Saturday, May 16, 2015

This time last year...

Has become a common refrain in our household. "Remember when?" has popped up a lot as well, because as the weeks start ticking down towards my first dia-versary (spelling?), this time last year I was, well, sick.

It's fun, but also upsetting sometimes. We went down to visit the BF's parents, and we remembered a hike in the canyons that I could barely make it back up out of. I remember drinking all of my water within the first half hour; he had to ration the rest from me so we had some for the return. I remember the pure frustration of feeling so exhausted even from going downhill. I remember the peculiar sensation that my legs weren't holding me up--my legs felt as jelly-ish as if I'd just run a marathon (well actually for me as a non-runner more like as if I'd just run a 5K...) and my ankles jolted with each step. I remember tripping over each stray rock, my feet not lifting as high as I thought they would. I remember pure disbelief when our phones told us the hike had only been 4 miles. I remember napping in the car on the way home.

When we drove to get food, we remembered how I'd drunk the entire extra-large jamaica meant to be shared among his family. And how I'd gotten seconds (no one had ever thought to ask for a refill before!) and drunk most of that, too.

I remembered stumbling around their house each night, 2 or 3 times, restless and needing to pee.

It was after this trip that I went to the doctor for the first time, suspicious that something was wrong. Unfortunately, I have had ovarian cysts before, and so I blamed my symptoms on that (turns out ovarian cyst symptoms pretty much run the gamut and can explain away almost anything) after they found one on my ultrasound. That poor, benign cyst got the blame for everything, right up until they started pumping insulin through me in the emergency room.

But mostly what gets me about the "remember this" game is how much I don't remember, or how clouded my memories are. The spring of last year passed in a cloudy haze for me, and most of my memories are tied into exhaustion or centered around what sugary treat I was desperate for.

Sometimes when I want to refer to that time, I'll say, "Remember when I had diabetes and..." First of all, because "Remember when I had undiagnosed diabetes" is longer and therefore less fun to say. And second of all, because if I think of diabetes as a disease, and of a disease as feeling sick, then I have never felt so sick as those days. 

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