Battle Royal

Yesterday was terrible.

I had plans to go to the store and run a few other errands; however those plans hit the skids. Apparently, my anxiety has made a new best friend out of my diabetes and yesterday was their first tag team match vs. my normal day activities.

If you have never read any of my posts (or have no idea who I am) then I should tell you that I have severe general anxiety disorder, along with bipolar disorder and OCD.

Yep, you are reading the blog of a crazy person.

So, my anxiety does it’s usual number and it was the typical battle of myself vs. the front door. Usually, I can calm myself and beat the door, but that day Anxiety brought it’s A Game. For almost 3 hours I stared at the front door of my house trying to gather the will to get up and go outside. To get shit done. Finally, I had summoned the will to go get groceries and run my errands and…

My sugar tanked.

So now the will was there, but my body was not able to get up and move. My sugar was low and I had to stop and eat a snack to get it back up. About 30 – 45 minutes later I had that under control and felt like I could move forward; however a new player had entered the tournament…

Depression.

4 hours of my day had been stolen and now, I sat there feeling worthless, feeling broken, and feeling angry with myself. I called no joy and crawled into bed. I talked with my wife, and chanted my mantra “Depression Lies” (Thanks Wil Wheaton) and moved forward. I cooked dinner, and my day returned to as normal as it could be at that moment.

That night I came to terms with something. I will always have to fight. This is a war, not a battle. I have to fight not only my mental health issues, but now my physical health issues as well. It’s a war on many fronts, but one that can be won. I just have to fight. It sucks, but I have to do it. I have the tools, I have the support structure, and I have the drive to persevere. Because if I don’t fight; then like in a real combat situation I will die.

It’s brutal, but it’s the truth.

So today I got up, fixed a healthy breakfast, and ran my errands. I lost yesterday, but today I struck back and I won. I will lose again, but I always have to keep fighting,  celebrate my victories and learn from my loses.

That’s how wars are won.

 

 

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Welcome Back!

To catch you up (Sorry, no condiment jokes this time), I am now working 2 jobs! I sell computers and stuff by day and on my off days and nights I evaluate search engines and stuff.  Together, these pay what I used to make working in the IT field, but still no benefits.  So, we are still insurance-less.

(Speaking of which, if you have a minute to check this out please do and please share this link. Any and all help is appreciated!)

I have a job interview on Monday and I am hoping that it goes well.

 

Also, I joined Facebook again.

“Why”, you ask?

Because I have to somewhat foolish notion that things are going to be different this time. People are constantly sharing meaningless and meaningful posts and I am dicking around on Instagram and … well mainly Instagram.

I am being cautious, and only adding people that I actually give two shits about and that number is pretty damn small. If anything, it will be added to my list of time wasting crap things that I do to waste time. However, this time I have set some ground rules!

My Rules for Facebook:

1. I don’t use the mobile app or messenger. If you send me a message on it and expect a quick answer; then you are going to have a bad time. That’s what WhatsApp, Allo, or a text message is for.

2. Rejection: It’s going to happen. I don’t want to hear about your butt-hurt if I don’t accept your friend request or invitation to your rescue dog’s Quinceañera. You shove that way down and save it for your therapist.

C. The first time I see some “If you share this 37 times in a row, Jesus will cure you of El Cancer”, then you’re out of here.

4. If I haven’t spoken to you in “X” years, then I probably am not going to start now.

Rule Amendment #1: Rule#5: Fuck off with the Game Requests

 

So far, which has been a whole day, I haven’t seen anything horrible. I also have not seen anything of real value, either. We will see how it goes.

 

 

A Swift Kick in the Balls.

I cannot recall hating a year so fucking much as 2016. 2016 has been nothing more than a year of loss. I have come to an understanding that my being almost 40 means that my heros are going to be dead soon; however I didn’t expect so many at one time. Today, however, is the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Today we lost our princess: Carrie Fisher.

I am in tears, literal tears, as I type this out. We have lost 50 celebrities from music icons to statesmen this year. That’s almost one per week this year and 2016 still has a few days left. I cannot believe that one of my biggest heros is gone.

