I almost had a meltdown in my podiatrist's office this morning. Dratty, ratty tears ready to spring forth as he sliced into me with his diagnosis. Yes, yes I know I have tendonopathy, an MRI told me so last week. After an hour in that MRI machine the report said "weakness in ankle tendon" more of less. But it wasn't that knowledge that cut, it was the reason my doc presumes I have this weakness. As he said, "Well, if we look at the possible causes," and mind you I really like this doctor, "there's aging and foot structure, and of course your diabetes." Ding, ding, ding.
There it was - again, and again, and again it rears it's ugly little head. My foot prescription is another two weeks in the boot and then an ankle brace and physical therapy. But where's the prescription for my aching heart? Walking is my salvation and solution; I rely on it to stay as healthy as I am. The chance that I can't continue my power-walks cuts like a knife, as does the knowledge that as good as I am, as great as my diet is, as remarkable as my A1cs are in the 5s, no matter how hard I try to keep the numbers all in line, diabetes can cause anything any day. Including meltdowns no matter how swell I live with it most of the time.
The answer? I told my podiatrist, "Next time I see you if I ask again what caused my ankle problem, you are not allowed to mention the d-word. You must tell me aging is the culprit. I don't mind that since everyone I know is aging. We had a laugh and he got, I mean really got how telling a patient fairly casually that their diabetes might be the cause of something can be highly emotionally loaded. So maybe I used my "teach one person about diabetes" command from Tuesday's Diabetes Alert Day today.
Just to let you know tomorrow I fly to Spokane, Washington to deliver the A1c Champion presentation at Rockwood Clinic where 1,000 people are expected. Then for me it's play-time in San Fran. This blog will go quiet for about 10 days.