I think I have finally figured out what is so frustrating about diabetes management. This has been nagging at my little brain more frequently than usual because I had an endocrinology appointment this morning. I had gotten a message from my doc over break that all was well with my lab work and today I met with her to go over specifics, tweak insulin rates, etc. My HbA1c is 5.6%–which is kick-ass for a type one (docs are usually pleased with a 7-ish%). But, as has happened so often over the last three or so years, it left me underwhelmed. It’s not that I wasn’t pleased, or proud of myself for managing this stupid disease so well. I am pleased. I am proud. But I just couldn’t summon up any jubilation, or really much of anything besides a mild, “Ah. Okay.”
And I think I have figured out why: Diabetes isn’t something you can win at. There is no finish line, there is no cure. I can never rest on my laurels because the second I do, my numbers will suffer and the next test will be worse (and there is always a next test). Any affirmation that I have done a good job is already in the past (this makes me think the Greeks and Romans would have enjoyed it, since they always enjoyed a good past-looking). So that 5.6%, which is such a wonderful, envy-inducing number is… already gone.
Another way to look at it is this: I didn’t lose. This time. This time I avoided any complications due to poor control (or poor luck). I didn’t lose my eyesight, I didn’t lose my kidney functions, or circulation in my feet. I didn’t lose my healthy heart. This time. This time I didn’t lose. But I can never win. As you can imagine, never being able to cross that finish line (until you’re dead, which I hope will not happen for many, many, many years) is about the most frustrating thing a type-A personality like me can experience. Over and over and over again.
So, I’m off to not-lose some more by checking my blood sugar and having a cup of tea. The fun never stops in this household!