Type 2 Diabetes and Congestive Heart Failure are two common conditions that people are diagnosed with every day. Living with one of these conditions at any age is hard enough; imagine living with both at the age of 28. That's what this blog is all about. It's about my life with Type 2 Diabetes and CHF, and about showing that you can live a fulfilling life with each.
The prompt for today asked us to imagine that our health focus or blog was getting its own theme song. We were asked to think about the lyrics and about the music that would accompany them.
After a bit of thought and an exchange about different songs with my friend, Courtney, I found this video on YouTube that I think fits fairly well. I had heard the song previously and liked the message in it, but had forgotten about it. I’m glad I found it again.
Today’s challenge was to write a letter to ourselves at age 16. As I sat pondering how to respond to the prompt, I remembered the letter I wrote to an 18-year-old-me during National Health Blog Post Month back in November. After reading that post and giving it some thought, I concluded that nothing would change between the letter I wrote then and what I would write now. So, today I’m sharing that letter again. Enjoy!
Dear Mike,
I am the ghost of your wild and crazy future. I’m writing today to tell you about some exciting and horrifying events that will unfold in your future. Let me tell you, you’re in for one hell of a ride. So, lets begin.
I regret to inform you that your 18th year will be a rough one. The day of your birthday, you’ll be at the hospital with a beloved uncle, hoping and praying that he’ll recover and be home soon. A couple months later, just an hour after you’ve called the hospital to relay the news that you’ve aced your senior project presentation, your uncle will die with you having the chance to say good bye.
You’ll go to your senior prom two days later, but it won’t be a joyous occasion. Two weeks after that, you’ll graduate high school.
You’ll head to college in August, 250 miles from home. You’ll be lonely and scared, but you’ll adjust rather well over time. And you’ll meet the love of your life on the first day your on campus. And 9 years later, you’ll still be in love with her.
You’ll experience some tough breaks in college. Like the broken leg you’ll endure just the first semester of your junior year. You’ll question your ability to complete the semester and graduate on time because of this injury. Yet, in your usual stubborn way, you’ll trudge through that storm like every other. You’ll have plenty of help, of course, but your own resilience will amaze you. And everyone else.
You’ll graduate from college on time, and with honors. You’ll struggle to make ends meet for a while, like so many will, but you’ll land a decent job. And you’ll enjoy what you do. For a while anyway. Like everyone else.
Then, just months after finally becoming eligible for health insurance at work, you’ll develop an infection. A yeast infection. And it won’t go away. You’ll finally relent and go to the doctor. The doctor will subject you to a battery of tests, and will diagnose you with type 2 diabetes and congestive heart failure.
You’ll fear for your life and lose much sleep because of haunting thoughts of dying in your sleep because your heart will be so weak. You’ll learn to manage your diabetes quickly, and get into a routine of testing, medicating, and eating properly. And you’ll use your knowledge of the internet to seek out information about your conditions. And to find support.
After discovering social networks and blogs devoted to diabetes, and seeing the value of them, you’ll launch a blog of your own. You’ll tell your story, eventually be published in a national diabetes magazine, and travel the country to meet other people with diabetes.
And through the experiences with your health, advocacy efforts, etc… you’ll find a reason and purpose for living. And finally, you’ll realize how short and precious life really is. You’ll commit yourself to living each day to the fullest.
So, there you have it. A glimpse into your future. Probably not at all what you expected, but it is what it is. And you’ll learn to deal with it. And maybe even be thankful for the experiences you have along the way.
And remember, “Life is not a journey to the grave with intentions of arriving safely in a pretty well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming … WOW! What a ride!”
Today’s challenge was to create our own version of the popular Keep Calm and Carry On posters focused on the health issues with which we live. Again, since I have two main health issues, I’ve made a poster for each.
Today’s challenge was to visit flickr.com/explore and write about the image that appeared and any thoughts and feelings it stirs. And also to relate the image back to the health issues with which I live. The first image I saw when visiting the site was this one. Little Swallow by kypt@nuy
When I look the tiny sparrow perched upon the aged hand, I can’t help but think it must have fallen out of a tree and injured its wing. Perhaps it was learning to fly. Preparing to take on the world that awaited outside of the nest. The aged hand is that of a caring old soul who happened upon the injured creature and took it in to mend its wing.
Perhaps this was the day the bandages were removed and the little sparrow made his first attempt at flying again. Maybe he didn’t succeed on this day. Maybe he needed a little more nurturing and encouragement from the caregiver.
After many days and many attempts, he spread his wings and took flight from the aged hand. And while the moment was bittersweet for the caregiver, it was a joyous occasion. The efforts to help the little sparrow paid off. Seeing the tiny bird return to the sky was worth it all.
In many ways, I feel just like that sparrow.
My diagnosis with type 2 diabetes and congestive heart failure came at a point in my life when I was spreading my wings and trying to fly. My career was taking off, I was starting to save some money for the future, and was life was going fairly well. Then the winds of misfortune came along and sent me crashing to the ground, causing serious injury to my wings.
