Apr

I Hate Pills!

I hate pills!

Did I say that before?

Oh yeah, so I did, up there in the title. Good! Just so I get the point across.

The VA just sent me this latest set of miserable-little-grand-inquisiters in a prescription bottle that are supposed to bring my blood sugar down to a more tolerable level. They do that much at least. Too bad these miniature, doctor prescribed versions of tiny medicinal land mines also make me feel worse than I felt before I took them….or at least it feels that way.

Before it just felt like I had eaten a whole pound bag of Jelly Beans (yuck!) but now I feel like someone plugged my bloodstream into an ultrasonic jewelry cleaning machine and stuffed my mouth full of aluminum foil just to make sure they had my attention. And the pounding head and swimming eyeballs really add all sorts of spice to the fun and games. But it’s okay you know. These amazing, mind numbing, physical anomalies that I’m currently experiencing are only supposed to last until my body finally adjusts to the new medication which should be around late July sometime knowing myself the way I do.

The problem lies in the fact that my poor beleaguered little body is possessed of a highly tuned, extremely fast metabolism that is completely intolerant of any type of foreign substances that try to alter the settings—even a little bit. So when a new medication attempts to take a screwdriver and tweak the works, my body usually responds by exploding.

Taking me with it.

So then it’s a call to the boss (again) and informing him that I will be at the local morgue for a couple of days undergoing a special, highly expensive, temporary embalming procedure before they attempt to put all the little bits of me back together again—the pieces usually brought in by my wonderfully tolerant lady in separate small plastic bags labeled according to the approximate part of my body she feels they most likely blew off from (head area, torso area, the area we won’t speak of area, etc). She’s become rather good at this. I hardly come back with any missing pieces anymore.

This time around, I had started the medication this past Wednesday evening and my poor wife just got enough of the my various, scattered, pieces/parts gathered together to drop most of me off at the morgue by Friday morning. The 139,534 and a half stitches come out Monday afternoon but I’ll make it into work that morning nonetheless. My manager will just have to confine me to my service shop and away from the main floor lest I scare the customers away.

I’m really getting tired of the Frankenstein jokes.

I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. After all, even though I’m not exactly what you might call a prime candidate for Type II Diabetes, the problem is very real but so are these #@@!!**!! side effects (pant-pant-puff-wheeze real pitiful like).

I’m through now.

Thank you for listening while I blew off some parts…steam.

Disclaimer: I reserve the right to rant on my own personal type blog as long as I watch my language. If I didn’t, then I would have to ban myself and who would write this thing then?

Ooops. Time to take the pills. Honey? Better get the plastic bags ready just in case….

Technorati Tags: living with diabetes, side effects, pills