I have Type 2 Diabeetes.  I found out last month while lying on a gurney in the ER, pale and weak and hemorrhaging from a rampant period.  It had started two weeks before, got really heavy, and never stopped.   It caused my hemoglobin count to drop from a healthy 13 all the way down to a 4.  It nearly destroyed my kidneys.

I didn’t know that diabetes caused all of this, but it did.  Diabetes interfered with my body’s ability to produce enough progestin to counterbalance my estrogen levels.  So when my “monthly” came, it never got the “stop” signal.  Because it never stopped, I hemorrhaged.  Because I hemorrhaged, I developed anemia and the stress caused my blood pressure to rise.  And because of high blood pressure and high blood glucose levels, my kidneys very nearly failed.  I very nearly died last month.  From diabetes.

Everyone knows about diabetes.  But not everyone appreciates how deadly this disease is.  That’s because there’s not enough straight talk about the dangers of uncontrolled diabetes.  To me, diabetes is like a slow killer, knocking you down piecemeal with an array of medical complications.  You could go blind from it, or lose a foot.  Or, more seriously, you could develop heart disease.  If heart disease won’t scare you, then maybe chronic renal disease will.  Maybe the possibility that your kidneys will gradually and surely fail over a period of five to seven years will be enough to get you thinking twice about the dangers of diabetes.  It did for me.

My situation presented some challenges for my doctors.  Bad kidneys meant that I couldn’t take certain effective diabetes medications.  Insulin shots three times a day weren’t very practical.  Plus the doctors found out that I was too “sensitive” to the shots.  My blood glucose would drop significantly and I’d get hypoglycemic in minutes.  That wasn’t a very good way of controlling my blood sugar levels.  The goal then was that I had to help my body use and keep whatever insulin it could produce on its own.  My doctors, along with the help of a dietician, hatched a great plan for me: I was to use diet and exercise as my primary anti-diabetes weapons.**  Medication would come second.

I’m on a 1200-calorie per day low sodium “diabetic” diet.  I eat three well-balanced meals, carbs included, and snack twice a day.  I take lunch walks every day and I exercise three times a week.  I take my diabetes medication only in situations where my blood glucose reading is 180 mg/dL or higher.  I test daily, at different times of the day.  In the six weeks since my diagnosis I’ve only gone over 180 mg/dL twice.  My doctor is proud of me.  He knows I’m serious about this.  I have to be.

I still have diabetes, but diabetes doesn’t have me.  I’m the one in control.  I hope my story inspires some of you out there to take control of your diabetes.  I also hope that I can inspire others to learn more about this deadly disease and how to treat and/or avoid it.

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** It’s VERY important to note that my diabetes treatment plan was tailor-made for my own situation.  Yours will differ, and I can’t stress enough how important it is to see your doctor for the right advice and mode of treatment.  Best of luck to you.  We’re all in this fight together.

Bully, the Malawi Cichlid

When I got him, he was just under an inch long.  Bright blue with black stripes and eyes that glared just as boldly as they’re doing in the photo above.  Bully was one of four mixed breed Malawi Cichlids I purchased in 2001 to replace the three that were killed by an Auratus that dominated the brand new aquarium in my study in San Diego.  For the first few days, little Bully hid in the crevices of river rock that lined the bottom of the tank, just like the rest of the cichlids.  After a while he got used to his surroundings and was brave enough to guard his little hiding hole whenever another fish swam nearby.  But the Auratus still ruled.  It killed one more fish right in front of my eyes just two weeks after I brought the lot home.

One day, about a month later, I left for a three-day weekend to the Bay Area.  I bought one of those slow-dissolving food pyramids for the tank and dropped it right down in the middle so that all the fish could access the food when it was released.  Bully watched me drop it in from the safety of his hole.  Crazy little guy.  Guess he was still afraid of that Auratus.

I spent the entire weekend wondering how many fish would remain in the tank when I got back.  I was betting on two, maybe three.  But when I got back home, all of the fish had survived.  They were all hiding.  Even … the Auratus?  Really?  Yep, it was hiding in the top right corner of the tank behind the thermostat.  Bully, on the other hand, wasn’t hiding.  He was hovering – right above the near fully dissolved food pyramid, fins erect and eyes emblazoned.

Three days later Bully killed the Auratus.

He’s been my number one fish for eight years.  He survived three failed filters, an incident with a malfunctioning thermostat, water chemistry imbalances, a swim bladder infection, swollen eyes, and even a 10-hour drive up the length of California in the front seat of a moving truck four years ago when I moved out of San Diego.   It was always fun to watch him re-landscape his environment.  He’d blow the silver sand around to hollow out a bowl-shaped space below his home under the rocks.  He’d even try to push the thermostat and airstone out of the way.  His last few years were calm and uneventful. Mostly because I didn’t bother him with other tankmates.  He’d killed a total of ten over the years.

Bully died last week while I was in the hospital.  I was told that he went peacefully, that there was nothing wrong with the water chemistry or filtration or heating.  He had no visible injuries or anomalies.  He just plain died of old age.  It was probably a good thing I didn’t get to see him lying belly up in the bottom of his tank.  It would’ve seemed surreal to me, this fish that survived so much with its fighting spirit.  At the time of death he was six inches long and one and a half inches wide.  Bright yellow and eyes emblazoned as always.  I’ll miss him.