Sew's Spot

"Sit up, join up, stir it up, get online, get in touch, find out who's raising hell and join them." Molly Ivins

Monday, August 14, 2006

Fear and Loathing in Chicago Suburbia

So I get more test results. The results from that retarded test of "Glucose Tolerance" are in, and apparently I'm doomed. I failed the test and some other stupid test they did that measures blood-sugar level over 3 months, even though they only took blood the one day - which sounds suspicious to me.

Fact of the matter is, I'd rather be dead than have diabetes. I'd rather be dead than have to eat nothing but PLAIN oatmeal (can you say "wallpaper paste"?) for the rest of my life and keep sticking myself with pins to check and see if I can eat or if I have to starve more.

I'd rather be dead than trying to stick to a 1500 cal./day diet again, only to fail and feel like an utter failure at life in general. I'd rather be dead than to have them cut off my feet because I got a little cut and didn't realize it and now my feet are destroyed.

I'd rather be dead than to have diabetes.

I'm tired. Sick and fucking tired, of being sick. Of being tired. Of being fucking exhausted. Of being lectured by doctors about how I need to lose weight and exercise - with no suggestions of how to do either one, considering that every fucking diet I go on leaves me weak and starving, concentrating ONLY on food and the clock and when I can get a little tiny bit more to ease the gnawing, growling, aching, pain, starving, misery that is life for a few minutes. Of trying to work out, only to have my back, or my knees, or my heart-rate tell me in no uncertain terms to "SIT DOWN YOU DAMNFOOL IDIOT".

Do these fucking doctors think that I ENJOY being fat and ugly and having heart palpatations and being unable to even go to the mall without pain?

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this so fucking much. I have to go in again on Wednesday - to get my mandatory lecture from the new Dr. about how if I would just lose weight, yadda, yadda, yadda, bleh.

And the worst of it is that I know FOR A FUCKING FACT that my hormones have something vital to do with all this. Maybe not the diabetes, but then, maybe so! I know it. I know what happens with my feet swelling up and unswelling. I know about what happens with my cyclical energy "highs" that are followed up by extreme lows. I KNOW THIS - but not one single fucking doctor will listen to me.

Ok, that's not true. The GYN listened to me. He knew it was hormones. He knew it before he even took blood tests to confirm it. I told him all the symptoms, and he said "It is obvious you have a progesterone deficiency". And he put me on HRT. And for the first time in YEARS, I felt human again. I had energy. I wasn't depressed. My legs weren't swollen. I could THINK and CONCENTRATE... and then I got the fucking blood clots in my leg and lung and they took me off the HRT and now I'm back where I was except even worse.

This DR will get one chance. One opportunity to listen and take me seriously. If he doesn't - then I'll go hunting again. Somewhere there has got to be someone who can balance this all back out again. I can't live like this. I'd rather be dead.

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