I'm finding I have little to say about things like disability politics, my job, scientific breakthroughs on the R.A. front. My world is small these days and concentrated mostly on my belly. That both makes me sad and comforts me, lets me know that I am capable of dialing it back, that I'm capable of not mistaking a job for a life, and that it will be okay for the next few years if my world shrinks to the care of these two little people and my little family.
On the other hand, I'm terrified that I will never again care who won an election, never stay late at school because I'm dedicated to my kids (who are someone else's universe and deserve that kind of care). I am scared I'll never write again.
About a week ago, I failed the 1-hour glucose screening with a score so off the charts that I wasn't given the 3 hour test -- I was just flat out diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Fun. Fun. Fun. This reminds me of all of my diet issues from a few summers ago when I was trying to repair the wild blood sugar swings that prednisone and weight gain had given me. I'm finding that things don't affect me in a textbook way and that I really use simple sugars and carbs to help regulate my system. In some ways, they are way more effective than the cheese sticks and mixed nuts I am trying to rely on now.
I can do this for 2and a half more months because I have to, because it's my babies we're talking about. But I couldn't live like this. I remember writing this post and it really summarizes how discouraged I get when I try to control my health through my food. I totally get the flaw in my logic when I say that controlling my food may make no difference in the death rate for R.A. When food issues are so absolutely hard for me, and it might not help in the long run, I want to say "Why try?" Except for the next few months, of course.
I haven't been very good at tagging my posts dealing with food type issues and the research I did when I was diagnosed with high cholesterol and again when I tried to go on the South Beach Diet. I will have to retag them all but here's a list for now.
Basically, what it amounts to is that my cravings for certain foods may be linked deeply to the genetic fault that causes my rheumatoid and narcolepsy. That should be good news, should give me hope that I can reverse things by eating the right way. Instead, that crushes me because I really don't think I have the will to do that, and suddenly there's a level of responsibility and self-blame implied there. It's enough to make me run for a Dr. Pepper and a candy bar.