My mind has been racing tonight. I recently finished watching a DVD entitled "Dear Jack". This DVD is about one man's struggle to overcome Leukemia. In this video, he documented his optimistic moments; his struggle to stay alive; his raw moments such as: the moment he started losing his hair, transfusions, and the restlessness of being confined to his hospital room. My emotions were rampant during this video. I experienced sadness, lightheartedness, jealousy, and the uncomfortable feeling of reliving a moment in my past. Bear with me as I explain myself. I really need to unload my thoughts and feelings.
If you haven't guessed it already, I am talking about the same man in my previous post. I purchased this dvd at the concert I recently attended. It was eye opening to say the least. In this video, I didn't know what to expect at first. Throughout the movie I became less and less talkative. It was like looking at a mirror, knowing that no one will ever understand to the fullest what I have experienced. This feeling, reader, is such a horribly lonely one. My wife mentioned earlier this evening that a teacher at her school drinks a lot of soda too because water isn't all that great when you are a diabetic. Sure, we live in an age where people are becoming more and more aware of dieting issues, but, unless you are diabetic, will never know. I live in a suppressed world where I cannot (or should not) eat carbs or sugars. Go in your pantry, tell me how easy that would be for you. When I do eat carbs, I have to stick myself with a needle, sometimes painful, sometimes drawing blood. If I forget to do so, my body shuts down on me. I go through anything from full body cold sweats, to dizziness, dry-mouth, constant urination, and my favorite, being so weak it's hard to walk or grip anything.
If I give myself too much insulin, I could die. If I give myself no insulin, I could die. Can you try to fathom how hard that is?
While watching this DVD, I became sad. I almost started crying. There was a picture of Andrew laying in the hospital bed, completely weak, trying to stay positive. Next to him was his girlfriend, laying there trying to keep his spirits up. In a second I was back there in the hospital in Sioux Falls. My girlfriend had literally saved my life. Once again, you can never know the seriousness of that statement. After watching the documentary, my wife and I agreed the memories that came back weren't the best. I told her, and not to make her feel bad, at least they are just memories to her and not something she still has to live with. Then I think, to have someone go through the emotions that she did, to have her watch me suffer, almost die, I can never apologize enough to her for making her sit there through that. Then to be completely alone in ICU while your loved ones can't show up due to distance, or hospital hours. The singularity of one's self alone with his thoughts and tubes connecting him to machines that are trying diligently to keep him alive. The constant thought of not getting out alive.
How does one cope with a situation like this? Being lighthearted, of course. If you have nothing to live for, nothing to keep your spirits up, your body can and will shut down on you. Looking towards the future, the things you want to accomplish, and trying your best to see the end of that to-do list. Laughter truly is the best medicine.
Unfortunately, and a little bit ashamedly, jealousy did overtake me. I can only imagine the pain and suffering a cancer patient has to go through, just like, I'm sure, you can't imagine what a diabetic has to go through. When I found out that he overcame Leukemia, I was so overridden with jealousy. Why do I have to have this incurable disease? Why is it that I am forced to ride this roller coaster? There is no getting off and taking a break. Every day I have to consciously make decisions to see another day. Of course I am going to do my best to make it to the next day, but why me? I know the answers to these questions, reader. Don't think I am not aware, but sometimes, I think it's okay to voice these questions to help cope. It points you to the reason as to why you have it. What I wouldn't give, though, for one day where I could not be sick. One day that I don't have to worry about weight gain from insulin, or what I can and cannot eat. A day where I don't have to go through the side effects of high or low blood sugar levels.One day, I hope to not listen to doctors saying how my eyesight can go due to diabetic difficulties, or limbs can be amputated due to poor circulation, the dentist saying diabetics get cavities faster and more frequently. My kidneys have a chance of shutting down as well as other vital parts of my body. This stupid, incurable, disease.
I shutter to think of what may happen to me as I grow older. I hate to think that one day I get to the point where I am basically an undesirable. People being too sad to look at or be around me, to be lonely. As Andrew put it, when you are first diagnosed you get the full support of everyone, then as your time progresses, people start to forget until you have a few people who are apart of your team. I feel people forget far too much. It's not their problem, so I guess I can see why they forget. I just remind them of the fact that I have diabetes. I wish this disease could be a thought and not a reality. I wish I could be cured.