It sucks.

Not only was she Princess Leia, and later General Leia, she was a huge advocate for mental health issues. When I was first diagnosed as bipolar, I watched a documentary called “The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive” by Stephen Fry. I was shocked to see her in it. I felt a calm come over me when I found out that “Princess Leia” was bipolar as well. Carrie Fisher became more of my hero that day because I knew that if she could live with being bipolar, then I could too.

I will miss her terribly, despite I am just a fan that she never met. She meant the world to me.

So long, Princess.

 

 

I Have Been Busy. 

Yeah,  I have been pretty quiet lately.

I have had a lot of things on my plate during the past week or so and a lot has happened.

Grab a snack, kids. This is a long story.

Thursday of last week my wife started having severe abdominal pain. We went to our local ER (Keep count this is ER #1) they did a battery of tests and determined she had an intestinal infection and gave her a bunch of broad spectrum antibiotics and some painkillers and sent her home.

Shit got worse.

A couple of years ago my wife had bariatric surgery. So,  the next night we called them for advice on what to do and they sent us to another ER (ER #2) where their office has admitting privileges. Her surgeon wanted to make sure that this wasn’t a blockage or something worse. This is the point of the story where shit goes sideways.

My mother-in-law and I are in the waiting room. The ER didn’t have a room available so,  my wife was placed on a small bed in the hallway. I get a text from her stating:

“I want to go home”.

Now,  my wife was in a tremendous amount of pain. She now suddenly wants to leave and go home. Something isn’t right here. I replied back asking what was going on and she then tells me that the doctor was “making her feel stupid”  and “not acting like she mattered”.  I explained this to the desk nurse and insisted to be let back to see my wife and talk to the doctor.

My wife explained that the doctor told her that the other ER (ER#1) would have checked for any blockage and that she didn’t understand why she was sent here. I requested to speak with the doctor and while waiting with my wife heard the doctor tell the nurse that mentioned that I wanted to speak with her that she had “already explained everything to the patient”.

Now I understood why my wife was upset.

We get into a room and now my mother-in-law has joined us. After a CT scan and about another couple of hours,  the good doctor finally appears. In a very apathetic tone she explains that everything is normal and that we will need to follow-up with our bariatric surgeon that morning.

My mother-in-law let her have it and I followed up with a brief suggestion about empathy and how she should invest in some. I then stated that we would not get anywhere talking here and that I would handle this through other channels.

We followed up with the bariatric surgeon and he examined my wife for gall stones. Which is what he,  his partner,  and his PA (physicians assistant) all saw that my wife’s pain was presenting as. They were also pissed off at ER#2.

Now,  because our insurance sucks,  we had to contact our Primary Doctor. We sent him all of the test results from ER#1, ER#2 and the Surgeon’s exam. He told us to call new surgeon (surgeon #2) and speak with him. He told us to go to another ER and that both he and our PCP would call ahead and make sure that my wife was admitted because she needed surgery.

So,  we haul ass to ER#3 and my wife is admitted to the hospital.

However…

The next day surgeon #2 has her discharged because he cannot book an OR at that hospital and has me take her to another hospital’s ER (ER#4) and their staff knows about her needing surgery and that she’s to be admitted,  but doesn’t know how to exactly do it. So,  we’re in the waiting room for the ER witnessing a broad spectrum of human existence from convicts being brought in for treatment to privileged white people not wanting to sit next to people of color or listen to instructions from the black desk nurse that is running the show. Finally,  she is taken back into the ER and sat on a portable bed, in a hallway until it’s time for her surgery; however this ER was busy and had actual trauma cases coming in. It really was like the shit you see on TV.

The wife had her surgery and is at home recovering.

The doctor from ER#2 has had a grievance filed with the hospital and with the state. If her attitude would have been less apathetic,  she would have noticed that my wife was presenting with the elementary signs of a gall bladder issue and tested further. Instead her final report showed that no radiating pain was noticed and the CT scan showed no gall stones. So far,  I have spoken with one administrator from the hospital of ER#2 and they are investigating that doctor. I don’t know what the state will be doing,  if anything.

