After visiting Texas, which will henceforth be known as "The visit of which we dare not speak," or TVOWWDDNS, it's come to my attention that yes, I'm a mortal. With more than a few run-ins with my own mortality there from a drive-by shooting, witness to a violent fist fight, and finally my mother's fiance's partner (he's a police officer) being killed in the line of duty. I wondered if perhaps, someone, somewhere was trying to tell me something.

Last year, I had a few health scares, only to be informed that I was very high in the running for crossing the threshold of type 2 Diabetes. I come from two communities (ethnically) that put me at a pretty high risk, couple that with sitting at a computer sedentary for 12-16 hours a day and it's a recipe for delicious delicious insulin resistance. On Jan. 15th, I started to feel strange, not the normal me.

On Wednesday, Joga scratched his cornea (he wears contacts, it's happened twice) and had to wear an eye-patch for about 4 days until the visible redness went away, though his eye is still irritated. Not one to not work, unless it's serious, I worked on Friday.

Over the weekend, I felt even less like myself. I did something I rarely do, I took those two days off. After those two days, I thought I might have felt a little better. Today, I couldn't wake up. It felt like my eyes were two sandbags and when I was finally able to wake, I was nauseous, lethargic and generally a cranky pants. My vision was blurry and when I stood, I felt faint and dizzy. So, it's here. I've officially crossed the line from dancing with the possibility of Diabetes, to full on tongue-kissing and trying to forget a night of not-so-romantic intimacy. The big D and me are going steady.

I write this, not for sympathy or understanding. But, I write it to say take care of yourselves. Don't let this job, no matter what you're working for become a death sentence. I can write that after Joga and I both having developed ulcers and not following the advice both our parents gave us, respectively. I can write it, because I know it could be true.

I can remember being 13, and one of my friends crying at school because she'd been diagnosed with breast cancer. We all had that shock that something like that could happen to someone so young, much more was the shock when I found that my aunts would die around my age (28) from ovarian and breast cancers. One would die at about 10 years older than that from heart disease.

I have been told many times that I can correct this road I traveling if I just make time to take care of myself. But, I lack the time to sleep a full 8 hours which is ultimately what helped pushed me into D mode. So, what I'm saying is, we only get one life, and being a workaholic isn't the way you want to spend it. Even generation Y robots like you and me will have to rest. Even people with goals, who are one step away from "finishing the project" will have to sleep.

Always be thankful for what you have.