I declare inside the front cover of my book, Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!, that I am not a medical professional. I can't diagnose or treat illness (my own or anybody else's). And furthermore, each body is different, so what works for me may not work for you. Having said that, however, there are some things I've learned about managing diabetes -- and health in general -- that are valuable information. Playing an active role in your health care process is one of them.
I first realized this soon after I was diagnosed diabetic in 2007. I called my Diabetic Educator's office with a question I considered life-threatening (though I admit that, at that point, I considered all my questions life-threatening), only to find that the nurse educator I was used to wasn't in. Convinced I couldn't wait for an answer, I reluctantly queried the educator who answered the phone. But it was one of those questions that doesn't have an easy answer. "Well, then," I said in a panic, "How am I supposed to know what to do?"
"You'll figure it out," she said brightly. And I lost my grip completely.
"You people tell me I have a condition that can kill me" I bellowed over the phone, "and then you tell me I have to figure out how to stay alive. What if I die before I figure it out?"
Needless to say, this was not a good moment for either of us. That I eventually dedicated my book to this woman, however, gives testimony to the fact that she was 100% correct. I did, over time, figure out a lot of things about how to manage my diabetic condition. But I had to do the figuring. I had to learn to pay attention to my body. I had to learn how to make a plan, follow it, and modify as necessary. Right at first, that's more than a little scary.
Through the years, I figured out how my medication interacted with the food I was eating. I figured out how much metformin I could take before I careened into full-tilt and continual diarrhea (which I lived with for months before I thought to mention it to the doctor). I figured out which kinds of exercise work best to maintain my weight and my glucose level. I figured out how to read and compare my lab work numbers so I know when there's a problem that hasn't been noticed by the professionals yet. And on and on it goes.
A great example of how intense the situation can get occurred when I was first put on insulin. My endocrinologist is brilliant, but he had no idea how my particular body, my activity level, my food intake, etc., would interface with the insulin, so he prescribed a certain amount of two different insulins (one slow-acting and one fast-acting) and left me on a little metformin just for good measure.
A week later, I had gained eleven pounds because I was eating all day long to prevent my passing out from a low glucose level. A phone call to the endocrinologist's office told me that this was one of those "figuring out" type situations. So I listened to what they had to say, got them to drop the metformin altogether, read up on insulin, seriously upped the number of times I checked my glucose, and kept a detailed insulin/carb grams/glucose/exercise log until I could help my body stabilize. By that stage of my development, this kind of process didn't scare me anymore. I mean, I was taking baby steps and monitoring the results. And it's my body...right?
This doesn't mean I make it all up as I go along. I eat carefully, exercise often, and get plenty of sleep. I test my glucose 5 to 8 times a day. I have regular blood work done and read my lab results carefully, going through them with my doctor to ask any questions I might have about what they mean. I check my weight daily to catch it quickly if it starts to rise. I read the side effects list for any medications I'm prescribed so I will recognize them because -- to the extent possible -- I want to avoid taking medications that cause me problems. (For example, eating smart and getting regular exercise helps me to avoid the need for cholesterol medication that makes my hands shake.)
I write down a list of questions when I go to see my doctor and I make sure we talk about every one. More to the point, I learn everything I can about managing diabetes so I can knowledgeably discuss topics with my doctor before we decide together what is best for me and my body.
My most recent health care triumph was when I realized that my thyroid replacement hormone was not the right dose. I was having symptoms of hypothyroidism (inordinate fatigue, sensitivity to cold, depression, fuzzy thinking), but I thought "age" or "overwork" or the air conditioning at work were causing the symptoms. It wasn't until I compared my hormone level from before my surgery to my hormone level 18 months afterward, that I identified the problem and contacted my doctor, who changed my thyroid medication dosage immediately. Two weeks later, I'm almost back to my usual robust self (after a year of needless suffering!).
