Monday, June 10, 2013

Endo Check Up

It seems funny to me how our perception of time changes based on whatever it is that makes up "normal" every day life.   Last fall, when I was pregnant with GV, I had so many doctors appointments that my days, perhaps even my hours, seemed to be measured in trips up and down the I-95 corridor to Fairfax INOVA Hospital.  But now that I'm back to "normal," fireman rain coats and matching wellies accent my routine far more than white coats, which are soooo last season.  Doctors appointments now merely indicate the passing of yet another three months -- either in the form of a well baby visit for GV or a routine endocrinology check up for me.

The latter is what I did today. 

The past couple months have been ROUGH diabetes wise and, to be completely honest, I've been dreading this appointment for fear of the criticism I feel is entirely appropriate for my self care.  It isn't that I have been slacking on the job or purposefully blowing off my blood sugar (although, to be fair, I simply forgot to bolus once... yikes), it's just that I'll be going along just fine and then WHAM! my blood glucose is in the high 200s and there is no simple explanation for it.  My pump will indicate that I have enough active insulin in my system to cover the correction, but my glucose will have shot up like the insulin wasn't even there and, quite similiarly to when I was pregnant, come crashing down an hour or two later.  Without understandable rhyme or logical reason for this, I've just been rage bolusing and enjoying a few extra doses of whatever something sweet I'd happen to be craving at the time (currently pecan pralines).

Thus expecting an abnormal HgA1C, which if you remember is anything above 6.0, I brought my support group along for the telling finger prick that would inevitably quantify the amount of flack I'd justifiably be given.  Dispensing with the "oh what an adorable baby" and "you must be such a good big brother" comments and getting down to it, I held my breath and gritted my teeth as I waited for the results in the same manor I did while checking the mail box for my college acceptance letters...

Doctor Rogacz entered the room.  We exchanged our pleasantries and, with little ado, got down to my diabetic trials and tribulations.  Explaining that some things have changed - I'm running more, I've been under more stress and that I'd been sick without singular cause - but that most of my lifestyle factors remain the same, I blushed in embarrassment as I handed her my blood glucose logs for the last two weeks which included daily ventures into the 200s.

"Hmm, I don't know what to tell you," she said. "The timing of these highs are inconsistent and you've got a number of lows as well.  But your HgA1C is good at 5.8 - so you're doing something right even with these numbers."


Reading my face and plainly hearing HB's comments of "I told you so" (he relishes those opportunities), she then not only didn't give me a hard time about my hyperglycemic excursions she was incredibly encouraging of my dedication.

"You're never going to have perfect blood sugars, no matter how hard you try, so try to relax.  You're doing a great job!"

Frustrated with the medical recommendation "to relax" I professionally dodged her compliment with a question or three about my marathon training to which she merely said "do what you have to do to not pass out" which, in endurance running and diabetes management, I take as excellent advice.

So without jabs about my continuing lack of CGM, lectures about abnormal blood sugar ranges or prescriptions for whatever else might be ailing me, I felt like I dodged a bullet today as we walked back to the car.  I thoroughly expected my HgA1C to be in the high 7 range and I lost significant amounts of sleep last night because of anxious dread of medical criticism... but I guess all that worrying was for not.   My Nana, may she rest in peace, always said that the things you worry about never come to pass and until now I'd figured that was just her way of recommending I "relax" but, hey, perhaps she was right.

We'll see where I'm at in another three months.

1 comment:

  1. Well, at least you stumped the doctor, too, right? I mean, it's not as good as getting some answers and relief, but knowing you didn't miss anything obvious has to be a little reassuring.

    Hang in there!