101 Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Skip Taking Your Insulin

Last Updated on October 31, 2025 by Michael

So you’re holding that insulin pen like it owes you money.

The negotiation happening in your brain right now is fascinating. “Maybe today’s different,” you’re thinking. “Maybe my pancreas finally got its shit together.” Like it’s been on a self-improvement journey. Like it went to therapy and decided to start working again.

Your pancreas is broken, friend. It’s not coming back. This isn’t a Marvel movie where dead things resurrect themselves in the third act. This is real life, where organs that stop working stay stopped, and pretending otherwise is about as effective as trying to charge your phone by yelling at it.

But okay, let’s do this. Let’s walk through what happens when you decide to rawdog reality without medical intervention.

Your Blood Becomes Syrup and Other Party Tricks (Reasons 1-15)

#1 Your blood thickens into IHOP’s finest. Not even the good stuff – the $2.99 “maple-flavored” corn syrup they keep in sticky bottles that haven’t been cleaned since the Reagan administration.

#2 Every cell in your body becomes that person at the party surrounded by food they can’t eat. Except they’re literally dying. It’s like being waterboarded with honey while starving to death.

#3 You pee like you’re trying to set a Guinness World Record nobody asked for.

#4 That “fruity breath” everyone talks about? Let’s be real – you smell like a nail salon caught fire inside a dumpster full of rotting fruit. During a heatwave. In New Jersey.

#5 Your kidneys start filtering maple syrup instead of blood. They didn’t sign up for this. They went to kidney school. They had dreams.

Think about it: Your kidneys are working harder than a single parent with three jobs and no childcare. No overtime pay. No vacation days. Just filtering pancake batter until they literally die. And unlike that single parent, they can’t even complain on Facebook about it.

#6 Brain fog thicker than San Francisco in June. You’ll forget your own name but remember, with perfect clarity, that time in seventh grade when you called your teacher “mom.”

#7 Energy levels: deceased.

#8 Vision goes from 4K to potato quality. Everything looks like you’re viewing it through a frosted shower door covered in Vaseline.

#9 Mood swings that make teenagers look stable. You’ll cry at a Subway commercial. You’ll rage at your toaster. You’ll have deep philosophical debates with your steering wheel about the nature of existence.

#10 Your digestive system just quits. Submits its resignation. Doesn’t even give two weeks notice.

#11 The thirst hits different when your blood is corn syrup. You’ll drink water like you’re trying to single-handedly solve California’s drought, but your mouth stays drier than a communion wafer in the Sahara.

#12 Your heart trying to pump this sludge through your veins sounds like someone attempting to drink a thick milkshake through a coffee stirrer. That wet, desperate sucking sound? That’s your cardiovascular system, baby.

#13 Tingling fingers aren’t excitement about anything. Your nerves are literally dying. They’re not even dying quietly – they’re going out like opera villains, dramatically and with lots of unnecessary suffering.

#14 Your immune system doesn’t just leave. It ghosts you. Changes its number. Moves to another state. Gets a restraining order.

#15 Paper cuts become month-long sagas. That mosquito bite from June? Still there at Christmas, like your racist uncle nobody invited.

Money Goes Bye-Bye (Reasons 16-30)

#16 Emergency room: $3,000 minimum. That’s literally ONE HUNDRED insulin pens. But sure, you’re “saving money.”

#17 Ambulance rides cost more than a first-class ticket to Paris. Except instead of champagne and leg room, you get strapped to a gurney while someone asks you what year it is.

#18 ICU: $4,000 per day.

Per. Day.

For that price, you could stay at the Ritz Carlton and hire a personal nurse who actually gives a damn. Instead, you get fluorescent lighting and a roommate who won’t shut up about his bowel movements.

#19 Your insurance company knows you by name. They have a nickname for you. It’s not flattering.

