On my fifth night, my doctor came to discharge me from the hospital. Prior to my hospital stay, I went to the ER about severe flank pains. They told me my blood sugar level was in the 400s, my blood pressure was 232/128 and then the doctor ordered the nurse to administer Dilaudid intravenously. Immediately, I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest and I could not breathe. I could not see straight. Instantly, I felt terrible. I could hear the two nurses discussing how I may have been given too much. I began to throw up. I tried to tell them I could not breathe. They gave me a shot of insulin. Shortly thereafter, they told me I could leave. I began to feel worse and worse and by the third day, I was back to the ER. I waited 5 1/2 hours in horrible pain, vertigo and nausea. I called my doctor who called another doctor who then arranged for me to be transferred to another hospital since there were no beds where I was. Paramedics came, put in an IV and drove me to that hospital where I was now sitting up in bed listening to my doctor's discharge instructions.
All I could hear was "insulin shots". I was stunned. Half an hour later, a nurse comes in to teach me how to give myself 20 units of Lantus, a basal insulin. I had no time to be terrified or compose myself. I just had to learn it in 10 minutes. Thus began my new life as a diabetic.
Within 10 days, my doctor took me off my insulin. I now take 500mg of metformin twice a day. My numbers are good. She even had to adjust my blood pressure medications to a lower dose. I've began to change my eating habits.
I have to admit that when the doctor gave me the news, a part of me felt terror, anger and guilt all at the same time. And I willingly succumbed to those feelings. I could hear voices in my head. This particular voice told me that these feelings are normal and that I should give in to them. So I did. I cried on the way home.
But here's something I also felt that I didn't tell anyone until weeks later: I also felt an inexplicable joy that didn't seem to be congruent to what was happening to me. Words of scripture passed through my head--words that I've taught my seminary students to memorize just last year. "...for the natural man is an enemy to God...until...(he) putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the Atonement of Christ the Lord and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him even as a child doth submit to his father..." I felt the love of my Heavenly Father so deeply. I knew that this 'challenge' was a manifestation of his love for me. For weeks I pondered these thoughts as I learned to manage my disorder.
We all know that diabetes is a chronic disorder of the physical body and we all know that it is a type of auto-immune disease. We also know that what happens inside the body when diabetes is present is 'abnormal'. I started thinking---everybody assumes that normal is the absence of diabetes. What if diabetes is a 'normal'? What if it is actually a state of normalcy that allows one to experience things that others can't? I mean, what if those experiences are so unique that it allows one to see the world in a way that is more beautiful, more meaningful and more profound? What if this 'anomaly' has secret advantages that no one has ever considered before? And am I smart enough to use these filters so I can 'see' and submit to a paradigm shift?
I look at food in a different way now. Sure I have a habit of blessing my food before I eat it. But now I look at food and I really ask God to convert it into chemicals that will not harm my body-- to turn it into salve and nutrients that will enhance my well-being.
Diabetes is saving my life. It is an opportunity to refine my habits and gives me clear directions on how to manage my vital signs. What I do now is really what everybody should be doing...except I get to have a 'manual' with clear and manageable cause and effects. Others are not so lucky. The freedoms they enjoy can also enable their wanton and carefree stance and magnify their arrogance about life itself.
I once told my daughter's special young man who came home sick and laden with a serious physical disorder that he was blessed by God to have this disease. At that time he told me that he couldn't see how it could be an advantage. I told him that as time unfolds he will be able to see and do things that others can't if he just shifts paradigms and opens his new eyes. I told him to be vigilant so he can see how God unfolds his plans for him because his perceived weakness is going to be his strength. He is doing exactly that.
Little did I know that months later, I would experience for myself what those words really meant.
And I am so grateful.
1 comment:
I think you're right. Ten years ago I became very sick after my second child was born. Eventually I found out I had Celiac's disease, which meant I could no longer eat gluten (wheat, oats, barley, etc). Also dairy products created a lot of problems, too, including asthma. It was such an overhaul, trying to retrain myself to eat whole foods (rice, fruits, vegetables, lean meats, herbs, etc), and to give up mac n' cheese and pizza. But I am proud of myself now. My illness taught me self-discipline, and one side benefit of being forced into disciplined-eating is that once self-discipline is acquired in a certain aspect of one's life, it is much easier to suddenly summon up the energy to use self-discipline in other aspects. For me now, setting goals and actually following through on them are much easier than they were 10 years ago, and I really think it is a direct result of being diagnosed with Celiacs. Also, I learned at the time that I was an unhealthy comfort eater, and, once diagnosed, I had to instantly find other (more healthy) ways to comfort myself, than eating. Not to mention, I am able to raise my children with healthier habits than I was raised. It really is true...these challenges we have been given are blessings in disguise. Good luck managing diabetes...sounds like you're on the road to success.
Post a Comment