Experimental Life {Update 2}

This morning was my gestational diabetes 3 hour oral test.  It went much like I expected, unfortunately.

I fasted for 12 hours, after having stayed on my diet of very little carbs yesterday. For those of you who don’t understand diabetes, just understand that the following is bad.  For those of you who do, you’ll understand HOW bad it is.

Fasting: 135

1 hour: 336

2 hour: 272

3 hour: 112

A regular fasting, last I checked, shouldn’t be higher than 90, so it’s immediately evident that I either had 1/2 dozen donuts for breakfast or I’m diabetic. The rest of the numbers prove exactly that same thing: I am indeed (drum roll, please) diabetic.  Uhm, duh. I knew this. And I didn’t want the test. But, I needed THEM to know this, so they would cover my supplies. Not only am I diabetic this go-round, but I am MORE diabetic than I’ve ever been before, if that’s even medically appropriate to say.  But, what I’m telling you is that those numbers even impress me, with my history.

Now, aside from the fact that I am (and have always been) gestationally diabetic, my extremely high fasting number can be otherwise explained. If I had eaten a carb-heavy dinner last night, my blood sugar would have elevated heftily and then decreased steadily throughout the night, until I would have finally hit the “normal” range for fasting this morning. However, I ate protein. All protein. Lots and lots of protein.  I didn’t have a meter, so I don’t know what my numbers were after that meal, but my guess is that they were right about what they were on fasting this morning, or just a touch higher.  Protein enters your system and stays there for a long time, keeping your blood sugar level very stable. (That’s the high point of this lifestyle, actually.)  So, while it was healthy for my body to stay at that level for an extended period of time, instead of riding the traditional roller coaster, it’s not what traditional medical professionals are used to seeing, and they’re over-reacting over it.

I am to go pick my meter and strips up right away.  But, the bigger concern is this (remember I said they’re overreacting): Now they would like to admit me into the hospital.  Uhm, why exactly? Because I told you my numbers would be ugly, you made me do it anyway, I almost crashed on the floor of your lab (and was lucky enough to wait until I got home to bottom out!), and now you’re surprised by how high those numbers were? Oh, no, thank you.  That type of “care” is not going to be good for me, the baby, or the rest of my family. Please continue your prayers as I continue this fight.


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