"I can't complain but sometimes I still do." - Joe Walsh *
This post is clearly in the category of complaining about something trivial. I think it says something important about my life with a chronic disease, but the highly kvetching-sensitive might want to skip this one.
I had a Twitter exchange with my friend Mike this evening which started when he mentioned having finished his pill sorting for the week. I replied that the weekly pill session is what I might find most irritating about diabetes and its cronies -- not the worst or most worrisome by any stretch, but the most irritating. (OK, office goodie pushers are worse. But still.) Mike responded with the perfectly sensible attitude that he finds it annoying, but that taking all the meds beats the alternative. My feelings about the pill session are stronger than that.
It's long been apparent to me that my mind often settles on something insignificant as a sort of psychological focus for something I feel uncomfortable about. On the rare occasions that I hold a grudge against someone, I'll find myself deeply annoyed by their voice, say, or a hairstyle. My pills are a Good Thing, since I believe I benefit from them, and the sorters are also a Good Thing. (Since I only have to think about my meds once a week, my regularity in taking them is VASTLY improved.) But I think that few minutes once a week carries part of the emotional weight of diabetes. I don't just sit down to sort pills, I sit down to my resentment over needing the pills, annoyance at the cost of the pills, anger that there isn't a cure, and fears about the future.
("Look, Mommy, this blogger is being a weenie again!" "Yes, sweetie, he is, but at least he's almost done for today.")
Man, since they bear all that weight, it's good that the sorters are built of such sturdy plastic!
* Walsh, Joe. "Life's Been Good To Me So Far" But Seriously, Folks... New York: Asylum Records, 1978.