As a young man I looked after my body quite well. I wasn't a professional athlete or anything extreme like that, but I was sporty from an early age, and without ever developing an Adonis-like physique (there's an understatement)I was fit - even to the degree of "quite fit". The result was that over the years I became very dependent upon my physical strength and powers of recuperation and recovery. At the age of thirty, I developed this bloody annoying condition but true to form, I handled it with some aplomb, having very tight control over my blood sugars and remaining otherwise very healthy. I felt that I could live a completely normal life and that diabetes was not going to affect me.
Those were halcyon days. Now I'm forty nine and times are changing; the condition makes its presence felt in a number of ways, and ignoring it or pretending that it isn't really around isn't doing me any good. A shift in attitude is necessary, and with a heavy heart I must admit to being human, after all.
At the moment, in order to keep the bailiffs from my door, I work for my local district in a fairly low level job which entails me working shifts, including what here they call 'graveyard', but which I rather more prosaically call 'nights'. Over the last few months, the effect of these shifts - in particular the night shift - has begun to dawn on me. Without going into any icky details, the problem is that the night shift, and the frequency/infrequency/bloody ridiculous rotation of nights without sleep is making its effect known in the form of my blood sugars, my blood pressure and consequently, my long term health.
So, as my doctor gently put it; it looks like I'm going to have to find out of it's possible to stop working shifts...
That may not seem like a big deal, but I am experiencing it as something of a milestone. I've always been able to do just about anything I wanted to; my body has never prevented me from making choices, and yet now it seems that my options are being somewhat limited by forces outside of my cognitive control. It's time for a deep breath, time to swallow my pride and time to, for the first time ever, speak to my employer about changing the way I work to accommodate my physical needs.
Somehow I feel less vibrant, less vital, less valuable.