Queen of anger

I suppose that I should explain my unpleasant tone in my first post. It stems from sixteen years of frustration, betrayal, anger and bitterness. 'Complications' is a word that is highly associated with Diabetes. I seem to be the epitemy of that term. The first signs of trouble came at the age of nineteen in the form of two ulcers on my shins. They weren't just any little ulcer, they were three inches long by an inch and a half wide. It looked like I had the flesh eating disease. In time they healed, but not completely of course. Why would I be able to go back to having the smooth legs that every young woman wants? Now, seven years later, the wounds have healed, but the scars are disgusting to look at. Can I wear shorts? Not a chance. Or how about a bathing suit? Not in this life time. There was one day when I decided I would be adventurous and wear shorts to my fitness class at college. I was rewarded by a group of women calling me to their table in the cafeteria to inform me that my legs were disgusting and no one should have to look at that. Thank you. As if I was not aware of that fact as a nineteen year old girl. Why not take another crack at my self-esteem ladies? Eventually they became part of my body and I hardly notice them now. On to the next 'complication'. In May of 2005 I noticed that my sight just wasn't as sharp as it should be so I made an appointment with my optamologist. After a thorough examination he told me that he was sending me to an opthamologist in Toronto because there were some problems. On July 8, 2005 I saw Dr. Brent. It was an eight hour day as I had to undergo every kind of test imagineable. The end result? Diabetic retinopathy, macular degeneration and cataracts all in both eyes. 10 points to Diabetes - 0 for Lisa. Every Friday that summer I had to drive the 3 hours to Toronto and have laser surgery. Did it help you ask? Well, that's a complicated question. It helped with what was going on behind my eyes, but laser surgery makes cataracts worse, and that was my case. By Christmas I could hardly see. The year that followed was filled with trips to Toronto for laser surgery or Avastin injections. I have never been afraid or queasy with needles (duh, I'm a diabetic), but let me tell you, the thought of a needle going into my eyes made my stomach do flips even the circus would be jealous of. I had to get over that pretty quick - suck it up Lisa. 2007 brought the promise of regaining my sight...it was time for cataract surgery. I'm not one to believe in miracles, but that sure changed after I had both cataracts removed. It was like I was a whole new person. The world was so vivid, colourful and sharp. The day after I had my first one removed I went for a drive and had to pull over because I was crying so hard. It was my own little miracle. My doctor told me that things may go bad again, but I didn't listen, I was on cloud nine. Last week, three months after the last cataract came out, that cloud burst. I was scheduled for a follow up to the cataract surgery, but came out with devestating news. My eyesight was great: 20/30 and 20/40 compared to the 20/200 pre-operation, it was behind my eyes where the trouble lay. It seems that my eyes are still growing new blood vessels - not good. This means more laser surgery (every two weeks for 4 sessions), then more Avastin, and if that all fails, more surgery. WTF? I mean, I'm on the pump, I've been so good (well, compared to how I was before) I just don't get it. I swear someone out there has it in for me. It seems that, after a three month reprieve, I have once again returned to that frustrated, betrayed, angered and bitter girl that I was once before.