My Life on the D-List

Diabetes, that is. When I was pregnant with Carson, I failed my glucose tests miserably. With Olivia, I passed with flying colors, even after eating a slice of chocolate cake from the hospital cafeteria twenty minutes before my appointment. Between pregnancy two and three, I had a full blood work-up through a wellness check at work, and was very surprised to find out that my sugars were too high. I began watching my carbs because I was so fearful my kids might grow up without their mom. I guess my fright dissolved once my sugar was in a safer range because I started sliding back into my old eating habits and gained back everything I had lost previously. Early on in my last pregnancy, I was hospitalized because my sugar was so high, so I guess I should not have been too surprised with my most recent diagnosis. Sugar detection in my urine meant that something was up, and more than likely that something was my glucose levels. The doctor ordered a complete blood work up, and low and behold my A1C (measure of blood glucose levels over the past three months) was a whopping 9.2. Normal levels are between four and six, and seven is when organ damage usually begins. Although I had struggled with high blood sugar before, I was never formally diagnosed because I had always gotten the problem under control. This time, however, my A1C was the highest it has ever been and I heard those dreaded words, "You are an uncontrolled diabetic."


I cried off and on for several days partially because it was such a struggle to find something I could eat. Because I was diagnosed by my gynecologist, I was not placed on medication, so I was trying to control my sugars by cutting out all carbs not naturally found in foods; however, the main reason for my tears was because the doctor's words were exactly what I had been dreading hearing for several years. No matter the warning signs or my previous health issues I never thought such a diagnosis would actually come, so when actually faced with such a disease, it threw me for a huge loop.


After finally seeing my primary doctor, I am now taking medication to help control my glucose levels, but I am still eating very few carbs, if any. In the two months since my diagnosis, I have lost twenty-five pounds and gone down two pant sizes. I bought my first pants from the misses section in about ten years. It is so exciting to get on the scale and see that my struggles are not in vain. It is also encouraging to have my family supporting me in this complete lifestyle change. That, in itself, makes an enormous difference. With such drastic changes in diet plus the added medication, I now have my sugars under control, but it is also possible for diabetes to be altogether reversed. This is definitely the biggest goal I have set for myself.


Although I am disappointed with this diagnosis, I view it as a wake-up call. I do not want to live my life with the ill effects of diabetes such as vision loss, circulatory damage, foot ulcers, etc, but most importantly, I want to live my life. I want to grow old with my husband, see my kids graduate high school and college, get married and have my grandchildren. I want to see my sweet niece, nephew, and all those future little Delcambres, Pettys, and Piersons grow up to do great things. I want to see my parents travel on their matching pair of motorcycles  and help them celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. I want to finally bite the bullet and fly on an airplane. There are so many things I have yet to accomplish, do, and see, so for now, I choose to live my life on the d-list to the fullest rather than let this ugly disease consume me.