Monday, January 31, 2011

They've taken away my loves

No chocolate.
No sugar.
No coffee.
No caffeine.
No wine.
No alcohol.
They've taken away my loves. They've taken away my vices. I'm sure I sound like a melodramatic teenager, but I don't care.
I'm not an addict, I could give these up, but I don't want to.
I want the option of having my daily coffee, or having a piece of chocolate and a nice glass of Merlot after a long day.  I want to be able to sip a drink at the bar with friends.
I'm not a smoker, I don't do drugs. I believe in moderation and I drink myself silly maybe once or twice a year. I don't have a 6 cup a day habit with my coffee, and it's usually just a morning thing.
But giving it all up.... EVERYTHING!? I'm not ok with this.
UGH! This isn't fair.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

I'd rather you call me fat

I fully expected to be called fat at the doctor's appointment that reviewed my Glucose Tolerance Test. As I mentioned in my previous post, that test was horrible, yet I still believed the results would be normal. That was not the case.
I was informed that I had a condition known as Reactive Hypoglycemia. The doctor then left the room to grab some literature and I broke down. Had I been prepared for the diagnosis I would have had a notebook full of questions, but I wasn't. That deer-in-the-headlight reaction was made worse with the literature. All but one of the 4 pamphlets was labeled as diabetic this or diabetic that.
Diabetes isn't a new thing to me. My mother died from Type 1 Diabetes when I was very young, my father has Type 2, and a cousin of mine also has Type 1.
I understand the rules of Diabetes and in my quickly deteriorating composure I was able to ask if THIS was going to turn into Diabetes. His response was that it could and I felt my heart breaking.
A 1200 calorie diabetic diet was the last thing he gave me instructions on. There were slight modifications for my reactive hypoglycemia including eating every 2-3 hours and "no white at night" but for the most part I was to follow the diet instructions. 
While there were tears in the office, there were sobs in the car. I stayed there for a long time wishing I could rewind and change the diagnosis. I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I had disappointed my parents and my family by allowing this to happen. I mourned the loss of my old life.

I wish he had just called me fat.

Friday, January 28, 2011

The Glucose Tolerance Test is cruel and unusual punishment.

On my semi-annual check-up with my Endo we discussed my weight gain. all fairness it wasn't really "discussed". The doctor basically stated my new inflation and followed it up with a disapproving look. In my typical type-A I-must-please-everyone state I came back with a genius response, "I've been trying to diet and workout more, I'm just hungry all the time. Seriously I could sit down and eat half a pizza and have room for the other half in a few hours. I work all day, then take care of my daughter, then work some more. After all of that I am still hungry and just don't have the energy to get out there AND workout too."
Now I expected him to lecture me about the importance of prioritizing or slowing down because those as this is a recurring lecture I hear in my life. Instead he looked at my lab work and noted that my blood sugar was low at the time of the test. We talked about what I had eaten before the test (an English muffin with peanut butter and an amazingly large home brewed latte) and about how I was feeling (Hungry! What part of I'm always hungry don't you get). Then he signed me up for a 5 hour Glucose Tolerance Test. I had done the prego version with no problems so the only part of the conversation I really heard was "eat lots of carbs for 3 days" and "reactive hypoglycemia blah blah blah."
That test... that test was awful. Sure I was fine drinking that disgusting syrup, I earned the Chugging Gross Beverages badge in college. It was the 4th-6th blood draws that were horrible. I wanted to cry, and fight and sleep all at the same time. I wanted to tackle the people walking past me with lattes and muffins. My head hurt, I couldn't stop shaking and I couldn't see straight enough to read and distract myself. I have no words of wisdom other than to run away. The test is evil.
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