For those of you unfamiliar, diabetics must test their sugar levels frequently, daily. This involves piercing your finger and drawing blood. Yes, it hurts mentally and physically. I administered insulin to my abdomen every morning, and on my thigh before every meal. Having served the Brigham for years, I thought I knew what it felt like to be sick. I realized only then that having a chronic disease meant despair, fear and a sense of hopelessness. When testing and injecting, I was reminded every time of my mortality and the frail nature of life. Worse of all, my ability to fulfill my obligations to my family, friends and patients have become unpredictable.
Being 185 lbs and 5 11, I did not fall into the obese category. In my case, genetics played a major factor. Diet and a sedentary lifestyle only catalyzed the problem.
As a clinician, I devoured all that was available on Pubmed. I wanted a solution, a permanent fix. Yes, I even googled for a cure. There were no answers. The most reliable finding was that one could delay the signs and symptoms through diet and exercise. I was fixated on the word "delay". Mentally, that was traumatic. Through Pubmed, I evaluated my risk for blindness, kidney failure and neuropathy. I started to feel sensations on my feet and see floaters in my eyes. My life was consumed by the Dx.
Through research, I educated myself on the patho-phsyology of diabetes. I learned the cellular mechanisms at play. It was easy to recognize that the most advertised foods were certainly the worse. The financing for medical research is dismal. The bureaucracies that researchers must jump through consumes 40% of their time. Many non-profits who supposedly are finding a cure for my cohort do so by paying their CEO's hundreds, if not millions, of dollars. I knew that if I had a fighting chance, it would be through me.
I eliminated all red meat along with empty carbs. My diet consisted of vegetables and fish. I went on hour long walks. In less than two weeks, I was off insulin. Previously, I was told that this was unlikely. I was prescribed Metformin. I continued my diet, and started to run daily. I did 1/4 mile at first, then 1/2 a mile and worked up to 3 miles. It would be 2 am sometimes and -5 degrees Celsius during my runs, but it didn't matter. No matter how much my body tried to tell me to stop, I didn't let it and I wouldn't listen to it. I felt that my body had let me down, and I had let us all down. It was time to take control.
A month and a half later, I decided on my own, to split the Metformin tablets in two and take half a pill a day. My sugar levels stayed the same. After a few weeks, I stopped taking my pills completely. The exercise continued, the diet was very strict, and I added weight training to my daily regiment. When my PCP realized that I had not filled my prescription, she rightfully demanded that I be assessed. My HGBA1C was 5.7 three months after my initial Dx, I was ecstatic.
It has been over a year since the initial Dx. Today I went in for testing again. I was fearful. To be honest, now a days I do not test as frequently, but still maintained a strict diet with exercise. I have increased my weight training but reduced running since my knees were starting to show some disturbing symptoms. I am happy to announce, today, without any meds, I have achieved an HGBA1C of 5.6. I am normal, and at least for now, I beat diabetes.
My illness made me stronger. I know that nothing is impossible. I have and will conduct my experience to all. I spend more time counseling my patients on nutrition. I encourage my friends and staff to improve their diet and exercise. I initiated the non- profit www.cureall.org to truly help fund scientist in our war against the incurable. But most importantly, I learned how to be more empathetic towards the sick.
