Saturday, August 1, 2015

Feel the Burn

So, I definitely unironically and unabashedly love the Fast & Furious franchise. There's just something so right about its cheesy wonderfulness, and the latest installment is no exception. Not to mention the touching tribute at the end.

However, that's not the scene that really spoke to me. No, the scene I identified with more is present in this gif: For those of you who are literally SO LAZY that you cannot click and watch a 2 second video, or maybe you have poor internet connection and it won't load, I will summarize for you. Don't worry, it's not really a spoiler here.

Basically, in this scene, The Rock (yes, both words capitalized) has a cast on his arm. I won't go into why, because, you know, spoilers. But there are bad guys to be fought. And The Rock has gotta fight them!! Because, The Rock. So what does he do? He's sick of being laid up. He's sick of the BS. He's sick of those doctors putting BS-y plaster all over him when he's THE ROCK and he's got BAD GUYS TO FIGHT. So he just, you know, mind over matter, flexes his incredible, The Rock-y arm, and flexes right out of the cast. I sh*t you not. Flexes that cast right off and trots off to fight and obviously defeat the baddies.

And I have to tell you, that scene speaks to me. Because I often feel as angry as The Rock at diabetes BS. Like when I'm trying to go a leeeetttle bit uphill on a hike and get totally foiled by a massive, double-arrows down zinger of a low blood sugar that I have to treat, meaning a mandatory pause and sugar break. When I have to eat a snack, right after a snack, because of an over-bolus. When I ignore students, miss my bus, or skip a meal. Basically any time diabetes makes me do something I don't organically actually want to do, I wish that I could just power on through. Flex my....pancreas? liver?..... and get on with my life.

It takes a huge amount of humility to say to myself, and whoever I'm with, "Wait." "I'm not okay." Because I don't want to scare them. Because they don't know the difference between a little not okay and a lot not okay. Because I don't want to admit that I'm struggling and not in control. Because I hate thinking that I've made the mistake. Why didn't I do a temp basal decrease? Why didn't I under-bolus? Why did I bolus at all? Why didn't I plan better? Why wasn't I better?

But really the question is, why isn't my pancreas better? Why, after all the love and attention and mindfulness and medicine and money and lost brain cells and sugar and exercise and vegetables and doctors and frustration and triumph and lessons learned and lessons forgotten and tape and bruises and rashes and blood given and taken, why is that still not enough? Why is my reward for each day to wake up (sometimes in the middle of the night) and do it all again? Why can't I just put mind over matter, for once

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