o people. It's true... my life has suddenly become an after school special, fraught with medical drama and intervention. And just in time for Easter and my 100th diary entry. Woo Hoo.
It was confirmed on Friday ... and I have the sickly yellow needle marks in the crooks of both arms to prove it.... I am far too sweet. I am, in fact, cavity-inducing. I am diabetic.
Huh? What's that? Diabetic....?! Yeah. Wheee.
It happened like this. I went to the doctor last Wednesday because of a urinary tract infection, braving the warning signs about rampant SARS and such like and did the obligatory pee in the cup thing. Standard stuff. I've had a billion and one UT infections starting when I was but a wee toddler and I'm pretty accustom to these little episodes.
So I'm sitting on the chair, swinging my legs, examining the Winnie the Pooh growth chart stuck to the examination room door, wondering how Eeyore managed to get himself lodged in the tree like that, all prepped to tell the good doctor not to bother prescribing Sulfa drugs "cuz they don't work on me when the doctor goes "Whoa Nelly!"
Just so you know, I don't think it's a good sign when your doctor goes "Whoa Nelly!"
"Um... " he says, waving around the slip of litmus paper he has just removed from my orange-capped cup of pee. "Have you been tested for diabetes recently? 'Cuz there's a truckload of sugar in your urine there little missy!"
Okay. so he didn't say that EXACTLY.... he skipped the "Nelly" and the "truckload" and the "little missy" parts, but the message was the same. And thus ended my obsession with A&W Rootbeer, iced tea and all things chocolate and yummy.
I've been poked and prodded practically daily since. I'm not terribly upset about it, but i'm not really thrilled either.
"O honey head....I'm all diseased and stuff," I wailed to Jack as I sat weeping pitifully on the fourth step of our feng shui challenged staircase.
But in all honesty... despite my sick desire to milk this new turn for all it's drama and stuff... despite the fact that my first reaction upon hearing the news was to look around for my mourners, the loyal legions shrieking "Oh NO! Not Melanie!" and organizing round the clock candlelight vigils.... or the sudden impluse to go all Nancy Kerrigan and start wailing "Why?!! why?!! O God, Why?!!!" in a spectacular display of self-pity and genuine pathos....I'm lucky. First, it's Type 2 diabetes or adult onset diabetes which means that while I'll have to prick myself daily to check my blood sugar, I won't have to inject myself with insulin or anything. And while I'm diabetic now, if I can get my blood sugar in check, I may not be six months from now. Technicallly speaking anyway.
And though I can certainly afford to lose a few pounds (and will have to), i'm not morbidly obese or anything. And my blood sugar levels aren't frighteningly off. My diet is actually well balanced and I exercise daily (walking the wolf and such like)... so the lifestyle changes required aren't going to be all that strenuous or difficult to achieve. What I have to give up... and this is the hard part for me... are the vats and barrels and kegs of rootbeer, hot chocolate, lemonade, iced tea, apple juice, grape juice, coke, etc. etc. I consume (consumed) each and every day. That's my big downfall. That and a tendancy to skip meals altogether. Now I have to concentrate on eating three squares so as to keep my blood levels from fluctuating too wildly.
So I'm learning to love water and experimenting with all sorts of sugar substitutes. I've doubled my exercise and I'm becoming fast friends with Dr. Singh. I'm going to get a handle on this thing and in the end, this will be a positive thing, forcing me to concentrate on taking better care of myself and making smarter choices. (Okay... I know I'm sounding all icky and Tony Robbins and crap...forgive me. I know it's hateful. But i have to psyche myself up for this, y'know? Rootbeer is a serious addiction. Like twelve-step program addictive.)
But man... why did i have to find this out in the chocolatey-est of all seasons?!!!! All those long eared and delectably sweet bunnies winking temptingly from the store shelves, all those alluring jelly beans and creme-filled eggs wiggling seductively and whispering my name......argh.
April continues, alas, to be the cruelest of months. big sigh.
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