The past three Mondays in a row, I attended a set of Diabetes Type 2 information sessions. Why? Because, well… I have Diabetes Type 2, and it seemed like a good idea to get a refresher. I’m by no means a newbie at this, but since this ain’t Gestational, the ball game, she be different.
I was the youngest person in the room by about 20 years, maybe more. Talk about a fish outta water.
This wasn’t a bad thing, really. I just felt a little woebegone and “Why me?” the first night for being saddled with this damned disease so young, as compared to my session-mates who were all dealing with how to buy strips with their old age pensions and retirement funds. I felt down for letting myself get so out of shape and thus likely bringing the Diabetes Beast onto my doorstep early. “If”, “What if”, and others went through my head, the Self-Critic Beast poking away merrily.
Ow- %$#@, quit it.
After my pity party (which may or may not have included some chocolate), I told myself to put on my Big Girl Panties™ and deal. So what that I’m younger than all these other people? So what if I am dealing with a disease that usually affects older folks? My genetics prove that I am screwed, so let’s not dwell on the misfortune of an early diagnosis, let’s focus on how to beat it and give my genetics the finger. (Not literally, I’m not gonna flip my Dad off… that wouldn’t be very nice)
I am going to try my damndest to prove the doctors wrong, and put this awful, *@%$# disease into its place. It isn’t my goal to go off medication (although Yippe-Kai-Yay if I get to!), because that may not happen. I do realize I may be on Metformin for a long, long time. I may eventually need insulin.
Wait… There be no “may” there. Diabetes is progressive, and I’ve got it for life. It will be a “when”. I just hope it is a long, long time from now. This is part of the “try my damndest”.
It was humorous, in a way, and after my last session tonight, I chuckled on the way home. Here I was talking about finding a balanced, healthy meal plan to include my toddler, and the rest of the participants were comparing their grandkids. I was lamenting how hard it was to find time to fit in running while raising young children, planning regular meals while squeezing in activities for the kids, and these folks were lamenting at how they may have to cut back on knitting to make time for a stroll around the block.
Same #@*$ disease.