Grace and Grit by Ken Wilber

Author:Ken Wilber
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shambhala
Published: 2020-01-20T16:00:00+00:00

Over the weeks, Treya’s diabetes responded slowly to the glyburide and the strict diet, but it did so only with the maximum dose of the medication, indicating that she would almost certainly have to go on insulin, maybe in a few months, maybe in a few years, but inevitably.

Insulin. That means insulin shots. How well I remember visiting my grandfather. We all—my two sisters and my brother—loved visiting Pop in his magical house with the white columns in front and the wide porches and the green lawns and the wonderful trees to climb and hide in. I remember well watching him give himself his shots; the white skin exposed, gathering the skin together, all of us wide-eyed as he guided the needle into his skin. Later we’d clamber all over him in his beautifully carved wooden bed, then trundle off to our own bedrooms. We all loved Pop. Everyone loved Pop. He was a large, jovial, barrel-chested man who lived life to the fullest. When he came to visit he’d hide candy and gifts and, our favorite, comic books in his pockets and jacket. We’d climb all over him to ferret out the treats, then sit happily on his lap. My grandmother died when I was very young; I feel blessed to have known Pop until I was almost twelve and even so I still miss him. I wish he were around, I wish he were in my life, I wish Ken could have known him.

Pop had diabetes. He died of cancer of the pancreas, in fact, but he was eighty-three and had lived a full, active life. Now I understood the care with food at his house, the fresh unsalted butter, the fresh eggs from the chickenhouse, the whole grains and legumes. I remember that Pop paid more attention to good food than anyone else I knew, but only now did I understand why. My father’s brother, Hank, also had diabetes as an adult. Adult onset diabetes has a strong genetic connection, unlike juvenile onset diabetes. Children who get diabetes often have no relatives with diabetes; there is speculation that the disease is triggered by some viral infection, but basically no one knows what causes diabetes. Or how to cure it.

Insulin. Damn, damn, damn. I was hoping my blood sugar would come down more easily and that ultimately I could control it with diet and exercise. That’s still a possibility, I guess, but it’s more remote after this news. I’m a bit numb by now. I don’t really want to let it in. It frightens me. It angers me.

A friend congratulated me on how well I was handling it. That made me feel weird. I’m certainly doing what I need to do to control it, but I’m angry and disbelieving. I make bad, bitter jokes about it. I complain about having to control my diet so tightly. I’m sure all this will be good for me, thank you, but I don’t think it’s any fun at all. I’ll do what I need to do, but I don’t like it one bit.

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