Diabetes

                  I had been diagnosed pre-diabetic a couple of years before I got the real thing. I didn’t notice any change from one day to the next, nevertheless, it happened. I suppose it’s kind of like Christmas: one way or another, it came just the same.

         The diagnosing doctor is a really nice guy and has an excellent bedside manner. Unfortunately, he’s a little prescription happy as I’ll mention in future posts. This time he gave me the bad news, wrote a prescription for Metformin, and sent in some lady with a glucometer and a bunch of pamphlets on how to deal with my new condition. She told me to lose weight, showed me how to check my blood sugar levels, and smiled a lot to make me feel better.

         My first thought… well, I can’t write that. My second thought was, “How in the *&%$#* am I supposed to lose weight?” Then I thought about what caused this in the first place. Was being fat the cause? Was I going to die and leave my married children without a father to raise them?

         The next visit to the doctor still didn’t answer my questions, but my sugar levels had gone down quite a bit. The doctor was happy for me and gave me a higher dose of metformin. What? If my levels were going down, why did I need more medicine? This whole thing was confusing and made me think more bad words.

         Time passed and I decided to take my life in my own hands. I had already gone gluten free, but now I took it seriously. I began walking every day and watched how much sugar I ate. I now have blood sugar levels consistently in the “normal” range and I’ve learned what caused the diabetes in the first place. I didn’t get permission from my doctor, but I also stopped taking my pills. I know, the doctor is always right, but I never was good at getting permission, just ask my mom.

         Next time I’ll talk about my cholesterol level. It promises to be an exciting adventure, so stay tuned.