So,  yeah,  been a bit busy and I am tired. I have had friends come and help out. I truly am thankful for each and every one of them. My family has stepped up and helped out,  as well. Now,  I just have to keep fighting the SSA and try to take care of myself here and there.

But,  I love a good fight.

A Time of Loss.

It’s time for me to come clean about something.

I am a BFG.

That means Big Fat Guy. In February of this year I had to have a physical exam (for my disability claim) and I weighed in at 505 pounds (229.064 kg). I would love to tell you that was only the first time that I have weighed that much; however it isn’t. About a year or so ago, I weighed about the same and did what I am doing now. Counting my calories, and trying to move around more. This time is different though.

That last time I wasn’t diabetic.

This time it’s serious. I have to lose this weight and drop my A1C numbers or I start down the path that my mother went down. Diabetes tore her health and life apart and I will be damned if I go out like that. So, if I have to give up the carbs and say goodbye to the candy aisle; then bring on the kale and splenda because I am not going through that shit.

So, since the news of my giant ass and then the news of my diabetes, I have been cutting out starches & “bad” carbs. Working out periodically, and just trying to keep busy. I try to keep between a 1200 and 2000 calorie intake and stick to greens and lean protein. From time to time I will have some ice cream or a burger, but it’s a rare occasion and when I do, it’s definitely a workout day the next day.

I have been using Google Fit and Myfitnesspal to track my progress. So far, I have been doing pretty good.

MFP_Profile

Yep, from that weigh in back in February  as of  yesterday morning I have dropped 70 pounds (31.7515 kg).  Which is the equivalent to:

  • A full helium tank
  • An electric fireplace
  • 31752 thumbtacks
  • A big wingback comfy chair
  • 187 Bananas
  • The average sheet of drywall
  • An Irish Setter
  • 3/5ths of a North Pacific Giant Octopus
  • 2.5 Gold Bars
  • 7 Cats
  • 11 Bricks
  • 75 Soccer Balls
  • .02% Of a T-Rex
  • 1500 AA Batteries

Well, you get the idea.

So, despite the absolute shit sandwich that is my life right now, this is a big win for me. I went out yesterday (with the help of medication) and played some yard games, set off some fireworks, and hung out with some friends. I feel less depressed, but I am still not in the clear.

Everything just really comes down to what happens on Tuesday, but for now I am celebrating our nation’s independence and the loosening of my pants around my now less of a fat ass.

Have a great 4th of July weekend America (Everyone else enjoy your weekend as well).

A Letter in the Mail.

In the words of the great Chuck D: “I got a letter from the government the other day. I opened and read it…” . Unfortunately, it didn’t say they were suckers. After almost a year of sending in medical information, speaking with my attorney and going to see State Appointed doctors and psychiatrists, the letter I received from the government said their decision.

I was denied.

“Based on the review of your health problems you do not qualify…This is because you are not disabled under our rules.”

So, according to their rules:

The evaluation of disability on the basis of mental disorders requires documentation of a medically determinable impairment(s), consideration of the degree of limitation such impairment(s) may impose on your ability to work, and consideration of whether these limitations have lasted or are expected to last for a continuous period of at least 12 months… (12.05); anxiety-related disorders

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and anxiety back in 2007, so I definitely meet the 12 months mark and I have been in both inpatient and outpatient facilities throughout those 9 years, plus been through multiple shrinks and therapists.

Here’s the funny part. In the year that they have been examining my case. The evidence that they used to determine this decision was based on:

  1. My primary care physician
  2. My therapist’s notes
  3. Their psychiatrist
  4. Their doctor.

Despite the fact that I submitted all of my hospitalizations, my past psychiatrists, my past therapists, and that they have had a year to call or fax these people, they only use their shit and two sources that I submitted to make their decision?

