[

mood

|

sleepy

]

So a week has passed since I last posted (which, if you have not read the last two posts, this will make little sense... read from the post with the photo up to this one to catch up).

I saw the nurse Saturday morning (the day after the gig), and by my accounts, my blood sugar level, and how I was feeling, she thought I was making fine progress. She called the doctor, who thought I was doing great. I didn't feel great. I felt better (much better), but great (even today, nearly a week later) is still in the future. A forseeable future, but still to come.

They decided that my using the insulin to push recovery so the pills can work was a good idea, so the wanted me to double the insulin to 20 units. The nurse found two more injection pens & a number of packages of the needles (she looked for nearly an hour for the needles).

And wanted to see me again in the middle of the week. But there were no available appointments until the week after, on July 1. "Call to get an appointment." the receptionist said.

Yeah, sure. Six months and you guys fail to return my requests for an appointment, and I'm supposed to call in to get one between Saturday and Wednesday. That's gonna work.

So they set up another appointment with the nurse... Wednesday June 25 in the evening at the West Sac (rather than the Greenhaven) office. And keep the July 1 appointment as well.

So each day is: take the reading on blood sugar, take my morning pills, inject 20 units of insulin, eat a breakfast. Then, before lunch, take another reading, inject, eat. Then, before dinner, take a reading, inject, eat. At bedtime, take the rest of the pills. Every day.

Each day has its highs and lows, the reading popping up and down, but, overall, trending down. By Wednesday, I'm reading all the numbers to the nurse. She suggests upping the insulin to 24 units because it's working so well.

Each day is a bit better overall, but the low moments can be low -- not as low as last week's early days, but not wonderful.

Tomorrow the band goes to Lodi for the hot rod show, where instead of playing from 9 am to noon, they changed us to noon to 4 pm. An hour longer, and we've (meaning me) got to set up the PA system. I'll probably have to inject between sets. At least they're paying us more for the extra hour...

[

mood

|

sick

]

This week is coming to and end. It is better than it quickly turned out to be, but Monday was a horrible day.

Not as bad as the week of my 53rd birthday =


, which was, in my memory, the worst week of my life. No I wasn't in the hospital with a tube down my nose, being awakened every ten to twenty minutes 24 hours a day, unable to eat or drink anything. No not that bad.

But it's a long story, with some bad luck, a repeated bad decision by me, a weakness for sugary things, and a stupidly good day.

I am diabetic. I watch my portions, having very few sodas (cane sugar only, never corn syrup), smaller portions of potatoes and bread, watching my carb intake every day. I've never been so diabetic that any doctor has recommended insulin, preferring to control the disease with pills.

My last doctor's check was in October, where I did not have enough results from using my blood glucose meter (checking a couple hours after luch, and right at bedtime). so I was to go back November 1st, having taken more readings at those times and getting (a week before) a typical bood test at a lab. Two weeks before the appointmen, the medical service where my doctor works from called, cancelling the appointment, saying they would call me back to arrange a new one. They never called back.

I developed an ear infection in early December, and tried to call in to get an appointment, but each time I called, I got a dozen rings, then a voicemail message to leave my name, date of birth, and a phone number... they would return my call. I did, three or four times, they never called.

When I was ordering my last round of prescriptions (February -- I order three months at a time), all but one were the final refill before a new prescription would be needed. I started call again. Again with the same results. The pills began running out in early April. By May I was out of all but one.

In late May, early June, I discovered a lump in my groin, and it was large (half-three/quarters the size of a golf ball), and painful when touched. It seemed to appear overnight. The next day, it began bleeding. Very sweaty area, a fresh blood -- nasty smell. I started calling for appointments again. Same results.

I suppose I should have driven to the doctors' office and set up an appointment in person, but... whatt?... I was lazy, too buzy, too stupid to do it. By June I was urinating every hour or two, and had a constant dry mouth.

Father's day was a good day, and it went horribly wrong.

I felt very good that morning. We went to Corti Bros. for eleven pounds of prime ribeye, some roast beef for sandwiches, some very tasty imported salame. A U-No bar like my grandmother always loved. Some imported gummies which looked fruity and wonderful. I quickly enjoyed the chocolate bar, and tucked the roll of gummies in my breast pocket for slow enjoyment throughout the day and later (I wound up eating less than half the LifeSaver sized roll). With my roast beef on a Kaiser Roll sandwich, I had a Mexican Coca-Cola (sugar, tastes like Coke did in the 1950s).

We went off to my Mother-in-law's and sister-in-law's farm for a party to celebrate my youngest child's triumphant graduation from high school. I drank lots of water, a glass of Pepsi, and a glass or two of 7-Up. There was mashed potatoes and bakery sourdough garlic bread with the veggie salad, fruit salad, and ribeye for dinner. After dinner was a bakery cake to celebrate the graduation, with vanilla bean ice cream and a thin slice of a vanilla bean cheezecake.

Monday, the bomb went off. I felt like I did just prior to getting sent to the hospital in the photo above. I went to work. My back ached. I was sleepy, I was sweaty. My boss sent me home. At home I slept, drank ice water, a little milk. And I slept a lot. I called for an appointment twice -- same damned result. Tuesday, I felt slightly better, but was still amazingly tiered. I called into work sick. I then called for an appointment at least five, maybe seven times. Once I got the front desk voicemail, the rest the same appointment voicemail. No one called back. I added soup broth to my diet. Unlike when I went to the hospital in 2003 (see above), my bowels still worked, so it seems that my elevated sugars hadn't shut done my pancreas. Wedsday morning, both me and my wife tried calling for an appointment (she had tried a few times on Tuesday, too), but it was before hours.

I called at 8:30:30 am. It rang for more than ten minutes. It went from seven minutes of straight ringing, to two minutes of ringing telling me the appointment people were busy with other call, to more than a minute of straight ringing. Then a voice. She said she was Amber. I told the story, she apologized and said the first appointment was Thursday at 9:30 am. I leapt at it. I called my work to tell them I would be off sick until Friday (which I had off for my band to play the Placer County Fair) and that I would not be back to work until Monday at best. It was okay.

More sleep, more water, more milk, more veggie soups. By Tuesday, I felt better (not good yet), by Wednesday, I had a few good moment in the morning. I was sleeping 16+ hours each day, never more than 90 minutes without having to pee.

Excuse me, I need to pee. I'll finish up in another post... soon.