Black

Went for a sleep study last night, first in 12 years. I could only sleep 2 hours, so the tech could not get enough data. I totally blew it. I made preparations, turned my day upside down, even cut my 3-day weekend short so I could do this, and I blew it. Just could not get comfortable enough to trust and sleep.

Went straight to work at 6:30am on 2 hours sleep. Boss sent me home mid afternoon, after almost a full shift.

Took a 4 hour nap. Woke up with a work nightmare. Dark house. Dark skies. Me alone. Only wanting to crawl out of bed and hole, with Metallica in my head. Nothing else matters.

My god, it’s like 26-year-old me still on night shift. That same acid sand in my mouth. That same loneliness. That same bleary outlook. That same old journal and microwave food and coffeeshop that closes at midnight.

Dark rhythms resurface.

Over the Line

Had my annual physical last week. The good news is that I’m still alive.

The bad news is that, after a decade of being told I’m prediabetic and can reverse it with diet, exercise, and oral meds, I’m now diabetic.

My A1c is just too high, and it crossed the threshold. So here I am. I have a new identity.

A little prick

Doc started me on Ozempic, and this morning was my first self-administered shot. Didn’t even feel the needle, and wasn’t sure it worked until I pulled the pen away after the six-count and saw the red dot on my belly.

I don’t recommend letting yourself get so far that you have to resort to this. You don’t need to live with shame. You don’t need to deal with the expense.

Just…don’t. You can always turn this around.