Okay, what I have got to say is going to weird people out that I love and don’t-like-very-much-but-for-some-reason-are-still-my-friends-on-Facebook.  Now mind you “don’t like very much” is obviously not enough of a reason to stop being Facebook friends with these folks, so my standards are kind of low.  But for those of you that are my good friends, don’t question whether or not I am talking about you (when I talk about those I don’t like very much) – I love you all.

So, I am not very unique or special, I know.  I am just your average every day sort-of Hispanic, male in his forties that contracted Type II Diabetes at the age of around 35.  So I have been living with this quiet-slow-killer now for ten years.  Remarkably I still have my heart, pancreas, kidneys, feet, eyes and penis.

I know it’s crazy.   By “slow killer,” I mean that I was told by a certain angry overwieght female doctor that one of the first things I would lose would be my penis. Of course these are the kinds of scare-tactics doctors use to like, make you start eating tofu and exercise like a boxing ninja with a track medal.

That of course was the warning I received ten years ago, and since the warning, I can still advertise a working penis.  Not that this is a big seller, right?  Not that me or my penis are even on the market.  I mean what did the doctor see when she looked at me back then?  This guy likes having a penis.  Maybe if I tell him he is gonna lose it, he will suddenly do something magical and wave away this debilitating disease.  He will overcome years and years of heredity and start appreciating the use of a fully functional weiner.

Okay enough typing in italics, it wears out the wrist –and I apparently need a good wrist with a functioning penis.  I have said the word penis here enough to scare off the average Christian reader, so I hope that my friends are still with me – although if you are not still with me here then maybe you weren’t my friend after all – maybe you are really one of those folks I “don’t like very much.”

So, here we are – 10 years into this disease and what do I have to show for it?  Well the absolute truth of it is.  I have no fucking idea.  None.   I don’t know really the state of my pancreas or kidneys. I mean what do those things do to let you know they are starting to go, send you a text message?  Do they tell the nervous system to send a message to the brain that looks something like “would you tell this asshole who has totally abused his body and taken advantage of us this whole time that we are about to jump ship?  Ask him if he enjoys being hooked up to machines for the rest of his life, because we kidneys are getting the fuck out of here.  Peace out.  Oh and by the way, pancreas says hello, and then goodbye - psyche!"

I mean is that my fate?  I have been popping the magic pills now for ten years.  You know the ones – four freaking horse pills a day.  I have been sticking needles into my belly for years.   My cute little belly.  Okay maybe not cute..  perhaps beautiful is a better word, and I know little is a bit of a misrepresentation, but if you think about little as compared to maybe a city bus, that will give it some perspective.  I used to pride myself on that smooth unblemished belly-skin.  It was my little secret.  You know when meeting someone new?  So you don’t like the face so much, or the physique?  Well, you should see my smooth unblemished baby-like belly-skin.  Nowadays I just grimace at the riddled-with-holes flesh there while sticking another needle in.

Okay this is sounding way more depressing than it is supposed to.  But really?   This is my life, welcome to it – be thankful for yours.   But, this is not a whoa-is-me post regardless of where I have gone thus far.  This is a post about Type II Diabetes and a possible cure.

What is that you say John?  A cure?

Well a possible cure.  So, I have been doing a little research.  Apparently there are not just one, but several doctors out there selling books that have titles something like “Reversing Diabetes,” “Death to Diabetes,” “You can get rid of Diabetes,” and my personal favorite “You-can-get-your-penis-working-again-by-greatly-diminishing-the-effects-of-Type-II-diabetes-if-you-read-this-book-and-pay-for-my-subsequent-materials-on-the-subject.” Okay that last title was unnecessarily long.

So, thanks to the wonders of medicine (Ritalin) and the use of Amazon excerpts, I was able to glean through most of these books without having to pay one single penny and you know what the gist of it is?  Know what the magical cure to diabetes is?  Are you ready to be disappointed?

Diet. 

Not just any diet, but a VEGAN diet.

I was skeptical, so I bought one of the more popular books out there to really give these folks a chance to prove to me that swearing off from animal products and eating salads really makes some sort of difference to a diabetic and that this was not just some Vegan-fanatic’s idea of Evangelism.

After reading the book “Dr. Neal Bernard’s Program For Reversing Diabetes”, the good Dr. Neal Bernard suggests that Type II Diabetes can be reversed by not eating meat or refined foods, or products that come from animals.  He suggests a plant-based diet.

Here is a synopsis of his findings:

1.       Type II diabetics have working insulin in their bodies, and all of the essential components to naturally handle glucose properly.

2.       What insulin does is carry glucose from the bloodstream to cells in the body, once there it opens up a receptor on each cell to receive the glucose, which is like fuel for the cells.  So in a way insulin is the key to our cells.

3.       The problem with Type II Diabetics is that their “receptors” or locking mechanisms don’t work.  They are gummed up.

4.       The doctor suggests that they are gummed up with lipids (fat) from the cell and that the cells themselves harbor too much fat.

5.       By depriving the body of Saturated Fats that come from animals, the body begins to burn off the excess fats in the cell, thus allowing the receptors to work and receive glucose from the insulin.

The problems arise when the glucose is rejected and then goes back into the bloodstream causing all sorts of damage to the tiny blood vessels in our body.  Thus the aforementioned damage to the penis, feet and eyes.

So, I am actually considering this.  Let me know what you think.  What would you do?  Continue to inject yourself, and pop pills that are causing damage to your body by their very presence, or swear off the animal products? 

I do love my penis.  He’s kind of cute, and doesn’t complain much.  Well, maybe beautiful is a better word.  Isn’t there some psychological classification for folks who treat their private parts as a separate entity?  Anyway, you get the picture.  Well hopefully not a picture of my penis.  That would be weird.  Okay, enough said…  Moving on now…   This will be the last time I use the word penis in a blog post for awhile.  I promise.