Harsh Truth

As part of trying not to lie to myself, a favourite human pastime, I can get some interesting reactions in replying to questions posed to me.

Today [Thursday July 16, 2015] I went to a walk-in clinic to get my prescription of diabetes medication renewed for another 3 months.


The doctor writing the prescription asked about when I had last had blood work done to evaluate the effectiveness of the medication and the state of my diabetes. I replied truthfully that I had not had any blood work done in months and he asked why.


I could have said that not having a family doctor there was no one to have the test results sent to. Which, while certainly reflective of the consequences of not having a family doctor, was not ‘the truth’ in that it was not what motivated my behaviour [or lack thereof].


I have $0.00 to spend on food. I eat what food I can access, eat what is put in front of me. I stopped at the library to write this to make use of the time that needed to pass before I could stop and pick up some free bread before going home.


At $0.00 I cannot modify my diet to be in accordance with dietary recommendations of the Canadian Diabetes Association. BLEEP, I cannot modify my diet at all.


Faced with that reality, the results of any bloodwork are only going to be another major stressor and provide fresh quicksand to increase the ability of depression to suck me down into  a dark hole.


The doctor did bring up that I could apply for and receive $40 a month extra for food as a result of being on disability and having diabetes. While not having a family doctor to sign the application for the food subsidy is a barrier and $40 is not going to have any real impact on my diet, the truth is that the $40 would not be spent on food, but on staving off becoming homeless.


I know that my diabetes is having negative consequences on my health; that it will cause me to die of ‘natural causes’ unnaturally early. Under current circumstances there is little I can do about that reality – except alter my current circumstances.


Which is why I am trying to find a job to increase my cash flow. A search, a task, that is proving far more difficult and full of unexpected barriers than I anticipated.


All of this negativity has me in a rather dark mental space were, far too often, I feel not being alive would be a relief, that the only regret I would have is the words unwritten, the thoughts unexpressed.


The stress causes the fingers of my left hand to cramp closed to the point I have the worst cramping finger taped to another so it cannot lock curled/closed. The stress also causes twinges and the twinges bring stress and worry about  the consequences of diabetes not properly taken care of, Right now I am far more scared of the diabetes compromising my eyesight than about it killing me.

A de-motivational reality that has my head a risky place for me to be without adequate adult supervision.       

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