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In anticipation of my end of the month endo appointment, I have to go for fasting blood work this week. I'm dreading it. To me, this one of the most inconvenient things in the world for several reasons.
First off, it has taken years for me to get into the habit of eating breakfast. Now that I'm a regular at the breakfast table, I'm completely hooked on the most important meal of the day. I can't leave home without it.
Second, I don't think its safe for me to drive on an empty stomach. It's kind of like not drinking liquor on an empty stomach. It's just a bad idea. I'm low, I'm shakey, I can't see straight. I'm liable to curse at anyone who crosses my path, even if they do have the right of way. Granted, the doctors office is down the hill and around the bend, literally 3 minutes away. But still, I'm not fond of driving before eating.
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For months now I have been waiting to do this. I had only to get my veins into a lab and have my
A1C taken so my experiment could be put into motion. I had my end of the supplies ordered up and the rest was up to the dueling laboratories of,
BIOSAFE and my local medical facility.
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So anyway, picking up where we last left ,
After Susanne gave the hairy-faced tailgater
the finger, we managed to make it to the wrong lab fifteen minutes after the time of our wrong appointment. Unfortunately, I suffer from the same reading comprehension issues that I did when I was in the third grade. I was just waiting for the receptionist to write in red marker, "Carey has trouble following direction," with a little sad face on the top-right corner of my paperwork.
The lab instructions I held in my hand very clearly displayed the correct name of the lab in big, bold letterhead.
We did eventually make it to the correct lab.
Maeve and Ben were being screened as part of the University of Florida's
PANDA Study to see if the insulin-producing cells in their pancreas' are being destroyed.
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I am overdue on blood work. There is lab paperwork that I have been carrying around for months in my bag. It was given to me by my endo back in September so I could get blood drawn in December and make an
appointment to see him. Yeah, that has not happened.
December is a busy time for everyone and frankly I just did not make the time to do it. So I figured I would call, make an appointment, and then hit the lab to give them my blood. It usually takes a week to get lab results so I make sure I have my dates set when I make the appointment. It sucks to go to the doctors and have nothing to really talk about.
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I decided to try the bioidentical hormone treatment. After reading books, studies and general information, I feel that I made an educated decision. I went to a seminar and personally talked to the doctor who founded the clinic. I spent hours on the web looking through positive and negative feedback from research studies, personal stories and major medical journals. And I used my brain.
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The morning began with a drive to the wrong lab and a hairy-faced jackass tailgating us the whole way there.
Susanne was driving on the single-lane road and was not responding well to the ass-ramming.
"Look at this guy!," she said, her Sicilian blood warming to a steady simmer.
"He's right up my ass!"
"Look how he wants to pass me, the jackass!"
[At this point I should note that I'm going for the world record for most uses of the word "ass" in a blog post related to diabetes. Victor Giovanni of Staten Island, NY, holds the record at 14 for his piece, My Endo, the Ass.]
"Let the ass pass," I said.
When she threatened to roll down her window to say something to this assface, I reminded her of the numerous (and I mean numerous) times she told me how dumb it was to do that back when I myself suffered from a touch of the road rage.
"He could have had a gun," she would scold me after we were out of harm's way.
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Last week I wrote about my experience with my new endo. Today marks a week from that first visit and the day I am supposed to fax over a weeks worth of BG readings and boluses from my pump.
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When I sat down in the exam room with the nurse she started asking me some typical questions but responded in a different way.
“So you are a type 1 right?”
“Yes, since I was 17.”
“And you are on a pump right?”
“Yes for just over 2 years.”
“Which pump?”
“I use a Minimed pump.” I answered although no one has ever asked me that question.
“Which model? The paradigm?” She asked
“Oh yes, the Paradigm 722,” I replied a little confused that she would even know model numbers and stuff.
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So I try to be a good person with diabetes who sees his doctor when he is supposed to. Who gets his lab work done every three months. One who checks his blood glucose level six to eight times a day. All that good stuff.
So as a
pump user, I am told to order my supplies when I open my last box. That was almost a month ago and guess what I did when I opened my last box?
Yup. I went online and ordered my three month supply of infusion sets and reservoirs. I should be good to go. I pat myself on the back and wait for a conformation email to arrive.
Like a prom night flashback, I wait and wait to hear from someone while my heart sinks deeper into the "why me" realm as time ticks by.
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I was invited to be part of a local mini-series. How exciting! I envision my name in lights, a crowd of adoring fans, gorgeous women at my feet,.
What's that? It's not actually a
TV mini-series? My mistake,.
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