I made a note on my calendar to call Dr. S today about the bloodwork I had done last week. His nurse told me it may be a week or two before I got results and that I could call any time to see if they were in.

I got impatient (go figure!) and called yesterday. After going through automated phone Hell, I got to the voice mail of the nurse. Her mailbox said feel free to leave a message, but be aware that it may take me 72 hours to get back to you. *sigh*

So I left a message fully expecting NOT to hear from her any time soon. I considered calling again today, but even though I'm impatient I'm not a pest. Well, maybe sometimes.

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I thought carefully about what I would wear today, and reconsidered several times. I applied my makeup with an eye toward the wow factor. I wasn't trying to show off, I just feel incredibly good today and wanted to reflect that outwardly.

Truthfully, I couldn't wait to get to my appointment with my endo. Truthfully, I've been waiting for this for some time. Truthfully, if I were still on Byetta I think I would have dreaded this day. Truthfully, with a solid month or so of excellent blood sugars thanks to Novolog and a fairly decent walking schedule, I was proud to report to my endo about how well I believe I'm doing. (READ MORE)

I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.

I have fallen off the wagon.

Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.

When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me. (READ MORE)

To sum up Charlie's recent doctor's visit in which we greatly anticipated an improved A1c result, the words of two great American female poets come to mind.

"First, when there's nothing but a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind
All alone I have cried silent tears full of pride
In a world made of steel, made of stone

What a feeling, bein's believin'
I can't have it all, now I'm dancin' for my life
Take your passion, and make it happen
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life" - Irene Cara

And of course ,.

"Whoa, maybe he's no romeo
But he's my lovin one-man show
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Let's hear it for the boy" - Deniece Williams

Incidentally, I honestly always thought the Irene Cara lyric was "take your pants off and make it happen" rather than "take your passion and make it happen." Very risqué and quite unlikely even for the mid-80s, but that's just how I heard it. (READ MORE)

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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It's been awhile. The whirlwind that is life took over for a spell. To avoid another takeover, I'm committing to twenty-six letters. A through Z. One letter at least every other day - each representing a word that relates to living with diabetes or being touched by diabetes.

You might think that A, naturally, would be A1C. You know? That number that supposedly gives you an idea of you how you're managing. But A won't be A1C today. Because, although I believe it's important to know your A1C and keep your number in order, there is, I believe, a more important A. And that's accountability.

Sometimes diabetes throws a curve-ball. Sometimes, it seems, no matter what we do, our blood sugar has a mind of its own. It swoops or peaks for no apparent reason. (READ MORE)