They say life is imperfect. For a long while now, I’ve disagreed.
This convergence right here — me writing this hours (or days!) ago, and you reading it at this very moment — represents absolute perfection, at least to me. The craziest and most unlikely of events brought us here, to this itty-bitty place, together … a place that doesn’t even exist in any tangible, traditionally meaningful way. What remarkable lives we tiny needles have led, to meet here, in this strange little haystack.
Open your mind to the billion-trillion ways our lives might not have intersected, and you just might weep from the humbling awe of it all. I have. Because instead of being in those theres, you’re here. It could’ve happened countless different ways — and perhaps should’ve — but didn’t. Our respective tempests intersected in this teapot, and make no mistake: it was a perfect storm that delivered us here. We’re right where we’re supposed to be.
I refer not to God or fate — though you’re welcome to imprint that meaning upon my words if you wish — but to cause and effect. Decisions made by you, me, our families and friends and lovers and 6 billion others. Butterflies in China, hurricanes in Florida, that sort of thing.
By my reckoning, there is perfection in these impossible odds … even when these convergences present heartbreak or other challenges. Earlier today, I reminded myself of this, as life-changing news was re-confirmed to me by a doctor on the other side of a telephone.
I can count on two hands the number of people who, until this little miraculous moment that’s brought us together, knew this secret about me.
I am a diabetic.
I’ve known this since 2006, though I did nothing to treat this incurable disease — and in fact actively engaged in unhealthy activity that likely worsened my condition since my initial diagnosis. The deeply-rooted, irrational, cowardly and misguided reasons for this self-destructive avoidance are mine to examine and rectify. I respectfully contend that there’s not much value in sharing them here.
However, I also respectfully contend that you might find value in what brought me to this re-diagnosis, and how I’m dealing with it.
A few months back, I went to the dentist for the first time in 20 years, and explained the incapacitating pain I experienced on the left side of my face when I chewed food. X-rays revealed an impacted lower wisdom tooth. The only way to eliminate the pain was to yank that sucker out of my head. The doctor suggested I have my other wisdom teeth also removed.
I smiled, saluted, promised to take care of it, and learned to chew food on the right side of my mouth, because…
…three weeks later, I moved from Fort Lauderdale to my new home near Denver. The financial, and health insurance, dust settled mere weeks ago. I visited a local oral surgeon, presented my situation, and when he asked if I was a diabetic, I paused.
Lying would’ve been easy. I’d been lying to myself for nearly a half-decade. But lying to others is a lousy thing to do.
I’m glad I fessed up. The surgeon explained that blood sugar levels (which diabetes affects, among a frickin’ Who’s Who of other bodily things) are in fact required to be within certain limits during and after the surgery, due mostly to the anesthesia and other drug cocktail-y stuff used in the procedure. The health of someone with abnormally high blood sugar like me would be at risk.
I’m a heavy cigarette smoker. And so, I was also told that after this surgery, I couldn’t smoke for several days — lest I risk “sucking” special (and necessary) blood clots out of the fresh holes in my head. Dry socket, it’s called. I was told it’s excruciating. That’s all I needed to know.
And did I mention I live a sedentary life? I’ve recently lost some weight by eating less fast food, but this First World wordherding homebody hates breaking a sweat.
For want of a nail. Or in this case, a tooth.
To eat like a normal person again, I realized I’d have to:
- Get my blood sugar to a surgery-appropriate level, which meant I had to…
- …re-diagnose my diabetes, and diligently treat it with medication…
- …and change my diet to lower my blood sugar levels…
- …and exercise, which also reduces blood sugar levels…
- …and quit smoking, for a great many reasons, including a “dry socket” deterrent.
Much like the circumstances that brought you and I together here, that bullet list represents a truly perfect storm. A storm filled with disruptive Change. A storm designed to frighten the laziness, ignorance and avoidance right out of my marrow, and shove me on a life path I should’ve been on all along.
