Back from "the walking dead"

On July 15, 2015, in “a day that will live in infamy,” especially family members upset, close friends and few co-workers wondering if I have a death wish, I learned what happens when I put such things as work, personal problems, the college newspaper, and classes among other things before controlling my diabetes, dieting and exercise first.

As a result of not taking my medications on a daily basis since January this year, possibly longer than that, not checking my blood sugars, thinking I was immortal and can still eat whatever I liked, enjoying that rapid five to ten pound a week weight loss without actually doing anything to properly lose the weight, I spent three days in the hospital.

Lying in bed that first night with an IV attached to my right hand, I wondered if it’s “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” from that Kelly Clarkson song, or, if it’s to quote Heath Ledger’s Joker from The Dark Knight (2008) “whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you …stranger” as the reason why the man upstairs ignored my “knock, knock, knocking on Heaven’s door.” My late grandparents, Joe and Rose Stumpo, who have been likely watching my every move from above must have decided it was time for me to get a rude awakening.

“God loves you,” a night nurse told me early Friday morning when she came to do my blood work at 2 a.m. remarking how much better I looked since being admitted Wednesday night. I no longer resembled a cross between the zombies on AMC’s "The Walking Dead" (2010) and the Jewish prisoners who were liberated from the Nazi concentration camps when Hitler’s regime fell near the end of World War II.

She told me how I was a celebrity among the nursing staff on the floor I was on as there was talk about how bad I was barely able to walk, think straight, and eyes that looked like they were deep inside the sockets. I guess I am the ONLY type 2 diabetic in the country who doesn’t put one’s health first, or maybe local emergency rooms just don’t get many patients with blood sugar numbers over 1200 plus and live to talk about it.

Seeing the women nurses come to draw blood, check my sugars and replace the IV every few hours made me think how political correctness exists today in the hospitals. I don’t care if you say I’m being sexist but yes, there was a time when women nurses wore white dresses a little below the knees, nylons and white penny loafers. Today’s nurses dress in colored slacks, shirts and gym shoes. It is the medical equivalent of what is called in the IT departments today as business casual (blue jeans and button-down shirts for those on the night shift).

Perhaps the reason for the nurses’ dress attire today is perhaps they want patients like me to pay attention when they explain how to inject oneself with insulin and how much dosage to give yourself during the day based on the insulin sliding scale as opposed to letting one’s dirty mind wander.

I still don’t know, however, if the hospital food is as bad as everyone says since I couldn’t eat it due to the sore throat I had as diabetes attacks everything when your sugars are out of control.

Speaking of sore throats, I realize that today’s doctors are only there to cure the symptom and not the disease (that’s Obamacare for you). It would have been nice, however, that when I told the doctor assigned to me, I had a sore throat if he would have actually looked in my mouth as opposed to standing on one side of the room with me on the other side and say it’s a yeast infection without even looking.

I know some, if not all of you “Mr. and Mrs. Glass Is Always Half Empty” reading this, diabetics especially, are saying to yourselves now that I am officially on insulin shots four to six times a day that I am on it for life.

Taking insulin is not the end of the world. I knew long before that it was only a matter of time before I’d have to take it anyway. I just sped up the process. You may find my belief system to be nothing more than a pipe dream but I don’t believe being on insulin now is permanent. At the very least with me doing the treadmill at work every few days and paying more attention to what I eat I may be able to lower the dosage over time. Truth is I feel better now than I did since being diagnosed with diabetes nine years ago.

I haven’t drunk a Coke since a couple days before going to the ER due to rapid dehydration. The last time I drank a Diet Coke was July 25 and I didn’t even finish it. The closest I drink now that has sugar is lime Gatorade, coffee (which brings down your blood sugars), an occasional glass of milk and water. I am now to that point I won’t even drink sweet, iced tea.

I know now when my blood sugars are over 200, I ask myself what made it that high. Oh yeah, those mashed potatoes and corn I had at Boston Chicken when I should have gotten green beans and mixed vegetables. On the opposite end, when the sugars get down to 80 and my patience starts wearing thin it means I better eat something before that Italian “Sonny Corleone” temper of mine kicks in.

I no longer eat at Subway, McDonald's, CiCi's, Pizza Hut and Papa John's. I don’t have the money anyway to eat out. I hate doing it but I’m slowly getting into grocery shopping now and bringing my food to work. When it comes to garbage food if I am going to ruin my health I am going to make it worth my while like if I drive to Addison for an Italian beef sandwich at Al’s Italian Beef to get that rare taste of Chicago that, up until recently, I can only get when I am in the “windy city.”

Yes, I admit I still have cravings for the junk food. Name me one person who doesn’t! The fact is now when co-workers remark how good I look because of the 120-pound weight loss (which wasn’t healthy weight loss) and ask me if I feel good, I won’t have to lie when I say “yes.”

©8/5/15