It’s almost two months now since I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes, sliding over the blood-test line from “in danger of developing” to “yep, you’ve gone and done it.” I can’t say I was surprised. Through much of my adult life I exercised regularly but I also developed a big appetite. When exercise became difficult as I gained weight and switched careers, the hunger remained. My eyesight was in decline. I felt bad more often than I felt good.
Now I must accept that I am old. Just shy of 60, I knew I was old but now I must practice the routines of old men: remembering if it’s the pink pill with breakfast and the white pill with dinner, the white pill with breakfast and the pink pill with dinner, or both; poring over restaurant menus and grilling wait staff for acceptable selections; pricking fingertips six times plus daily without mewling; taking frequent, long bike rides to nowhere in particular. I’m not getting old; I am old. I am also obese. Well over 300lb. Accepting these facts is the most challenging consequence of my diagnosis.
One benefit of diagnosis is that I now have help establishing habits to control my diet. In fact, with the guidance of the nutritionist and pharmacist who are part of my family doctor’s medical practice group, I am already losing weight in small but steady increments. I feel good more often than not. Good enough to start writing this blog.
Diabetes is an existential disease, a part of life. There is no “cure”. I can hope and pray it away until the cows come home, but if I don’t get on with keeping on I’ll be home with my maker well before the bovines arrive. Diabetes is just one more part of what Camus identified as the absurdity of existence and, like Camus, my choice is to embrace the absurd. As a writer of crime fiction, I’ve decided that the protagonist of my series’ novels and short stories (whom some critics have astutely noted superficially resembles the author) will also be diagnosed with diabetes. How will low blood sugar affect a criminal investigation? I figure to know that soon enough.
To keep track of the diabetic’s daily routine for the fiction, I’ll maintain this diary. Another routine to help maintain my work routine and my new health routines both: who says I’m not still a glutton? If you’re one of the nearly 250 million people worldwide who are affected by this diabetes epidemic, or among their friends and families, I hope you’ll find this blog helpful. Or at least amusing.