#20 Specialist appointments breed like rabbits. Endocrinologist, nephrologist, ophthalmologist, podiatrist – you’re collecting medical professionals like they’re Pokemon cards, except each one costs $300 and nobody wants to trade.

#21 Diabetic socks: $30 per pair. For fabric. That goes on feet. That you can’t even feel anymore. The irony would be delicious if it wasn’t so expensive.

#22 Custom shoes after your feet give up: $500 for footwear that looks like it escaped from a medical museum’s “Things We Don’t Use Anymore” exhibit.

#23 Dialysis becomes your new hobby. Three times a week, four hours each session, forever. It’s like having a really shitty part-time job that you pay for instead of getting paid.

#24 Lost wages pile up faster than Amazon boxes during lockdown.

#25 That GoFundMe you’ll start? “Help Todd Not Die From Stubbornness” doesn’t exactly tug at the heartstrings. Your friends will share it out of obligation, not sympathy.

#26 Uber to medical appointments: $30 each way, twice a week minimum. That’s $3,120 a year just in transportation to hear doctors tell you this was preventable. The Uber drivers start recognizing you. They have theories about what’s wrong with you. They’re all incorrect but somehow still less wrong than your decision to skip insulin.

#27 All those extra medications for your failing organs add up. Your medicine cabinet looks like a pharmacy had a baby with a chemistry lab.

#28 Dental work becomes your entire personality. “Hi, I’m Steve, I’ve had seven root canals this year. How’s your dental insurance?”

#29 Home health aide when you can’t function anymore: $25 an hour to help you do things you used to do without thinking. Like standing. Or remembering to eat. Or not dying.

#30 Your credit score doesn’t just die – it gets murdered, buried, dug up, and murdered again.

Bankruptcy lawyers start cold-calling you. They can smell the medical debt from three states away.

Social Life? What Social Life? (Reasons 31-50)

#31 Dating profile: “Enjoys long walks to the pharmacy, romantic emergency room visits, and explaining what ketoacidosis means on first dates.”

Shockingly, not many matches.

#32 Sex drive exits stage left, doesn’t even leave a forwarding address. Your libido ghosted you harder than that person who said they’d “definitely text you” after that one date.

#33 Friends stop inviting you places because every gathering ends with sirens. You’re the human equivalent of a party foul.

#34 Your Instagram transforms from food pics to hospital selfies. Follower count drops faster than your blood pressure when you stand up.

#35 Work events become minefields. Can’t eat anything. Can’t drink anything. Might pass out during the trust exercise. HR has a file on you. It’s thick.

#36 Brad gets promoted instead of you. Brad doesn’t randomly collapse during PowerPoints. Brad’s never had to teach coworkers how to use an emergency glucagon kit. Brad’s pancreas works. Be like Brad. Take your fucking insulin.

#37 Family starts every conversation with “How are you feeling?” in that voice reserved for dying pets and divorced aunts.

#38 Every new relationship requires a medical PowerPoint presentation. “Before we proceed to second base, please review slides 1 through 47 about my complications.”

#39 You become the friend parents warn their kids about. Not because you’re a bad influence, but because you’re a walking cautionary tale about medication non-compliance.

#40 Your ex looks like a genius for leaving. Honestly? Can’t even blame them. Dating someone actively choosing to die slowly isn’t exactly rom-com material.

#41 People talk to you like you’re either five years old or have severe brain damage.

Slowly.

With.

Lots.

Of.

Pauses.

#42 Your boss puts you on the “flight risk” list, but not because you might quit. Because you might literally die at your desk, and nobody wants to deal with that paperwork.

#43 Remember having a personality? Hobbies? Interests beyond “slowly dying”? Those are gone now. You’re just a walking medical emergency with a name tag.

#44 Parents use you as a threat. “Take your medicine or you’ll end up like that person over there.” You’re a verb now. “Don’t pull a [your name].”

#45 Your liver writes angry letters to management. Management is you. This creates a hostile work environment.

