Dr. Dread

I hate going to the doctor. Granted, no one really LIKES going to see the doctor, except for some of our patients, but that's just because they know they get treats after we finish poking their eyes. (I'm telling you, bribery with cookies would work for adult human patients. It would improve patient compliance, I'm telling you.) I specifically hate going to my routine endocrinologist, aka diabetes doctor appointments.

I had an appointment this morning, and I was dreading it. I didn't only dread the direct and concentrated dose of my own mortality that comes with these visits, and I didn't only dread the thoughts of everything I could be do better to keep myself healthy. I dreaded the visit because recently I have completely lost control of this disease and I have NO idea what to do about it. I have plans to get my A1c under 6 so we can think about pregnancy. I have plans to change my diet and exercise and get off of my antidepressant medication. I want to lose 20 pounds. And I was working toward those goals and making progress...until I got married, my grandmother got sick and died, and my husband lost his job. And my blood sugars rarely ever dipped below 200 no matter what I did.

(Yeah, all those things happened. I know, I haven't updated this thing in a while)

So I went to the doctor completely unprepared, didn't have blood sugar records, didn't have a plan, didn't have complete diabetes-related thoughts, other than "I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE, WHERE DO I GO TO GIVE IT BACK?" But hey, at least I showered before the appointment.

I just told her how I came to lose complete control of my health over the past month. I told her that I can't control the things that happen in life, but I NEED to be able to keep some kind of control over my health. There will always be something in life. That's just how it goes. But diabetes doesn't wait for me to be in a better position to deal with it. I have to figure out how to deal with it no matter what.

I don't know how to do that.

But after talking to her, I have a starting point. Actually, I gave myself a starting point when I worked for 4 years to be able to get medical insurance, then I found a dr and started going periodically. I did that. And I have to figure out how to do the rest too. She's a valuable tool in the process, and I need to let her help me.

It helps that I kind of like her as a person too. She thinks her receptionist is crazy, just like I do (The receptionist really is nuts. I had my book Go Down Together in my lap, and she saw it and said, "Hmph. Sounds like the United States of America!"
I said, "It's a biography of Bonnie and Clyde..."
She said, "Yeah, well it's not funny, and it sounds like The United States of America with this Obama guy in charge..." She must have seen on my face what was going through my head, because after that she left the room.) Another reason I like my dr is that she is from Mexico and has a unique perspective on American healthcare (that was my diplomatic way of saying that), which she never hesitates to point out, and she actually believes all the things she says. She doesn't just do her job, she lives her job. She's not diabetic, but she will help you see why it's important for her patients to take care of themselves.

At one point we were talking about raising kids (she doesn't have kids, and she doesn't believe people should...) and I told her that I was ready for my kids to hate me for a lot of their childhoods when I won't let them have a cell phone when they're 6, or I won't give them a car when they're 16 unless they buy it themselves, or I make them leave their iPod at home when we go have dinner at their grandparents' house. I told her (I was really on a roll, for some reason) that I will teach my children to stand up for themselves, and to ask questions, and to question things that don't make sense, and not let anyone talk down to them...in general they will be seen as punks. And I will be proud.

She told me a story about how one day she was sitting in a waiting room a woman was letting her 4 year old child run around unchecked. She asked the mother to make her child sit down, and the mother said no. She said she doesn't discipline her child because she wants to protect her from all negativity. My dr snorted in disgust and said she asked the woman what she wanted her daughter to be when she grew up. The woman responded, "Happy!"

My dr said, in her Mexican accent, "I tell her, 'Look, lady, your daughter sounds just like a rabbit. A rabbit does 3 things: eats, shits, and reproduces. Is that really what you want for your child?'" Apparently the woman was horrified. But I sincerely believe that my dr said this, and I hope the woman took it to heart.

As far as my health issues are concerned, she recommended that I see a counselor to help with the feelings of losing control. She suggested writing as a helpful tool, too. Imagine that. Writing as a therapy tool...if only I had a place where I could do that on a regular basis...

Anyway, I survived the appointment, and am back to busting my already bruised ass to get these blood sugars back under control. Somehow, I'll get there.