Liberated

Two months later, acceptance.

I blamed a number of social issues I have had on this disease.  At first, it was because I couldn't eat or drink.  Then it was because things hadn't normalized.  Then there was something psychologically wrong.

It was none of these things (the latter, though, arguably).  It was an excuse.  I was going through a social transition.  And I think it's complete.  

In the last 24 hours I've said what I needed to say some specific people.  Things will be better in their absence.

(I didn't kill anyone, despite how ominous that sounds.  But if I did, I'd harvest their pancreases.)

(Pancrei?)

Diabetes made me reëvaluate my life.  In a weird way, I am appreciative of that.

But couldn't I have just been struck by lightning?  

Pump It Up

As I type these words, it's in me.  As I'll finish this post, and go back to write my paper, at 11:44 in Duques Hall, room 250, it will still be in me.  

My friends, I'm on the pump.

A lovely woman came and taught me how to use it.  It took a while to be able to put the needle in (it was about this long -----------------).  

And that's that.  Insulin, 24/7/364 (it's Christian).