So far this week I’ve Ubered on Monday and then yesterday. The Monday bit was for Rory’s fan domain, and that’s definitely back up. Yesterday was just because I need to earn some money. I now have more than enough to pay the phone bill. If I go back out tomorrow I will end up with enough to catch both the phone bill and the hosting service on time for once. I am pretty sure I will still be late for the car insurance for May, but I won’t be AS late. We’ll see how that all goes.
Then, on Tuesday, I had a telehealth appointment because I got this card in the mail from the local hospital system (I know their name but I can never spell it — me, the excellent speller) who, in conjunction with my Medicaid provider, have a special type 2 diabetes program going. It seems that after years of wishing, I will finally get a continuous glucose monitor (CGM). Now, I don’t know how much good it will do me with our horrific internet/cellular connectivity here, but I did warn the provider about that. Hopefully it’s now a note in the chart somewhere. Anyway, the CGM isn’t here yet. I am pretty sure I’ll be able to get readings even when it’s not sending to the internet because it’s a Bluetooth connection. We’ll see about that too.
Okay. Red beans and rice are Right Out; they send my sugar well above 200 mg/dL. Chicken Voilà is right the fuck out too, same reason. In either case we’re talking a sugar spike by more than 100 mg/dL. And today, I had two eggs over easy, two sausage patties, and three pancakes and that fucked me up to a similar degree. I think very shortly, not long after I get the CGM, we’re gonna evolve our diet into something more low carb. My body has zero tolerance for this shit anymore. The fun bit is I will be able to see the results directly instead of having to listen to idiots on the internet claiming that Splenda raises blood sugar. What will be harder is convincing Dad that I’m not killing myself or being a princess. He’s one of those people who thinks “natural sugar” is healthy. Dude, that high sugar you were getting on your readings that borked your kidneys was natural too. Ebola is natural. Pick your natural. I don’t know what I will do if the car dies. As long as I can earn my own money then I have some modicum of control over my diet. I can buy extra eggs or I can buy almond flour or whatever. I just don’t want the fucking arguments. I suppose I’ll have to start showing him my damn numbers just to shut him up. Hey look, Dad. I can actually eat an actual meal and not starve. Imagine that.
I seem to have another problem, though, and I’ve been dancing around this for a while and you’ve all seen me, all three of you bots out there. I am not sure just what it is. Some elements of it say “heart issue,” some say “reflux” (but usually no acid burn?), and some say “oh shit, I stopped breathing, WAKE UP.” It’s not every night but, for instance, the past couple nights were not good, and night before last was downright scary. So this is something else I have to ask about, and I already didn’t ask about that EKG from the colonoscopy preadmit. A large part of it is I don’t want to be trouble. I also don’t want to hear Dad’s shit. Matt and Thea had remarked upon my loud snoring for literal years, so this is likely not a new problem, but Dad will find some way to convey “this is what you get for being stupid” anyhow. Oh, I forgot the coughing. That’s new. I think I mentioned the time maybe a couple weeks ago that I actually coughed up phlegm that was a weird color. That hasn’t happened again, but I was coughing a good bit yesterday. Not like I have a cold or something but more than you would expect from someone who isn’t sick. And it could be allergies. It’s spring, shit’s blooming all over the place, and even Dad has had congestion. I have no idea. But coupled with everything else it’s got me worried too.
(And today, every time I cough it hurts my head. I woke with a headache and am currently at the point where if I’m not coughing I feel okay, but every time I have to cough it’s Ouch again.)
Oh, I forgot. Another thing going on is that suddenly I can’t eat a lot because I get really uncomfortable. This is not necessarily a bad thing, considering, but for it to have not bothered me much at all before and now suddenly I feel like shit is really weird. I say “suddenly” like it just happened right now but basically it’s been going on almost since I moved back here. I don’t think I ever had heartburn as often as Dad had it at an equivalent age but I wonder suddenly if there is shit up with my esophagus. Or stomach. Is it too soon for diabetes-related nerve damage there? I hope so. Although some of the potential alternatives are terrifying.
As I think it through, I have one possible avenue of exploration. I mentioned that stuff comes up but often isn’t acidic. It’s possible my acid production is shot. I could see if things improve if I start using betaine HCL at meals. It’s not an expensive supplement and if it helps, that’s all to the good. It isn’t good for my poor stomach to not have enough acid in it. It would explain the discomfort too, or some of it, because that tends to happen with protein-y meals. Fat may or may not be a factor too. It is hard to say because I don’t think eating fat gives me the shits, necessarily, which would be indicative of a gallbladder problem. (The fact I’m on metformin just contaminates the potential evidence there, but I still don’t usually get the runs.) But if the betaine HCL doesn’t help my situation, I can try ox gall or a lipase supplement next. We’ll see. At least most of that stuff ought to be cheap. I hope.
I am equipped to slay this dragon! Or at least tame it. I wish I’d kept things up in 2012 instead of quitting because Stupid Man (not Matt, for once). I’d be in such a better place today. But I do have some good tools in the toolbox. I just need to USE them.
I want my sugar normal.
I want to have a good night’s sleep.
I want food to not be my enemy anymore.
I want to stop looking like a troll.
—
The folder I use to store these when I write at home is not open all the way and so I can see my desktop, and there’s a photo there that I lifted off Facebook. It’s from this play Thea was in last year. Other than some Instagram pics Dawn passed on to me it is the most recent photo of my daughter that I have. (It may be anyway. I would need to check.)
The situation with her is a thing I have kind of sat on a mental back burner and then left there. I miss her, and there is nothing I can do about it, because I can’t trust therapists anymore and anyway, I’m not the one who went off the deep end. Also, I feel like it’s only useful to ask for help when someone actually can help you, or can give you advice to help yourself that is actually helping yourself. This whole situation is happening because Matt lies to me and Thea lies to herself. I can’t stop either of them doing that. There is no school of psychotherapy that cures that. We are at an impasse. It is incredibly cruel.
(I don’t want him back, and I told him so, but we could have been friends and yet, he did everything he could to prevent that happening without looking like a dick in front of our daughter and his friends. Nice to know I’m respected and valued. That was sarcasm. I already knew I wasn’t.)
So it is easier to come to a place of grudging acceptance than to keep trying to be sad about it. Not that I’m not sad, but at a certain point it starts blunting unless you do things to keep it sharp, and I refuse to do that anymore, because it is not productive. I know what the score is. I do not need anyone else to understand, because no one’s in a position to fix this anyway. I don’t care if they think I am a bad mother. They would have thought I was a bad mother anyway. It is what it is. It can’t be undone.
So if anyone except bots is reading this, because I still care too much what others think, don’t assume I don’t love my daughter just because I hardly ever mention her. There is nothing to mention. I never get news.
But you might start seeing old stuff here about her. I have my old journals and I have other sources. So that’ll be nice.
As for my son, I don’t know what’s up with him. Until he tells me, I won’t know. It does me no good to chase people who don’t want to be found. That is what it is too.