Fatty what?

After about 6 weeks of feeling bad and having a lot more bad days than good in regard to how I felt, I went to the doctor. I put it off because being diabetic, every day is a challenge. I’ve spent the last 13 years trying to get control of this beast. The doctor decided that my symptoms were probably something other than my usual complaints and felt we should run some tests to find out what was really going on instead of just prescribing one more med.

The blood work was a piece of cake. Being poked with needles daily is a routine. Peeing in a cup was a breeze.  I drink so much water that I can pee on demand. The poop test was particular yuck. Not that I had visions of it being anything but. When they hand you a hat shaped piece of plastic, vials, biohazard bags and a spoon! Anything but routine and reinforced my “I could’ve been a nurse if I didn’t have to deal with bodily fluids, etc” statement. Doing the drug screens as part of my duties as a business manager was barely manageable!

So after the pee and poop and blood tests there was only the usual results. High blood sugar, high cholesterol (the bad kind) and a slightly higher number on the enzyme scale for enzymes secreted by the pancreas.   Once again diabetes rearing its ugly head.  Next up an ultrasound of my gall bladder, pancreas and liver.

All sorts of scary thought are going through my head. Since my mother died of pancreatic cancer, that was my biggest concern. I found myself mentally planning my Funeral. I start obsessing over cremation verses caskets. I worked myself up into a stress filled ball of nerves…which didn’t help my situation.

Finally, the ultrasound. The stoic look on the tech’s face. They must have to have a class on that. The usual “we will send the results to your dr.  It will take a few days”

So when I get a call from them before I even got home saying I need tot schedule an appt asap with my dr I felt my heart drop to my toes. Then she went on to say that the test showed hepatic parachymal steatosis. I went silent. That certainly sounded bad. The she said “ its also called FATTY liver disease. I bristled!  already have fatty body syndrome. Now this. Is it not enough to have a liver disease without being insulted too!!

Of course I googled for the next 2 hours and then made an appt with my dr.  Once I found it was not really terminal unless you didn’t change your diet etc I felt a little better. Then I googled the 10 foods to eat to repair your liver and I hate most of them. Then I googled the foods to avoid and I loved all of them. Visions of plates of broccoli and kale without salt or cheese filled my head.

I once did a comedy thing about pills for my pills.  Something like this: I have high blood pressure so I take a pill for that. But the pill gives me a stomachache so I take a pill for that. That pill gives me constipation so I take a pill for that. That pill gives me a headache so I take another pill for that. And I have diabetes so I take 2pills and 3shots a day for that. And one of those pills causes me to break out in hives so I take 2 pills to counteract the hives. And I drink a lot of water because my diabetes makes me thirsty so I pee a lot and so I take a pill for that. And the pill for depression because taking so many pills just to function makes me really sad.

Recently I had shingles. Are you kidding me?  The medicine for that added to my misery.  I suffered thru the nerve pain because the thought of one more pill was just too much. I added the 4 vitamin supplements the pharmacy recommended to build my immune system. I should own stock in cranberry juice I drink to prevent uti’s
I found out my blood pressure medicine I’ve taken for 14 years was recalled for possibly causing cancer. Yippee!  I found out one of my diabetes meds  is now being recalled for causing a flesh eating genital disease!!  Omg!  Dodged that bullet. My thyroid drug has also been recalled for causing something. I am a walking encyclopedia about drug interactions and side effects

Some days I wonder what would happen if I went cold turkey on all my meds. I liken myself to a car that has broken down. Put me in the shop and run diagnostics on my system. Replace all the worn out parts, change my oil, flush my transmission and release me good as new except for the depression caused by the gazillion dollar repair bill. Sometimes I think Joe should just trade me in for a new model.

Most days I liken myself to those old punching bag clowns we had as kids. They bounce right back up only to be punched again. As my friend Tom said “they aren’t throwing dirt on us and that’s got to be a good thing”

He’s right!  The struggles are worth it though there are many days when I consider saying to hell with it. Give me a greasy burger, onion rings and a chocolate pie (not a slice, the Pie). Then a video of Hannah makes me laugh, or Liz reports on Arthur kicking in her belly, or Joe and I make progress on our land.

The little things that make life worth living in spite of the challenges. That’s the best medicine.