There will be blood
Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.
I had a blood test done recently. (I wonder if it’s possible to begin a column that’s going to end well with that sentence.) At any rate, I had a high blood glucose number, so my doctor told me I was at risk of moving into the prediabetes realm. I paid about half attention because my doctor tends to want to fix anything that’s wrong with me immediately, and in these types of “for the rest of your life” situations, I tend to just monitor the problem, try to have better general health, and usually the issue just disappears.
It took some practice to see that pattern for myself, but for most of my life, when the doctor tried to prescribe me a medicine for some medical issue—blood pressure, acid reflux, depression—I just took the pill long enough to treat the symptom while I lost some weight.
But, I’m in pretty good shape right now. I could lose 6-8 pounds, and I’m trying, but I’m afraid diabetes isn’t one of those issues that’s just going to go away when I get thinner. I’m afraid this is one of those hereditary diseases that wins no matter what.
So I asked my dad to send me one of those digital blood sugar monitors—if he had an extra one—and the story is not pretty. I’m doing all the stuff I know to do to decrease blood sugar levels—cutting carbs and alcohol, exercising—and the numbers are inconcievable for me. For example, I had a three-quarters of a cup of oatmeal and some blueberries, and two hours later, my blood glucose was at nearly 400 milligrams per deciliter. I don’t think “pre” diabetes exactly describes what we’re talking about.
Hunter and I, of course, are having a great time, charting glucose numbers with the foods that preceded, sticking my fingers full of holes; I’m sure he’s learning some great life lessons. Something about pipers being paid by dancers or chickens coming home to roost or nuts not falling far from trees.