Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Every one of us with diabetes hears that clock ticking away.

Glucose, insulin, ketones, tests.
The endless cycle never rests.
Fail once to heed the daily strife
And that day you may lose your life.

Alarmists are everywhere. Family, friends, strangers, all with the best of intentions. (READ MORE)

tome213 @ stock.xchng

"Are you going to eat what your wife made?"

It was loud. It was purposely loud to get everybody's attention. It was coming from an unexpected source. I was ready.

"If you mean the cake then, heck yes I am having some. Why?"

"Hello, you are diabetic!"

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One of the mixed advantages of living far away from family is that when you do finally get home, there's a lot of catching up to be done. Because we've been away and not in all that close touch, we're considered the "neutral third parties", and the updating comes chock full of dish.

Nowhere is this more apparent then when diabetes comes into play. Siblings who'd never "rat" on each other in full-court, whole-family press, will each take you on the side and let you know that the other's numbers are being kept "too high" or "too low", that s/he doesn't test (enough), or that s/he keeps forgetting how many of which pills need to be taken, when. Sometimes one will say another's medication dosages have been increased "because s/he's not watching what s/he's eating". It's Diabetes Police by Proxy (DPP).

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Some of you may find this strange, but I typically travel with diet soda.

I should say that I don't load up the car each morning on my way to work (although I do consume one can on the drive in), but whenever we are going to visit a friend or family member, I bring some soda.

What I usually do is stop by the store, pick up several bottles or 12 packs, and take one in with me when I get to the destination. That way, if they all get consumed, I know I have more in the car as backup.  And there are no uncomfortable moments when I am leaving if it's not all consumed - I take the leftovers with me.

I have a few friends who always tell me: "George, I know you are coming so I always get diet for you!" 

To which I reply: "Great! I will drink yours first and take this home!" 

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Since I changed my endocrinilogist last year, I've really been happy with my experiences with Dr. K. She's the kind of doctor that means business but doesn't come off as if she's judging you. She tells you what she thinks, but leaves it up to you what to do. So usually, I'm fairly excited (yes, I said excited) about going to see her. Even when I know I've been doing 85% of things wrong.

This appointment didn't feel that way though. I just really didn't want to have to go. I've been making some changes and my averages are down. I didn't want to hear that I'd been doing this and this wrong, even if she does leave off the judgement. I just wasn't willing to expose all those mistakes to the light.

And I feel torn between wishing I would have canceled and being excited about the outcome.

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"The 'Diabetes Police' are everywhere, telling us what we may or may not eat or do, on pain of losing a leg, going blind, or -- G-d forbid -- dying like their father's great-aunt by marriage did thirty years ago."

• --"They" tell us we may not eat breads and cakes
• --"They" tell us we may not eat fruits or sweets
• --"They" tell us we may not eat that nice, juicy bacon cheeseburger -- especially if it's accompanied by a plate of crispy French fries and a frosty tankard of microbrew ale
• --"They" tell us we may not drink anything other than tap water, or black coffee sweetened with Splenda
• --"They" tell us we must eat tons of cinnamon, bitter melon extract, and a myriad of other "cures du jour" that cure diabetes only in Halle Berry's pipe dreams

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