Sunday, July 7, 2013

The Drums of Diabetes

Once upon a time, my brother gave me some insight into the workings of the male mind. He said that, basically, they think about sex all the time.  (In other news, water quenches thirst.)

He compared his thoughts to musical instruments.  The "drums of sex", as it were, were always going.  Sometimes they were VERY VERY LOUD, and that was all there was room for, and sometimes a lot of other things were going on, and the drums were just in the background.  Always going, but softer, not taking over.

Diabetes is like that.

The drums are always going.  Sometimes, when you are going along, and it's been a "no hitter" kind of day, the drums are soft, just adding to the background noise of your head.  You know they're there, but it's not that big a deal.  Still, though, you can't stop them. But sometimes they're just basic bongos.

Not so bad.  Drug related, yes, but not bad. 

Other times, you are crawling on the floor, and the drums are so loud as you frantically search for sugar, and it's possible that there's some right in front of you, but you can't seem to comprehend it.  The drums are too loud -they're making everything else fade, quite literally.

Yes, diabetes.  I can hear you.  I know you're here.

Sometimes the drums are beating against your head, as you battle the migraines that accompany the lows and the swings.

Make. It. Stop.

Sometimes the drums invade your dreams.

And sometimes we can't even get enough sleep to get to the dreams.
Sometimes the drums give you a reason not to do unpleasant things.  "Sorry, I'm just not going to be camping, I don't think my insulin would like the heat."  Because, camping?  Sucks.  Plus, there's no bathroom.

Diabetes gets me out of this.  Of course, if you like, go right ahead. 

Sometimes the drums make you pull over and listen to them instead of getting where you needed to go.

Pay no attention to the woman in the car.  She's just sitting here waiting for her blood sugar to go up,

So in my head?  The drums?  It's not sex.  It's diabetes. I dream of a life without a percussion section in my head.  Because here's the thing. My instrument of choice is the flute.  I did not ask for drums.  Please make them go away.

I love you, Animal, but I need fewer drum solos in my life.

(Here's some boring stuff so I don't get sued: The images are from various websites.  The bongos I'm not sure, because I just google imaged, and then forgot which one I took from.  The loud drums are from barrydallman, of course the comic is no great shakes, the drumsticks are from ehow, and the car is from oldparkedcars. The animal picture is obviously a muppet trademark, but this particular image is from marshallforum.)  

Sheldon and his bongos are from Big Bang Theory, the greatest show on TV.

1 comment:

  1. Yes! I totally agree. The diabetes drums are always beating. Always.

    Great post, H.