupt what I’m doing several times to take a leak.
I remember those glorious months right after the transplant, when I marveled at the mental freedom of just not having to think about this shit. It was like a big room in a house was cleaned out, painted, and vacant, ready for something else to go in there.
Now, like a boomerang kid who moves back home after college, the diabetes is back and wants its old room back—even though I put other, less annoying stuff in there.
Fine, but here’s the deal, Type 1, you’re going to have to share that room. I’ve had my writing in there for several years now and it’s not leaving just because you showed up out of nowhere. Don’t give me that crap about being in there first. And you don’t get to make as much noise as last time. Because, unlike last time, I know I can throw you out of the house. It may not be as instantaneous as I’d like, but I can do it.