Sunday, January 01, 2006

Pretty Good For Gluttony

210. That's where I'm starting the year at. I guess technically I started the year at 139, but 210 is where I'm at after breakfast. Which isn't really terrible considering that part of breakfast were the last two pieces of Stollen (German cake that's layered with sugar) that we had lying around, as well as a banana and some kiwi. I was diagnosed about 2.5 years ago and since then have kind of grown to hate the diabetic community as well as my doctors. I was annoyed that as an active 31 year old with relatively good eating habits, I'd been hit with this disease. And on top of that, my first endo refused to classify me. I was too young and not heavy enough to be an obvious Type 2, but my pancreas was doing more work than a Type 1. So, I classified myself as Type 3. I've grown to truly resent the obese Type 2's and the literature that coddled there "woe is me" ways. Quote from a pamphlet in my doctor's office, "We know it's hard to get off the couch, but why not start off easy with a fifteen minute walk around the block." Yeah, and while you're at it, make sure you don't walk to 7-11 to load up on that Super Ridiculous 4 Person Snickers Bar you love so much, Fat Ass. I was frustrated at the "deal with it" attitude that permeates the world. When I went online, it seemed like all I could find were chat rooms where people would bitch about the food they couldn't eat, or how their feet were hurting them. Where were the people like me who weren't anywhere near obese and were looking for ways to FIX THIS SHIT. Something went wrong in my body. Something flipped a switch that blew a fuse and now my body was eating itself and I was/am pissed off about it. I could reason that I was lucky. This came along at a time in my life where I was already trying to be healthier. If it had come along when I was in my fat and drunk twenties, I'd probably have lost a foot by now. And thank god I'm not a true Type 1 and had the switch flipped when I was 7 or 8. Those kids and their parents are beyond my understanding. Whatever your God, I hope he/she blesses them and the unbearable amount of work they must deal with. I'm guessing that when those parents are trying to force juice down their kids throat because their sugars are bottoming out and their eyes are rolling into the backs of their heads they don't feel a whole lot of sympathy for the tubboes on the couch either.

I'm the first to admit it; I've been lucky. Since the day I was diagnosed I've pretty much been on an extended honeymoon. Living on Metformin and Glyburide for the first year and then switching over to Metformin and Prandin. Pills and exercise kept my numbers so low that if I ever got into the 200's I would panic.

That was until a few months ago. I was stuck in a "fuck it" phase. Eating crappy all day, not exercising and started waking up to BG's of 180. Figured, "Screw it. It was a good run, the honeymoon is over and it's time to start learning who the hell these Bolus and Basal guys are." Go to the doc, ask for the juice, he gives it to me, I start shooting up and instantly the next day I'm waking up to a 96. And then it hits me. The whole time I was eating crappy and not exercising, I was basically in a fog. I believed that I was eating well and exercising enough, but I wasn't. The slow creep up to high BG's had clouded my ability to think clearly, and thank god for the insulin which snapped me out of it. I'd had 2 good years of avoiding insulin and I wasn't ready to give up that freedom just yet. So I (once again) recommitted. I started working with a trainer, doing a daily yoga practice, getting more sleep and then, and this is where it gets crazy, went on a juice cleanse. Following the lead of a friend who basically cured himself of thyroid cancer, I decided to give an extreme diet a chance to see what would happen. Raw food. No cooking. No meats and cheeses. No dairy. Just raw fruits, vegetables and nuts. And none of it cooked over 120 degrees. Since I'd been diagnosed, I'd pretty much given up eating all fruits. I loved them, but I figured if I was only going to be allowed a certain amount of carbs every day, then it was going to come from a McDonald's soft serve Ice Cream Cone (if you haven't had one, you must. They are, in my opinion, the best thing to come out of McDonald's. Ever. Don't even think about saying Apple Pies, because you know as well as I do that those haven't been worth a damn since they stopped frying 'em.) and not a boring old apple. But this diet required me to eat them. Not only eat them, but eat a lot of them. For one week, I drank nothing but freshly squeezed fruit juice for breakfast and lunch and freshly squeezed veggie juice for post-lunch snack and dinner. And yes, my BG started off high, but after a few days, I had to come off of the Lantus because my BG's were getting into the 40's. I was still taking the Metformin and the Prandin.

That was the first week. The juice cleanse. Once that was over, it was on to the raw food. Thank god I live in the fruitcake capitol of the world that is Los Angeles. This has got to be the only city where a diabetic can decide to try and live on raw food and then discover that not only has one raw food restaurant just opened up in his neighborhood, but another DIFFERENT one has just opened up a half mile from his work . And it's good. I'm serious. And I'm no vegan. I loves me some beef, but you wouldn't believe what these hippies are doing with their veggies and their nuts. It's fantastic. And there's also a co-op that will deliver fresh, locally grown organic fruits and vegetables to your house once a week for $35! I was spending twice that picking the stuff up at Hollywood Farmer's Market. And there's another service, www.rawvolution.com that will "cook" you a weeks worth of food and deliver it to your house as well. So, needless to say, I dove in. Much to the consternation of my co-workers, family and friends.