 

To me this does not satisfy Paragraph B of these rules:

B. Need for medical evidence: We must establish the existence of a medically determinable impairment(s) of the required duration by medical evidence consisting of symptoms, signs, and laboratory findings (including psychological test findings).

They did not weigh all of the evidence submitted that shows the existence of my impairments and symptoms by their own admission. So the next section is not even completely measured correctly.

C. Assessment of severity: We measure severity according to the functional limitations imposed by your medically determinable mental impairment(s). We assess functional limitations using the four criteria in paragraph B

You didn’t use all of the evidence submitted in paragraph B; however lets’ look at this anyway.

1. Activities of daily living include adaptive activities such as cleaning, shopping, cooking, taking public transportation, paying bills, maintaining a residence, caring appropriately for your grooming and hygiene, using telephones and directories, and using a post office.

OK, some of these I can do. I clean like a beast because I am manic/hypomanic and I have OCD and I obsess about things “looking right”.  Shopping? Only if its during off peak hours, I have popped a clonazepam and chased it with a red bull.  the wife pays the bills but I could if needed, I can shower and wipe my own ass; however I admittedly do not shower every day and my hygiene is a bit laxed. Yeah, I can use a phone and look-up a number. Going to a post-office would actually be a challenge because it involves people as well as public transportation.

2. Social functioning refers to your capacity to interact independently, appropriately, effectively, and on a sustained basis with other individuals. Social functioning includes the ability to get along with others, such as family members, friends, neighbors, grocery clerks, landlords, or bus drivers. You may demonstrate impaired social functioning by, for example, a history of altercations, evictions, firings, fear of strangers, avoidance of interpersonal relationships, or social isolation.

Yeah, see here is the one that I would fail at. I don’t get along with people. Right now I am supposed to be going over to my friends house, which I am late for because all of my friends went to a “music in the park” thing and I said a big nope to that because of the crowd. I can stand family members to an extent; however my wife has a large family and when we have large family gatherings I get anxious. I have been fired a few times, and laid off a few times. So, this is a big thing. I fail at social functioning.

3. Concentration, persistence or pace refers to the ability to sustain focused attention and concentration sufficiently long to permit the timely and appropriate completion of tasks commonly found in work settings. Limitations in concentration, persistence, or pace are best observed in work settings, but may also be reflected by limitations in other settings.

This is another place where I noticed that my anxiety and my depression were taking a toll. I was getting to a point where I was not able to concentrate on my work and not able to close as many cases as I used to. I was having to take more frequent breaks to deal with my anxiety or because I just didn’t have the energy to do the job due to my depression. I was also getting more and more frustrated with my co-workers and leads and lashing out.

4. Episodes of decompensation are exacerbations or temporary increases in symptoms or signs accompanied by a loss of adaptive functioning, as manifested by difficulties in performing activities of daily living, maintaining social relationships, or maintaining concentration, persistence, or pace. Episodes of decompensation may be demonstrated by an exacerbation in symptoms or signs that would ordinarily require increased treatment or a less stressful situation (or a combination of the two). Episodes of decompensation may be inferred from medical records showing significant alteration in medication; or documentation of the need for a more structured psychological support system (e.g., hospitalizations, placement in a halfway house, or a highly structured and directing household); or other relevant information in the record about the existence, severity, and duration of the episode.

The term repeated episodes of decompensation, each of extended duration in these listings means three episodes within 1 year, or an average of once every 4 months, each lasting for at least 2 weeks. If you have experienced more frequent episodes of shorter duration or less frequent episodes of longer duration, we must use judgment to determine if the duration and functional effects of the episodes are of equal severity and may be used to substitute for the listed finding in a determination of equivalence.

Basically, this to me just means have you gone into the hospital a lot? Have your meds changed a lot? Well, they apparently didn’t review mine enough.

So, this list of what is covered and how it is covered goes on and on and by these rules and criteria, I meet the demands; however these geniuses just didn’t weigh the evidence. Now I have to call my attorney on Tuesday and we start the appeal process. It looks like this is probably going to go to a hearing and my nightmare is going to come true.

