Before I share the details of our cruise, I offer a tidbit on health in general and Diabetes in particular.
This realization is both tragic and informative, as it touches not only on the present calamities inherent within our medical community, but the misguided inferences evolved from generalities accompanying diagnosis.
The requisite dietary change demanded of ALS sufferers is contrary to the health of the patient and in no way defines any benefit, either by structure or content. No nutritional paradigm is offered other than to limit protein consumption. The primary task of the program is to put on weight and keep it on. Any kind of poundage at any cost. This plan, coupled with less mobility and less exercise, (a natural assumption upon the dim diagnosis we all receive), is the perfect recipe for diabetics. Apparently, the doctors have conversed and concluded that the tradeoff is ultimately beneficial to the patient. As a result, the incidence of diabetes in ALS sufferers is significantly higher than in the general populace.
I was never diabetic pre-ALS. I was never obese. I was always physically active. Six months after my diagnosis I became diabetic. It all makes sense now. I made an effort to gain weight. I topped out at 225 pounds in November of 2011, having gained 25 pounds, a delight to my Peoria doctors. Of course, it sucked, but I was convinced that a fat ALSer is a healthy ALSer no matter the cost. After all, since ALS would strip weight from my body as it inevitably killed me, more unhealthy flab would take longer to consume, thus giving me more time to flail (that's a joke) in my increasingly useless shell.
My sugar was elevated so I started taking Metformin. I kept most of the weight on because I was told to. Upon moving to Dallas and enlisting new doctors, I was again informed that a fat ALSer made for a happy neurologist. For two years I managed to tip their scale at around 210 pounds.
A year ago, after two years of clinic, after two years of trials, after two years of pointless encounters with people of hopeless expression.... I quit going. I told them to call me if they stumbled across anything constructive. So far, no calls.
Okay, I'm getting typically far too long winded.
It turns out that Metformin has been eating a hole in my gut the whole time. Two months ago my GP switched my medication to Junuvia, the worst shit money can buy. I took it for two weeks and then told Amy that I was through with it. I was never diabetic until the doctors told me I was. They were dead wrong. If anything, they moldered my brain into believing something just to fit their preconceived notions.
I wonder what other notions they have designed for their patients?
Since dumping all diabetes medicine, my blood sugar readings have been the best in three years. Figure that. Thursday I tell my doctors. They won't be happy and I love that.
By the way, I'm rolling around at 170 pounds without a gut ache for the first time since arriving in Dallas.
Don't believe everything you hear from your doctor, your priest or your congressman. None of them are immune to standardized assumption.
Amy said I only took Junuvia twice. I believe her. It seemed like two weeks. I'm also fairly certain I've misspelled the product, illustrating my disdain and punctuating my apathy.
This realization is both tragic and informative, as it touches not only on the present calamities inherent within our medical community, but the misguided inferences evolved from generalities accompanying diagnosis.
The requisite dietary change demanded of ALS sufferers is contrary to the health of the patient and in no way defines any benefit, either by structure or content. No nutritional paradigm is offered other than to limit protein consumption. The primary task of the program is to put on weight and keep it on. Any kind of poundage at any cost. This plan, coupled with less mobility and less exercise, (a natural assumption upon the dim diagnosis we all receive), is the perfect recipe for diabetics. Apparently, the doctors have conversed and concluded that the tradeoff is ultimately beneficial to the patient. As a result, the incidence of diabetes in ALS sufferers is significantly higher than in the general populace.
I was never diabetic pre-ALS. I was never obese. I was always physically active. Six months after my diagnosis I became diabetic. It all makes sense now. I made an effort to gain weight. I topped out at 225 pounds in November of 2011, having gained 25 pounds, a delight to my Peoria doctors. Of course, it sucked, but I was convinced that a fat ALSer is a healthy ALSer no matter the cost. After all, since ALS would strip weight from my body as it inevitably killed me, more unhealthy flab would take longer to consume, thus giving me more time to flail (that's a joke) in my increasingly useless shell.
My sugar was elevated so I started taking Metformin. I kept most of the weight on because I was told to. Upon moving to Dallas and enlisting new doctors, I was again informed that a fat ALSer made for a happy neurologist. For two years I managed to tip their scale at around 210 pounds.
A year ago, after two years of clinic, after two years of trials, after two years of pointless encounters with people of hopeless expression.... I quit going. I told them to call me if they stumbled across anything constructive. So far, no calls.
Okay, I'm getting typically far too long winded.
It turns out that Metformin has been eating a hole in my gut the whole time. Two months ago my GP switched my medication to Junuvia, the worst shit money can buy. I took it for two weeks and then told Amy that I was through with it. I was never diabetic until the doctors told me I was. They were dead wrong. If anything, they moldered my brain into believing something just to fit their preconceived notions.
I wonder what other notions they have designed for their patients?
Since dumping all diabetes medicine, my blood sugar readings have been the best in three years. Figure that. Thursday I tell my doctors. They won't be happy and I love that.
By the way, I'm rolling around at 170 pounds without a gut ache for the first time since arriving in Dallas.
Don't believe everything you hear from your doctor, your priest or your congressman. None of them are immune to standardized assumption.
Amy said I only took Junuvia twice. I believe her. It seemed like two weeks. I'm also fairly certain I've misspelled the product, illustrating my disdain and punctuating my apathy.
Januvia. See! Another miracle. Did you ever think you would live to see the day that I corrected YOUR spelling! ahahahahah
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