And for 5 weeks, that's what I ate. Not entirely, I'd say it was something more like 85% raw. I'd have a fruit smoothie in the morning, some raw something or another at lunch and snack on all the fruits, veggies and nuts I wanted throughout the day. And my BG's were great. Without insulin. Even after a huge orange. I'd go as high as 180, but then drop down into the 110s. I felt great. I had eliminated the guilt I would feel from sneaking a couple of Hershey's miniatures after lunch, because they were off the list entirely. I lost a few more pounds. I dropped a pant size. (Pant? Pants? Not sure.) In fact, I felt so freaking good that I told myself, come Christmas, you can eat WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT. You've earned it.

Mistake.

It might not have been so bad had I started slowly, but I broke my sugar cherry on Christmas Cookie batter on the 22nd and didn't stop nibbling on sweets here and there until the 26th. On top of that, the only thing close to exercising that I did was shuffling around our kitchen cooking for my family. (It IS hard getting off the couch...) All things being equal, my numbers weren't TERRIBLE. Mostly in the 90 through 140 range. 225 after lunch on the 21st. 220 after lunch on the 22nd. 228 after lunch on the 24th. But all of those surrounded by numbers as low as 64, and mostly in the low hundreds. Pretty good for gluttony. Then it was Christmas day. I woke up with a 92. Kick ass. I decided that because I was going to be overloading my system, I should probably brace myself with a shot of Lantus. I did and then I dove into the Stollen. (Again, german Christmas cake, with a thick layer of sugar on top. Delicious.) I think I had 3 pieces. Some pecan roll. Some cinnamon roll. An almond croissant. God damn, I love Christmas morning. BG after lunch? 111! Yeah, baby! My plan is working perfectly. I have a huge roast beef dinner with my family. Everybody loves one another, peace on earth, my after dinner BG is 123. Hallelujah. Day after Christmas, I'll pull in the reins, and ease back into the world of lentil bean burritos.

Not so fast.

Not anywhere near a fast actually. Just more pounding of food. For the next 3 days, I nibble and peck at left over cinnamon rolls and stollen (you know what it is, hell, you've probably gone out and gotten one for yourself by now) and I wake up on the 28th with a 260. Shit. Cut it out. Eat like a normal person, fat ass.

The 29th I hit a new personal high. 367. Holy shit. What have I done to myself? I've overloading my last remaining islet cells and they've seized up on me. Take a shot of Novolog. You've never done this before and you've forgotten what your endo told you a month ago, but what the hell? 10 seems like a good number. If you go too low, you've got plenty of cake laying around the house. (And healthy, locally grown organic fruit for that matter, but my mind can't even comprehend thinking about that right now. I'm like a drunk in the Seagram's warehouse.)

246 before dinner on the 29th. CURSE YOU GINGER COOKIES!

179 BEFORE lunch on the 30th. 337 that night. I'm done for. Fuck it. Maybe I should look into getting a pump.

New Year's eve. Hating myself. What are the other crybaby diabetics doing for the holidays? I wondered. And I started checking out blogs. And there were a lot more of them than I remembered being able to find the last time I looked. And there were some good ones. Still too many people who seem resigned to their fate of pumping fake insulin, but with really healthy attitudes regarding the ups and downs of dealing with something that never lets up and never sticks to a routine. And like that first shot of Lantus, these blogs sort of cleared my head. Maybe there are other people out there that are trying to fight this disease a little. I can't possibly be the only one that thinks that the power to maybe flip the switch back to it's correct position could be in my hands. So that's what I'm going to try and focus this blog on. And hopefully I'll get some of you to tell me you've been through all of this before. You'll probably tell me it'll work for a little while and then the disease will regain it's footing and fight back a little harder. You'll tell me that cinnamon doesn't do shit. (Which I kind of figured was the case.) But that you've had good results from brussel sprouts and licorice or something. I don't know.

But I do know that I finished off the last piece of stollen this morning. The ginger cookies are just crumbs. I've got a disease that I know isn't going anywhere, but It's a new year and I had a healthy lunch with some high fiber bread and my current BG is... 78. Rock and roll.

Time to get me some Nut Cheese Chutney Rounds from my friendly neighborhood raw food restaurant.

4 Comments:

Blogger If not a mother... said...

I am so glad Kerri has linked to your blog.

Take a look around my blog and you'll see why, I hope.

8:08 AM  
Blogger Kassie said...

Stuck in a "fuck it" phase. I need a t-shirt that says that.

8:18 AM  
Blogger Denise said...

Hi, I just found out this morning that I have type 2.. I am MAD and scared! I don't know what to do, not even where to begin. I just need a direction.. Yeah, I am on Metformin for this.. Yesterday I wasn't on ANYTHING and I didn't have diabetis. And now this morning I am on meds and have type 2 with a count of 195?? Um, pardon me, but what does THIS MEAN??
By the way I like your blog, kinda funny... Don't eat any more stollens though LOL.. Denise in Maine

10:26 AM  
Blogger Inertia said...

I completely relate to your blog. I am a new diagnosis--26, reasonably fit, and I am stuck somewhere in between Type I and II land--MODY, Honeymoon Type I, LADA, who knows? The switch just blew...when my fasting blood sugars came back borderline a year ago, I walked around for weeks feeling resentment toward any overweight healthy person I met (even though I know it was uncalled for). I never partied in college, I eat all my vegetables and cooked fish 3 times a week, I don't drink soda, I just completed a century bike ride, why, why, why were my first thoughts...So trust me, there are more of us unclassifieds out there...stay tuned for my diabetes blog as well.

Meghan

10:49 PM  

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