Real life is not perfect. It isn't at all like the oxymoronic "reality" TV shows.
The past is defined. The future is never without risk. The only certainty is that nothing we do will ever be as dangerous as living. So we should always be aware.
These beautiful peach Angel Trumpet flowers. When they first fall to the ground, they are slippery like a banana peel.
I found that out looking up for bees dancing inside them when I should have been watching where I was going. What a metaphor for modern life- obsessed by physical beauty- moving too quickly on our path with no awareness of obvious practical details. Woops!
I landed hard on the only flat piece of open cement in my garden. I was winded. Shook up. Hurt. A week later, listening to the squishy sound when I probed the knee cap , it was time to have my doctor check it out.
The knee will be fine. But my blood work was not.
I have diabetes. It is the enemy in my maturity.
Do not pity me. This is not my first battle with health. One thing I know for certain is that neither circumstance nor genetic predisposition can force a contrary result without my personal permission.
Diabetes is not the first enemy to be my companion. Depression was the unseen companion of my youth. I am certain- just as I beat depression into submission before I married over three decades ago, the diabetes will not be given permission to get in the way of living a good life.
Having a goal is helpful. When I die, I have always wished it to be in old age, lying quietly in the arms of the man I love. To have any chance at that, I must be careful of what companions I keep- depression and diabetes are Barbarian acquaintances- absolutely not found on the guest list.
I respect the diabetes as a powerful opponent, which if I am complacent, it can win. The battle plan consists of diet and exercise. To defeat this scourge, the strategy involves seriously training my muscles to be activated troops. I am working out five days a week. I am relearning to cook, eat and celebrate. It is too soon to declare victory- but in less than a month I’ve dropped 9.5 pounds and have been able to post pretty darned perfect blood glucose readings already.
The rewards have been fast-coming. Facts relegated to GOAB (getting old is a bitch) disease are noticeably improved. The mind is again nimble. Energy is activated. My hair shinier and my skin clearer. Not to mention, my clothes are fitting more the way I like them to.
Dear readers, I raise a glass to your good health! Never take it for granted. And when it is threatened- fight for it. Your life depends on it.