Now, I have to go get in the shower and go see my friends.

I think that is what I need right now.

 

 

 

 

 

Straight Dope.

I watched a couple of documentaries this week and I want to write about my take on this subject:

Prescription Drug Abuse.

Not only by what most of us picture as “the addict” but also by what these two films bring to light. The abuse by General Practitioners prescribing medications that they have little to no knowledge about for conditions that they have little to no knowledge about. The abuse by pharmaceutical reps by planting falsified information into these Doctors and the abuse  by the pharmaceutical companies themselves by pushing out medications that they know may cause harmful side-effects (that they can also then sell another pill for) and manipulating legislation to allow it all to happen.

Here’s what I mean.

The U.S. makes up 5% of the global population and yet we consume 75% of the prescription drugs available world wide. Now, my immediate argument was that it’s because we can afford them and they are readily available; however we only rank 37th in the world for  health care systems according to W.H.O .

You learn in these films that drugs are just that, drugs. Opioids are basically the same as heroin, Adderall is chemically the same as meth. I shit you not, you are giving your ADHD kid meth to settle down and focus.

heroin_oxy_diagram

1-fuLSIjHwAt54mrk4BahBXQ

You learn in these films that Ronald Reagan started this whole thing by allowing Pharmaceutical Companies to advertise directly to the customer, despite the presidents of all 3 drug companies writing letters to him urging him to reconsider. This deregulation was furthered by Bill Clinton later on and these actions gave birth to what people call “Big Pharma”.

The films both tell you that pharmaceutical companies used to be driven by science (sometimes mad science) but is now driven by profits.

I filed that under “No Shit” real quick.

I know drug manufacturers aren’t looking to cure shit. There isn’t any money in curing things! The money is in the treatment and management of conditions, not the cure.

Everyone knows this.

What everyone doesn’t know is that what I consider to be the worst drug problem in America (and it’s all based on ignorance and misinformation) happens daily in doctor’s offices everywhere and it is covered in these films in one way or another.

Let me explain.

The first film that I watched was Off Label which starts with talking about drug trials. Deeper into the movie it talks about exactly what it’s title means:

off-la·bel
adjective
  1. relating to the prescription of a drug for a condition other than that for which it has been officially approved.

It goes into how pharmacy reps will ask doctors about any “interesting cases” they have had in which their product has been used and if the doctor says “Yes” then the sales rep will offer to send the doctor a ton of medical research for their pill and it’s billions of new uses that they can now prescribe it for instead of the other drugs that actually have proven to treat whatever issue for years.

Now, in some cases, this works out; however in some it does not. The film also touches on that a lot of people that are on psychotropic medications and  are getting them from their primary care physicians or general practitioners. To me this is a horrible way to get psych meds and the worst drug problem we have in America, because of my experience with the first time I ever sought treatment for my mental health issues. When I first came to terms that “something was wrong with me” I saw my PCP, actually I saw my PCP’s Nurse Practitioner, because let’s face it, none of us ever really see our “actual” doctor. We see their Physicians Assistant, Nurse Practitioner or whatever other pseudo-doctor that helps them out. When I told her that I was having bouts of depression and then a few minutes/hours later would be dealing with mania and then I would return back to depression again (mind you, I didn’t use those exact terms, but I know now what I was dealing with) I was given a prescription for Prozac and Xanax. I wasn’t diagnosed as bipolar at the time (There were no diagnostics at all, that happened about a year or two later when I tried to have myself committed), so she didn’t know that giving an SSRI to me would have this effect:

In people with bipolar disorder, SSRIs and other antidepressants carry a risk of inducing mania, making it essential to monitor for signs of excess energy, decreased need for sleep, or abnormal and excessive mood elevation.

So, needless to say, I felt AWESOME on Prozac! It was fucking amazing! I understood why EVERYONE was on this shit!

Then I got diagnosed as bipolar and that was the first thing to go.

