As I’ve gotten older, I’m feeling more and more like the real secret sauce to life is the ability to show up as our most authentic selves. While curating an online life that looks flawless and makes everyone else jealous is certainly fun, I feel like it’s not sustainable. Because let’s face it, eventually you’re going to reach an age where the more filters you use will make you look more and more like an oil painting smeared in vaseline. Your own parents will see you in person at Christmas and feel like they’ve been catfished as they run past you to hug the younger person with indistinct facial features that look vaguely like you at the airport. More and more, especially in this phase of my life, I’m finding real connection is where it’s at. To that end, in rebooting my Boy Who Ate San Diego adventures, I needed to be honest with you. I briefly touched on this in 2014 but didn’t give any real insight but now I feel like it’s time to actually talk about this.
I am a devoted foodie but I’m also one of the 37.3 million Americans (About 11.3% of the US Population)* living with Type 2 Diabetes. I was diagnosed at age 38 during a routine physical for my insurance. It shocked me. I’ve never been classifiably “obese”. A little doughy and outta shape in a Dad-bod before it was cool kinda way? Sure. But Wilfred Brimley, I was not. That’s something old people get, right? I did not take it well. In fact, it took years for me to get okay with it. There’s a lot of emotions that come with that diagnosis. It’s hard to accept because I was told on a Monday that I have this very serious, potentially life-threatening condition but I felt no differently than I did the day/week/month/year before, even though I still had this very serious, potentially life-threatening condition. I just didn’t know it. Knowing it changed everything. Among my first thoughts was “Oh, shit. I’m about to start a food blog!” I had 3 months to get my act together, and boy did I, but it came with a lot of challenges.
I’d never been on any medication prior to this. Now I was on about 8. My doctor at the time was not an Endocrinologist. He was old and old school. His solution to just about anything was to throw more pills at it. It took me years (and the right subsequent doctors) to discover I was WAY overprescribed and way over-medicated. My body was not happy with this very sudden and dramatic change. The way we treat Diabetes in this country is a rant that is way too long, angry and intense for this platform. Just know, they get it wrong at the expense of patients. A lot. Plus I went from living my best life food and drink wise to eliminating all carbs, sugar, alcohol. Y’know, the good stuff. And working out like a fiend. I got my A1C to non-diabetic levels in just 3 months. Even though I ate whatever I wanted at the 52 restaurants I covered in the first year of this series, the other 6 days of the week were eating clean AKA, the saddest, most boring food you can possibly imagine. But I do what I gots to do.
This was a pretty rude awakening for ya boy physically but also psychologically. No one ever really talks about this but suddenly not having the freedom to choose what I ate or drank was a battle for me. One of the best parts about being an adult was having the freedom to eat whatever I wanted, however much of it I wanted and whenever I wanted it without a second thought. Plus, I was addicted to sugar. Have been my whole life. Now suddenly, in the blink of an eye, I had to watch every bite of food that went into my mouth. I got pretty depressed about it. Also, angry. I had me a great big mad about it. Especially when you consider, I surround myself with people who are not burdened with Type 2 and can still have whatever they wanted without consequence (At least from where I was sitting). I felt like I’d been punished. Grounded. Forced to make amends for the horrible things I’d done while all my friends, colleagues and loved ones were still free to roam about the culinary cabin. Looking back, it doesn’t surprise me that I felt that way, considering how our society views diabetes.
For those who love fatphobic rhetoric and food shaming, Diabetes is the automatic go-to punchline. The timeless classic. Tried and true comedy gold. You’ve all heard them. I’m sure you may have even made those jokes yourselves (Lord knows I have). I’m sure those underlying pervasive beliefs made their way into my subconscious. As I’ve gotten a handle on my Diabetes, I get more and more annoyed with these jokes. Just know that when you make those jokes, we hear you. You’re telling on yourself more than you realize.
I’m not about to sit here and tell you that I never again had struggles with my Diabetes. It’s a lifetime commitment and one that’s hard to honor faithfully. I’ve had good and bad spells with my numbers. When seemingly the whole world was on the couch drowning their sorrows in junk food, cocktails and attempts at home-made bread during season 1 of COVID, I was in there with everyone for about a month before my doctor said “I don’t think so, Mr. Co-morbidity. Back on the treadmill.” The next big turning point came last Summer. I’d been managing okay with my numbers, skirting the limit of “normal high”. I was on a new medication and found a great Endocronologist who took me off a lot of the unnecessary meds I’ve been on for years. Then two very sobering things happened.
