It was never a matter of "if" but rather "when". I knew that, have known it for so long now. But we are human, thus superhuman; it will never happen to me. I mean, c'mon! I keep a healthy diet. Mostly organic, actually, even when I can't afford it. Which is always. And my job, man, that's physical labor, innit? And I never back down from hard labor at work; I enjoy it. So of course not me, never me. Forget the long ass family history rushing to catch up to me. And it has.

Diabetes, Type 2.

Just like my mother and father, and their mothers before them. Thump, thump, thump, goes my heart. The first time they checked my blood at the clinic, my sugar level was at 500+. It's supposed to be between 80-90. Yeah, I'm really sick.

So I'm taking metformin and lipofen now. Because of course my triglycerides were out of whack due to the sugar in my blood. Good cholesterol was way low; the bad one, of course, was way up. I started on the medication last night. My body, it's adjusting. Metformin gives me vertigo and nausea; lipofen fucks up communication between my brain and body, apparently, 'cause my motor skills begin to suck right after I take it and I fumble in my speech. I'll be speaking english and then spanish mumbles in, and I can't seem to switch it back, and vice versa. Then I'll stare blankly into space for what seems an eternity and I can't shake myself out of it. Good thing I only take that right before bed. I took it too early last night, methinks.

Outside my family, I haven't told anyone except Art. He freaked out a bit. Can't blame him. I freaked out a bit much more. Internally, anyway. On the outside, I'm taking shit in stride, go me! (Benefits of being multiple, yay.) The Dud seems to have taken it hard, but 'Ama and I had lunch with her today and she seems better. There's a lot of shit going on with her too, but that's a whole 'nother can of worms.