Better Living Through Chemistry, Part 1

Diabetes, in my experience, doesn’t directly affect many things. It does, however, indirectly affect everything.
The hemorrhage was in October 2009, but the seeds that led to the hemorrhage had been planted in 2005. After having stumbled across an internist’s practice following a car accident, I looked at it as fate and solution to possible midlife crisis to do as some people urged me by "taking care of yourself better."
As of that time, I was hale and hearty and healthy and had only some mild diabetes related problems only in conjunction with other risk factors.
I had been having the eyeball checked every six months. It looked bad, but my eye doctor at the time–the esteemed Harold Woodcomb–had determined that as bad as it looked, it was entirely stable and did not need laser treatment like they do to diabetics. I lived an active life. I treated the diabetes by feel. I took the needle in the morning and forgot about being a diabetic in favor of a life that rejected notions that as one doctor put it to me "if you’re a diabetic, then you’re not healthy." If the sugar felt low, I ate. If it felt high or I had telltale systems od high sugar, I shot up without hesitation.
The numbers in 2005 were scarey enough that the first lab results prompted a call from a very frightened nurse and a comment from the GP that he did not understand how I had never been in a coma: A1C 15, meter based umbers over 600.
I worked with the doctor to lower the numbers. This was mostly by increased insulin consumption; my diet has always been pretty good.
Thus I began my road to good health. The numbers never got to where the doc wanted them, but they lowered with steady speed and on the inside of a year I could no longer work long days or eventually even very many full days because as soon as I are anything, I crashed. Even a light meal triggered naptime. I would wake up in early evening in bed with no recollection of having gone to bed after lunch.
I no longer felt healthy and the dual high doses of insulin triggered my body on a two-days per day biorhythm.
The lowered blood sugar triggered biochemical depression. I started sleeping 8 hours a day twice a day. My sex drive diminished, with what I recognized as utter lack of motivation, that symptom you hear about in all those antidepressant ads that run constantly on TV, "no longer have interest in the things you love doing."
I mentioned this to my GP. He denied any root cause from depression. Ever willing to promote better living through chemistry and to earn the vacations and perks that ht endless parade of drug reps in his office provide, he gave me a starter bottle of antidepressant and a three-pill sample pack of Cialis.
Thanks, doc.