Passages

Yesterday I took a new, big step and gave myself my first injection of insulin. My doctors have been trying to convince me to add that to my treatment plan for diabetes, and I've been resistant to insulin (ha ha). But this doctor is Machiavellian. She would simply stop prescribing my usual medication unless I agreed.

I have many, many issues with the medical industry. I have issues with the fact that they hold us hostages to their decisions about prescriptions and referrals. I have issues with the way that I'm considered a non-compliant patient because I ask questions, I research their suggestions, and I make my own decisions. I have issues with the way I'm labeled "phobic" because I choose not to medicate myself 'just in case' I develop other problems.

I have issues with the fact that every day, and now at least twice a day, I'm required to engaged in self-mutilation - blood sacrifices on the altar of the priesthood of medicine - that is called "blood sugar testing". I have issues that I now know how to inject drugs into my system. I've been bullied into becoming an insulin junkie. I have issues that I, too often, buy into the belief that I just didn't try hard enough ... and it's my fault.

I know ... there are other ways of looking at this situation. I see those too.

I was diagnosed with diabetes almost 20 years ago - and I have tried and rejected some of the medications on the market because of their side effects ... or simply rejected many them because of their main effects! I can accept the possibility that after all these years, my body is simply no longer able to use the simple medication that I've used in the past to control my blood sugar. I can accept the possibility that now I've entered the menopause years, my body needs assistance for homeostasis. I have complicating factors with lupus and severe anemia. I'm growing older, and I'm fine with that.

And I'm grateful.

I'm grateful that, since I'm well below the poverty line for the US of A, I get my medication for $30 instead of $170. I'm grateful that insulin exists as a treatment for this imbalance and that it will probably extend my life and its quality. I'm grateful that the technology is moving along quickly and I don't need a syringe, but can use a pen that allow me to try, ever so hard, to pretend that it isn't a syringe. And, depending on how it goes, I might even find that I'm grateful for my Machiavellian doctor.