If I could get a message across to the whole world about what pisses me off most about being diabetic, it would be to mind your own business if I want to consecutively eat 4 bags of chips and an ice cream cone. I’m not comitting suicide, I swear! I’m a big boy and I can make my own decisions. If that decision involves me having to increase my insulin dosage at that given moment, so be it.
I have type 1 diabetes. Cool, eh? It isn’t so bad, except for the part where I have to stab myself with 4 needles a day, on top of pricking my poor little fingers to check my blood sugar every few hours (side note: is it just me, or does pricking hurt more that the injections?). Sometimes it’s fun to pretend that I’m a heroine addict when I’m in public and see people’s reactions when I whip out a needle and pretend to find a good vein in my arm. If that makes me strange then I don’t want to be normal.
I was diagnosed almost 2 years ago (November 2010), which happened to be my first year of University and first year away from home. Essentially this meant that I had to learn how to manage my glucose levels under the influence fairly quickly. I’d say I’ve become the guru of drunk diabetic decisions.
Please leave me in peace next time you see me eating my daily recommended intake of carbs in a single meal. Click a few extra notches on my insulin pen and I’ll be golden. 😉