As previously reported I got my blood sugar tested again a week ago. To say that I was expecting bad things would have been an understatement. I fully expected to be told I had Type II Diabetes. After all, I was told I had to lose weight or my high sugar levels would be my eminent demise. If you hadn't noticed, my ass size has increased not decreased since then. They mail your results to you so I've been waiting not so patiently and getting more and more anxious. I hadn't checked my mail in a couple days so this morning I finally did it. I grabbed my mail, jumped in my car, and away I went with it on the seat next to me just calling my name. When I got to the first stoplight I dug through my stack of mail and there it was…my results. I set it on the seat next to me and worked up the nerve to look. I debated not looking until I got home tonight because I didn't want to have to fight back tears all day at work. I figured I could spend the weekend coming to terms with the bad news and then resolve myself to a life full of new rules.
As I came to another stoplight, I committed to sucking it up and reading the bad news. I grabbed the envelope and opened it. I slowly pulled out the smallish piece of paper that was folded in half. The only side I saw as a pulled it out of the envelope was the side where the doc writes her comments. There, staring at me in black ink, was a smiley face. I thought, "You sick bastards. How can you draw a smiley face when telling me I'm diabetic? Hello, inappropriate!" Then I saw the checkmark in the box stating "No change in your treatment is necessary…" I got excited thinking that HAD to be good. That I was still pre-diabetic and it wasn't too late.
Then things got REAL crazy. I looked at the other checkmark stating that my blood test was "normal." Huh? What do you MEAN normal? I flipped to the back of the paper…nothing. Flipped back to the front…normal. Say what? Convinced it was a mistake, I called my doctor's office. I said, "Look, I'm not about to get excited over this until I make sure it's right. Here's the deal. I know you're supposed to fast for 12 hours before partaking in a test like this so what if you fasted for 18 hours? Would that throw off the results? Are those extra 6 hours toying with my emotions right now? Cause this here says I'm A-OK and not even pre-diabetic." It's like my dumb ass was begging them to give me bad news. She told me that I was on the high side of normal, but still normal. So like a Taco Bell Crunch Wrap Supreme…I'm good to go.
Excuse me whilst I do a chair dance. I'm downright giddy. Uh huh, I said it, GIDDY! It's not too late. I can still fix this, and by God, fix it I will. The big man upstairs has thrown me a very large bone and offered up the opportunity to take one last stab at this. This is exactly what I needed…a second chance.
So, what’s my plan? For the last week I’ve been drinking ridiculous amounts of water and will obviously keep that up. I started exercising on my own, but tonight Dustina came over to discuss our plans. Who is Dustina? I’ve briefly mentioned her before, but she’s the kinder, gentler, prettier, more estrogen infused version of Trainer Guy Todd. She’s my new trainer. We’re going to trade skills (pause for a Napolean Dynamite moment)…training skills for web design skills. She’s going to come over to my apartment around 10 times a month and workout with me. Keep me on the straight and narrow so to speak.
What’s great is that she suggested doing the very thing that always works best for me. She said I should make slow changes in my habits. That this week I upped my water intake so next week I should add another change or two until it all falls into place for me. If I make such a drastic change in my overall lifestyle then I’m not going to be able to keep something like that going for very long. If it’s more gradual then it’s less noticeable…it becomes habit. Yay her for being NOTHING like Trainer Guy Todd. When she looked at my food journal and assessed what I’d eaten this week she said I needed to eat more. That’s funny for a girl of my size to hear. I mean, I get it, but it’s odd. I’m doing well with eating often; I’m just not eating enough. So this week she wants me to add lean protein to my breakfasts, a “good” fat with my snacks, and up the veggie intake. Consider it done.
So here I am, 10 pounds lighter, and standing at a veritable crossroads. This is my chance to find my inner Robert Frost and take the road less traveled. How important IS my life? How much do I value my health? I’ve been shown time and time again that “it can’t happen to me” does not apply in my world. It can, and often does, happen to me. I’m done riding the bench while everyone else gets to play in the game. We’re in double overtime, down by one, and God has called for a sub. To that I say…put me in coach!
As I came to another stoplight, I committed to sucking it up and reading the bad news. I grabbed the envelope and opened it. I slowly pulled out the smallish piece of paper that was folded in half. The only side I saw as a pulled it out of the envelope was the side where the doc writes her comments. There, staring at me in black ink, was a smiley face. I thought, "You sick bastards. How can you draw a smiley face when telling me I'm diabetic? Hello, inappropriate!" Then I saw the checkmark in the box stating "No change in your treatment is necessary…" I got excited thinking that HAD to be good. That I was still pre-diabetic and it wasn't too late.
Then things got REAL crazy. I looked at the other checkmark stating that my blood test was "normal." Huh? What do you MEAN normal? I flipped to the back of the paper…nothing. Flipped back to the front…normal. Say what? Convinced it was a mistake, I called my doctor's office. I said, "Look, I'm not about to get excited over this until I make sure it's right. Here's the deal. I know you're supposed to fast for 12 hours before partaking in a test like this so what if you fasted for 18 hours? Would that throw off the results? Are those extra 6 hours toying with my emotions right now? Cause this here says I'm A-OK and not even pre-diabetic." It's like my dumb ass was begging them to give me bad news. She told me that I was on the high side of normal, but still normal. So like a Taco Bell Crunch Wrap Supreme…I'm good to go.
Excuse me whilst I do a chair dance. I'm downright giddy. Uh huh, I said it, GIDDY! It's not too late. I can still fix this, and by God, fix it I will. The big man upstairs has thrown me a very large bone and offered up the opportunity to take one last stab at this. This is exactly what I needed…a second chance.
So, what’s my plan? For the last week I’ve been drinking ridiculous amounts of water and will obviously keep that up. I started exercising on my own, but tonight Dustina came over to discuss our plans. Who is Dustina? I’ve briefly mentioned her before, but she’s the kinder, gentler, prettier, more estrogen infused version of Trainer Guy Todd. She’s my new trainer. We’re going to trade skills (pause for a Napolean Dynamite moment)…training skills for web design skills. She’s going to come over to my apartment around 10 times a month and workout with me. Keep me on the straight and narrow so to speak.
What’s great is that she suggested doing the very thing that always works best for me. She said I should make slow changes in my habits. That this week I upped my water intake so next week I should add another change or two until it all falls into place for me. If I make such a drastic change in my overall lifestyle then I’m not going to be able to keep something like that going for very long. If it’s more gradual then it’s less noticeable…it becomes habit. Yay her for being NOTHING like Trainer Guy Todd. When she looked at my food journal and assessed what I’d eaten this week she said I needed to eat more. That’s funny for a girl of my size to hear. I mean, I get it, but it’s odd. I’m doing well with eating often; I’m just not eating enough. So this week she wants me to add lean protein to my breakfasts, a “good” fat with my snacks, and up the veggie intake. Consider it done.
So here I am, 10 pounds lighter, and standing at a veritable crossroads. This is my chance to find my inner Robert Frost and take the road less traveled. How important IS my life? How much do I value my health? I’ve been shown time and time again that “it can’t happen to me” does not apply in my world. It can, and often does, happen to me. I’m done riding the bench while everyone else gets to play in the game. We’re in double overtime, down by one, and God has called for a sub. To that I say…put me in coach!
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