It’s been a stressful few months. For similar reasons to everyone else to be honest. But as you can gather (if you’ve read any of my other wettings), I have rarely been a stranger to such a raw and unbridled state of mind. I start off with this, because of how stress seems to have had such a detrimental impact on my physical health now more than ever. Yes, it’s always been around, but I often attribute it as part of my main house and me as a person, not invaded by the tenants of Anxiety and Depression. It’s still of great inconvenience. When I was 14, the stress of attempting to deal with bullying and negotiating Secondary School seemed to trigger a bout of Gastritis that caused me to miss 2 months of it, to the point where people thought I was dead. I’d wish I was at the time, as I came out of it with my first experiences of Depression, initially put down to “teenager blues” by Doctors and Psychiatrists alike, and waving goodbye to that childlike wonder and pure innocence. In a somewhat better place of good and bad days now, it’s my physical health I’ve had to turn my attention to. Now, I've always been partial to a biscuit, particularly in a world of overabundant confectionary. Once, as a child, I helped myself to 7 Custard Creams from the biscuit tin, then sobbed as my Mum politely pointed this observation out to me. My weight would yo-yo as a teenager. Lost, but then regained after having Gastritis, until I was at reasonable weight approaching the end of my teens thanks to my sister’s Wii Fit and other forms of exercise, such as long walks around the local nature reserve. However, there were times in between when I would often feel; fatigued, thirsty, frequently urinating, light-headed, sick, tingling and trembling, and that a swig of Lucozade seemed to be the ticket. Despite the indebted priceless advice of; "That will kill you one day, you fat shit." I’d gone to the Doctors in my early 20’s. “You’re not Diabetic, if anything you’re the opposite.” said the late GP after a series of urine samples and blood tests. I thought nothing of it, and before moving out, managed to stave my picky cravings and move about as much as possible. Once I left home though, I fully embraced the joys of independent living. Despite moving straight in with my partner and daughter, I thought “Brilliant! I can eat and drink what I want, when I want!” The idea that I didn’t have to tread on many tiptoes and could simply help myself to whatever we bought. Plan our own meals etc. This, and more additional stresses made 2016 not the easiest of times, and my weight skyrocketed to an unprecedented amount where I was labelled as Obese. 16 stone. I became more sedantry and depressed. When the year had a happier ending, I decided to take action, and recalled how my sister’s Wii Fit played a great part in keeping my weight in check. So, I bought a used console with the game and throughout 2017, got to work on it, also slowly cutting out the unnecessary saturated fats and sugars that I'd previously became addicted to and broadening my stale palette. My progress was halted when we had to move to accommodate my partner’s growing health problems, but was then resumed. However, I’d found it harder than before to get back into exercising. Swimming, cycling, regardless of what I tried made my fatigue worse and muscle aches worse. I’d suspected Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, until a blood test result came back in January 2018 following a consultation weeks before, where I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes, and sent to an Awareness course surrounded by elderly recipients of the disease, learning of the worst case scenarios when it came to Diabetic Retinopathy and Neuropathy. I was also told that if I could lose more weight with diet and exercise alone by April, I wouldn’t need any medication. So, I used this a motivator, and successfully managed to shift the excess weight to place me in an ideal bracket for my height. 15 stone 10lbs to 12 stone 10lbs.
From there, I’d simply continued to manage this myself. Changing my lifestyle for good, with the occasional cheeky treat.
Until of course, that year came knocking. One I've previously referred to as perfect vision. After a bout of Shingles most likely caused by the ostensibly triggered stress, I began to inexplicably lose weight without actively trying to, almost a stone shy of being classed as Underweight.
No amount of; exercise, mindfulness or stress management courses helped, so it was back and forth to the Doctors over the next 18 months, and their answer was to simply prescribe me on 3 different kinds of medication of various strengths. Metformin, Gliclazide and Sitagliptin, without so much as a Glucose Meter or any other piece of advice! It had to take moving to where I reside now, before further probing and investigation was made, as they became just as puzzled as to why as a Type 2 Diabetic, I was skinny with a good diet and healthy lifestyle, but still having glucose readings doubling and almost tripling the normal amounts. With a Glucose Meter handed to me (and the joys of learning how to master the finger-prick test, ironically increasing levels becoming stressed with it!), I recorded my levels until one of the Diabetic Nurses recently decided that at my most recent blood test, I needed to have a GAD Antibody test, with a hunch as to whether I am actually a Type 2 Diabetic after all. Seemingly awkward to the end, I was recently diagnosed with LADA (Latent Autoimmune Diabetes in Adults), often known as Type 1.5 Diabetes, and am now being treated in a similar fashion to Type 1 Diabetes. It slowly develops over many years instead of during childhood, which would answer why I had those dizzy spells and episodes when I was younger. I’ve also been apparently quite the buffet for mosquitos, midges and gnats over the many summers that have passed! For some reason, instead of anger or additional stress at this common misdiagnosis, I’ve felt a sense of relief. The frustration of doing everything in my power to eat right and exercise, only ever drinking water and the occasional cup of tea. “Are you taking the medication correctly?” GPs have kept asking. Unless you’ve given me the wrong instructions, I don’t believe so! The relief’s perhaps the fact that it’s something out of my control, and that there are ways to put it right, and bring my glucose levels down to normal levels more regularly than they have been. The stereotypes of Type 2 may have had a part to play in my frustrations. “You can’t have Type 2, you’re not fat.” etc. The shame and regret of a misspent youth. Once again, confusing people because of who I am and how I am cannot be pigeonholed. Humorous and ironic when people tell me that I "Look well" too! Initially dubious about Insulin, it was thoroughly explained, shifting at least some of the stress that remains preserved in this complicated piece of machinery of mine, now sitting comfortably at 11 stone, maintaining.
If stress came in suitcases that rolled around a conveyor belt at the airport, I seem to be stuck there, picking up some, but taking some off, non-stop! There are temporary reliefs to leaving this Stress Airport, but whatever my physical and mental health begin to unravel within my DNA next, I’ll simply be there to remain as stoic as possible and roll with the punches. And perhaps one day not feel as agitated, self-conscious, or as anxious with a cup of tea and cheeky treat of just the one Custard Cream in my hand. Although, these days I prefer a cheeky Hobnob!