It’s been a little less than a year before Karen Bruce, a tough, compassionate and quite direct nurse-practioner, treated me for Lyme Disease. That was the sickest I have ever been, and it might have made me a bit more accommodating than I usually am. I had pretty much walled myself off from conventional medicine. I didn’t trust it or believe in it.

I remember sitting in a cubicle at the Hoosick Falls Family Health Center, dizzy and feverish,  while Karen leaned forward and squinted over the computer in the examining room pondering my blood results.

She turned and looked me in the eye. “Jon, these numbers are just too high,” she said.  I started to protest, I sputtered for a bit, and then dropped it. A voice inside of me recognized the truth when I heard it, especially in the voice of an honest and caring professional. My delusions sort of collapsed. To be honest, I was  shocked but not shocked. I had been diagnosed with genetic diabetes six or seven years earlier, I had been treating it holistically, mostly with diet and holistic medications and food supplements. I had staved it off, I thought I could do it forever.

led an active life, I had worked on stress,  had studied nutrition, I thought I had it in hand, but I suspected I did not. Holistic medicine, like nostalgia, can be a trap if you use it to avoid reality.

Karen Bruce awakened me to the responsibility I needed to take for my life. I had diabetes, the numbers were too high, the numbers do not lie, not really.  I had Maria now, I was rebuilding a shattered life. I was happy in it.  I did not want to leave her, I had many more books to write, animals to talk to, blog posts and photos to share. I wanted to face the truth about myself and my body, about this illness which my grandfather had. The journey to self-discovery and authenticity does not ever end, it just takes us around different corners and to different places.

Karen and I began this journey together, we are on it still. My life changed that day. I went immediately on regiment of insulin injections and other medications meant to work with them, flush the sugar in my body, preserve my kidneys and other organs. I learned what I already suspected, that every medicine has side affects. I dealt with nausea, dizziness, dry mouth, diarrhea, headaches, injection reactions,  sleepless and a score of other things as my body began to reconstitute itself. I was determined to master this chronic disease. I learned to disregard the rumors, panic and horror stories that people love to tell on the Internet. You can have diabetes and feel things in your feet, you most often don’t need to wear white sox or giant shoes, you are not likely to lose your fingers or toes.You can live a long and healthy life.

With the big If. If you take care of it.

I learned what I could do – walk for miles – and would not do – go to a gym and sit on one of those machines while TV sets blared overhead. I continued my long education on nutrition – a science that changes its findings and conclusions almost every hour of every day. I remembered to keep track of my pills and needles, my strips and wipes. I kept packets of dark chocolate around for when my numbers got to low (the problem with diabetics like me is that I am much more likely to have low numbers than high ones), learned to feel the symptoms when the numbers got too high. I gave blood regularly to monitor the all important AiC number, which tells how good or bad the disease is – the doctors say diabetics should aim for 7.0, it was over 9.0 last August when Karen woke me up.

Several people told me I should get a Diabetic Therapy dog who could be trained to bark when my numbers were off. I’d rather have a sheepdog and use a blood meter.

I was plunged deeply into the world of health care, the Byzantine government regulations, the pharmacies, the out-of-control pharmaceutical companies, the pharmacists and their assistants, the authorizations, co-pays, needles, syringe pens, pills, strips, glucose testers, the vast literature on protein carbohydrates and glucose (every day we learn that what we thought was bad for us is good for us, what we thought is good for us is bad for us.) Diabetes is not just a disease, it is a way big business, it earns billions of dollars for people.

I see firsthand the the insurance companies, not the doctors, determine the true course of treatment. I see so many people who can not get the treatment I have been fortunate enough to receive. Through all of this Karen held my hand and steadied me, straightened me out, answered my many e-mails and kept me on course. “I want to see my diabetics when they sick,” she warns, and I have learned to stay health.

Health care in America really can work, you just have to be lucky in the disease and the people you find to get through it..

I learned how to take the insulin and medications in a way that would keep me from throwing up, seating, getting dizzy, drying out, running to the bathroom every five minutes. I am learning how to take them, when and in what doses, and my body is getting used to them. I am always learning what I should eat and shouldn’t eat, no matter what the pamphlets say, how to measure brown rice and blueberries. I’ve had two or three episodes – scared Maria and I at first – but have learned how to avoid them. I take my blood regularly, and I know now when to pay special attention to it.

I use maple syrup as a sweetener, I eat lots of blueberries, small pieces of dark chocolate are good for me, I avoid cholesterol, red meat, fried things, processed sugar. I eat nuts and berries like a squirrel.

Diabetes is a management disease, it is complex, it takes common sense and commitment. You have to pay attention to it, most of the time. You can’t take an insulin shot and not eat. You can’t forget about it or it will rear up and remind you that it is there. Karen Bruce kept my morale up by telling me I was the best patient she ever had with diabetes, I worked at  it diligently, experimented, paid attention and was committed to mastering it, trying new things and communicating with her. We have tried some new things, some worked, some didn’t.

Karen said I was the rare patient, her best patient. Maria has gotten quite used to my hauling needles and pills around with me in little cases, parceling them out every night for the next day  before I go to bed. I rarely forget them, they are important to me now.  I’m not sure whether or not she tells  all of her patients that they are the best, but it is surely the way to motivate me. I want to be the best at everything I do.

Thursday I went to the Hoosick Falls Family Health Center. I like it there, the staff is friendly and responsive, it does not feel alien or cold.  I wouldn’t bring Red in there, but they would love him. We talk about our families, our dogs, the weather, and I can give blood and be out of there in five minutes. I like to bring copies of my books, they pass them around there, and sometimes I get a gold star when I am good. I suppose nobody loves to go to Health Care Centers, but this one is as pleasant as one can be.

I think I will get a gold star this week. Karen e-mailed me to give me my new A1C number, it is well below 6.0, I went and looked it up online, I am now officially “pre-diabetic.” I am proud of myself, I deserve it, so does my body. So does Karen, the key to good health care, I think, is avoiding doctors and avoiding men. The women seem to have a grip on it.

Diabetes is a partner in my life now, it is never far from me, never too far out of mind. We are co-habitating well, it is not keeping me from my life, it is helping me to live my life. I have given my body and the organs that power it – my heart, kidney, circulation – a great gift. Everyone’s diabetes is different, is not the same thing for everyone. Many of us are lucky to have a chronic disease that can mostly be managed if we are willing to take responsibility and do the work. It was a challenging year for me, I have never had a chronic disease before.

But I am happy to now officially be a “pre-diabetic.” I am proud of myself, it is an accomplishment. I mean to be Karen’s best patient this year as well. It doesn’t mean I don’t have diabetes, it doesn’t mean I can give up my vigilance and medications, my needles and pills, it doesn’t mean I can eat what I wish and start wolfing candy bars down. I don’t want to,  either, which is the interesting part. The way to deal with something like this, I think, is to decide to have it in the best possible way. It just means it is under control, I am not permitting my delusions and fear to punish my body.

Life happens, life is what I make of it.

No whining, no struggle story. I will find smart women and listen to them. And as always, I will take responsibility for myself.