A Short Story Writ Long

I was diagnosed with Diabetes in February 2001. I had gone in for a general physical exam in preparation to become a Landed Immigrant in Canada (I'm American, my husband is Canadian). To say I took the news badly would be putting it mildly. Thank goodness the mister has strong shoulders to lean on. (I became a Landed Immigrant, similar to a Green Card holder, in July 2005.)

I've been on meds since diagnosis. Metformin and glyburide were prescribed right away. I was prescribed Avandia about two years ago (and yes, I need to discuss the recent news with my doc). I've been taking Atacand (blood pressure) and fenofibrate (cholesterol) as well. To make the whole mix really fun, I'm also taking Effexor for depression. Wheee!

I don't have any problems remember to take my drugs in the morning. The evening is another story. However, I bought a pill dispenser thingie two months ago and that's been working really well. Instead of forgetting evening doses five or six times a week (yikes!) it's down to one or two or sometimes even -0-. Yay me!

I'm also supposed to be dieting and exercising. I'm not so good at either one. Actually, it fluctuates. I'll go through periods of being "good" and doing what I should and periods where I don't. Right now I'm doing fairly good. I'm eating much better and trying to get off my ass and exercise by walking the dog.

My last doctor's appointment was about two weeks ago. My A1c is up from 7-ish to 10+. This was during a period I was doing better diet-wise and taking my meds. Whoops. The doc informed me I have to start on insulin and he was upping my existing meds prescriptions. Oh fun. I needed to have a bunch more blood-work done (which I've done) and then they'd set me up with an appointment at the local hospital to learn how to inject and whatever else is involved with using insulin. The clinic and I have been playing phone tag the last couple days, but my training will get scheduled soon.

(cross-posted to my Vox blog)