You can’t have an Indy without an Eye

October 22, 2012

<fiction>

I became a deckhand as part of Captain Katanga’s crew for his pirate ship.  As such, I thought wearing an eye patch would help me better fit into my  role.

This renegade archaeologist, his lady friend and some mysterious cargo came aboard while we were docked in North Africa.

At first their presence didn’t excite my life at sea much.  The only change I noticed was that I had to remove a lot more rat carcases after we set sail.  I assumed the captain found some new poison for the vermin at port.

The next morning did bring on excitement.  A Nazi submarine had forced us to stop.  They boarded the ship to steal the strange cargo and kidnap the archaeologist’s lady friend.  I did not know what happened to the archaeologist himself until I saw him climb aboard the deck of the Nazi sub.  That was one crazy son of a bitch, I thought.  I liked him.

Not having his lady with him any longer, I felt like he’d need some backup.  Especially if that sub were going to a Nazi base; the lion’s den.  I jumped overboard and swam after it.

I made it to the Nazi base, but was quickly captured.  I don’t know why they didn’t kill me immediately.  Instead, I was forced to attend this pointless but elaborate ceremony performed by another archaeologist in their party.  I saw that the renegade archaeologist and his lady friend were also forced to attend this ceremony.

Some crazy shit started happening during this bizarre ritual.  The generators started whining so loudly I could not hear what sounded like some kind of warning the archaeologist shouted to his lady.  I looked to see what the other archaeologist, Belloq, and the lead Nazis were doing about the ghastly occurrences.  That was when things got really weird.  They were unable to alter the course of this ceremony because they were too busy getting their faces melted off.

I later learned that the only protection from all the harm this ritual caused was to keep your eyes closed.  Luckily for me, I still wore my traditional pirate garb so only one of my eyes was exposed.  While this did protect my face from melting off, I did not escape the event completely unscathed.  I lost vision in my right eye, the one the eye patch did not cover.

</fiction>

That is the story I would like to tell about the lack of vision in my right eye.

The real reason isn’t completely known to me yet, which is why I felt the need to invent my own above.

While camping over labor day weekend this year, I noticed my vision was blurry.  It took me a couple days to notice that this problem was isolated to only my right eye.  I then went to an eye doctor who assumed it was due to complications from diabetes.

One of the things I always hated about being diabetic was that anything that happens to you is assumed to be caused by it.  As an example, I was rough-housing with another kid in middle school during recess one day.  I jumped on his back and he flipped me over his back and rammed me into the ground with a very WWF-esque move.  This maneuver broke my collar bone.  When the nurse called my Mom to tell her about the incident the first question out of her mouth was, “was his blood sugar low?”

Back to the here and now.  The first eye doctor referred me to a second, who also thought the vision problem was most likely diabetes related, but wanted to rule out anything else.  While ruling other things out, they found symptoms of me possibly having MS.  I have a neurology appointment this week, and another ophthalmology appointment a week after.  Hopefully between those two I get a more definitive answer.  The good thing about it possibly being diabetes related is that my vision will return, or so the doctors tell me.  I haven’t heard or looked into what the outcome will be if its MS, but I’ll obviously have bigger problems to worry about.  The moral of this story is be careful what you wish for.

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Posted by breeze773

Why now?

October 14, 2012

If you knew me really well you’d know that I’ve had type 1 diabetes for over thirty years.  There are only a few who fall on that list, by the way.  That is the first reason for starting this blog.  I really don’t mention that I’m diabetic.  Ever.  When I feel the need to test or shoot up, I run to the closest restroom like I’m a superhero who won’t don his cape in public for fear of revealing his secret identity.  So this is a diabetes coming out of sorts.

The second, more immediate reason is that about a month ago I began to lose vision in my right eye.  As an example of how bad my vision currently is, when I close my left (good) eye I can see the black border of my computer monitor and a white blur from Word, but I can’t see any of the text I’ve written.  It’s not blurry.  It just ain’t there.  So, I went to the doctor.

There will be many more posts on that topic later, but there’s still a chance that the loss of vision is not diabetes related, but let’s hypothetically say it is for now.

The last big reason I want to do this is because I myself don’t have a lot of availability to people who have type 1 at all, let alone ones who are social drinkers.  Hopefully, some of you like me will see this as a place to find a kindred spirit.

I see doctors more often than your average bear, especially now that this eye problem has cropped up.  I find that most of them will tow the medical profession’s company line of, “you need to control your blood sugars, so don’t eat or drink anything you’re not supposed to.”  The “not supposed to” list is a long one.  That mentality doesn’t leave a lot of room for variability.  The lack of openness to variation on any of the factors that affect blood glucose made me over-compensate and start to change them all.  I’m a man who goes from one extreme to the other.  “If insulin lowers my blood sugar then if I eat an entire pizza, I’ll just take more insulin,” is what I always told myself.  That’s great in theory if you have enough data to know how many more carbs that pizza is and what your carb to insulin ratio should be.  I did not know those things.  Not well enough anyway.

I’m already digging myself a hole, right?  Then came college–of course.  Alcohol was flowing freely everywhere I wanted to be.  “Let’s drink before the football game.”  “Let’s drink before we go see that movie.”  “Let’s drink before we go out–to drink.”  Alcohol was that awkward dorm buddy you brought along to parties because you never knew what crazy thing he was going to do next.  Unfortunately, that crazy thing caused problems more often than turn the night into a hell of a lot more fun.

So, I started drinking.  Not a lot, at first.  I would dabble and make sure I still felt ok.  That feeling was never verified by a glucose test, however.  After gaining some comfort with my immediate safety not being at risk, I amped things up and drink more in quantity and frequency.  Nothing significant happened to me early in those days.  My pancreas or liver never spontaneously combusted after a night out and the fact that I didn’t test only enforced the notion that I could just wing it.  It was a bad habit I developed over the last twenty-ish years.  Now is the time to change the habit.

One current philosophy I have on life is to try to do things in moderation.  This goes against my natural tendency to bounce between extremes, but I think it introduces a more sustainable change to whatever aspect of your life you are applying it to.  This is why I’m not saying quit now and don’t look back.  Unless you are more able to go extreme.  In that case,  don’t think about adding the wildcard of change that alcohol introduces to your glucose management.  Let this be the only post you read.  To the rest of you, I’m going to tell you stories that you can consider anything from cautionary tales to commiserating conversations over a virtual drink.

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Posted by breeze773