Trying my best.
“Oooh, that hurts so much,” she exclaimed as I stuck her with the lancet.
“I know, I know. I have diabetes, too.”
“You do? Juvenile, right?,” she asked, thinking she knew how I’d answer.
“No, type 2, just like you.”
“But you sound too young for it. I hope you are taking care of yourself. You don’t want to end up like me, blind and wondering when they’ll take off a foot..or both.”
“I’m trying my best. Diet and exercise for now. I’m doing really well with it, too.”
“Keep at it, Rachel. You don’t want to end up like me.”
Those were words from one of the residents at my short-lived CNA job. I saw her blood sugar rise to 300+ before lunch on the few short days I had with her – I saw her problems with bladder control. Treated with insulin, her diabetes was not controlled. Blind, and always wondering when her foot problems would become too much of a problem.
I’m still trying my best at controlling type 2 diabetes. Controlling carbohydrate intake, attempting to consume no more than 90-100 grams a day. Exercising like mad with the elliptical and walking outside, 3-4 times a week for at least 30 minutes per session. Incorporating yoga and balance ball techniques twice a week, adding another 40-60 minutes a week to the exercise count. Taking 1500 mg of metformin a day.
I can see where someone might lose control, might lose hope. Despite all my efforts in the past several weeks, I have seen little improvement in blood sugar readings or in the numbers on the scale. Why do I bother? Why do I continue fighting the meter and the scale? Why don’t I go on an eating binge of dark chocolate and macaroni & cheese, like the college days? I know my control is still decent, still having an A1C under 6.0, but when will all these changes suddenly not be enough?
The voice of R still haunts me and is what keeps me going. I don’t want to be another statistic of one of the many diabetes-related complications. No, I really don’t want that.