Well, reader, how does it feel to peer into a glimpse of the mind of someone sentenced for life? I bet you are sitting there saying you are glad you don't have to worry about it. I would too. Don't think, though, that these feelings don't come up a lot, in fact, this post has been building up over time. My cup started to overflow and thus I emptied my soul. This isn't staged for sympathy, I don't need it. This is another day in the life of someone who cannot be cured.
For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti by Sufjan Stevens
If you haven't guessed it already, I am talking about the same man in my previous post. I purchased this dvd at the concert I recently attended. It was eye opening to say the least. In this video, I didn't know what to expect at first. Throughout the movie I became less and less talkative. It was like looking at a mirror, knowing that no one will ever understand to the fullest what I have experienced. This feeling, reader, is such a horribly lonely one. My wife mentioned earlier this evening that a teacher at her school drinks a lot of soda too because water isn't all that great when you are a diabetic. Sure, we live in an age where people are becoming more and more aware of dieting issues, but, unless you are diabetic, will never know. I live in a suppressed world where I cannot (or should not) eat carbs or sugars. Go in your pantry, tell me how easy that would be for you. When I do eat carbs, I have to stick myself with a needle, sometimes painful, sometimes drawing blood. If I forget to do so, my body shuts down on me. I go through anything from full body cold sweats, to dizziness, dry-mouth, constant urination, and my favorite, being so weak it's hard to walk or grip anything.
If I give myself too much insulin, I could die. If I give myself no insulin, I could die. Can you try to fathom how hard that is?
While watching this DVD, I became sad. I almost started crying. There was a picture of Andrew laying in the hospital bed, completely weak, trying to stay positive. Next to him was his girlfriend, laying there trying to keep his spirits up. In a second I was back there in the hospital in Sioux Falls. My girlfriend had literally saved my life. Once again, you can never know the seriousness of that statement. After watching the documentary, my wife and I agreed the memories that came back weren't the best. I told her, and not to make her feel bad, at least they are just memories to her and not something she still has to live with. Then I think, to have someone go through the emotions that she did, to have her watch me suffer, almost die, I can never apologize enough to her for making her sit there through that. Then to be completely alone in ICU while your loved ones can't show up due to distance, or hospital hours. The singularity of one's self alone with his thoughts and tubes connecting him to machines that are trying diligently to keep him alive. The constant thought of not getting out alive.
How does one cope with a situation like this? Being lighthearted, of course. If you have nothing to live for, nothing to keep your spirits up, your body can and will shut down on you. Looking towards the future, the things you want to accomplish, and trying your best to see the end of that to-do list. Laughter truly is the best medicine.
Unfortunately, and a little bit ashamedly, jealousy did overtake me. I can only imagine the pain and suffering a cancer patient has to go through, just like, I'm sure, you can't imagine what a diabetic has to go through. When I found out that he overcame Leukemia, I was so overridden with jealousy. Why do I have to have this incurable disease? Why is it that I am forced to ride this roller coaster? There is no getting off and taking a break. Every day I have to consciously make decisions to see another day. Of course I am going to do my best to make it to the next day, but why me? I know the answers to these questions, reader. Don't think I am not aware, but sometimes, I think it's okay to voice these questions to help cope. It points you to the reason as to why you have it. What I wouldn't give, though, for one day where I could not be sick. One day that I don't have to worry about weight gain from insulin, or what I can and cannot eat. A day where I don't have to go through the side effects of high or low blood sugar levels.One day, I hope to not listen to doctors saying how my eyesight can go due to diabetic difficulties, or limbs can be amputated due to poor circulation, the dentist saying diabetics get cavities faster and more frequently. My kidneys have a chance of shutting down as well as other vital parts of my body. This stupid, incurable, disease.
I shutter to think of what may happen to me as I grow older. I hate to think that one day I get to the point where I am basically an undesirable. People being too sad to look at or be around me, to be lonely. As Andrew put it, when you are first diagnosed you get the full support of everyone, then as your time progresses, people start to forget until you have a few people who are apart of your team. I feel people forget far too much. It's not their problem, so I guess I can see why they forget. I just remind them of the fact that I have diabetes. I wish this disease could be a thought and not a reality. I wish I could be cured.
Well, reader, how does it feel to peer into a glimpse of the mind of someone sentenced for life? I bet you are sitting there saying you are glad you don't have to worry about it. I would too. Don't think, though, that these feelings don't come up a lot, in fact, this post has been building up over time. My cup started to overflow and thus I emptied my soul. This isn't staged for sympathy, I don't need it. This is another day in the life of someone who cannot be cured.
For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti by Sufjan Stevens
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