Why?

Most people upon finding out that I'm beginning this process seem to see only the positives.

Then there are others who look confused and say "But your so STABLE! Why would you do this?"

Well, here's why.

Today after a couple of really steady good blood sugar weeks, my blood sugar began to inexplicably climb this afternoon. Last check was 452. I think it might have been a kink that I found in the tubing that leads from my pump to the site at which it enters my body, but until I check again I simply don't know for sure. What was a pretty good day has now become an exhausting grind - because of mechanical failure.

Yes, I'm currently VERY stable. However I've never lost sight of the fact that my stability is an illusion built on a piece of machinery. A piece of machinery that can and does malfunction, and that takes a minimum of overnight to replace (or longer, as was the case when I had a malfunction during a series of severe snow storms).

I'm risking what stability I've got for a chance at living a life that doesn't contain kinks in the tubing, mechanical malfunctions, or such suches.

We'll see how it goes. . .

When "Yes" is hard to take.

Last Saturday, I had a message on my home phone answering machine.

I have an intake appointment at the transplant center for December 9. Letter with details to follow.

I took this news in stride - at first. Then stood in the middle of Michaels' Craft Store and shook, having my own personal version of a panic attack. Shaking, babbling about how illogical this reaction is to my partner.

The wise being that he is, he agreed with me and held me.

I'm doing okay now. It just seemed soon. I know this is a good process. I know that this will lead to good things. I think that part of this reaction is that I was expecting to be told "No", and instead was told "Show up here, at this time".

Sometimes "Yes" is much much scarier than "No". "No" is an end. At that point, you have your answer. In this process, "Yes" continues the process. Its not really an answer, so much as a completion of a single step.

Guess I'd better get used to waiting.

Waiting

I'm waiting to hear from the Transplant Center.

I hate waiting.

What if my insurance says no, and they just don't tell me? What if they just don't ever call? What if they look at my paperwork, and just decide not to bother?

Waiting sucks.

Sent

So, today after much hemming and hawing, I decided to read the packet sent to me by the Transplant Center.

And promptly panicked when I read that I had to have it there within 14 days of receipt. Of course, I went through the "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" stage. Then the "WHAT IF I'M NOT READY FOR THIS" stage.

Then I pulled up my big girl panties and finished reading the d'md thing.

Its still scary. I shook as I filled out the forms. I shook as I dialed the fax number, and I shook for a good half hour after I'd hit the sent button. (the fax went through, I checked).

Today, I officially took the first real step on this path. Its terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. I have equal measures of fear & hope. Fear that I won't be accepted for this. Fear that I will be, and that everything in my life will change because of it. Fear that I'll do this and it won't help or matter.

Hope that I'll be accepted and everything will go well, and that my whole life wil change because of this.

No matter what, the next step is out of my hands now. Its up to the nice people at the Transplant Center & my Insurance Company.

We'll see. . .

Scary

Yesterday afternoon, my packet arrived from the Johns Hopkins Transplant Center.

Its scary.

Its not scary because of what's written on any of the information. Its scary because if this happens, and is successful, a core part of my being will go away. I've tried explaining this to others - without much success. Most people only see the bright side, and that's a wonderful thing don't get me wrong.

Its just . . . So much of my life has revolved around the fact that I'm a diabetic. Some of my choices regarding life have been shaped by this fact. Big choices. Choices that I would not have made otherwise. Suddenly, to have all those years of life, all those choices made irrelevant by a surgery - that's staggering to me. I'll admit, I'm a bit angry on one level that this couldn't be contemplated earlier in my life. Who knows what could have been? I don't, and I don't plan to dwell in this place, or let this anger take root - but its there, and to deny that would be just plain foolish.

So, I'm a little angry. And I'm a little scared. I'm afraid of what might be. If I'm not a diabetic, what will I be? Who will I be?

I don't know. That's what's scary.