Obviously, none of this would work if I wasn't fully engaged with managing my health needs. But because I know my stuff and I make it a practice to do what's best for me and my body, my primary physician respects my input. I want to live the best quality life possible and he knows it. So he listens to me. And I listen to him. We're partners in this adventure. And when I stay healthy, everybody wins.
I first realized this soon after I was diagnosed diabetic in 2007. I called my Diabetic Educator's office with a question I considered life-threatening (though I admit that, at that point, I considered all my questions life-threatening), only to find that the nurse educator I was used to wasn't in. Convinced I couldn't wait for an answer, I reluctantly queried the educator who answered the phone. But it was one of those questions that doesn't have an easy answer. "Well, then," I said in a panic, "How am I supposed to know what to do?"
"You'll figure it out," she said brightly. And I lost my grip completely.
"You people tell me I have a condition that can kill me" I bellowed over the phone, "and then you tell me I have to figure out how to stay alive. What if I die before I figure it out?"
Needless to say, this was not a good moment for either of us. That I eventually dedicated my book to this woman, however, gives testimony to the fact that she was 100% correct. I did, over time, figure out a lot of things about how to manage my diabetic condition. But I had to do the figuring. I had to learn to pay attention to my body. I had to learn how to make a plan, follow it, and modify as necessary. Right at first, that's more than a little scary.
Through the years, I figured out how my medication interacted with the food I was eating. I figured out how much metformin I could take before I careened into full-tilt and continual diarrhea (which I lived with for months before I thought to mention it to the doctor). I figured out which kinds of exercise work best to maintain my weight and my glucose level. I figured out how to read and compare my lab work numbers so I know when there's a problem that hasn't been noticed by the professionals yet. And on and on it goes.
A great example of how intense the situation can get occurred when I was first put on insulin. My endocrinologist is brilliant, but he had no idea how my particular body, my activity level, my food intake, etc., would interface with the insulin, so he prescribed a certain amount of two different insulins (one slow-acting and one fast-acting) and left me on a little metformin just for good measure.
A week later, I had gained eleven pounds because I was eating all day long to prevent my passing out from a low glucose level. A phone call to the endocrinologist's office told me that this was one of those "figuring out" type situations. So I listened to what they had to say, got them to drop the metformin altogether, read up on insulin, seriously upped the number of times I checked my glucose, and kept a detailed insulin/carb grams/glucose/exercise log until I could help my body stabilize. By that stage of my development, this kind of process didn't scare me anymore. I mean, I was taking baby steps and monitoring the results. And it's my body...right?
This doesn't mean I make it all up as I go along. I eat carefully, exercise often, and get plenty of sleep. I test my glucose 5 to 8 times a day. I have regular blood work done and read my lab results carefully, going through them with my doctor to ask any questions I might have about what they mean. I check my weight daily to catch it quickly if it starts to rise. I read the side effects list for any medications I'm prescribed so I will recognize them because -- to the extent possible -- I want to avoid taking medications that cause me problems. (For example, eating smart and getting regular exercise helps me to avoid the need for cholesterol medication that makes my hands shake.)
I write down a list of questions when I go to see my doctor and I make sure we talk about every one. More to the point, I learn everything I can about managing diabetes so I can knowledgeably discuss topics with my doctor before we decide together what is best for me and my body.
My most recent health care triumph was when I realized that my thyroid replacement hormone was not the right dose. I was having symptoms of hypothyroidism (inordinate fatigue, sensitivity to cold, depression, fuzzy thinking), but I thought "age" or "overwork" or the air conditioning at work were causing the symptoms. It wasn't until I compared my hormone level from before my surgery to my hormone level 18 months afterward, that I identified the problem and contacted my doctor, who changed my thyroid medication dosage immediately. Two weeks later, I'm almost back to my usual robust self (after a year of needless suffering!).
Obviously, none of this would work if I wasn't fully engaged with managing my health needs. But because I know my stuff and I make it a practice to do what's best for me and my body, my primary physician respects my input. I want to live the best quality life possible and he knows it. So he listens to me. And I listen to him. We're partners in this adventure. And when I stay healthy, everybody wins.
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