Friday, January 01, 2016

Diabetic Coma

I can’t drink anymore Coca-Cola.
All the sugar is blurring my vision.
Recently I was told my Hemoglobin A1C test was significant for prediabetes.

I’ve never been very good at taking care of myself.
I’ve always eaten whatever I wanted and never worried about the consequences.
At forty six years old all the junk food is starting to take its toll and I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull myself out of this tailspin.

I’ve been warned.
I’ve been forced to not only acknowledge, but to read the writing on the wall.
And I’m not convinced even that will be enough to make me live my life any differently.

It’s not that I’m stubborn. Which I am.
Or that I don’t care. Which I’m not entirely certain I do.
I’m just not sure if anything I do will be enough to change the outcome and even if it is I’m not convinced that I care enough to throw myself a life preserver and save myself from drowning.

I want to get high.
That’s what I want to do more than anything right now.
And I know that’s not an answer, but oftentimes answers are overrated and problems are the only things that accept you for who you really are.

I can’t drink anymore Coca-Cola.
And I know there are other things I’ll have to stop before it’s all said and done.
Life is a drag, but it’s also the greatest gift we’ll ever be given and I need to figure a way to finally knock some real sense into my stone head.

Charles Cicirella

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