“I think I’m cursed,” said my oldest daughter as we sat on the couch plagued by sickness for the second day. I started thinking about her comment when today found me worse than when I began the antibiotic Avelox 400mg, Qvar 80mcg Inhaler and Singulair this past Monday afternoon. I have been controlling my food intake and my blood sugars are maintained yet I’m still racked with body aches and rattling lungs. My heart is irregular, but I don’t believe it’s in atrial-fib but just to be safe I called my doctor since it’s getting difficult to breath. To the casual observer this would be a great moment to consider calling an ambulance, but I’ve lived this drill for over 15 years though I will admit this one does have my attention.

The last time I had these symptoms was during Thanksgiving 2009 while visiting family in Mississippi. It cost hundreds of dollars only to be told to see my cardiologist. An addition couple a hundred dollars for an echocardiogram and two series of chest x-rays and the diagnosis was “Well, it must have been something you’ve done.” The best cardiologist money can buy and I get a theory. The medical practice is a joke. As my uncle says, “They practice medicine alright. They practice on you for the next guy.” I was drinking moderately at the time while overeating, so I think I can contribute that Thanksgiving episode to what is termed as “holiday heart.” Today, I can’t tell you what is wrong with me. I’m short of breath and have difficulty walking across the house or talking for an extended time. I called the doctor’s office at 3:00pm and it’s now 6:00pm with no call back. Nice to know my symptoms do not require immediate action. $100 says the on-call doctor calls within the hour telling me to go to the nearest ER. I think that’s a rubber stamp answer doctors are required to give to avoid liability law suits. My new heart medicine is Multaq, an experimental drug and I hope I’m not the 1 in a 100 that has an adverse side effect.

It’s hard not turning to the cupboard when anxieties like these occur. I’m trying to treat the desire to binge on "sugar/carb anything" as if I’m contemplating taking a drink. Truth be told, I really have no overwhelming compulsion for a drink. Alcohol has not been kind to me since the diabetes has settled in and in fact it has been down right vicious to me emotionally and physically. Most of my medicines include a warning label with: DO NOT CONSUME ALCOHOL WITH THIS MEDICATION. I always thought it a suggestion, nothing really to take seriously. My last drunk really, REALLY hurt. Food is that easier softer way to quell that demon within.

Speaking of Demons…

My oldest daughter, as I mentioned, believes she is cursed. I asked her where she got such a notion and she replied that ever since she saw a black, lumpy shadow mass coming towards her from our bedroom she feels something is out to get her. She is contributing bad health with evil spirits. I have no idea where she gets these ideas and I’m hoping it’s not from Sunday school. Her last happy experience from a Sunday school teaching was when they told her she was going to hell for lying. It was big fun trying to console a crying six year old that she wasn't going to burn. I tried to explain viruses and bacteria to no avail. I almost asked if sacrificing chickens and beating drums would appease our unwanted guest but I let it go. She’s only eight, but no more Mystery Hunters for her. My wife felt that my involvement in paranormal investigations contributed to my health decline. I’m amazed by superstitious notions. Poor diet and untreated alcoholism win my vote. If there’s a fat inducing vomit enhancing demon that forces people to eat Pop-Tarts and drink to oblivion then she may be right. No matter how much I distance myself from the evangelical heebie jeebies it has now left an undesirable imprint on my daughter’s cognitive reasoning.

By the way, the doctor called as I was writing and suggested I go to the hospital. No lie. Whoever bet against me owes me a Ben. He said it is either the heart or lungs; point blank simple to him. We’ll see. I reminded him that no one had an answer as to the cause after a battery of tests. I think I’ll go for x-rays in the morning at their office and sidestep a bill as large as a mortgage payment from the ER. If I go through all this and once again the diagnosis is a shoulder shrug, then I may consider that strange notion of ‘a demon behind every bush.’

A Side Note:

I have had three strange Déjà vu moments within a month’s time that creep me out. Nothing significant about the event but there was an underlining feeling that these moments began a count down to some life changing happening. While experiencing this phenomenon I knew what each person was going to say and the direction the conversation would go. Somehow I felt charged to remember the significance of these revealed moments but it fails me. Absolutely insane I know. But, I do have this nagging feeling of being unsettled by it all. An actor who missed his cue. I’ve had dreams come true and impressions so strong that I was able to predict future events. I have also been wrong quite often as well. I’m no prophet so I’ll let time reveal what will be. It always does.

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.