you are aboard a boeing 737. should the cabin depressurize, secure your mask first...

i wanted to blog yesterday, and the day before that, and again this morning.  i couldn't.  i had to prioritize my energy.  its a choreography i have mastered.  especially in times like these.  my blood sugars have been running dangerously high, so i have been fatigued and sleeping most hours of the last days.  434, 455, 502, 378... ketones were "large" to "moderate". lost eight pounds of flesh and muscle in two days and counting.  i am only 5ft 2 inches, so that's a noticeably dangerous amount of weight.  sure, i physically felt ill.  but i have learned to work through that.  i have learned to become metaphysical, in the vein of God. 

per usual,  i smiled and tried to cover my weight loss.  i added clothes and makeup.  i added jokes and humor. when they weren't looking, i stole extra breaths.  when they turned back, there i was- the black Mona Lisa. roaming eyes, unchanged expression. master of illusion.  i told them, despite my rushed breathing, that my heart rate was not off beat, that my blood sugars were beautiful.  that is my role. the Oscar should always go to me.  inside, it is my spirit that i most worry about.  

see, the type I diabetic tests her blood sugar, or the level of energy in her blood, 3 to 6 times or more, daily.  too much sugar , aka , high blood sugars, trigger infection, organ failure, fatigue and nausea, among other things.  the type one diabetic using an insulin pump tests anywhere between 10-15 times a day, if not more.  an insulin pump is an I.V. type contraption that feeds insulin drips by tube into the body, worn by the patient. looks like a cell phone with a long tube flowing from it, to the body. depending on the situation.  

 i test about 12 times a day.  the punctures on my finger tips are true tribal scars. the pump and syringe injection sites are there too- all over my abdomen and upper thighs- purple marks and scars, bruises and blood clotted scabs.  i clean them, massage them, lubricate them in olive oil and Shea butter, but they are there. sometimes, i put makeup on them so i don't have to see the aftermath of reality. 

ketones are the spillage of sugar into the urine stream.  the blood cant support the sugar so it has to go somewhere.  in so doing, ketones eat flesh and make meals of the organs and eyes.  they induce vomiting and dehydration.   the longer one has ketones, the more damage they do to the body.  some non-diabetics induce ketones to lose weight.  that's crazy as hell. i'm trying to avoid them, and they're trying to fit into Gucci dresses and force them.   ketones kill.  i love gucci and all that, but not enough to sacrifice my life.  that's all i will say about that. anyway...

the numbers, every time i test my blood/urine, judge me.   i am often haunted by their verdict.  when they are "good," between 85-150 or so, i am glad and hopeful.  when they are lower than 70 i feel insatiably hungry. i have failed in my mind.  i failed to "catch it" before it got so low.  there is a sense of free fall.  not in a euphoric sense, but one where i know the bottom is coming.i look down and i see it.  the closer i get, the farther away it moves. illusions, again.   so i fear it. and i fear it, and wait. it's the waiting that hurts.  low blood sugars are the closest thing to instant death or coma a diabetic can face. its a drowning that never ends.  seems like when i get air, "water" fills my chest again, and i am gasping until the next pause.  some TIDs become combative when "low".  not me.  i become panicked.  so i eat.  i eat to get sugar.  i eat to get energy.  i eat to keep from feeling helpless. then i over treat the low and the cycle begins.   faster than a car accident, its quicker than deployed oxygen masks on a plane, it is faster than a light switch control of  artificial light. and there is a feeling of anxiety and panic that goes with the shaking hands and sopping perspiration. then the high blood sugars come as a result. those bitches live in a world of their own. i hate them.  i hate them.  and for me, they happen every day.  i go back in my mind and try to calculate where i went "wrong"   i always feel like there was something i  did to contribute to the high-  ate too much; took too little insulin; had that argument; or that test that i allow to stress me.  something.  

 but still, the scars on my body are no match to the emotional scars on my mind. I'm almost proud of the markings on my skin, but no one is proud of a scarred mind.   

its the constant judgement that you cant help.  every time you test your blood sugar or test for ketones, you are being equated with that number.  10 to fifteen time a day or more.  people often say, "well, you need to take better care of yourself."  that's a bullshit and uneducated statement.  i say this because TID (type I diabetes), is a trick.  it is a balance that wot balance. you can do everything you are "supposed to", measure your carb counts, modulate insulin doses, and test your blood every hour on the hour, and still, you may or may not win. sure there are diabetics that do whatever the hell they want.  but shit,  maybe they are on to something.  i would rather die with a record of life, than live a daily doom.  the unpredictability of this disease is, what i think, triggers  self hatred, the psychological slumps, the images of Grim Reapers, and sometimes the seduction of letting go. 

in all this, i have learned that this shit is what happens. period.  i could monitor every point of my life, and still the margin of error would go against my will.  so with that, i do what i can and move on.  i see my sharpness fading, but i also see that i am still on my feet.  i see myself tired more hours of the day than not, but i still see hours of the day.  on my "sick days" i lay in my bed and watch cartoons.  i think of how my life has developed my character.  i wonder how lame might be with nothing to stand for.  i think of all the articles and scholarly writings and studies diabetes has introduced me to.  i think of my purpose.  sometimes we get so busy when life is in our hands that God shuts us down with sickness.  but its the sickness, the silence that teaches us to grow, to be still and listen.   although, my thinking is often clouded i stay away from playing checkers with my dad.  but when he sits with me i study his features, i learn his ways  it is my time set aside by God to get to know my mom and dad.  a time that i might otherwise schedule for work or school.  i learn his frown his humor, his heart. when my dad sits with me when i am sick, i learn from where my strength came.  when my mom brings me hot water to sip or sits with me, i memorize her scent.  i hold her hand.  i learn the pattern of her steps, i learn her values.  it is in those moments that  i don't resent diabetes, but i thank it.  i thank God for the moments that i have no choice but to listen to the life around me.  it is those lives that feed mine.  

also, i sleep and dream.  when my blood sugar is higher than 300, i can sleep for 20 hours or so.  even dream themes change when the blood sugar varies.    but i wake with  new sight of where i am going .  sure, every time i test i am judged i weigh my value on those numbers.  i think all TIDs do that.  but on the flip side, i get a "do over"  i reinvent myself every time, with every dream i recalibrate my goals, my journey.  i learn to grow discontent with imperfection and seek always to plan, to idealize, to testify that there is a God. i learn to secure myself first, before helping out others.  this is not selfishness, no.  this is living.