Bitch slapped by the Goddess

Two weeks ago there was a notable eclipse. I won’t be forgetting it, as that was the day I came home and began a new phase of life. I had spent four days and three nights in the underworld of institutionalized western medicine, a shamanic immersion if there ever was one. I'd walked into the emergency room with what I thought was a small matter that would be taken care of with antibiotics. I walked out several days later with the diagnosis of type 2 diabetes, armed with insulin, syringes, a glucometer, and yes, antibiotics too.

In between the going in and coming out, I was treated for diabetic ketoacidosis, as well as the virulent and resistant MRSA staph that is plaguing this city. Thankfully, the staph culture eventually came back negative. Ketoacidosis has a high enough mortality rate as it is. Teamed with staph, my chances of survival would have been uncomfortably dicey.

Interpreting the dream of those few days was rather easy. I started out worried about a skin eruption that was located right next to my belly button. Something smack dab in the center of me was definitely off kilter. My intuition to have my blood sugar checked turned out to be eerily on target. Without my insistence on a blood sugar test, I could have been sent home with massive amounts of antibiotics that wouldn't have touched the raging ketoacidosis. Always follow the intuition; it has its own science. Regular medical check-ups couldn't hurt as well.

I had many hours in the creepy isolation room in the ER to wake up to the fact that something was seriously wrong with me, and that my partner, one of the most neurotically germ-phobic characters around, is as stalwart a soul as you can find. Then, after a Kafkaesque interchange with a doctor who started out asking "When did you start using IV drugs?”, it became clear that my chart contained the misinformation that I was both an IV drug user AND a smoker. Apparently, a medical chart IS your permanent record, and once something is on there, nobody is willing to take it off. And guess what? Nobody believes an IV drug user is telling the truth. The irony of me having to mount a campaign to have this taken off my chart is not lost on me.

Being an IV drug user and a smoker communicates that you are a person who engages in risky and life-threatening behavior and that you are much more concerned with momentary pleasure as opposed to long term health. I continue to fight to have this information removed, while also facing that, although diabetes does run in my family, my steadily increasing weight over the last ten years has contributed heavily (yes, pun intended) to invoking this disease. Losing even 10% of my body weight could put this disease into remission. Exercise is the key to lowering the blood sugar and the truth of the matter is that with more exercise, I would weigh less.

Last year after Pantheacon, I had a dream of Margot Adler telling me something important that I couldn't remember upon waking. Margot caused a stir last year at Pantheacon by challenging Pagans to take better care of our health, of making exercise part of our lives. Like many others in the community, I have heartily embraced the philosophy of “eat, drink, and be merry”. For real health and well being, that should best be followed by a good walk. Many of us prefer a good book. I had applauded Margot’s challenge last year, but I hadn’t truly listened to it.

For the past two weeks I've exercised everyday and I am no longer eating anything in the white family – flour/sugar/potatoes/rice/. I also am not drinking alcohol. My glucometer provides instant gratification after exercising. If my blood sugar is raised, all it takes is 20 minutes of moving to bring it down substantially. So, I'm keeping my body moving. My pedometer is showing between three to five miles walked a day, and I am committed to keeping it this way. I've upped my swimming to more than three times a week. Today, miraculously, I didn't inject insulin and my blood has remained at completely normal levels. It's looking like that I will be able to manage the diabetes with simple changes in diet and with steady exercise. This changing consciousness at will just may be the biggest piece of magic I perform in this lifetime.

It couldn’t have come without a fast and furious bitch slap from the Goddess. Four days and three nights in a hospital have turned me around. I am grateful and, most importantly, I am alive.