National Health Blog Post Month, Day 8: 3 truths and 1 lie. Tell us 3 things that are true about you, your condition, your Health Activism, or your life. Now tell us 1 lie. Do you think we will be able to tell the difference?
My life with diabetes is a mixture of truths and lies. Since discovering and becoming part of the Diabetes Online Community (DOC), I have learned how to be more truthful about my diabetes, but that wasn’t always the case.
You see, I’m what they call stubborn when it comes to my diabetes. I will listen only when I want to, and I will divulge only what I want to, sometimes even to my own detriment.
It’s only been in the past couple of years that I will admit to how awful I actually feel when I’m running a high blood sugar. I’ve told A-Flizzle on more than one occasion that my crabbiness was because I was 200+ and just wanted to be left alone. I hate being high, and I don’t care who knows it. If I say I’m high, the best bet is to give me a wide berth.
I’m more likely to admit to being high, mainly because I don’t like it. Complaining helps. So does insulin.
What I’m not so good at is sharing when I’m low. Most of the time when I’m low, my natural tendency is to hide it. I will lie to you. I will tell you that I’m fine, and give the appearance that everything is totally okay. Meanwhile, inside, just below the surface where you can’t see, I’m kicking and flailing and fighting that low blood sugar like it’s nobody’s business. In my head, I deserve an Emmy for those performances. For lead actor in a diabetes-related hypoglycemic episode, the Emmy goes to…ME!
I notice it. I’ve even inadvertently embarrassed myself because of it. Sometimes when I’m low, I start to ramble and not make sense, but don’t possess the ability to shut up (kind of like this blog post). It’s especially inconvenient when I’m low and in meetings and trying to make a point that I can’t quite get out. And the whole stinking time I know I’m low, I’m just on low-brained auto pilot and gravitate toward my tendency to hide it instead of toward the need to say, “Hey gang, I’m low, I have to take care of this now and then we can continue.” Is anybody really going to begrudge me a break in a meeting? Probably not. And if they do, who cares?
It takes a trained eye to spot my low blood sugar tells. Sometimes I get twitchy, over analytical like I’m trying to figure out the secrets of the universe via the container that my glucose tabs are in, nonsensical motor mouth, shaky and clumsy, confused, maybe closing or covering one eye to ward off the double vision, suddenly sweating for no reason, or just sort of wandering around aimlessly and getting really irritated over nothing. Literally, nothing.
When it’s a bad low (not that the aforementioned symptoms are good, by far) and the act is over is when I go mute, and my eyes sort of glaze over, and I may even start staring at you awkwardly as if trying to tell you something of grave importance with my Jedi mind tricks. And I am too. I’m trying to tell you that I’m starting to shut down, and I need your help, and I can no longer tell you what I need with my words. I need you to know to get the glucose out of my desk, or the glucose tabs from off of my keychain, or the glucose gel out of my bag. I might even need you to help me get it in my stubborn mouth. It’s happened before. It will happen again. It is because I have diabetes.
So rather than write some post where I lie to you, I’m telling you, I will lie to you. But I may also need you. And I need you to know how to spot the truth behind my lies.
This post was written as part of National Health Blog Post Month (NHBPM) – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J