So, I completely agree with this film’s take on the reason why the market is flooded with psych meds is because PCPs are scripting them out and not knowing what they will do to their patients. There is one woman in the film that is bipolar and is on 20+ medications. She is so zombified that it is just sad. The thing that made me absolutely angry is that the film mentions that her psychiatrist will not see her anymore; however still issues her medication.

That’s some bullshit.

The second film that I watched was called “Prescription Thugs” it was a follow up to another film that I watched during my “Top 100 Documentaries” called “Bigger, Faster. Stronger” regarding steroids (#86).  I won’t lie, this film come across that all pills are bad and bad for you; however the filmmaker lost his brother while making the film to pharmaceutical abuse and was abusing pharmaceuticals and alcohol while making the film. So, I really had to look into the subtext here, and towards the end he kind of ties things up.

One thing he also touches on is the over prescribing of psych meds. Now, everyone he talked to said “they went to their doctor”. So, this makes me think that again you have PCPs ,or their assistants, prescribing psychotropics that they don’t understand and are not actually diagnosing anything. The film also touches on Statin drugs and how they are ” a big fat lie”.  Basically, statin drugs are cholesterol pills.

“Statins” is a class of drugs that lowers the level of cholesterol in the blood by reducing the production of cholesterol by the liver. (The other source of cholesterol in the blood is dietary cholesterol.) Statins block the enzyme in the liver that is responsible for making cholesterol. This enzyme is called hydroxy-methylglutaryl-coenzyme A reductase (HMG-CoA reductase). Scientifically, statins are referred to as HMG-CoA reductase inhibitors.

http://www.medicinenet.com/statins/article.htm

Then I read this and it kinda scares me:

FDA is advising consumers and healthcare professionals that:

  • Routine monitoring of liver enzymes in the blood, once considered standard procedure for statin users, is no longer needed. Such monitoring has not been found to be effective in predicting or preventing the rare occurrences of serious liver injury associated with statin use.
  • Cognitive (brain-related) impairment, such as memory loss, forgetfulness and confusion, has been reported by some statin users.
  • People being treated with statins may have an increased risk of raised blood sugar levels and the development of Type 2 diabetes.
  • Some medications interact with lovastatin (brand names include Mevacor) and can increase the risk of muscle damage.

Yeah, I have been getting a little “foggy” lately and also, I was just diagnosed as diabetic. Now, I am willing to bet that the diabetes is because I am a fat guy that smokes and used to eat like crap, but it could have been this pill!

But, I am digressing.

Now, this film hit on something that the book I am reading actually talks about and that is we are a culture that is afraid of our feelings. We all want that happy “everything is great” feeling all the time and we do not feel out feelings. We have been taught to avoid emotion and I believe that is another reason why PCPs and their assistants are prescribing psych meds that they know little about without actually diagnosing their patients. The film has a kind of “all pills are bad” vibe to it, but really I think the filmmaker is saying that the current culture in America is what is driving this addiction to medication. Which is partially true, but I can see where someone would take that as an excuse to actually quit taking their psych meds.

Luckily, there is an ex-pharmaceutical rep that they interview that and actually mentions that doing stopping psychotropic medications cold turkey is a horrible idea and she actually lost a family member because they did exactly that.

(Not all pills are bad, stay on your meds kids)

I also think we, as a culture here in the U.S.,  overuse mental health terms (Example: OMG, that makes my OCD so flair up. Ugh, my taco fell and now I am so depressed about it) and because of that these illnesses have been marginalized. So, instead of referring their patient to a psychiatrist that better understands depression or any other emotional/behavioral health issue; general practitioners and their staff just prescribe what that nice pharmaceutical sales rep’s scientific study suggested would help with this condition. Mind you, I believe that medication works for mental health issues, when the diagnosis is correct and you are prescribed the correct medication(s). For that to work, you have to go to the correct type of doctor.

Here’s how I look at it.

If you have a cold, you don’t go to a psychiatrist for treatment. So, why the fuck would you go to your primary care physician for a mental health issue? That’s like taking your laptop to your auto mechanic because it won’t boot up. Also, people need to understand that if you are experiencing a behavioural/mental health issue that it’s more than just popping pills. You have to see a therapist. You have to feel your feelings and talk shit out. It’s a two step process for treatment.

