The End

Posted November 3, 2009 * Comments(0)

I was sick a few weeks ago. Rotten cold. Likely brought home by my children from that teeming cesspool they call elementary school. I hacked, I coughed, I lay around in bed, beached whale-style, and I sucked Halls like I was some sort of metholated Jenna Jameson. When I got over it, it seemed like I…wasn’t over it. I was thirsty ALL the time, kept falling asleep in the middle of the day, had headaches constantly. And then it hit me.

I have diabetes.

My mother is pre-diabetic. Her twin brother developed Type 2 in his early 50s. And I’m a fat-ass. I’ve gained 30 lbs in the last few years. I wasn’t exactly in good shape to begin with, but I have let myself go down the toilet. Honest to God, I’m the overeater’s version of a crack-whore. (What is that, a cracker-whore?). Anyway, now I’m galumphing along at about 254 lbs. I mean, I want to vomit just typing it.

I made an appointment with a doctor. In the meantime, I started to educate myself. I mean, I know the basics about diabetes. But, I started to read more about it as a chronic illness. And Jesus, it isn’t a matter of IF you end up with an amputated foot or blind, it’s WHEN. And then I got pissed.

I did go to see the doctor. We’ve recently relocated to a certain sunny state with the highest per captia of dentures in the U.S. The doctor was a total ass-wipe. He was condescending and snide. Did I mention that he was also a fatty? Anyway, that pissed me off even more. He ordered blood tests and told me to come back in two weeks. Fat fucking chance.

I’m not getting the blood work done. At least, not now. I went and bought a meter at Walmart. I read some of the forums over at the ADA website and I did my own blood testing. My first reading (no fasting but not immediately after a meal) was 87. Whaaaa? So I ate a regular dinner and then tested an hour after 89. Two hours later it was 88.

So, I don’t have diabetes. At least that’s the story I’m telling myself. I got so pissed off when I thought I might have done that to myself that I refuse to let it happen. Hello, low-carb diet and exercise. Goodbye, fitting into a size 9 shoe again because all my toes had to be amputated.

So I guess I finally found my ah-ha moment. I refuse to be a Sick Person. I hate sickly people. Isn’t that awful? But, it’s true. Honest to God, I look at people with major allergies and I think, Good Lord, suck it up already. (I might point out that I realize this is irrational. It isn’t their fault they have allergies. My hubby is allergic to tree nuts. Not his fault, obviously, but I’m somehow annoyed by it. No, I don’t let on that I’m annoyed by it. That would make me a very unpleasant person. And I’m only unpleasant in my brain…or when I’m pissed off.) But the bottom line is, I just cannot have diabetes.

So, my weapons of choice in this war to be Not Sick are the following:

  • Low-carb diet
  • Exercise - bike riding and walking, mostly
  • Keeping an online food diary
  • Blogging about how much it sucks.

Note that I don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for me. I’m so frigging pissed that I did this to myself, so I do NOT expect sympathy. But I have to bitch somewhere, so here it is.

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