I hear it a lot, mainly from my husband - "You need to stop, You're being a hypochondriac." And the truth is, sometimes I am. But, and I say this with sadness, I do have every right to be. Now that I am older and have lived with diabetes for almost 24 years, it's become all too easy to see my disease with clarity and how it does, and will, impact my life. If I need an MRI I have to ask if there will be contrast - I have to think about my kidneys, you know. Is the flu shot ready yet for the season? I can't afford to be sick. Did I make my eye appointment for the year yet? If I miss one of those, next year it might be too late to catch the retinopathy.
These are the questins and kind of things I have dealt with practically all of my life. I have been fortunate to have a very loving, supportive and understanding family but now that I am older, I realize that doesn't always mean I will be healthy forever. Case and Point - Cellulitis.
Cellulitis and I have always had a difficult relationship. I first added that word to my vocabulary in 1997. After a spider-bite on my hand, I quickly developed an angry, red and painful rash that refused to be tamed. After a few visits to the Emergency Room, I was finally admitted for almost a week. Thankfully, the infection cleared up and I was on my way. That wouldn't be my last encounter though.
Over the next 10 years, I went on to develop another 9 infections - always in one of my feet and never for any apparent reason. And luck for me, a reason has never been found. If I had a crack in my skin, I would be told that was its "Point of Entry". If my skin was without cracks or breakdown, I was told maybe this was my "complication of choice", thanks to my diabetes. Always painful, never an answer.
Most of the time though, a round of Cephalexin was enought to clear things up and I would be right as rain after a week. This time though, was different. After being Cellulitis-free for the last three years, I developed a very strange and sudden cellulitis infection on the skin over my knee in November. I did nothing to cause it, nor was there any apparent point of entry. Nevertheless, it was there. After two rounds of Cephalexin, it seemed to clear up and I was on my way.
Last Friday, though, it reared its head again in an ugly way, which leads me to now - on bedrest and blogging. I will let my husband tell the rest of the story, since this blog is about our life from his perspective as a diabetic-adjacent.
However, the one thing I learned from this experience is that no matter how much my husband calls me a hypochondriac, I know my body in a way that every diabetic should. And it's a way that lets me know when something is wrong and to ignore it would be to turn my back on myself and my health.
The problem isn't that I am too much of a hypochondriac - the problem is that my husband isn't enough of one. I am sure that after a few more years of "adjacentness" that will change, though.
I have had the last 24 years to live in my emotions and to sort out my feelings about who I am and what life means for me. And I have been lucky to have my husband as a part of my life for the last 13 years. Now that we have been married for three years though, he has been exposed on a much higher level to what living with a diabetic means.
He said he was ready for it, andI believe that he thought he was. However, since marrying, our life has been the opposite of a picnic and I feel badly about what that has meant for him. Sleepless nights, lots of worrying and the realization that living with this disease is even more intense than he might have imagined. I am thankful for him daily and know he wouldn't trade our life together, but I also know that he has no way to process his feelings about becoming "Diabetic-Adjacent". I hope that, through blogging, he might come to meet others in his position and that maybe by talking about our life experiences together, we can reach others in the same position and help them feel like they are not alone.
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