I’m having an anxiety attack. I’ve been having one for days and – to be honest – it’s a lot harder to deal with than diabetes. With diabetes there are many frustrations, but in a certain way, it’s a disease that suits me (if there is such a thing!). I have obsessive-compulsive tendencies which make me really good about monitoring my blood sugar. I like being in control. I grew up keeping kosher so I’ve always known about dietary restrictions. In short, I have ways of coping with diabetes. I cannot, however, cope with anxiety. It undoes me in every way, I get flustered, I can’t concentrate, and I lose things. A few weeks ago, for example, when Mike and I almost put our apartment up for sale, I lost my wedding ring. Now, after receiving some scary blood test results (not diabetes-related) I’ve lost my glucometer.
I know my body is overrun with stress hormones and I am sure it is messing up my blood sugar. So what a perfect time to lose a glucometer. I always keep it right next to my computer or right next to the bed. These are both places where my cat (currently known as Douche) likes to sit. Douche is black. The glucometer is in a black case. Guess how many times I’ve turned the apartment upside down trying to find the glucometer while Douche has been sitting on it, making the little zippered case one with her long (oily) black fur? Of course when I finally figure out what she’s up to and catch her in the act, she pushes her nose up for some petting and gives me a look that says, I was just keeping it safe and warm for you. Douche, Douche, Douchecat: glucometers are not eggs. You do not need to sit on them.
Unfortunately, this time I can’t blame the cat for the missing glucometer. It’s just disappeared into the chaos of my panic. Fortunately, we’ve got at least 5 spare prickers (lancets) in the house, and Mike is always happy to share his test strips with me. I’m taking a deep breath right now.