The aged hands of many caregivers helped in treating my health issues and getting me back on my feet. And the encouragement of so many other caring souls helped me keep trying when I felt that I wanted to give up. If I was strong and patient enough, I’d again be able to fly.
And like that little sparrow, I’m now flying high.
After nearly two months of waiting for the appointment, I finally got to see the cardiologist on Friday to review the results of the cardiac MRI, blood work, and 30 day heart monitor that I had to endure in an effort to determine why there had been a decline in the function of my heart and if I would need a defibrillator.
I woke up late and had to scramble to get ready and head out to the medical center on the other side of town. Normally if I’m in a rush and stressed like that it shows up when the nurses check my blood pressure, etc.., but not this visit. My BP was normal and by the time the doctor came in to see me, I was oddly peaceful.
To my relief, the doctor confirmed that the cardiac MRI indicated that my ejection fraction is at 47%. That is in stark contrast to the 35% that previous tests had indicated. And since defibrillators generally aren’t prescribed for patients with ejection fractions over 36%, that means I will not need one. The doctor stated that a normal ejection fraction is around 55%, and since mine is 47%, he considers the weakness of my heart muscle to be mild. Since I’m already taking the best medications for treating congestive heart failure and improving heart strength, the doctor wants to continue with the regimen that I’m on now and see how things progress.
The results of the blood work done to check my potassium, iron, thyroid, etc… all came back within the normal ranges. While I’m thankful that those results were good, they are also frustrating because we were hoping to find a treatable cause for the decline, like an iron overload or something like that. Alas, there’s no evidence of that, and I’m really not going to spend much time dwelling on it.
There were a few points of interest on tapes from the heart monitor I wore for a month, but the doctor said they seemed to indicate normal elevations in heart rate that anyone can expect from time to time. Nothing to really worry about.
I can’t begin to explain how glad I am to finally have some of the answers that I needed, and how thankful I am that the results from the tests were worth the grief I endured going through them. And as frustrating as the wait has been, it’s been worth it.
As for that odd peaceful feeling I was feeling on Friday? It’s still with me as I write this. I’m more at peace with things now than I have been in a long time. And, along with the improvement in how I’m feeling mentally, I’m also feeling better and stronger physically. And that, my friends, is saying something.
And speaking of friends, I can’t begin to say how much I appreciate the love, support, good thoughts and prayers that I’ve received from everyone in the Diabetes Online Community over the last few months. If there were any doubts in my mind as to whether I’m loved or not, they are long gone. To all of you: Thank You, and Lots of Love, my friends!
In previous blog posts and conversations over the last two years, I’ve made no bones about the fact that I’ve battled with bouts of depression and anxiety since I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and type 2 diabetes.
The daily routines of medications, blood sugar testing, meal planning, and other related bullshit, combined with the constant worry of trying to figure out how to pay for all of those medications and testing supplies, are simply overwhelming at times.
Add to that all of the typical stuff that goes along with every day life, you know… work, bills, chores, relationships, etc… and you’ve got yourself a great big barrel of fun.
Then top that off with dealing with a loved one being diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and going through all of the activities and emotions that go along with that, and being forced to put a near 9 year relationship on hold while your best friend becomes the primary caregiver for that loved one, and that great big barrel of fun transforms into the biggest clusterf*#K you’ve ever seen.
It’s all enough to destroy someone mentally. And the extreme mental hurt quickly manifests into extreme physical hurt. And you eventually reach a point where you just can’t take it anymore, and feel like throwing the towel in.
As difficult as it is for me to admit, I reached that point in the early part of February.
And the hard part is that I know it didn’t have to happen. I had a little bottle of “happy” pills in my possession that my doctor had given me the month before. I just wasn’t able to take them immediately, because I was starting a new blood sugar medication and had to get through the side effects of it before starting the other medicine.
And then when it was time to start the Celexa, I kept putting it off and putting it off, because of the fear that I’d have the same problems with it that I had with similar drugs years before. When you’ve had a bad experience with medications, or anything for that matter, you tend to shy away from them. It’s perfectly normal to have those feelings.
Things finally reached a point in early February where I knew I needed help, and knew that I had to take the plunge into the world of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications again. And so, on the 21st of last month, I broke the seal on the prescription bottle, cut the little pill in half as the doctor had instructed, and jumped.
Tomorrow, March 21st, will mark a month since I started the medication, and I can honestly say that I’m glad I did. I’m not nearly as edgy as I had been, and feel quite mellow most of the time. And mellow is a good thing.
The moral of this story is this: It’s OK to need help; You just have to ask for it!
Thanks for being awesome, Mike! Not only was it very cool you let me borrow the pin, but it was great sitting and talking for a bit before getting back on the road. And Riley loved seeing you again! The pin on my collar did spark some conversation, too - so thanks, my friend!!
When I decided to keep blogging, I never thought I'd end up being able to help my favorite Jedi Master get on the lizard spit wagon but I'm so glad I was able to help. Love ya buddy.
Thanks for the links to two such awesome people, Mike! Loved hearing all the cool diverse stories of how we got into the DOC, and seeing the wonderful personalities up close and personal whenever that chance arises! Great post, my friend.