The first concerned my friend Sarah. Sarah was the first friend I made during orientation weekend at college in Florida. She was responsible for introducing me to her roommate who remains my best friend and roommate to this day. We were close throughout all our years at school. She moved back to Minnesota after graduation but we kept in touch for more than 25 years. She even came to San Diego to visit me a few years ago. Sarah was (to use a term I hate) “Clinically obese”. She was also a heavy smoker. She developed Diabetes and had her ups and downs with it over the years but rock bottom came in November 2021 when a neglected foot injury resulted in her becoming an amputee. Just a few short months later, right as she was poised to return to work, she was hospitalized and died of cardiac arrest a few days later. She was 45. Just a year younger than me. She was single with no children but had so many more dreams and hopes for her life. 45 is too young. It hit me like a truck. While I would never try to make the death of a dear friend about me, the writing was on the wall: “Get your shit together before it’s too late”.
Right around February was when “the great shortage” happened. One of my key medications hit the internet as a hot weight loss drug. Yep, Ozempic. Once it was discovered that this Semiglutide for Diabetics will cause weight loss, the folks with enough cash to pay for it out of pocket and enough self-hatred to want a quick fix for those pesky pre-high school reunion pounds cleared pharmacy shelves, leaving those of us who actually need it in the lurch. The thing that really irritates me about it is this; there is no chemical weight loss component to the drug per se. It just makes you so blocked up and nauseous, you don’t want to eat. At least that’s been my experience on it. It is NOT sexy. Like, at all. The side effects are pretty gnarly. This shortage lasted months. I still have difficulty getting it on a regular basis.
I am also fully prepared to admit that what happened next is 100% on me. What I should have done when my medication shortage happened (It was another medication in addition to Ozempic. Badly timed supply shortage) is immediately cleaned up my eating. I wasn’t eating poorly but a far cry from what I should be. I already go to the gym 5 days a week but I was coasting, ignoring the “ottoman rule”. Y’know those little round mid-century style ottomans with the three legs that you see in hip coffee shops, your Grandmother’s living room and in the chic home of every elderly Palm Springs gay couple? It needs all 3 legs to stand up properly. If you take one or more away, it topples over. In my experience, keeping my A1C down requires three legs: Diet, Exercise and Medication. Meds can’t do all the work. If you eat crap, it doesn’t matter how much you work out. If you eat all the right foods from your couch, no dice. You gotta have all 3. I was down one proverbial leg and didn’t make up for it in the other areas. In just a few months, my A1C shot up to 10. It had never been that high. Ever. It wasn’t even that high when I was diagnosed.
Fortunately, I have a great endocrinologist who sprang into action. He put together a plan without shaming or scaring me. I was more ready than I’ve ever been to put in the work. It was hard. It still is hard but I made up my mind. Meal planning, tracking my glucose, new work out regemine, all of it. Discipline became my new religion. In fact, I got so gangsta with it, I had difficulty allowing myself to have a piece of cake on my birthday but I did because that’s important too. Finding that balance. It was right around this time that I decided it was time for a new BW8SD. I still love food, even if what I eat day to day is pretty boring. I’ve had MANY people over the years tell me “Oh, I’ve got the perfect Diabetes-friendly recipe! It’s so healthy, you’ll never miss the sweets”. I could regenerate the Earth’s atmosphere 10 times over with the amount of oxygen that has been wasted in my direction by these well-meaning folks. I’ve never gotten over junk food and dessert. I never don’t want it. All of it. This is why moderation doesn’t work for me. I’m an addict. Full stop. I understand and accept this about myself and live my life with Type 2 Diabetes accordingly.
After 3 months of some pretty severe discipline, I got my A1C from 10 down to 5.8 (well within non-Diabetic range) My doctors were all pretty shocked with the progress I made in such a short time. When I get my mind made up (no easy task), I don’t play. In just over 4 weeks, everything started improving. I won’t say it’s been easy but as my primary care doctor (the other guy retired) said “You’re giving yourself the gift of longevity”. Also, as my best friend often says in response “You’re not gonna live any longer, it just feels longer”. I feel like both philosophies apply.
Plus, getting this part of my life under control gives me more appreciation for the wonderful (and otherwise) food I get to try in this series. These dining excursions are always a treat. Now more than ever. I’m glad you’re along for the ride too. I just wanted to keep it 100 with you and let you know how much work it took to get here.
Now, let’s eat!
*According to the CDC website. I’m not nearly creative enough to make this shit up.