And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Easy, it ain’t gonna be. But believe me when I earnestly say that I’ve survived far worse.
I wish I was motivated purely by desire and not a hearty dose of desperation … but so often, so many of us require crises to rediscover our mettle.
You’re a creative and intelligent person, so you know just as well as I that this will make me a better, stronger, smarter person. A healthier person. A person who’ll live longer, and who won’t live with the silent — and occasionally paralyzing — guilt of willful self-delusion and -destruction.
And now, on to the reason why I’m sharing this sliver of my life with you. Would you be surprised to know that it has nigh-nothing to do with me — and nearly everything to do with you? Tis true.
Because we know — you and me, we two needles in this strange little haystack — we know that you’re sitting on something that is impacting your life in a similarly-spirited way. It may not be a disease, or smoking, or gobbling Smartfood when you should be doing cardio. It may have absolutely nothing to do with the body. But it’s there, and it’s a thing that’s been lurking, and occupying far too much of your mind and emotions, for far too long.
It needs to be acknowledged. It needs to be thoughtfully examined. And it needs to be treated, in the most positive and appropriate way possible.
You don’t need a crisis flashpoint like mine to motivate you. You merely require a moment of clarity and courage to look into the mirror of Self, be more honest with your heart than you’ve been in years, and love yourself enough to make those meaningful changes in your life. Easy, it ain’t gonna be. But you’ve survived far worse.
This moment of clarity and courage need not be epic. Nor must the steps you take to improve your life. They must simply be a series of perfect storms.
Thankfully, those are everywhere. Like the one we just shared.
–J.C.
Jc I only received your tweet right now because I’m standing outside in the cold hoping to see an Eclips. The clouds are interfering and I decided to check twitter. You and I are on a similar journey. You know I think the world of your work and I feel a deeper connection with you now. I recently started a new blog with some other fat men called roadtothin.com we are all struggling with the same issues. I’d like to incite you to join us if you wish. Non of us are experts but we all have over 50 lbs to loose and we are doing it together. Let me know if you would like to join us.
Kevin… how do others in the same situation “join the club”?
Bob
Bob, Come and sign up for the email list and participate in the comments. We are working on details of how to make the site more participatory and you should see some developments after the first of the year.
Good for you for taking charge of it, Chris.
My issues are different — I have fibromyalgia, not diabetes, but it’s similar in that working out is excruciatingly painful (twice the level of pain neurotransmitters! no “runner’s high” endorphins! awesome fun!), and yet, since it’s not curable, a combination of regular exercise, careful diet and massage therapy is the only way to prevent myself from becoming an immobile ball of muscle knots.
I hate working out with a passion so intense as to border on the sacred. I hate the pain, I hate the exhaustion, I hate the gym smell, I hate the leering of the gym guys, I hate sweating, I hate the million and a half TVs all blaring different news channels at me.
But Microsoft, in their infinite care for their employees (and I’m not being sarcastic there), pays for my membership to an outrageously expensive gym, where they found me a trainer who has fibro (she must be the only one in the world, ’cause we don’t tend to grow up and go into jobs involving lots of physical activity). The gym is modeled on the Bellagio, and it smells like flowers, and there’s a women’s workout room where there are no leering guys, and it’s beautiful.
So I figured the least I can do is meet them halfway and go there and do what my trainer tells me to do. It still hurts like heck, and I still get the worn-out, wobbly feeling I have whenever I finish my workout, but the rest of the time, my pain level has improved so much I barely ever need painkillers anymore, and I’m doing things (situps on top of a balance ball! lifting actual serious weights instead of girly weights!) that impress a lot of my athletic guy friends. And I don’t hate it anymore.
Plus, I used to have torn muscles and pain for days from carrying a box of books up to my apartment. Now, I don’t even get out of breath.
Hang in there.
Even when you’re the least-suited person in the world to working out (which would be me), it gets easier, and you’ll feel so much better.
