Dear 329,
When I told the doctor about you yesterday - he looked very concerned. His eyes cast down as he put the drops in to take a look at my eyes. I explained you'd been around a lot lately - along with some others of your kind.
Looking very surprised as he peered into my eyes with a very bright light - then took photos of the backs of my peepers, the doctor told me my eyes look excellent. Excellent - in spite of your presence in my life. He warned, though, that having you around - in partnership with a few 205s, some 29s, and a handful of 140s - is not good news for my overall health, let alone my diabetes health. He gave me this information as if it was something I'd never heard before - even though he and twenty other doctors have counseled me about the danger of having you here. They don't seem to understand that I'd like to banish you - but you're a stubborn sort - and you've got staying power. Staying power would be great if you were, say, a cute new hair color - but you're not.
Sometimes, I think you're not so bad. I know I'm in denial. I think I can change you - I think I can live with you - I think it's all my fault you're here. I guess that's true, on occasion, I've invited you over. But most of the time, you come sneaking in the back window and I don't even hear you. You scare the crap out of me - then, you make me angry and I throw insulin at you - lots and lots of insulin - often, way too much insulin. That's when your staying power kicks in. You stand up like a dragon, hissing fire while I toss unit after unit of bandaidy smelling water at you in what feels like a futile attempt to make you go away. Then - just when I get you kicked, you send in your old buddy 32 or 41 or 20 to remind me that you've still got some sort of sick power over me. And as I try to make your little friends leave, I know there's the promise of you rebounding back and biting me in the bum again.
I have to tell you, 329, I hate you. I wish you would just go away. But I know, in the end, you really can't, and you probably won't. So I'll live with you - and I'll live with having to deal with you. But I'm going to do my best to keep you a at a minimum - to exorcise you. I know you won't cooperate, but I thought it only fair to warn you.
Game on - f**cko.
Sincerely,
Nicole
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
13 comments:
"Game on f*cko"....that is the best and funniest phrase I have ever heard.
AND I believe you are the first person in the history of mankind to say "f*cko".
I hate 329 too.
Nice post.
"Staying power would be great if you were, say, a cute new hair color - but you're not."
Fantastic post, Nicole. Very funny but also very poignant.
Rock on Nicole. I love it!
Yeah, great post!
You have such an art when it comes to telling stories! Great stuff.
Game on indeed.
The emotions prompted by those damn numbers -- and having to deal with them -- are perfectly expressed in this post.
Powerful stuff, Nicole.
One of these times, when some boneheaded doctor says to O or me, "You know, that's not a good number," I'm going to get in his face and say "No SHIT, Sherlock! Tell me how to control her diabetes. Tell me. And then I'll tell the world, because if it were as simple as do A, B and C and then perfect control will happen, don't you think I'd do it, you moronic, thick fuck?"
Gah!
Excellent post, Nicole. Sorry I got all worked up there. :|
329 has been warned. Now go kick it's butt!!!
Here, here! Great post.
well said, Nicole.
This is a great attitude to have, Nicole. I love getting all riled up like this, even though I hate having to.
What scares me are the times that I don't get upset, I don't feel challenged, or it just doesn't seem to matter at the moment.
There are fine lines between controlling, managing and just living, and sometimes they get blurry.
Maybe it's time to check my eyewear prescription. ;)
Pardon my tardiness!
i hate 329 too.
i like your writing.
Post a Comment