I was having a great day, what with scoring the new apartment and all, when I got a phone call.
I had been to see my doctor last week for a physical, and she sent me for blood work additional to the pre-physical work, because of high cholesterol and blood sugar. She wanted to see me today, and not wait for the appointment I had booked in two weeks. It turns out I'm diabetic.
It's not a big surprise. My mom was diagnosed when she was three years younger than I am. She was insulin dependent; I am not -- at least, not yet. She lived for another 25 years, but it was ultimately the diabetes that killed her, gradually shutting down her entire system, until her heart gave out one Friday night almost five years ago, while she and my dad were sharing a joke while watching Jeopardy. It was four months after their 50th anniversary.
It's also not surprising, because there has been diabetes on all sides of our family for generations.
I had already started exercising, having just joined a gym. This is incentive to get my ass away from the computer and go work out. My doctor says exercise and keeping my weight under control are the most important. I'm also on medication, and have to test my blood sugar twice a day.
I'm not a big junk food or fast food eater, and already have the basis of healthy eating down pat. I just have to expand on it more, and not indulge in chocolate, Pepsi, and some of the other tastier, more pleasant aspects of food, or whatever you want to call what we cram down our pieholes.
I am going to control diabetes; it is not going to control me.
Moral support and encouragement are welcome.