And dude, when are you visiting Seattle again?
This is
so
stinkin
AWESOME.
Thank you for sharing. I’ll be passing this along to everyone I know now. Wishing you all the best, JC.
Thank you for sharing this story. Three years ago I had a similar convergence. My chiropractor (of all things) sent me to the doctor because my blood pressure was WAY too high (which it had been for years). The doctor saw the results of my sedentary and chip-filled lifestyle and pronounced a need for blood testing, which unsurprisingly showed me that I needed to make changes. Which I did, for a while.
A year and a half ago, I had managed to gain the 40 pounds back and was in worse shape than before. A year ago, they put me on three different blood pressure meds and statins for high cholesterol. Things had to change.
That was in Feb. 2010. I have lost approximately 60 pounds since then. I have rededicated myself to my martial art (Tae Kwon Do – I have gained 3 belt levels since then). I can run for 30 minutes at 11 km/h on my treadmill (I’ve maxed it out) and can almost pass the Marine Corps Fitness test for a person 2/3 of my age.
It can be done. It feels great to stop lying to myself. The gain in willpower feels good (I write this after midnight – I just finished a short workout). I still have a way to go. Food is an issue still. But overall, the change is positive. I now know that I have done everything possible to see my kids grow up, which I couldn’t say before.
Good luck ad I believe in you!
Through tears I want to say that I am very, very proud that you have decided to look forward in your life and realize what you need to do to get healthy. You didn’t need to tell all of us what you’re going through – or the path that got you here – but I suspect you knew by ‘fessing up we would give you the support you will *need* to get through this.
What’s done is done. We face forward to move forward. No worries about the past. Just know that you will always have people that love, appreciate, and value you to keep you focused on moving forward.
No doubt it’ll be a challenge, J.C., but it’s definitely one worth taking on.
You can do it.
J.C.
As usual, you are absolutely correct about all of us having something in our lives that we need to fix. Thank you for the great article, and good luck with your “bullet points”
As much ass as you kick on the page, I have no doubt you will do the same in real life. Thank you for this encouragement.
As someone struggling with high blood pressure, I can sympathize. However, now you know the mission. You’ll need to do a lot of the heavy lifting, but we’ve got your back. Now move out!
Thank you for this reminder, J.C. There are so many people, including myself, who find themselves in situations like this, and sometimes the motivation of one’s own existence isn’t enough to kick them into gear. For years, I lived with strange and inexplicable heart flutters. Inexplicable in that not even the throng of doctors I went to could diagnose it. Being overweight, it was always, “If you lose weight, it would ‘probably’ go away.” Eventually, I went to a horrible doctor who actually saved my life. He didn’t even address the heart flutters. He simply said, “You are going to die if you don’t do something about your weight.” It scared the hell out of me. The heart flutters didn’t get better, but he assured me that my heart was healthy, and I could exercise without issue. Like you, I have never been a big fan of exercise. There were always about a hundred other things I’d rather do than get out there and purposely exercise. But… I wanted to feel better, so I started hopping on the treadmill. Over the course of about 17 months, I lost 60 lbs., but the heart flutters didn’t go away. I went to a new doctor, and he noticed that my blood pressure was in the slightly high range. He said it was probably a major factor, and even if I continued to lose weight, I would still probably have heart flutters if I didn’t get my bp under control. So scary.
There are days when I fall off the wagon and find myself enslaved to a piece of cheesecake, but for the most part I would rather live a longer and healthier life. I’ve got too many good things in my life to risk shortening it. So… thanks for the reminder this morning. Good luck to you on your journey to a healthier you.
I will pitch in by making treadmills an “assassination attempt-free zone.”
Thank you FDO
Inspirational post, J.C. You’re absolutely right–we all have one or more of these obstacles. I’m going to double my efforts on mine.
