Watching what I eat

I've very recently become a diabetic.

I've suspected that I probably was one for some time; I have the physique, eating habits, and sedentary lifestyle that collectively scream "Hey you! Stop eating the Ding Dongs!" However, I also suffer from a particular genetic condition that effectively masks all the symptoms of diabetes as well as most other medical maladies. Yes, I have... a Y chromosome.

Those people who have this condition (let's call them "men") have trouble recognizing that something is physically wrong with them. They don't go to the doctor unless serious symptoms occur (like protruding bones or missing limbs), and they still stop for a burger and fries on the way.

My story starts with a bug bite of some sort on my knee. I'm not sure when it happened, but let's say that I first noticed a small inflamed bump on a Monday. I thought little of it; I squeezed it once in a while to see if it was a pimple or boil, but it didn't hurt. By Friday it was a large imflamed mound, but it still didn't hurt.

The next Monday, it hurt a little. On Tuesday, it hurt quite a bit. On Wednesday, I couldn't walk on it, so course it was at this point that I went to see a doctor. On Thursday, after a couple doses of antibiotic had failed to improve the knee or reduce the fever, I was admitted to the hospital. (Didn't I mention the fever before? Of course not. Y chromosome, remember?)

During my four days there, I received all kinds of interesting news. One, the thing on my knee had developed into a full-blown MRSA infection. Two, my blood pressure was high enough to warrant medication. (Again, something I suspected but ignored.) Three, the same was true of my cholesterol count. Lastly (and finally), my blood sugar was higher than it ought to be.

The next Monday (on my birthday, as it turns out) I left the hospital with a handful of prescriptions and a new glucose monitor. It was a week or so until I could walk without pain, and another three weeks or so until I had adjusted to the blood pressure and insulin pills.

Now, I have a healthier respect for my health. From now on, I'll be better about going to the doctor. I'm still going to stop for that burger, but no fries for me. I'm a diabetic.

Opening the can

So I'd been thinking about becoming part of the blogosphere for some time but just hadn't gotten around to it, mostly because I had yet to convince myself why I should. Sure, I have the occasional interesting story, insightful revelation, or stupid rant, but there are millions of the same out there. Does this virtual community really need one more?

Then I thought about vienna sausages. You know, those mushy pre-formed sticks of meat by-products in the little can. Someone's gotta be buying these, because not only do they keep selling them, but they have a wide variety of flavors: barbeque, hickory smoked, jalapeño, and who knows what else. The point is, there's an audience for everything.

The simple truth is that sometimes I crack myself up, and I can't be the only one.

It was just a couple of days ago that I decided to start, and I purposefully delayed my initial blog until after the election, just because I didn't want my first entries to be dominated by that. I'll get to my observations of the political realm, but on the way I'll touch on a seemingly random series of subjects. Food, computers, Guitar Hero, physics, TV, medicine, whatever.

More to come later. I'm in a mood for vienna sausages.