#46 Kidneys give their two weeks notice. Just kidding – they quit immediately, no notice, middle fingers up.

#47 Eyes go from “needs glasses” to “needs a miracle” to “needs a guide dog named Kevin who judges your life choices.”

#48 Feet lose feeling gradually, like a toxic relationship ending. First the little toe stops responding to texts. Then the whole foot blocks you on social media. By the time you realize what’s happening, it’s too late for couples therapy.

#49 Your heart pumps what can only be described as strawberry jam through crazy straws. Every beat sounds like someone trying to suck the last bit of a Wendy’s Frosty through a cocktail straw.

#50 Nerves die in order of importance. Plot twist: they’re all important.

Your Organs Mail It In (Reasons 51-70)

#51 Stomach gives up on digestion. What’s the point? Everything’s already sugar. It’s like being asked to wash pre-cleaned dishes.

#52 Skin decides healing is for people who make good choices. That paper cut from February? It’s July. It’s still there. It’s part of your personality now.

#53 Your immune system doesn’t just leave – it salts the earth on the way out.

#54 Blood vessels turn to beef jerky. The gas station kind that might actually be leather.

#55 Teeth abandon ship faster than rats on the Titanic, if the Titanic was your mouth and the iceberg was bacteria having a rave in your gums.

#56 Brain cells die at a rate that would impress even the most dedicated binge drinker.

Look, your brain is literally pickling itself in sugar. You’re getting dumber by the hour. This actually explains why you’re still not taking your insulin, so at least there’s some circular logic here.

#57 Bladder works harder than an unpaid intern during Fashion Week.

#58 Your pancreas sends one last “I told you so” and then blocks you on all platforms.

#59 Bones get brittle as those Nature Valley bars that explode into a million crumbs if you look at them wrong.

#60 Muscles start eating themselves while surrounded by sugar they can’t use. It’s like starving to death in a locked candy store. Ironic? Yes. Painful? Also yes.

#61 Your entire endocrine system lawyers up.

#62 Metabolism becomes a theoretical concept, like affordable healthcare or a functional government.

#63 Body temperature regulation just gives up. You’re hot. You’re cold. You’re hot again. It’s like menopause but worse and without the eventual end.

#64 Every organ starts planning its exit strategy. Your body becomes the Titanic, and everyone’s heading for the lifeboats. Spoiler alert: there aren’t enough lifeboats.

#65 Driving becomes attempted vehicular homicide. Can’t see, might pass out, reflexes of a sedated tree sloth.

#66 Sleep is just your bladder’s opportunity to troll you every 37 minutes.

#67 Walking barefoot anywhere becomes Russian roulette. That Lego on the floor? You won’t feel it. The infection that follows? You’ll feel that.

#68 Eating requires a PhD in mathematics. Carb counting, insulin ratios, correction factors – it’s like trying to land a plane while blindfolded and also the plane is on fire.

#69 Never trust a fart. This isn’t a joke. This is a warning. Learn from others’ mistakes.

#70 Exercise without medical supervision is basically suicide with extra steps and athletic wear.

The Excuses Hall of Fame (Reasons 71-95)

#71 “It’s just one day!” Yeah, and the Hindenburg was just a little fire.

#72 “The needle hurts!” You know what else hurts? Amputation. Dialysis. Death. Pick your fighter.

#73 “I feel fine!” Everyone feels fine until they don’t. That’s literally how medical emergencies work.

#74 “Essential oils!” Unless you can inject lavender directly into your islets of Langerhans, shut up and take your insulin.

#75 “Big Pharma conspiracy!” Big Funeral Home loves this energy. They’re offering payment plans now!

#76 “My grandma lived to 90 without it!” Your grandma didn’t have diabetes, Kenneth. She also walked uphill both ways to school and fought bears, apparently. Your grandma was either superhuman or fictional.

#77 “Keto diet will fix it!” Your liver doesn’t care about your dietary religion. It’s making glucose whether you’re keto, vegan, or exclusively eating gas station sushi.

