I was prepared for clinic yesterday. I knew what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it. I had planned to have a serious talk about my diabetes control and management, an honest and open discussion that would provide insight into how I could work with my consultant to get to where I wanted, and needed, to be. I had rehearsed it over and over in my head the night before and in my head the outcomes had been good.
As I sat in the waiting room I flipped my phone over and over in my hands, looking at the new art work on the walls. For that brief moment I felt calm and composed, soaking up the vibrant colours as I felt my heart beat slow down. When I was called in by my DSN I realised I wouldn’t be seeing my consultant that day. No problem – My DSN was always kind, understanding and never judgemental. I was in good hands.
I started to talk. I admitted to letting things slip, pointed out my mistakes and gave my own suggestions for I could rectify them. I was asked how I knew things had slipped, and I realised I didn’t. We tried to get blood for a HbA1c – it didn’t happen. I sat sobbing, as always, whilst the nurse tried to reach a vein before it moved. I felt selfish as I walked back through the busy waiting room. Why should I be crying when every one of these patients is going through the same (if not more) as I am. Why should they see my tear stained face as they sit, probably feeling anxious themselves, waiting for their turn. How selfish of me.
The tears didn’t stop. “Is it the blood test or something else?” I was asked. Soon I was crying harder. I talked and talked, letting everything come out. What I wasn’t doing, what I was doing, why I was choosing to make those decisions, why I’m scared, what my future looked like, what’s stopping me from asking for help. I was asked what I wanted to do next. I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want to set any goals, plan for the future or create any expectations. I just wanted someone, somewhere, to be aware for when I am ready. I left my DSNs office and in the corridor were a group of consultants, amongst them was my consultant. I looked at him with my mascara stained eyes and then looked at the floor. One of the things I hate most about diabetes is that it makes me feel I’ve let him down. People will say this is a silly but it’s how I feel.
Later that night I had a text. “Everything ok? Clinic looked tough?”
Everything’s not ok but clinic isn’t tough. Clinic is a safe place, it does its job and more. It’s diabetes that’s tough.