Well, my December started with a whimper. About 11:30PM I started feeling unwell, enough so I started wondering if I should call 911. It settled down over the next hour or so, and by 3AM, I felt okay enough to go to bed.

The next morning, I called the advice nurse to see what they thought, and they immediately brought on a doctor, who listened to me for about 30 seconds and said “um, you’re going to the emergency room”. And so I did.

And thus started my rapid unplanned vacation. I was hosted by five doctors, a dozen nurses, and I interacted with at least 15 other people in some official capacity or another. I was given a CAT scan, I was knocked out by a very nice anesthesiologist, with whom I got to have a very serious conversations about living wills and resuscitation, and I got to take a nap while one of the doctors checked out various things.

By the time I woke up from that, my discharge orders were already being started. I had a final chat with my specialist about the results, Laurie came and picked me up, and a little over two days after going to the hospital, I was home. A big chunk of that time was me waiting for them to decide I was in good enough shape for the procedure, and then another 12 hours getting things ready for that and getting the time scheduled.

I am consciously not going into any details of what went wrong with my body, partly because you don’t really need to know, and partly because I know details would just squick you out, so, you’re welcome.

It was a serious issue, but on the scale of things it could have been, t was the best possible outcome. There is some risk of it occurring again, but that’s not considered a high risk. So that’s something.

My mom was an RN, and she spent 20+ years running a county Obstetrics floor at a hospital, and when I talk with medical people, I usually try to let them know this, to let them know that I both have some understanding and sympathy for the work they do, and that I know enough about what’s going on to be dangerous, which is my way to imply they don’t have to talk down to me, but that I also recognize that I don’t know the answers (which I don’t). I had some really nice chats with them, because I find they enjoy talking shop a bit with people that have some sense of what’s going on in those places. To a person I found good attitudes and neat people behind the badges and uniforms, and that was awesome.

Early on, in talking to my specialist, he asked if I had any questions, and I described a possible (very squicky) outcome of the situation to him, and he laughed and said “well, you just took the express bus about three stops further than I planned on talking about right now”. I explained that a friend of mine has gone through something similar and I helped them through recovery, and he smiled, and said “well, okay, I won’t think of you as a hypochondriac then. that makes sense” He really rocked and was nice to work with.

I don’t think folks understand just how hard medical people work in post Covid life today. Many of the nurses were doing 12 hour shifts because there just aren’t enough available (and if Trump starts deporting medical folks, it’s going to get really brutal). The doctors were invariably very efficient in their time, but were never in too much of a hurry to make sure I understood what was going on.

The end result for me? It was something that happened, not something caused by anything I did. The results of the CAT scan and the other medical tests and procedures all showed the best possible aspects. I don’t have to change any life activity, diet or medical things. I just need to be aware of what happened and realize it may (or may not) recur.

Should I have gone right to the ER? Oh, hell yes, even though I judged its severity right at the time, it could have been a lot worse, and no, I shouldn’t have been the one making that call. So next time, if there is one, it’s right to 911, just in case. Did I mention I know enough to be dangerous? Well, yeah.

A couple of tech things fascinated me, being the tech nerd I am. The device they used to set me up for the IV into the elbow, it turned out, now uses a plastic needle, so it is flexible and bends — which makes it a LOT more comfortable and a lot more reliable over time. And when the nurse came to take that off, she used an alcohol pad, because the alcohol helps dissolve the adhesive so you can pull off the bandage without defoliating anything. Well, duh — so whenever you’re trying to remove a bandage and not take hair with it, think about grabbing an alcohol pad and see if that helps make the job easier and less messy.

While I was there, I was in a shared room. My roommate, who came in a few hours after I did, well, I’ll call him Jake. He was at work when he realized his eyes had blurred and he couldn't see clearly, so he got on the line with his medical group, and they told him to get to ER immediately, and under no circumstances drive himself. When he got there, they tested his blood sugar and it was north of 700, which is well into the “son, how is it you’re still conscious” realm. When I left, they had finally gotten him down to 300, but they were still trying to get him into a normal range (for comparison: if my blood sugars hit 180 after a meal, I’m annoyed)

As someone who’s been diabetic since 2009, and on insulin since 2016, I was able to sit and chat with him a bit. A couple of simple pieces of advice I give everyone I’ve met who’s become diabetic are these tidbits:

First, always remember that your food and diet are a big part of the medicine you use to treat diabetes. It takes time to figure out how to fix that diet, but you can (for me, I wasn’t fully happy with my new diet for about five years, but today I can more or less make adjustments on the fly and guess my testing numbers with good accuracy. But it’s a process, and it takes time and practice.

Second, diabetes is no big deal as long as you manage it. Especially with modern tools and treatments, you can live a normal life as long as you don’t neglect managing the diabetes (well, normal once you realize that those six pieces of garlic bread are now one piece or less).

He’s got a long path ahead of him, but he also seems to have a clear view of what that path needs to me. As he said a few times, he clearly saw this as the “my check engine light lit up and is flashing” moment, and he’s right. And he has a wife, and kids, and wants to be around to see and help them grow up, and so I think he really senses just how significant this moment of his life is to him.

I hope he figures it out. I think he’s in the right mindset to do so. And he had his first big win, he got to sleep through an entire night without getting up to go to the bathroom, because, folks, when you’re sugars are that high, your kidneys go into overdrive trying to remove all that extra sugar from your system, which is where that classic symptom of undiagnosed diabetes of extreme thirst comes from. And yes, like Jake, I ignored that for a while, too, before other things convinced me to call my doctor and request tests.

In my case, I clearly went diabetic sometime in 2008, which, not coincidentally was the year my dad died, and it was the year where I was frantically trying hold my own life together and do the work I was being paid to do, while making many repeated trips to LA to help mom and dad and try to help them keep their life sane as well, and yes, folks, stress is known as a factor is pushing you over into diabetes land.

And yes, here is where I drop in the lecture to suggest if you haven’t had your blood sugars testing in the last year or so, you really should. Especially if your diet isn’t awesome (mine in those days was more “burgers and fries for lunch 6 days a week”) or if you notice things that don’t seem right (if you aren’t sure what symptoms to worry about, check out this list). In my case, I was losing weight, which early on made me happy, and then made me wonder how I was doing it, since I hadn’t really been trying to; and, of course, the thirst and constant peeing, and just a general lack of energy. And one day, my brain clicked, and I went “um, oh” and immediately called my doctor. And then started down this path that today, I’m really satisfied to be on.

So please, don’t wait until you hit that point that the eyes blur and your check engine light starts flashing. Chat with your doc, see what they think the risks are, and see if they’'ll set you up for an annual A1C test. Mine these days runs in right around 7.2. Jakes, when he showed up in the hospital, was 13+, which is to me a boggling number to consider.

Go get checked.