I went to visit a friend in the hospital today; the first non-family person I met with diabetes.  We’ve been friends, wayward and nearward for a long time now.  Our bands have played shows together since we were teens.  I dated his sister for a few ill-advised years.  I was there feeding him alcohol when he slipped into a diabetic coma.  I was also there to save him when some dumb girl at the party kept insisting on trying to inject him with insulin. (Years ago, not why he’s in the hospital now)

While I’ve been rigorous about my diet, exercise, and general lifestyle since my diagnosis, he has never been so.  He’s taken Metformin on and off, but other than that, hasn’t really made much observable effort toward reducing the impact of the disease.

Today, I found out he was in the hospital, having had part of his foot amputated and some friends and I went to visit him.  All in all he’s in good spirits, but even with insulin and ‘formin, his blood sugar was still at 260.  The nurses didn’t seem to be terribly concerned at that.

At risk of hijacking someone else’s pain, all day I’ve been shaken up.  I know I’ve written about this before but, in spite of the lifestyle differences, today is a very real, very sharp reminder of my future.  Today is a reminder that, no matter how hard I try and how much I sacrifice; the diet, the booze, the time spent in gyms, none of it really matters.  I can stave off the side effects of this disease for a while, I hope, but ultimately this is my future.  If my heart doesn’t kill me first, my toes and feet will fall off, my eyes will cloud and fail, and then my heart will finally give in.

None of us truly knows how we will go, myself included.  But I’ve had a vision of the future, a doom-filled insight.  It’s not pretty, it’s not pleasant, and I’m not looking forward to it a damn bit.