It was all about the charting

That's what it came down to, had I known I'd have prepared. I walked in with my usual disposition, sunny and confident, with faith nothing can take me down. I'm courageous and strong, I love my family, am unafraid of change. I don't operate within the system, a conscious effort, so I'm rarely if ever then held back.

I walked in that day knowing my weaknesses. I knew I didn't fully trust healthcare authorities, they're usually just so bad. Even the primary in charge of delivering my babies, you'd think on some level they'd understand women. They don't, and never will. Can't.

I didn't trust, and I'm glad I didn't, that I don't regret. But, I tried my best to adapt to whatever system she assigned me, compliant to the hilt, I guess. Went pretty well the first day, let any unnecessary comments fly right over my head. I'm skilled like that.

Boy did I chart my ass off. Every number of consequence written down, every gram of sugar calculated, I mean carbs. I wanted to know exactly what I was putting in my children's diets, every single one of them...it broke my heart to realize that the economy of corn, you know corn syrup's cheap and disposable through humans.

A cog in the system, I realized we are. Didn't stop me, took that crap out. Measured everything precisely, balanced with fats and proteins, a whole new job. Her numbers started changing, her pancreas could rest. I shouldn't have admitted to the doctor that I felt I was having "a conversation" with her pancreas, and that I sensed it talking back.

Doctors can't stand that type of logic. Organs don't talk, or they can't. Obstetricians think giving birth has nothing to do with the moon, it's lunacy to think that. Anyway, first charts were received with appreciation, "Great job!" I thought so too, spending three hours at a time on each measure of our progress was worth it, I needed that nod.

Blah, blah, details, but she'd said again, good job. So when I walked in her office that day, so excited to share that we were conquering this thing, that her pancreas could talk. And look, I'm mastering our family's diet, rock on!!!

Well, it was too complicated what I was writing, she said. Didn't serve her job, or her time well, I guess. Couldn't I just leave all that extraneous nonsense off and just report numbers, and align them better. Don't follow your family's cycle, do it like this, here, live your life by THIS chart.

Um, okay then I started failing from that point forward. Not unforgivably, my life's turning the lesson back around. It always does, or I always do, whatever. And eventually, I'll forgive my doctor for her incompetence, although it's entirely her fault that Taylor's pancreas stopped producing insulin entirely, couldn't hold out.

I suppose that's what makes diabetes predictable, reliable, in accord with some charts. Not the charts I'd have written, or encouraged in all others. But resources are resources, grants are grants, and there will always be doctors who will never believe in you OR good outcomes. The source of my doubt.