My Journey: Diagnosed with Diabetes.

On March 31, 2023, I was given the diagnosis. (A Record For Me, and My Failing Memory)

Struggling with my Own Physical Demons

Earlier this year, I went to see my PCP about a nasty wound on my leg that refused to heal for over 7 months. It would almost completely heal, then it would flare up and open into a giant extremely painful gash. She suspected that I had Diabetes, and she gave me a little device to monitor my sugar levels. Over the course of a month, My sugars barely if ever went over 105, And never went below 85. I showed her the history, and she couldn’t figure out what or why. So She wrapped my leg in OsuBosu wrap and told me to come back in a week, and she had blood drawn. I made the appointment and went on with life as usual.

Nasty Ass Gash

On Friday, March 31, 2023, at 9:45 Am, my Doctor informed me that my liver was swollen, my kidneys were struggling, and I had Type 2 diabetes. She wanted me to make another appointment, after she wrapped my leg in a compression cast. So I made an appointment for Tuesday, April 3, 2023.

I went in, She gave me a referral to a Physical Therapist and asked me to follow through with it. (Which I most certainly will, because I am tired of looking like a Blimpie turd on a log,) A Referral to a Wound Specialist (which I will be seeing this Friday) A Referral to the University of Minnesota Hospital Fairview Health System for an MRI, CatScan, Contrast Scan, Sleep Study, Geneticist, Endocrinologist, and a Diabetes Specialist.

I asked my doctor why so many things all of a sudden. She responded you started taking an active interest in your health, so I am going to do everything I can to help.

Me taken earlier this year

I spent most of my life pissed off at the medical field because they could never tell me why I couldn’t lose weight. Why I was 6’4 by the time I was 14. Why I looked so young for my age? Why I couldn’t grow hair between the brow and belt line? Why do my nethers to ankles look like a fucking jungle and I have a baby smooth face and chest. Why I had no libido, or willpower unless it is derived from someone saying “You Can’t Do That!”

Now I have a Doctor who wants to actually find out why I have youthful features when people my age look like they are about to kick a coffin over and fall face first. And I look like I just graduated College.

Because I want to be healthy. I want to live as long as I can. Even though my Muscular Dystrophy will kill me soon enough, I do not need some other ailment, fuckballing me in the hiney hole like a freight train barreling into a tunnel.

In the meantime, my Doctor has prescribed me another set of medications from antibiotics, to Metformin, and Trulicity.

I’ll cover this more in the entry next week. For now, I’m off to work.