Advanced Avoidance Technique.
I received the reminder call. I discussed my schedule that week with my husband and didn't bring it up. And the letter from their office still remains stuck to the calendar page. (Not to mention, the missed appointment cost me $25, to boot.) But I never made it to Joslin to have my eyes checked again.
And I don't want to go.
If it seems like I've had an eye dilation like every three months, it's because I have. My eyes were dilated several times during my pregnancy to track the progression of my then-mild and now-moderate non-proliferative retinopathy, and this eyeball issue was the main reason I ended up delivering my bird via c-section. (The pre-eclampsia didn't help matters much, either. Yay for ... stuff?)
I fully realize that what I need to do is pick up the phone, call the eye clinic, and make an appointment for a dilated eye exam. I know this. And later this afternoon, I will make that phone call.
It's just sometimes I find all this crap really tedious. Not so much the little things, like testing my blood sugar throughout the day, changing out the insulin pump ever few days, and popping that blood pressure pill every night before bed. That stuff doesn't make me bonkers.
It's more the Big Stuff. The eye exams. The endocrinologist appointments. The hours spend combing through insurance EOBs and spending even more time discussing this paperwork and battling with insurance claim specialists who think 10 test strips a day is "excessive." It's making log books and calling the mail order pharmacy. It's moving the fax machine from the office into the living room (because we neglected to hook up the office phone jack) so that I can fax documents to our insurance company. It's going online to the insurance website and jumping through all the search hoops to find a doctor within a 30 mile radius who takes both my insurance AND new patients. Taking a whole day to trek up to Boston to sit with my endocrinologist for an hour; another day to have the dilation drops plunked in and to have to wrangle someone to drive me home afterward. It's a day away from my baby. And from the work I enjoy doing. And a day that someone else has to either watch BSparl or drive me or whatever. It's a day that makes me resent diabetes just enough. And it makes me admittedly grumpy because I really don't want to spend the day doing crap I don't enjoy.
An image from an older post about guilt, but the words I chose are blunt,
and I think if I made this same list today, it would read the same.
(And before you say it, I know I could see someone closer to home, but it's hard to be so close, yet so far from the doctors I know and trust and who are best suited to care for any complications that may arise. And before you say it, I know it's pointless to have access when I don't actually go to the appointment. And before you say that you weren't thinking that, let's get some iced coffee and talk about Spring Training, instead. And before you say you like the Yankees, I'll kindly refer you to my husband and my editorial assistant, who share your bad taste.)
The time it takes to manage diabetes on a day-to-day basis isn't tremendous. Constant, yes, but not overwhelming most of the time. But taking time and sitting in the car and in waiting rooms and hoping they'll call my name first so I can let them stick a needle in my arm and then pay the garage attendant and then drive home for two hours? (Sometimes with dilated eyes?) It is so worth it for my health to make these appointments and stick with them. But sometimes it feels like such a pain in the ass that I'd rather skip the appointment entirely and spend a few hours playing blocks with BSparl.
And then I realize that in order to play blocks, or to travel for work, or to be able to make the bed and run the laundry and enjoy dinner out with my friends, I need to stay healthy.
... sigh. Fine. I'll make the appointment.