The House of the Endocrine Twins
I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes on Friday, August 21 2009. I cannot say it came as a complete surprise, as I had been feeling like lukewarm hell for about a year now. Who finally diagnosed it? No, not the physician’s assistant that took over after my (second in two years) primary care physician moved out of state, but the lovely lady who saw me one night at the after hours clinic. She of the diagnosis of Labyrinthitis to explain the dizzyness several weeks after a grand bout of the flu. (insert David Bowie reference here)
I have my annual physical done every fall. Last October, my fasting glucose was 116, BUN and creatinine were high, and my TSH was high. The only thing the physician’s assistant saw when she looked over the two pages of my bloodwork results was the high TSH, so that was all she treated. The diagnosis at that time was hypothyroidism, and I walked out with a confused expression and a prescription for Levothyroxine.
Fast forward several months, and I am still not feeling much better, so off I go for a follow-up with the PA. Yes, the thyroid is now very nicely controlled, but my blood glucose is still high. More bloodwork, and all she saw (yet again) was the thyroid. She sent me on my way.
I have had trouble thinking, trouble sensing any of my emotions, trouble sleeping, trouble seeing small print. I have a feeling of being disconnected from the day to day of my own life. I was lying in wait, just hoping she would try to throw some antidepressants at me. Silly physician’s assistant. She would’ve had to have the prescription surgically removed from her shapely posterior. Too many doctors prescribe the damned things, and with no real reason.
I knew it was coming, the diabetes. After seeing my lovely lady doctor a month ago (for what? I can’t remember) I told her I would like to have labs drawn so we could see why I was still not feeling well. She was the first to do an A1c, measuring my BG over the previous three months. And there it was. Fasting was still hovering around 90, and the A1c was 6.2. Not earth-shattering, but finally something concrete that could be treated. She gave me a prescription for 2000mg of Metformin per day, and 5mg of Lisinopril, a blood pressure drug that offers some vascular and kidney protection for those of a diabetic bent.
Now I get to poke myself in the fingers several times a day. Since the diagnosis, it is damn near all I can think about. My husband has threatened to sever my internet connection if I do not stay off of the damned medical sites, because I get worked up and obsessively stressed out when I read about diabetes complications. Testing my BG so regularly is how I discovered that emotional and mental stress raises it almost as high as McDonald’s fries.
I made a pleasant discovery, however. Amazingly enough, exercise does wonders for a handful of my woes. Helps me think clearly. Lowers my blood glucose. Makes me lose weight. Relieves stress like crazy. Huh. Who knew?
Now maybe I can actually look forward to exercising five times a week. Or maybe not.
But I’m gonna exercise five times a week anyway.
Tags: Diabetes