I love your writing, and after reading this I appreciate you more. In so many ways I relate to your thoughts, behavior, ways of thinking and being. I am starting on a weight loss program December 30th to avoid diabetes in the future. My 11 yr old is losing her father in the next month and I have decided I am WAY overdue for 1. setting a better example, 2. making sure I don’t drop dead on her, 3. doing what it takes to feel better every day so I can be more present for my precious girl.
I believe that we need crucibles to become all that we are meant to be. I also describe God’s little messages as little bricks chucked at our head to get us to stop, pay attention and then change direction. Eventually we get what I call “the brick load” dumped on our path to force us into a new direction.
I am pleased to know we are heading in the same direction. I am sorry for your brick load as I am sorry for mine but it takes what it takes.
Thank you. Just, thank you.
Yes, dammit, yes! Sweetie, I am so inspired by your courage, and your willingness to take charge of your health. Yours is a familiar story, as most of this year has been about that for me.
And now you can join me along this journey!!
xoxo
JC-I just got off the phone with the doc less than an hour ago; in my case, she had some very good news. I’ve been diabetic for 10 years, and although I don’t smoke, I do like a good glass of chardonnay or 3. I was diagnosed this summer with metabolic syndrome – another convergence, this of diabetes, belly fat, family history of high blood pressure, and high cholesterol.
Mass. General is Boston has a Metabolic Syndrome program, which I attended for 12 weeks. I lost 8 pounds, but the other numbers didn’t move much.
A freak bump in the head (don’t text while walking) resulted in a bunch of other tests from September through today. Turns out, all is fine, but I’ve literally put my life on hold, waiting to find out.
I turned 49 in November, and that, plus all of the “we think it’s nothing but we’re not sure,” has caused me to spend a lot of time thinking about the future. I have a 15-year-old-son and a few things that I haven’t checked off the bucket list yet. It’s funny how a slap in the head from the doctor (or in my case, a metal bike rack in the face) can bring things into focus.
You will get tons of advice, encouragement, medical recommendations, and a great deal of baloney from people who mean well. No matter how whacky the advice is, you’ve already discovered the magic key: you are not alone. This crazy quilt if “imaginary” friends is here 24/7, and we will give you whatever you need, when you need it. And you can ignore it all too.
My biggest struggle is “not” doing something – not eating the second cookie, not having the extra glass of wine; I hate to exercise. When I have had success, I find it’s been when I’ve been working on something with others. It’s not easy to be public about health issues or about struggling with anything. The good news is, you’ve got tons of company when you want/need it.
Thank you for sharing this – it’s not easy. Changing, getting rid of old habits, forming new ones, learning all that goes with having diabetes takes time and patience. Do what you can, ask questions, and most of all, be kind to yourself.
Good luck, my friend!! I have weight to lose, A1C’s to reduce, blood pressure to lower – I’m right there with you. Let me know how I can help you!! ~~Ellen
Beautiful post – You are now well on your way to owning your diabetes, instead of your diabetes owning you~
ROCK ON!
After reading thus late last night I still find myself thinking about self-sabotaging and destructive things I do to myself because I have gotten comfortable, and even expect, the failures in my life, not to mention the health and lifestyle changes I SHOULD have made 2 years ago because of my own medical problems. Thank you for such an honest and insightful update, Hutch.
Gotta just chime in to thank-you for sharing. Very powerful post. I’ll say right now that I’m not entirely sure what that one thing is I’m sitting on, but I can sense that it’s there. I have this feeling that it’s gonna kick me when I finally recognize it.
But. . .I’ve survived far worse.
Glad you are meeting this head on J.C. I’ve always been a fan of your spirit and I learned a lot about you in this post and respect you even more. Thank you for writing this.
Nice work!
Dry socket IS excruciating. It feels like someone drilled into your face and left the bit in and then pound on it every once in a while. Horrible, uncontrollable and unavoidable pain.
So, no sucking.