So, is there prescription drug abuse in this country? Of course there is. Doctors aren’t referring patients to the specialist that they should, pharmaceutical reps are pushing drugs for uses that they possibly shouldn’t be used for and pharmaceutical companies are pushing out this research to those sales reps to give to the doctors so that they feel “educated” about the product.

 

My advice is to only get diagnosed and medicated for mental health issues from a psychiatrist or other mental healthcare provider. Other than that…

Ask your doctor*.

 

(Or trained and licensed medical professional)

 

 

Eye of the Tiger

I have done this twice to myself so far this week.

The pain during, and after is something that I just could do without; however I feel more energized and also stronger after.

But, right now, I hurt.

All because I started exercising this week.

I work out for 20 minutes every other morning, 3 days a week. On my off days I plan a project around the house to do to keep me active. I have a mini-stationary bike that I do 10 minutes on and then I have a 10 minute kettlebell workout that I do (and am constantly changing).

Needless to say, my fat ass hurts but feels better at the same time.

Also, to add to my self-inflicted torture, I have started tracking my calories and exercise using My Fitness Pal and Google Fit. I have a Moto 360 that I am using as a pedometer/heart monitor/timer (Sidenote: I bought into the whole smartwatch thing just to play around with it, and I have to say it does come in really handy). So, I am limiting my calories as well as not eating anything that will drive up my sugar levels. I won’t lie, I miss “food” but I would really like to live past 60 and not lose any limbs.

So, I am fighting the fight against this shit and I am winning.

Sugar, Sugar…

Two weeks ago my wife and I went to have our yearly physicals. We fasted that morning, and then went and had our arms poked with needles (which I “love” and drove my anxiety up)  and our blood sucked out to have it shipped off to a lab and analyzed.

This week we had to go back to the doctor for him to go over the results. After filling out paperwork, they took my wife back first. Then they took me back. We updated all of my medicines that I am currently taking (which took a while) and then they put us in a room together. Her’s was fine, healthy as a horse.

Then we went over mine.

I have improved across the board in my thyroid, cholesterol and blood pressure and all of the other stats; however I now have a new problem. I am now a diabetic.

Yep, genetics and being a fat guy has finally caught up to me at my old age of 39.

However…

My A1C is only .4 points over the line for diabetes. So, if I can drop my weight down then I would just be hyperglycemic and that would go away with further weight loss. So, I am not looking at a death sentence or anything, but I am having to make drastic changes in my diet and lifestyle. I mean, a complete fucking overhaul.

I basically cannot eat bread, any bread or any form of starch at all. So, carbs are out. Goodbye English Muffins, goodbye sandwiches, goodbye potatoes, goodbye corn, goodbye 3/4ths of the food I eat. Lean protein is the new food source of choice, along with green vegetables. Greek yogurt, tuna, kale, celery and carrots have become my new food friends along with my new bestie hummus. I can eat a shit-ton of hummus, just not with pita chips. Again, hello celery and carrots.

The other frustration is that the insurance company is requiring further paperwork and shit from the doctor to pay for the medication that I need. It would be a weekly injection that would help my glucose and also promote weight loss. I would still have to eat right and exercise, but it significantly helps with losing weight.  I just have to get the damn insurance company to cough up the dough and provide it.

Welcome to American Health Care.

I won’t say that I haven’t been depressed about this because I have been in the shits since I was told the news. I have been fighting sinking lower and lower. Today I saw my therapist and I talked it out. Right now I am good and I feel motivated. Motivated because I am angry. Angry at myself for making bad choices, angry at fast food, angry at Little Debbie, I am just angry and I am using that anger as energy to power myself to get shit done. I am channeling that anger into motivation. I will get this weight off, keep it off and get rid of this sickness.

I am not going to end up like my mother with her diabetes. Fuck that.

So, I am going to fight this shit and win.

End of story.