Too Little Too Late?

I experienced chest pains today. Not a vague tightness or aggravated indigestion but a ripple of pain that demanded my attention. The wave passed and I immediately thought I was having a heart attack. My youngest daughter was singing in the hallway and I thought of my oldest stating earlier that day she was happy. What a day to die. I actually was following a food plan, my blood sugar was under control and I had a successful shopping trip to plan for a healthier work week. It figures the day I begin is the day it ends. A second wave hit and I remembered a friend asking what a heart attack felt like before he died. Time passed with no additional episodes. I joined the girls and enjoyed movie night while keeping a vigil for any further developments.

This morning began with me staring at my medications. I know all the medicines except one are due to my inability to control my food consumption. I decided to gather my medicines and photograph them. By doing so I would be forced to acknowledge how far down the rabbit hole I’ve gone. Ever since I was diagnosed I believed that it would pass. Extreme denial or proper grasp of the situation has allowed me to put the severity of my situation on the back burner. I’ve heard other people’s reactions describing horror and immediate lifestyle changes when diagnosed. My experience was light years away from that. Little interest or acknowledgement was present. My compulsions have been forefront, not recovery.

A doctor once told me that diabetics are strange animals. A patient of his complained of shoulder pain and later that day died of a heart attack. He said ever since then he pays attention to everything concerning a diabetic. I thought of that today as I became motivated to work in our flower beds. They have been neglected for some time and the weather was cooperating so I thought one of my famous “Operation Clean Sweeps” would leave the landscape dazzled. A weird feeling came over me as if a whisper of warning. I paid attention and decided to relax. Whenever I control my food intake and need to tweak my insulin, my body reacts in strange often violent ways. Had I exerted myself as planned I feel it would of gone south quickly.

One recent wake up call was when I received a shot for plantar fasciitis in my heel. I believed the freezing application eliminated the pain but apparently the reaction from the doctor and nurse had me perplexed. They made a great deal out of me not flinching and contributed my pain tolerance to my size. I guess if you’re over six feet you’re immune to pain. That idiocy is another story. I didn’t flinch or scream out in pain as others have because I didn’t feel it. A two inch needle inserted all the way didn’t even cause a stir. I’ve noticed the way I currently walk the fluid motion I once had is gone. I walk like someone whose feet are asleep. The weight is becoming an issue for all areas of my body and big boned as I am the burden is noticeable and my body is making it known.

My health has been a bone of contention for quite some time in my marriage. Eventually, as in any relationship, the real issues will surface and the once ignored 800 lbs. gorilla begins to speak. Only in this situation I’m the 800 lbs. gorilla. My wife doesn’t seem to understand addictions and has repeatedly stated that I could have done something years ago about this. The helpless feeling is that I know that maybe that's possible, but I’m clueless as to how I could have or why I haven’t. I shared who I am and what I am from the beginning and at the time an assurance of understanding was given. Now, ten years later, she states, “I didn’t know you were this bad.” Hearing that spoken was like standing on an ice patch as it separates from land. Rejection has been one root of my addictions and this is just another tangle that goes deep in the soil. I became adrift emotionally and the feeling seems mutual as her time away from home outside of work has increased dramatically. I guess in a way I understand but it’s still a jab. Perhaps there comes a point when enough is enough and you seek fulfillment in other playgrounds.

The last night I drank was in her opinion the best date we’ve had in a long time. We closed a bar down and I could not speak unless slurring. Concentrating on my steps to the car I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was an alcoholic. You try different things to keep the fires going and I made the choice to participate in the party lifestyle knowing what I am and the difficulties drinking has caused. Bar bands are her passion and she wants to be in one playing different nightclubs. A way to include me is for me to play bass. She is also interested in bartending. I'll never see her if that's the case. The drinking environment she chooses is a poison for me. I can no longer be a part of that and I think that's OK with her. Shortly after our date night I revealed I was going back to AA. Hardly anything was said and the ice patch floated further out to sea.

My daughters are my main focus. Last night during a Father/Daughter Dance my daughters got teary eyed while we danced. In the back of my mind I wondered if it was too little too late. Perhaps that's what hell is, realizing the value of something right before it's ripped away. Intuition tells me something is in motion and I’m hoping the wheel is turning in my favor. I feel alone out here but I can’t go by how I feel because whenever blood sugars are unbalanced so are emotional states.

A medium once told me that my diabetes could have been avoided. A coach said making a come back was my greatest thing. I’m banking on a making a come back and avoiding the inevitable. My daughters deserve a daddy who will be present to prepare them for the world. I know there are no guarantees and I can get hit by a bus tomorrow, but I don’t want my death to be by my hand. I’m haunted by the thought of crossing over and my daughters seeing all that I am and rejecting me as well.