My mother was a Type 1 diabetic. She injected insulin into her leg every day that I knew her. When I found out that I was diabetic, I was concerned but relieved that I was Type 2. I gave up Coke and Pepsi, I gave up sweets (Nutra Sweet is terrible tasking), and even gave up a lot of carbs. If it tasted good, I stopped eating it. For the longest time, four metphormin, two glyboride, and some alpha lipolic acid tablets kept the blood sugar down, the neuropathy in check and life rolling along.
After the H1N1, I found it impossible to wake up in the morning, would come home from work and take a nap. Last week my hands started to tingle, my neuropathy came back, and my blood sugar started to climb and climb and climb. I may not be smarter than the average bear but I am smart enough to know that something was wrong. That wrong was the transition from Type 2 diabetes to Type 1 diabetes.
The doctor doesnâ€™t know how long this will last or if it is a permanent thing. Shooting my leg with insulin every day isnâ€™t my idea of fun but it probably wasnâ€™t Bobby Clarkeâ€™s idea of fun either. Along with the insulin come a new work out routine and a battery of other tests. I donâ€™t mind the tests but many a lab tech has failed in getting my blood so it is never simple or quick getting blood work done. The phrase, â€œI hope that is enoughâ€ gets used almost every time.
Itâ€™s frustrating although it will be nice for the feeling to return to my hands.