Hey, Hutchins, I can relate. After a bout of the flu in the fall of 2000, I inexplicably lost 80 pounds in the space of six months while feeling progressively worse, grouchier, more sluggish and less well-rested, despite requiring ever-increasing amounts of sleep. I was diagnosed with a thyroid thing, a different thyroid thing, a progesterone thing, and finally in June of 2001, when I reached the point where I could no longer walk across a room unassisted, I was finally diagnosed with the thing that I actually had: Type I diabetes. I almost died in the E.R. the night I was finally diagnosed. My blood sugar was over 900.
Being presented with a chronic health condition did not bring out the best in me. I resisted almost all of the most effective treatment options for a long time. I gave up all but the most cursory efforts at exercising. I ate whatever I wanted.
Then I got married and wanted to have a baby, and I had to get serious about my health. Pregnancy can be exceptionally dangerous for diabetics and their babies and I was motivated, strangely enough, by a doctor who was shockingly pessimistic about my prospects for having a baby at all, much less a healthy one.
I fired my dick of a doc and found a new one and I had a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby, and when my healthy pregnancy was over, I kept doing the things I’d done when I was pregnant. I didn’t want to be that person you hear about all the time: dying young from complications. I went on an insulin pump, and while it didn’t improve my condition so much, it made it so damned much easier to handle I wished I’d done it years earlier. Then I had another healthy pregnancy and another healthy baby.
My kids are my motivation, and my confidence. They’re healthy because I worked my ass off to make sure they would be. Nobody’ll do the work for me, but they’re worth doing the work for. So worth it.
You’ve said it all here and you clearly know what you need to do, and I have total faith that you’ve got this. But if you have questions about life with the big D, or need encouragement, or anything else, I’m here.
Thank you for sharing this personal story JC. It is inspiring and motivating at the time of year we all tend to think about these things.
Thanks again.
As the young kids say, Yeah, I feel you.
It was many many moons ago I was diagnosed with Diabetes. Completely unexpected and quite a shock. I think I spend the better part of a week in a daze It took me a long time to process the information. And then everyone piles on with their information. Oh, you need to do this and that. You can’t eat this and that anymore. And this and that and over here and over there and…
I wanted to shout Shut The Fuck Up!! at everyone. I was having a hard enough time dealing with the fact that I had just been told I have a dread disease for which there is no cure. Furthermore this disease is capable of doing a variety of nasty things to you.
I did not go into denial and avoidance as you have. Eventually I sucked it up and did what I had to do. My life changed in significant ways but I learned to adapt. You do. It’s not easy and not always fun but you do adapt. You learn to appreciate things like Splenda and you get really pissed off when it’s not available at the restaurant you are eating at. Self serving pricks, you want to be all “natural” but I’m in a fucking life and death situation here. Sugar is poison to me.
I’ve fallen off the wagon plenty of times and got myself back up. It’s a constant battle each day. I fought off the insulin for several years but eventually my body gave out and I inject once a day at night now. I never, ever, thought I could use the needle. I’m deathly afraid of them. But I had to. Life or death. I figured it out, I stick a needle into my belly everyday. It’s not as bad as I thought.
Hang in there man. I’m glad your taking control for yourself. Your too good a writer to check out early. At least hang around long enough so they can replace any lost limbs with robotic replacements. Oh yes, WE will be the transformers.
And someday JC, yes someday I want to be sitting in a theatre watching 7th Son the movie. When the credits roll I want to lean over to my own son (coming to a hospital near you Feb ’11) and say, I know what dude. I read his book when it first came out. He was one of the great pioneers of Podcast fiction.
Feel free, and I mean anyone reading this, to shoot me an email if you have questions about living with diabetes.
All the advice you need has already been written above. All I can say is Good Luck. And all these many friends you never knew you had – but acknowledged in your piece – are sending positive vibes your way!
Thanks JC. It helps to know you’re not the only self-destructive dumbass on the planet. It seems such a simple thing when compared to a shortened life and less than great health, why are small sacrifices so difficult.
I’m going to put down the pie and just step back.