[Magdalen] Me too, P Dan! (Long); was update (more than one).

[M J _Mike_ Logsdon]

Prayers for ye, P Dan!

Though part of mine's nearly a year outdated, here 'tis.  Remembering what I've been going through in terms of work, maybe a bit of slack can be granted.  Maybe.  Either way, here goes.

(A lot of medical detail included below.  If not interested, well, you know what to do.)

Some might remember my references to my Type II Diabetes.  How that all got started (the information, that is) was, in May of last year we at the Monterey County Water Resources Agency began the arduous task of packing up and heading off just a but down the highway to the second of two Monterey County Government Centers (both are called by that name; don't ask; meaning, I wasn't consulted on the stupidity factor), and as things started gearing up I started feeling sick.  Meaning, common cold sort of sick.  Coughing, generally unable to deal with the dust and moving-box particulate matter involved with getting things boxed up (and we in our section had a lot of files to box up).  To make at least this part of the story short, between May 1st (which involved a Stanford Dermatology visit; recall the famous Brian Reid-Me photo op) and August 1st, I began, as I said, to feel always sick, and for the next three months much, much more sick, to the point of extreme shortness of breath, chest pains, and extreme unexpected weight loss.  Between May 1st and Aug 1st I lost 30 pounds without even trying, along with virtual non-hunger (and consequent near-non-eating) and 24-hour extreme thirst (pardon if TMI) with water going in and immediately exiting with no color whatsoever.  Did I think something was wrong?  You betchum, Red Rider.  But I also knew I had another Stanford visit on Aug 1st, so several birds would be killed with one stone.  (Reason for visit, vasculitis, all good, progress continuing.)  But I also knew I was withering away.  So, near the end of the visit/examination of my legs/feet, Dr Doogie Howser happened to say "And you've lost a lot of weight, it seems."  I said "Funny you should say that, because that's what I was gonna talk with you [and whoever the resident doc attending him was at the time; I've been through several] about."  I described my symptoms, and he suggested we go down the hallway to weigh me in to see how much I'd lost, and I found it interesting that he and the resident accompanied me, rather closely, like it was a special moment.  I'd been around 200 lbs.  I weighed in at 170 lbs.  I said "Wow!"  Doc and resident said the same thing, and escorted me back to the room.  Doc asked if he could run some extra blood tests (the normal routine was that I'd pass through the lab on the way out each time), because it would involve some extra co-insurance dollars, and I said Of course.

Now, on the way there, earlier in the day, I'd stopped at a regular gas station (restroom respite, ie), and bought a 32 oz cherry Coke, no ice.  To be blunt, I was lucky to make it to the Redwood City exit for the clinic and to the Denny's at the corner, before heading down the street to the clinic, where I of course had to visit a certain "rest" room before checking in.  (I won't even describe my return journey.)  Later that evening after my return home, about 10:30 if I recall, I see "Stanford Derm" show up on a call on my phone.  I answer.  The night doc (a stalwart fellow, to be sure) had the distinct non-privilige to tell me that my glucose reading from earlier (after several re-testings; I see the notation even today in the lab result in my MyHealth profile) was 798.  Before he said that, he asked if I was okay.  I was horizontal on the couch in front of the TV, so the answer was of course Yes.  He said I needed to get the nearest ER as soon as possible.  Some conversation ensued (I definitely ask a lot of questions).  I mentioned the 32 oz cherry Coke.  He said that alone was not enough to shoot me that high, and that my reported symptoms earlier in the day combined with that was enough to cause alarm, and, etc, ER, better go, now, etc, etc.  I thanked him, and went to bed.  Next day I received two phone calls, one from the doc resident and one from the Doc himself.  The next day (yes, I know) I finally went, ex-wife taking me, with a bag of books which I never read, because during the TWO DAYS I was interned at the Salinas Valley Memorial Hospital, Salinas happened to be experiencing an unprecedented heat wave, windows open, fans blowing, all day all night and all I could concentrate on was MSNBC and Food Network, and, of course, the morning blood sucks in an arm (both arms were destroyed by the time I was admitted) that really couldn't take any more deep needles.  (The bruises disappeared a few weeks afterward.)

When admitted, I was down (down!) to 515, but when discharged was still at the mid-200s, which was where I was supposed to keep it for the next week or so, in hopes that the insulin shots I'd been hastily educated to stab myself with (needles; 'nuff said; pen nothwithstanding, it's still a needle) would bring me down to a normal range (I say "a normal range", because I've learned there's a lot of lee-way in that regard; what may be high for you might be low for me, etc, so forth).

That was early August.  Compressed version of this part of the story is that from then till early this year, I did the 24-hr Lantus and the meal-time Novolog (based upon my doc's sliding scale), and generally still ranged rather high, even with moderate carb watching and sliding scale adjustment (meaning, I don't eat three meals a day, so sometimes the shots need to be "creative" based upon my knowledge of my own system and the multiple glucose readings per day I was doing).  Then in (I think) January when I met with my doc again, he saw my readings were generally higher than they should be, insuling notwithstanding, but more importantly he showed me my A1C reading, which on average should be 6.5 or slightly lower.  Mine was 3.2  That, in a word, is Not Good.  He lowered my 24-hr Lantus dosage, and within a couple weeks I experimented with simply eliminating the Lantus entirely, and my readings were slightly better, and soon I was hardly taking any meal-time Novolog at all, going weeks at a time with generally ok (ie, high but not hair on fire) readings.  Just last Wednesday when he saw my readings and that they were high but not too worrisome, he pointed to my A1C which was up to 4.2.  Better, but not good enough.  He said "No more insulin, period."  And, he lowered my Metformin from 2000 mg per day to 1000 per day, at a dosage of 500 mg twice a day.

Was I upset at eliminating stabbing myself with (admittedly, with only 4 mm needles) insulin pens?  Hell no.  I nearly fell on the floor and kissed his feet.

Readings continue as before, often too high at first for a fasting reading, but within hours down sometimes to the range of "just fine for holding on till the next meal".

On the non-medical front, (whew), I finally made detailed contact with my Union folk at the Agency, and even before they suggested I extend my leave of absence beyond the previously approved 12 weeks, I'd already gotten it into my head to have my doc extend it another four weeks (plus a day; "medical clerical error", as it were).  County HR is in receipt, and (thankfully) doesn't require any approval from the Agency, as the original 12 weeks (in principal) didn't either.  Union-County MOU, as it were.  I and my Union folk will meet in the near future to discuss details and future strategy, as the Agency is a sinking ship from which no one is surprised to see rats (mere necessary analogy!) swimming away from, at least at this time.  It will be a very interesting situation I re-enter into in the first week of July.  I've never taken such a leave before, and I understand that my supervisor is no longer the bright shiny penny she used to be.  She is a good person at heart, but if I need to grieve her via the Union process, I most certainly will.  And when in two years I turn 55, if the retirement payout is sufficient (it probably won't be), I just might escape with my sanity intact.  If not, I'll carry on, with a much different outlook on life.  One hardly takes a 4-month leave with no income, for no reason.  One is different when it's all said and done.  One takes no sh*t.

Golly, all.  Sorry for such mish-mash.  It would be inaccurate if I said I wasn't concerned about everyone else's problems all during this time.  I, truly, have been.  Y'all are my parish, ya know.

God bless.

M J (Mike) Logsdon.

"Aaugh[.]" -- Charles Brown.
"Avoid dull needles and use a soft cloth." -- E Kovacs.
"...[My mouth is a] shithole..." -- 45th US President.