The Dark Side of T2D

As I type, I’m trying very, very hard to keep my temper under control.

Unfortunately, it’s not for any good reason.

I’ve been holding (relatively) steady with Type 2 Diabetes for eight years now. I’ve slipped a bit; I slid into depression during COVID lock down, and again after last year’s election results. I’ve gone from a pre-diabetic 6.4 A1C to an 8.2 A1C as of two weeks ago, so I’ve got to get my act in gear.

It’s hard. It’s damn hard.

Not for any the reasons you’d expect, though.

I find myself losing my temper quite quickly nowadays, and for the most stupid of reasons. For instance, tonight’s breakdown was because I was splurging a bit, and I wanted to have a little bit of whipped cream on my half an apple dumpling.

Hubby forgot the whipped cream.

So I ate my apple dumpling sans whipped cream. It was still floating in hot milk (my Penna Dutch roots are showing), though not enough, and I was sulking so badly by the time I finished it, that I wanted to fling the bowl. I have since refrained from screaming at my poor husband, and I’ve had a crying jag instead.

Could I have gotten up and gotten it myself? Didn’t even occur to me.

Could I have said something? Nope.

Could I have stared at my whipped cream-less bowl with such ferocity that hubster would eventually intuit my intent (hah, never!), and gotten me my extra sugar on top of some little-more-than-moderate sugar I was already consuming? Didn’t think of that either.

I just ate it with increasing irritation, because such is the power of the diabetic hangry.

Why not say something? Because if I had, all that fury would have spilled out, and I would say things that I shouldn’t. Nasty things, horrible things, and things I don’t really believe but sounded good in the moment. Anything to hurt the person who wouldn’t give me two measly squirts of whipped cream on my freaking apple dumpling because he just forgot.

It’s no joke. It is an all-consuming rage, and it rises fast and goes away slowly, fading soon after the craving or need (lots of debate as to which has ahold of you) is satisfied.

Orange juice is a good sovereign remedy, and we have little mandarin oranges on standby. Which we hardly ever think of, more’s the pity. And some tonic water for a sugar boost but not enough to overload my system, in case of a fast drop in blood sugar. Which I have, often, despite tweaking my diet with various nutty proteins to snack on throughout the day. And a hummus and no-salt corn chip snack right before bedtime, to prevent them in the middle of the night.

Even now, trying to type steadily after fiercely concentrating on some mostly-mindless online matching game, while said hubby brushed my hair to get me to calm down, even now, I want to scream and try to strangle him.

Such is the power of the sugar-deprived hangry.

Diabetes can be a bitch of a disease. You crave sugar – or salt – or fat, and the craving can switch from moment to moment. Those are the building blocks of a body, so you need some of all three. Too much, and your body goes haywire. Each can become an addiction all on its own, but each will kill you. Too much sugar, and it’s diabetic coma. Too much fat, that’s a heart attack. Too much salt, and it’s congestive heart failure.

And through it all, kidney disease lurks, like a pissed-off runner-up in a Four Horsemen contest.

The conundrum goes deeper.

Of course, one of the best ways to keep all this under control is exercise. Sounds easy, right? Just walk a little bit more, keep in tone. Except every doctor wants to put a new diabetic on Metformin, and you will get dizzy if you go for a walk after you eat, which is the recommended exercise time. Walking while digesting is the prime losing weight zone for a diabetic.

And if you have either of the two heart diseases, those doctors want to put you on Lisinopril and Metoprolol as well. Which make you even dizzier, and give you a light sensitivity to boot. Try walking in sunlight after a meal, go on…

And if you’re over-prescribed on those two heart meds, that will interfere with your diabetes, and completely mask your blood sugars. Many a time the only reason I survived a sudden blood sugar drop into very dangerous zones, was because I was using a continuous blood sugar monitor. Which I had to give up during lock down, because hubster lost his job, and we had to guard our nest egg. They aren’t covered by insurance, and don’t even get me started on that.

Then add in the delightful fact that, if you’re overdosed on Metformin, you will have the galloping trots. I would spend up to three freaking hours on the porcelain throne, legs numb, but Heaven help you if you move. Go on, twitch, and you’ll evacuate everything you ate. Twice. Don’t bother me with fiddling problems like impossibility when you can’t move and your ass hasn’t shown up for work.

Not bad enough? Then also add in that just the process of losing weight makes you feel like a pile of crap. Lethargic, no brain focus, exhausted to walk around. Oh, you moved, shuffle back to the bathroom before – oh, too late, throw out your underwear and try again.

Eating sugar makes you feel good. You’re alert, you can think, you can move! Small wonder we’re addicted to the other white powder.

But those blasted chirpy doctors will tell you to exercise! You’ll feel so much better! You do not want to know how close it came the once to committing violence, luckily it was a tele-health conference. I think she saw my face, because wow did she sign off fast. And besides, we were discussing a blood test for tick-borne diseases, what does that have to do with exercise?

The diabetic struggle is real, and multi-pronged, and complicated enough to make it an epidemic in this country. One in three people are pre-diabetic in America, and I’m here to tell you, if you catch it early enough and make the lifestyle changes, you can keep your numbers steady.

I didn’t know I had it for at least ten years before diagnosis, so I fight to keep the balance as best I can. My mom took one look at me, went to the nutrition classes with me, and made some fast changes herself. She’s holding steady in the non-diabetic range, when she had been in the pre-diabetic ranges for years.

I don’t want to die of this. One of my besties did, and her sister and I watched C die by inches. Of congestive heart failure, her internal organs crushed by the pressure of the liquid her body couldn’t get rid of fast enough. She didn’t eat properly, didn’t exercise, except to hop in the wheelchair and off to the bathroom for over an hour. I couldn’t save her sister, but I could save L, by helping her change her diet and parking in her living room till she recovered from the stent they put in her brain to stop the aneurysm that was bubbling up. She’s holding steady, too – just saw her this past Sunday to help celebrate her birthday.

But, now that I’ve laid all that out, I’m also here to tell you: It. Doesn’t. Excuse. The. Hangry.

You MUST keep your temper. Yes, your brain is screaming, yes, you’re in a frothing rage. It’s freaking whipped cream. I was getting sugar already, I truly didn’t need even more. But tell that to a body that’s shrieking in craving-hangry, that wants to take over the nerves and synapses and wail till it gets its fix now now nowie now NOW.

Looking back, it’s not worth shredding someone’s psyche over whipped cream. No matter how freaking much I wanted to. I can’t treat people I claim to love in that way.

Of course hubby tried to fix it. Of course he asked what was wrong, while I was still eating. I could have gotten my freaking whipped cream, if I could’ve trusted my temper to speak.

But I still need to be in control of my disease, no matter how much I want to give in to it. Do I want to keep my friends? My family? Then I need to treat them right, and pitching a fit over less than two teaspoons of something I was already consuming is ridiculous.

But tell that to my hangry self. Who wants my whipped cream NOW.

Wah!