You all know I’m not beyond wallowing in self-pity every once in a while, and I have to admit that I did exactly just that on Friday.
My most recent HbA1c check is still not at its optimal level (8.0% down from 8.3%), and my doctor says he doesn’t know what else he can do for me because I’m already on such intensive treatment (I’m on basal-bolus therapy five times a day). He suggested an insulin pump which I’ve always resisted because it’s so fucking ugly. Then comes the cost. He says maybe a generous friend can buy me this for a Christmas present. But I don’t have such a generous friend. Neither do I want this fugly shit as a present.
Not wanting to be a stubborn person, I went to research on the pros and cons of having one. In my opinion, it has more cons than advantages. They also talk about insurance which I do not have because no one company is willing to insure me as I’m considered “high-risk” (I can’t even sign up for cancer-treatment coverage because these insurers are all assholes). I’m so fucking tired of all these.
Do you know that I’ve administered approximately 27,375 injections to myself the last 15 years (and counting)? I bet you didn’t. Do know how terrible I feel each time I get a hypo episode? And how scary that I’m losing hypo awareness, and that I don’t realise I’m having an episode till it drops to dangerously low levels?
I used to be able to feel an episode coming even when my reading was around 4.7mmol (a hypo is when blood sugar levels fall to below 4.0mmol). These days, not only am I not sensitive to it, I often have to rely on my glucometer to confirm that I’m having one. And my reading hovers around 2.7mmol, which is scarily low. To put things into perspective, if one is not treated, a person can pass out, fall into a diabetic coma, or in severe cases, die.
I ranted about this on Instagram on Friday after doing my research, and I’m thankful and grateful that I had concerned friends wanting to chip in if I needed help. But I do not want to be treated like a charity case just because I have an unannounced death sentence hovering above me. After all, for years I’ve been advocating that I’m just a normal person like you and you and you, and I most certainly do not need pitying (self-pity is different).
After reading up on it, in valediction, I think I’m still against the idea. I’m mostly positive about my situation, but I get frustrated and angry and upset once in a while, like Friday. I admit to sobbing my heart out that night, but I told myself that I’d be fine when I woke up, like how I always do. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t hate my life sometimes.