In which I seek my free gift

For me, self care has become a tightrope walk between two distinct points. One, it goes without saying, is diabetes. The other I've affectionately named DUH. That, for readers less subject than I am to neurosis, diabetes, or both, stands for Diabetes. Ugh. Hypochondria.

This disease has such a generous (ahem) variety of complications covering such a diverse (blah) array of organs and systems that I find it impossible not to analyze my body’s every minor palpitation in that context. This new habit can certainly comprise an important aspect of stellar self care. You can be vigilant about your health or you can risk missing things you need to know. Cyberpal Kerri, a hero of mine who firmly occupies the vigilant category, has made a recent diabetes-related discovery that’s sending her on a journey through purgatory. But the ultimate truth—not that this is fair, just, or a Good Thing—is that she’s empowered by her newfound knowledge to take action. Yeah, it’s purgatory to know, but not knowing damns you to hell.

That said, the other side of the coin of vigilance is, well, DUH. Recently I found myself beset by a horrible itching. Not only wouldn’t it go away, it spread. I saw some little bumps too. Aha, I thought. I know that diabetes can cause a variety of skin troubles. Some of them are chronic and extremely tormenting. I nervously sounded the alarm at Pins and Needles, where several wise and helpful folks offered a variety of suggestions for me to consider as I tried to figure out what kind of doctor to see.

One of the questions I was asked was whether I had recently changed detergent or perfume. I could, after all, be experiencing contact dermatitis.

Oh. Well. Actually. Yes. Yes, I had changed shampoos a couple of weeks before. I had forgotten that.

Back I changed to the old shampoo. Problem solved. Sometimes, as cyberpal Scott observed on this very blog, an itch is just an itch, a headache is just a headache, and diabetes is just diabetes. DUH.

Then again. (This post, you see, is shaped just like diabetes itself: back and forth, up and down, switcheroo, pulled-a-fast-one-on-ya, betcha-didn’t-see-that-coming!) I feel like a fool at times, but no one can dispute that the diabeastie has horns and claws and warts of all kinds. Among them, as cyberpal Amy explains, is its tendency to come bearing free gifts no one wants. Type 1 frequently coexists with other autoimmune diseases, there being a genetic link among many of these. The one I am worried about right now is celiac, a condition with which Amy is unfortunately very familiar. People with celiac can’t tolerate gluten, a protein found in most grains and a great many processed foods. It tears up the intestine, making one subject to vitamin deficiency, osteoporosis, and stomach cancer. The cure is to stop eating gluten. For good.

I am setting myself up, you see. If I expose my hypochondria here in embarrassing detail, it pretty much ensures that when I visit the doctor I will find that all is well. Then I will have to come back here and say DUH. We can all laugh gently at my poor tormented mind, and life will go on.

Celiac occurs much more often in type 1 diabetics than in the general population. It can present with no symptoms at all, or with a variety of GI symptoms. (Have had a healthy number of these the past few weeks. Could just be stress. Probably stress. Yeah, stress.) Fatigue and weakness are common. (Check. Especially the last couple weeks.) Another sign is evidence of nutrient malabsorption—for example, bone problems or peripheral neuropathy.

Ah. Well. Yes. My bones are sound, as far as I know (but just give me some time to think about it). I do have a funny nerve thing that comes and goes. It’s like being poked with a pin in my feet and hands. Mostly in the evening. This type of neuropathy is, of course, a common complication of diabetes. Back when it began in November, my endo explained (rather dismissively, thus giving me my first DUH moment and coming very close to sending me on a search for a new endo) that neuropathy doesn’t develop in diabetics until at least the 5-year mark. And even if you allow for the years (!) in which I might have been undiagnosed, I’m around 3 years tops. The endo suggested that the problem would go away by itself, and if not, I should get tested for vitamin B12 deficiency.

Well, it did go away for a long time. Now it’s back.

Vitamin deficiency, huh? GI symptoms, fatigue. Hmm. Okay, I'm in. Time to humble myself before a new doctor. Maybe she will smile kindly at me and say, "DUH, Violet. DUH."