I am terrified of developing diabetes.
I’ve done lots of things to change my life in the past two months — started using a standing desk at work, started meal planning, started yoga and kayaking, breakfast every day at home, planning for healthy snacks at work. Lots of things.
There’s one thing I’d been quietly and silently avoiding.
It’s been two years since my doctor had my blood sugars checked. They were within normal limits then.
I’ve known since I started changing my lifestyle and facing reality that I need to get the sugars checked. The little voice in the back of my head said “You need to know. Whatever the answer is, you need to know, and you need to deal with it.” But it’s hard — so hard. 10% because I hate getting blood drawn, and 90% because I don’t want the possibility of a bad outcome to feel real.
But this whole thing really is about facing hard truths and trying to take good care of myself, so this morning, as my doctor directed, I got up and headed down to the lab before breakfast to get my fasting glucose test.
The phlebotomost (technical term for the blood-taker-person) had to stick me twice, and both hurt like heck. Unfortunately, the first one still hurts even now (and left a pretty nasty bruise, at that).
And… now I wait for results, which will hopefully come back on Monday. I’m trying to be accepting — I’m prepared to lead a healthy life no matter how my blood sugar looks, and I know that the disease is controllable with enough work and commitment.
But me and my bruised arm are kinda nervous over here.