“HIV and friends” as in HIV and other diagnoses which have been visited upon me and/or HIV and how friends can, and do, help – with apologies to my favourite English teachers for lack of sentence structure.
What physically ails me most are HIV and diabetes type deux. After-effects of the broken femur and wrist are, so far, of lesser impact. Then there’s the bipolar II which, I guess, is both physical and mental inasmuch as the brain is more than the domain of the mental.
Back in the eighties an HIV diagnosis (more likely to be full-blown AIDS) on its own was devastating. I assume, for many, it still is. It was all I could think about for a while and living with, and preparing to die from, this scourge was a major pre-occupation – and I nearly did croak it must be said. Although time and good fortune have proven me more fearful than I needed to be, I still take nothing for granted.
Well then along came my diagnosis of Type-2 diabetes. Shee-it. I thought that only happened to fat people or, at least in my family’s case, people who were much older than me. After years of HIV, being told to eat whatever I wanted (calories, calories, calories), that all had to change.
Yet I can’t blame it all on my choices in eating. What about my choices not to eat? After leaving home I tended not to be a breakfast eater for many years, particularly when I was still ingesting and digesting brewer’s yeast and the like so, therefore, the fast was not broken. A perfect set-up, however incrementally, for my blood sugars to start manipulating things about which I understand little. However I get it now: if fasts aren’t broken, with regular, healthy eating, my kidneys and pancreas are going to be working like a car in third that should be in fourth – or worse, not working at all and failing.
As I anticipated in an earlier blog several months of non-adherence to my medications (except my “head meds”) left me with lab results similar to those which followed the same sort of break I took after Craig died – but at least that break was doctor-supervised. My latest CD-4 was 230 which, as my doctor pointed out, puts me at risk of getting AIDS-related pneumonia (PCP), the scariest of all the most unwanted opportunistic infections. My viral load, after being “undetectable” for a couple of years, is at 73,000 which, while not where I’d like it to be, is something in my experience which adherence to meds will knock down fairly quickly again.
As sombre as these results were the a1c, a diabetes-related test which measures random blood glucose levels over a period of weeks or moths, was 11 – the goal is no more than 7. Because I’m already on Metformin AND insulin (the first and second lines of defence respectively) much of the burden for improvement falls on me. It’s no longer acceptable to ignore diabetes because HIV/AIDS is much more serious. That’s just not the case, particularly when I know, and have experienced, good results with medications for HIV and have known some stability with my blood sugars thanks to a combination of medications and eating choices. It’s not just what I eat, it’s how often, at what times, etc.
The major part of the solution – eating properly – has seized me for the past couple of weeks and I am doing much better, both in terms of eating and the results.
My life’s work now, until it becomes more routine, is to eat well, forgive myself for slip-ups, and take my meds. It has proven to be unhelpful to either beat myself up or to be bullied into submission.
I’d love some suggestions as to what to eat, when preparing meals is not my long suit, because what I have found so far on the internet seems to be about full meal preparation with stuff I’m not used to cooking with. I’m kind of a meal-in-one-pot sort of guy.
Eat right. Meds. Eat right. Meds. It seems simple enough but, when I consider my mental health issues – as my family doctor noted – it’s understandable how I can go off course. Understandable, yes, but not insurmountable.