Insulin

My Dad has type 2 diabetes. He was diagnosed about ten years ago. Currently, he's controlling his blood sugars using pills, diet and exercise. But the doctor wants him to go on insulin soon as his HA1C isn't as low as she'd like it to be, and they've tried everything else.

This is the day my Dad has feared for ten years.

Sometimes I think having type 1 is easier. It's very black and white. I make no insulin, therefore I need it. The health care community is more likely to take me seriously, because, gasp! I could die!

Type 2, on the other hand, is one big gray area. Your body makes some insulin, so you get caught somewhere in the middle of none and enough. It's much harder to understand and follow through, in my opinion. I think that in general, with type 2, you have to fight for good quality health care.

I've had a talk with my Dad about the insulin shots. Several times in the past decade, and once this weekend. I know they scare him. I'm scared for him too. I got over my fear and he'll have to too. I have the burden of already having had this particular life experience, and I know it's not going to be fun.

My Dad has the kind of job where he can't be on insulin and still perform. I don't want to go into more details, but he might still be able to do the same work if he had a waiver or something. We're still looking into it.

I try to potray an image to my Dad that I can handle anything diabetes throws at me. I'll get all bent out of shape about something Nemo's done, or whining when the weather is unbearable (as it's been for the past week). But when I couldn't move my hand for a month when I had trigger finger, I just suffered through it, knowing that it comes with the territory.

The truth is, I don't worry much about myself. I do worry about my Dad.

I hope he's able to get through this transition with ease.