We had just returned from our honeymoon, blissfully (yes, blissfully!) happy. Marriage was even better than we had anticipated. Somehow, after saying our vows, we entered into an even more intimate, comfortable, secure, loving relationship. Taking care of each other became our top priority. And we constantly teased, hugged, loved. I remember thinking, "It doesn't get better than this."
Three days after we returned from our honeymoon, I attended a routine dental appointment. Water shot out from Dr. L's high-powered cleaning device to clean the surface of my teeth and the spaces in between. His assistant maneuvered a suctioning device around my mouth as Dr. L cleaned, and at one point she removed it. I took the opportunity to swallow. And tasted blood.
Dr. L pulled up a chair after the cleaning and told me that he was concerned about the amount my gums had bled during the appointment. Usually this is a result of tartar build up, he told me. But I had none. He was concerned that my having had undiagnosed diabetes for awhile had led to the development of gum disease. I couldn't believe it. M is forever teasing me about how thoroughly I brush and floss. How had this happened?
One week later, I was at Dr. P's office. He was the periodontist Dr. L referred me to. He used a measuring tool to assess how deep the pockets between my teeth and gums were. The deeper he could submerge the tool beneath my gum line, the more concerning the pocket was. I had remembered Dr. L telling me that 3's were normal. When I heard Dr. P read out 4's, 5's, even 6's to his assistant, I fought back tears. Closed my eyes against the pain and focused on taking one breath at a time.
Dr. P pulled up a chair after the procedure and told me I had periodontal disease and would need to schedule surgery as soon as possible. Untreated, periodontal disease would lead to tooth loss. This was all so overwhelming to me. Within the space of 8 months, I had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, learned how to manage diabetes with fingersticks and injections, began using a continuous glucose monitor, and a pump...and now diagnosed with periodontal disease. And this in addition to all the good stress, the moving in with M, planning our wedding, taking and passing my licensing exam, getting married...
I've had about a week to adjust to this latest news, this new chronic condition that I'll have to manage for the rest of my life with quarterly visits and hypervigilance about oral hygiene. This news stole M's and my bliss for a time, until we fought to regain it. Until I renewed my commitment to yoga and my spiritual practice.
J, Dr. P's assistant, met with me before I left my appointment. She told me that whenever she doesn't understand a condition her daughter was born with, why it was that other little girls don't have to manage what her daughter does, she tells herself that it's because they wouldn't be able to. That if we're given it, we can handle it.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
After All
Wow. These past couple weeks have been a whirlwind. We were fourteen days away from our wedding, then thirteen, then twelve, eleven, ten.... Four. Now three. We'd been putting in the daily 12 hours expected from our respective graduate programs and spending what time we had on evenings and weekends running last minute errands.
Amidst all the busyness, I learned from a dear friend that he had been diagnosed with a chronic illness. I was shocked. Then overwhelmed with grief. Images associated with learning the news of my own diagnosis flashed in my mind. I remembered very vividly a particular moment in time when I was sitting comfortably on our living room couch, cross-legged with the Bible in my lap. I was doing my daily devotional and, right in the middle, I paused and considered what was going on inside my body.
Sitting there peacefully on a still summer day, sunlight streaming in through our patio doors, I felt a profound sadness at the fact that my very own cells were turning against themselves. That my pancreas was becoming less and less proficient at doing what it was intricately designed to do. And that there was absolutely nothing I could do to change this or slow this down. I wasn't working. I remember very vividly being directed to Psalm 139. As I read, I felt the prick of tears, the warm traces that sadness left on my cheeks as my eyes welled up and overflowed. I had never read anything so beautiful. Or anything so timely. I felt so comforted.
Listening to my dear friend speak last night about his experience led me to reflect on my own experience. Where was I? I realized that my anxiety had all but disappeared. Since July, I had managed to work full time, attend class, spend evenings at the clinic seeing clients and receiving supervision, prepare for and pass my licensing exam, learn to manage diabetes and implement lifestyle modifications, and plan a wedding. All with minimal distress. There were times that I would become saddened by my lack of free time, but I worried very little about getting it all done. I think in part because it became less important to me that everything be done perfectly. Things could be done well enough. What merited my energy was my health and relationships.
I've also grown in my compassion for others. I had once believed in the just world fallacy. That things happened to people as a result of choices they had made. When I learned that Type 1 diabetes happened to me for no reason at all, I came to appreciate that sometimes things just happen. Even those things we often associate with lifestyle choices. Some of those things are so much bigger than us. There's a larger context within which we all make choices, a context that limits some of our freedom.
Maybe there is some gratitude to be had for this diagnosis after all.
Much love to all of you. Will update once I'm back from our honeymoon!
Amidst all the busyness, I learned from a dear friend that he had been diagnosed with a chronic illness. I was shocked. Then overwhelmed with grief. Images associated with learning the news of my own diagnosis flashed in my mind. I remembered very vividly a particular moment in time when I was sitting comfortably on our living room couch, cross-legged with the Bible in my lap. I was doing my daily devotional and, right in the middle, I paused and considered what was going on inside my body.
Sitting there peacefully on a still summer day, sunlight streaming in through our patio doors, I felt a profound sadness at the fact that my very own cells were turning against themselves. That my pancreas was becoming less and less proficient at doing what it was intricately designed to do. And that there was absolutely nothing I could do to change this or slow this down. I wasn't working. I remember very vividly being directed to Psalm 139. As I read, I felt the prick of tears, the warm traces that sadness left on my cheeks as my eyes welled up and overflowed. I had never read anything so beautiful. Or anything so timely. I felt so comforted.
Listening to my dear friend speak last night about his experience led me to reflect on my own experience. Where was I? I realized that my anxiety had all but disappeared. Since July, I had managed to work full time, attend class, spend evenings at the clinic seeing clients and receiving supervision, prepare for and pass my licensing exam, learn to manage diabetes and implement lifestyle modifications, and plan a wedding. All with minimal distress. There were times that I would become saddened by my lack of free time, but I worried very little about getting it all done. I think in part because it became less important to me that everything be done perfectly. Things could be done well enough. What merited my energy was my health and relationships.
I've also grown in my compassion for others. I had once believed in the just world fallacy. That things happened to people as a result of choices they had made. When I learned that Type 1 diabetes happened to me for no reason at all, I came to appreciate that sometimes things just happen. Even those things we often associate with lifestyle choices. Some of those things are so much bigger than us. There's a larger context within which we all make choices, a context that limits some of our freedom.
Maybe there is some gratitude to be had for this diagnosis after all.
Much love to all of you. Will update once I'm back from our honeymoon!
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