Today I really don’t have anything interesting to say, just a pretty standard “You suck.” Because you are in fact terrible. You are a disease that isn’t going away. You can’t be conquered or fixed (I am not willing to open the door for Hope — for something that may never come). Every time I think I may have at least found a way to sometimes peacefully co-exist with you for some length of time, you just laugh at me and find another aspect of my life to fuck with. Like I said, nothing to interesting to say, just a polite “Fuck you — please leave.”
I say this knowing that you will never leave. Even if by some miracle there is a device or a cure that relieves the physical symptoms (and I said I wouldn’t open the door for Hope… there goes that), I will forever be an emotional diabetic… my blood sugar and what it affects, will forever be a part of my thinking… I will never fully trust my body or any device to monitor/stabilize/control my blood sugar ever again.
Diabetes is never far from my thoughts — Do this. Am I low? Finish that. where’s my CGM? Feed the dog. Blood Sugar. Call home. I need to eat something, or I’m going to crash…. this is my inner monologue, this is my life. I say that and then I question it — and then I realize that that statement is never going to turn back into a question. “This is my life?” is no longer, “This is my life.” is here to stay.
Fuck you diabetes, fuck you. And even though I know you won’t, please just fucking leave.