Doctor Visit Yields Results - Diabetes Confirmed

A few days prior to going to the doctor's office, I had asked my father if I could use his glucose meter. I had spoken with dad on several occasions about his blood sugar levels and what was considered a normal range. When dad first learned of his diabetes, he was averaging in the mid 200s, and at his age with all of his ailments, that ain't good. Dad has had triple bypass surgery and a valve replacement and when your blood is full of sugar, it's thick and it makes your heart work harder. His heart doesn't need the extra strain, because a couple of years ago, he was also diagnosed with congestive heart failure. He's 76 years old and even with all the years I've had him in my life, I still feel that I would be devastated by losing him.

He showed me how to use the meter and I pricked my finger willfully - eagerly to find out if I was afflicted by something other than my own excuses for letting myself go. The results weren't to be seen, or at least not represented by any number... because the only thing I saw were the letters "hi". I immediately went to the internet to find out what "hi" meant exactly. I found out, and I was scared as hell! I was well above what the meter was programmed to display and that told me a trip to the doctor's office was of crucial importance.

I had read all kinds of horror stories about how organs can be damaged by prolonged, untreated blood sugar, and what with all my symptoms of the disease, I questioned why I didn't visit the doctor sooner. While I was waiting to see the doctor, I picked up a few pamphlets on the table beside one of the lobby chairs. I remembered thinking to myself that this is really the first time I'd ever been curious to read anything about diabetes. I never really picked up any interest in the topic before because I didn't have the disease and never contemplated being diagnosed with it. It's funny how we blindside ourselves about certain things if we've never experienced our own dramas with these things. I think a fine example would be the Hollywood celebs who roll hard with a charity after learning that they or someone they love has been affected by what they are vesting themselves and their money for research into.

Okay, so the nurse puts me on the scale (I've lost 15 pounds since last year's visit), takes my blood pressure, temperature, and tells me the doctor will be with me in a moment. I heard him pick up my chart outside the closed door and he stood there for a minute or two before opening the door and walking in. He's a fit guy and I have a feeling he doesn't have any sympathy for overweight people. If he can be skinny and feel good every day he comes to work, why can't his big patients - or at least that's what I think goes through his head, but I'm a might paranoid anyways.

He sits down after reviewing my chart and asks me how I'm feeling. I told him that I don't think I've ever felt more less of a human for such a long period of time and he asked me to elaborate. I told him about my constant state of never feeling like I've had enough sleep during the night, about my relentless thirst, frequent trips to the toilet at night, my twitching eye, my lack of any kind of energy, and heart palpitations. I mentioned the fact that I had used my father's sugar meter and the reading was "hi". I told him very frank that I believed I had diabetes. I felt he was in awe and doubting of my self-diagnosis, because he knows as well as I that I had just visited him last year and none of these symptoms were present - none of them appeared on his chart.

He got up and told me to follow him and we walked down the halls headed for the lab. He spoke with a lab worker and asked them to give me an A1C test. I was very nervous. I didn't know what the A1C was and I didn't know if the doc had other suspicions of something else that may be brewing inside of me, like cancer or something dreaded and incurable. I do know that he treated the issue with urgency and despite the fact that the lab was filled with other patients, I was moved to the front of the line and blood was taken from my arm. I was then escorted back to the office where I waited for the doctor to return. He walked in and said "You were right - I'm sorry, but you are a diabetic." He told me the A1C results showed that my median score was 373 (over 3 months) and that he needed to prescribe me medication and advised that this should be treated promptly.

A prescription for AvandaMet was sent to my pharmacy and I went to pick it up this day. More about my diabetes medication and initial reactions to come in my next post.

Diabetes Type 2 My Hero

On July 25th, 2008 I was informed I had joined the brotherhood of type 2 diabetics. Of course, this wasn't by choice, but it might as well have been, because for the past three years I've really let myself go. The job functions I've had in the past had kept me somewhat active enough to refrain from being severely obese. Then, in 2005 I landed a job in a call center where I sit on my butt all day and answer phone calls. I was already overweight when I took this job, and my interviewer had told me if I get this job and I don't remain active, one of the drawbacks of the job is weight gain.

The facility I work in does provide a workout room with a good assortment of exercise equipment, but I seldom find myself using this room, except for the adjoining restroom, in which case if there's any weight to be lost... At any rate, the call center doesn't provide square meal choices, but does provide candy snack machines and soft drink machines just to make matters all the worse. When you sit for eight hours a day and fill your face with sweets, your metabolism obviously slows down and, well - I'm not telling you anything you already don't know.

I'm the type of person to make excuses, not that I bombard them on friends and family, but I make them work for myself. I've pondered many reasons in my mind for not using the workout room, or perhaps taking a stroll around the call center instead of going to the smoking area to light up. I know, you're thinking "obese, smoker, diabetic - risk for health problems 100%", but my excuses would have me a winner in that argument, or at least they would have before my hero saved me.

I had been feeling sluggish for approximately one year before I was introduced to my hero, and as that year progressed, my zest for life was fading increasingly every day. I attributed my health to the job I had and told myself that I needed to change something. I had ideas of what I needed to change, such as the types of food I was consuming, my activities (or lack thereof), maybe my job - all of these things were at the top of my list, but I didn't change much of anything at all. No, instead, I started feeling sorry for myself and considered myself out of reach for any self-motivation and pride. I awoke each morning feeling tired and not ready for the waking day. Hobbies I enjoyed were past times I could not enjoy now. I knew depression would be a culprit for my mood changes, but I took care of that by going to the doctor and having him prescribe an SSRI.

The SSRI seemed to take some of the blah out of me, but I was gaining more weight now, something I now know is a common side effect of those selective serotonin inhibitors. I tried weaning off the med, but God help me there. Mind-zaps and dizziness were something I could not cope with now. On top of this, my blood pressure was through the roof on my last visit to the doc. I was prescribed blood pressure/diuretic medication and started to control that. My sleep pattern was altered tremendously by the diuretic and I must have paid visits to the toilet 3-4 times nightly.

With more weight came even more discouragement, and hope for making any major lifestyle changes was slipping away because I just didn't feel like doing anything. When I got home from work, I did the usual chores around the house, but I'd also get on the computer and, yes, find myself sitting down for a few more hours. Though, something was wrong here... with the little activity in my day, I was drinking obnoxious amounts of liquids and could not seem to satiate my thirst. I thought that the diuretic may be causing this and I stopped taking my blood pressure medicine. Now I really felt bad. I had to go back on it.

As more months went by, I noticed strange things happening to my body. My left eye would occasionally twitch - not enough to see it in the mirror, but I felt it. It seemed to stop when I would concentrate on it, but as soon as I forgot about it, it started again. I also noticed my vision becoming blurry. My vision has always been poor since birth, but I was thinking cataracts now. One afternoon, a couple of friends took me to a big arcade that has a bar and restaurants inside. We played some games, walked around a bit and I just couldn't believe how much such simple activity took out of me - I was exhausted. We sat down at the bar and my friend bought me a big mug of beer. I slugged it down and then ordered myself a glass of iced tea. My friend watched in amazement while I finished the glass in less than 2 seconds and ordered another. His wife had a glass of water she wasn't touching and I asked her if I could have it and was wide-eyed when I finished it off just as fast. They told me I needed to see the doctor.

Well, I went - read about it in my next post!