This is a tough post for me to write and share. My battle will be as much public as it will be private, though, and maybe this will help me connect with others in a similar situation, so here we go…

Last week, I had an appointment with my doctor for a routine physical (which I hadn’t had since college) and routine blood work (which I had never had done).

This was prompted by trouble sleeping and excessive thirst back in April. At the time, I wasn’t too concerned about it. I thought it was due to stress, from being too busy and other events around that time. After the symptoms persisted and several people suggested they matched those for diabetes, I scheduled a visit.

This past Monday, I got a call from the doctor with the results. As was suggested, the symptoms were indeed caused by diabetes. The doctor diagnosed me with Type II diabetes mellitus (adult-onset diabetes). My fasting blood sugar was 255 mg/dL, with the normal range being 60-115 mg/dL. The doctor prescribed Metformin, is sending me to a diabetes education class next week and will check up on me in three months.

This news is still sinking in. It’s one thing to hear I have it; it’s another to realize how it could affect my life. Other than the thirst, which has returned to normal in recent weeks, and trouble sleeping, I don’t feel “sick.” Everything is about to change though. I’m going to have to pay attention to what I’m eating, watch my portion sizes, count carbs. My love of pasta and bread is going to have to be held in check. No more eating what I want, when I want. Exercise is no longer going to be something I do for enjoyment but will become a necessary part of life.

I’m not sure what led to me “getting” this disorder. There’s no family history (though my dad is borderline as of recent years). I’ve tried to stay active, maintain my weight, drink plenty of water, avoid sugary pop, eat healthy, watch portions, etc. Sure, I don’t always get it right, but I didn’t think eating too many fruit snacks one day or too many O’Charley’s rolls another would affect me that much. I’ve read that 80-90% of Type II diabetics are overweight, but that’s not the case here. In fact, I’ve gotten healthier since I started doing 5Ks three years ago.

Regardless of why I didn’t think could be diabetes, once the symptoms were associated with the disorder, I was sure I had done this to myself. I thought I could pinpoint a period a few months ago where I slipped up more than usual and wasn’t taking care of myself as I should have been. I was sure this had thrown my body so out of whack, there was no recovery. However, this has been discounted by several people. Apparently, diabetes isn’t something you can just “do” to yourself.

This is hard for me to accept, that it just happened, that my body just isn’t working right. In typical Chris fashion, there has to be a reason, I have to know what caused it. I don’t think I’m ever going to get that answer and that is hard for me to swallow.

My issues with acceptance don’t stop there. Another aspect I’m having trouble accepting is that I’m going to be on medicine. For the rest of my life. I don’t like taking medication. Even if I have a bad headache or a migraine, I usually suffer through it without taking medication. Now I have to be intentionally consistent with taking the prescribed medication, dealing with any side effects, most likely until the day I die. That bothers me to no end. I feel like this is a short term sickness, just like any other, that will go away after a few days or so. I’m still of the mindset that a better diet and more exercise will return everything to normal.

That’s the other issue that I have. I want to beat this. I want to research and learn everything I can about it, find the cause, find the solution and work hard to knock it out, just like any other goal I have.

But I can’t.

Everything that I’ve read says diabetes does not have a cure. So while it’s treatable with diet, exercise and medication, it seems I’m stuck with it. And that is so very hard for me to stomach. I can’t accept that I have to learn to live with this, that there’s nothing I can do to return my glucose levels to normal, to “teach” my body to use its insulin properly again or make more of it. It just doesn’t make sense that I can’t correct what’s wrong.

I think that’s going to be the hardest part of coping with this disorder – accepting that it was nothing I did to cause it and accepting that there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

There a Sunday School lesson in there, that like salvation, it’s not about what we do. Christ accepts us and loves us as He made us. There’s nothing we can do or stop doing that can make Him love us any more or less than He already does. But how often do we struggle with not feeling worthy, thinking we have to do or be more to earn His love or get noticed? How often do we try to add control to lives by our deeds, rather than just being in His mercy and grace? It’s so hard to realize how powerless we are, to let go and realize He’s taking care of everything.

I’ve worked in the pharmaceutical industry for almost 4.5 years now. I’ve worked on countless studies involving diabetes research. Metformin, fasting glucose, HbA1c, insulin, OGTT, timed meal tolerance tests and a number of other terms have become a part of my everyday life in the office.

Now these terms have taken on a whole new meaning and have become a part of my everyday life – period.

This morning was my long awaited visit to the doctor. Well, maybe “awaited” isn’t the right word.

Though I have been to the doctor a few times over the years, usually to make sure a cough wasn’t (or already was) bronchitis, I haven’t been for a complete physical since college. Back in April, though, I started having some issues that prompted me to make an appointment. As I tweeted/Facebooked at the time: “Still waking up in middle of the night, over 2 wks now…add to it that I’ve been very thirsty throughout the day…might be time to see dr.” Several people commented on this, saying those could be symptoms of diabetes. I knew I wasn’t taking care of my self and was in a very stressful situation at the time, so I wasn’t overly concerned, but eventually I got fed up and tired of not sleeping well and being so dehydrated that I made an appt.

Around this time, I also had a discussion with my brother and dad in which they mentioned they had low HDL levels. When they found out I had never had any blood work done, they suggested I should, as a baseline if nothing else. So I asked for blood work to be done in additional to the physical.

Fast forward to today, almost six weeks later. The physical went fine (one nurse even asked if I was an athlete since my pulse was so great). But then came the blood draw and one of the those moments in life I hope I don’t have to experience again.

Prior to today, I’ve only had my blood drawn once, and that was when I was at my previous job. It was a non-fasting draw that was going to be used to calibrate some medical equipment. They bribed my with donuts…covered in sprinkles. I didn’t have any trouble with that experience, other than being a little uncomfortable with the pressure around the site of the stick.

Today, though, was different. First, I was fasting. Second, the morning hadn’t been so good. So as I sat outside the lab area, I watched as the lady in front of me was having a difficult time of it. The nurses kept telling her to talk to them, gave her a cold, wet towel for the forehead and brought her a glass of OJ. I tried not to pay attention, getting in the mindset that I was going to be okay, that it wouldn’t happen to me.

My turn came and the nurses started drawing blood as we made small talk. I didn’t look at the draw, not wanting to provoke a reaction, though I typically don’t have any problems with blood. The draw seems to take forever. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, they finished…with the first tube. One more to go. I began to get anxious and lightheaded, so I tried to focus on breathing deeply, but that didn’t work. As they finished drawing the second tube, I started to lose it. The nurses could tell. I started losing focus, got sweaty and lightheaded. The nurses kept insisting I talk to them, but I couldn’t get my brain and mouth to connect. They asked some questions – “Do you have any kids?” “Where do you work?” – and I’m really not sure if or how I answered. I think I tried to mumble something, but most of the time I was struggling with the problem that I just couldn’t focus or get words to come out. The next few minutes are a blur. I vaguely remember them waving something in front of my face (found out later it was smelly salts) then I found myself being laid on the floor with my legs elevated. Once I came around, I remember looking up at the face of someone who hadn’t previously been in the room, which turned out to be a doctor they had called to help out. That bad, huh…? They left me there, holding up the other patients for 5 minutes or so, then eventually moved me to another room. I laid there for another 10-15 minutes and scored some OJ, coffee cake and egg casserole from the very nice and friendly nurses before I was sent on my way. Afterward, one of the nurses said she knew I was going to bite it given the look on my face as I watched the lady in front of me.

Quite an experience, one which I hope I don’t have to repeat again. I’m thankful there hasn’t been need for blood work up until now. I hope the results come back okay. We’ll know in a few days.