#78 “It’s too expensive!”

Coffins are more expensive. So are funerals. So is dying slowly while your family watches. But go off about that $35 copay.

#79 “I forgot!” You check your phone 147 times a day. You remember your Netflix password. You remember grudges from 2007. Try harder.

#80 “Building natural immunity!” To what? Being alive? That’s not how any of this works. That’s not how ANY of this works.

#81 “Prayer will heal me!” God made scientists. Scientists made insulin. This feels like a pretty clear message.

#82 “I don’t like needles!” Nobody likes needles. You know what else nobody likes? Organ failure. Blindness. Having their feet amputated. Choose your least favorite.

#83 “It makes me gain weight!” Organ failure is a GREAT weight loss strategy. You’ll be the skinniest person in the morgue.

#84 “My body, my choice!” Your organs didn’t consent to this murder-suicide pact you’re orchestrating.

#85 “I’m fighting the system!” The system doesn’t give a shit. Your kidneys do. Or did. Past tense.

#86 “Alternative medicine!” Alternative to what? Continuing to live?

#87 “I read online that—” Stop. Delete your browser history. Touch grass. Take your insulin.

#88 “Positive thinking!” Your cells can’t eat thoughts, Brandon.

#89 “It’s not natural!” Neither is dying at 45, but here we are.

#90 “I’m special, I’m different!” You’re not. You’re really, really not.

#91 “Doctors don’t know everything!” True. But they know more than your Facebook group about essential oils and crystal healing.

#92 “I’m waiting for a cure!” While you wait, your organs are dying. They’re not waiting. They’re actively dying. Right now.

#93 “It’s a scam!” You know what’s not a scam? Organ failure. That’s very real and very permanent.

#94 “I’ve made it this far without it!” Every gambler thinks they’re winning until they lose everything.

#95 “Mind over matter!” Your mind is literally made of matter that needs glucose to function properly. This argument defeats itself.

The Grand Finale (Reasons 96-101)

#96 Everyone who loves you is watching you kill yourself in slow motion. Your mom cries about it. Your kids are scared. Your friends feel helpless. Your dog knows something’s wrong but can’t fix it.

But hey, at least you showed that tiny needle who’s boss.

#97 Your funeral will be the most preventable funeral in the history of funerals. The eulogy will be awkward. “They died doing what they loved… being wrong about basic medical care.”

#98 Your last thought will be “I should have taken the insulin.” Not exactly “Et tu, Brute?” Not exactly last words for the history books.

#99 You’re treating a manageable condition like it’s optional. Like flossing. Or returning your shopping cart. Except this one actually kills you.

#100 Your obituary will be one sentence: “Refused to take readily available life-saving medication.” That’s it. That’s your legacy. That’s what goes on your Wikipedia page under “Cause of Death.”

#101 Right now – this very second – you’re reading this instead of taking your insulin.

The pen is right there.

It takes 30 seconds.

You’ve spent longer choosing what to watch on Netflix. You’ve spent longer deciding which emoji to use in a text. You’ve spent longer pretending to work while actually browsing Reddit.

The Actual Truth Nobody Wants to Say

You’re not brave. You’re not a rebel. You’re not proving anything to anyone.

You’re just dying. Slowly. Stupidly. Preventably.

That insulin pen isn’t your enemy. It’s literally the only thing standing between you and becoming a cautionary tale that endocrinologists tell their new patients.

Your organs deserve better than this. Your family deserves better than watching you die from stubbornness. You deserve better than becoming a statistic in a presentation about “preventable diabetes complications.”

Take the insulin.

Not because someone told you to. Not because you’re scared. Not because it’s the “right” thing to do.

Take it because 30 seconds of mild discomfort beats years of severe complications. Take it because you’re worth more than a slow, preventable death. Take it because deep down, underneath all the excuses and denial and bullshit, you know you should.