Pool Tales and Other Stories by Ace Toscano

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Showing posts with label diabetes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diabetes. Show all posts

Thursday, July 16, 2009

The Never-Ending Battle

It’s bad enough having to do battle with some young hotshot who drools all over himself at the thought of shooting me into a coma, but, for me, there’s always another foe, lingering in the background, waiting to do me in. Diabetes.

Let me say this, when I lose, and I do more often than I like, I’m not the kind of guy who rattles off a litany of excuses. Usually, when I lose it’s because I play bad and that’s that. Privately, though, I know that my glucose level is often to blame.

Generally, I eat three meals a day with a snack in the early evening. Before meals, I check my glucose level and, then, based on that number and the meal I plan to eat, figure out how much insulin I have to take.

Of course, my main concern as a diabetic is not my pool game, it’s my long-term health. Uncontrolled, diabetes could cause me a multitude of problems including kidneys, nerves, eyes and vision, and the risk of heart disease. In fact, diabetes increases the risk of having a heart attack as much as smoking.

Still, there has to be something more to life beyond managing one’s diabetes. For me, it’s pool. Normally, I’ll eat my dinner around 4 PM. Within four hours, the fast acting insulin I take with dinner will bring my sugar down to a point where I need to eat again or suffer from low blood sugar. To prevent that, I take a snack around 7 PM or earlier if I’m going out to play pool. I don’t want too much of a snack, measured in carbs, so that my glucose level will soar and remain high all night. Nor do I want too small of a snack which would cause my glucose level to dip too low. Low sugar literally destroys my pool game. Here are some of the symptoms of low sugar (hypoglycemia):

• decreased physical performance
• variable mood
• paleness
• tremor
• headache
• sweat
• poor vision
• fatigue
• hunger
• dizziness

Try playing pool behind that.

I used to meet a guy up at Capone’s in the afternoon and we’d play three or four cheap sets before I had to bow out and head home for my next meal and shot of insulin. Most days, by the second set I could feel my sugar dropping to undesirable levels so I’d start popping glucose tabs like crazy. Of course, by the time they kicked in it was too late to save the match. I’d often win the first two sets, but never the third. I got sick of it and quit playing the guy. Now, when I go to the pool room in the afternoon, I play about an hour then head home.

My night play is similarly affected. Some nights when I’m playing in league, I shake so bad I can barely hit the cue ball. My teammates are counting on me, and I can’t make a shot. I can’t stand it. Yes, I’m the individual point leader in both leagues I’m playing in, but that doesn’t console me. I lose too many games that I shouldn’t. I’m close to dropping out.

Sorry for the whine. I know there are people out there with real problems.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Howl. Lay. Loo. Yuh.

Yesterday, Friday, started off in the doctor’s office – a fun way to start any day. This time my numbers were good – PSA, H A1c, cholesterol, liver enzymes. “A superb example of the male species,” the doctor was thinking… or, something to that effect. I told him that one of my health advisors at Blue Cross Blue Shield had suggested I get a pneumonia shot and he agreed it was a good idea. “Well, give me one,” I said. “You’ll have to make an appointment,” he replied. Once upon a time, way back when, a doctor might have said, “Hold on, I’ll have the nurse give you the injection.” But now they’re too busy. You have to come back another day and, probably, pay for another visit. Anyway, that’s how the day started.

With the mail came our new auto insurance policy from Hartford/AARP - up another $100 from last year. Guess us safe drivers have to pay for all the stupid mistakes made by the demented silver horde who can hardly operate a car door let alone the other intricacies of automobile operation. This increase comes on top of a three fold increase in our mobile home insurance – THREE FOLD!!! Can you imagine? We have to pay the poor insurance companies for all of last year’s hurricane payouts. I didn’t collect anything. And, all of a sudden, the mobile home we paid $19,000 for in 2000 has a replacement value of $44,000. I feel so blessed.

Around 7 PM I got the idea of asking our neighbors to tape a show that was airing on TNT at 8. They had just switched from cable to satellite and told me they were not sure their VCR was hooked up. I went over and farted around for almost an hour trying to figure out how to record and wound up losing the satellite altogether which made my neighbor a little anxious. Thankfully, the satellite manual gave clear directions for turning the system on and, though I never figured out how to record, I did manage to leave with everything working as it had been. When I got home, it was five minutes to eight.

I usually leave for the Friday night bar tourney at 7:30 and the tournament usually starts at 8. I was late. I scrambled through the business pages of the phone book and finally found the bar’s listing. I called and was eventually connected to the tournament director and had her sign me up.

I arrived just in time for my first match and, as luck would have it, I was to play one of the better players. He’s a regular at one of the local pool halls who drops by figuring someone who can play on the big tables won’t have any trouble stealing the $100 first prize. He broke, made nothing, and I ran out. Next, I played a fellow who apparently had been drinking for several hours. Realizing that the only way I could lose was to accidentally sink the 8, I took my time and, after a sloppy 5 or 6 innings, emerged victorious. Next, I barely beat a gal who plays pretty decent. By and by, I beat a decent player for the winner’s side and eventually played him again for the tournament. I won. It was my first win since my operation in May of 2004. As Fast Eddie says at the end of The Color of Money, “I’m Back!”

Howl-Lay-Loo-Yuh!