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Sunday, October 07, 2007

Insulin is everything it's cracked up to be. Post-meeting with the endocrinologist, and I'm definately diabetic. It seems that a glucose number of 250 two hours post-meal is not a good thing. So I've been sent home with another huge brown bag of sharp stuff. Sure, I was a bit apprehensive about shooting up with the syringes... but the needles are superfine and it's a heck of a lot easier to put the medication into my body than it is to get blood out of my veins or hook up an iv line. I'm supposed to be injecting the insulin into the fleshy parts of my outer thigh. In other words, I reflected the other night when I couldn't sleep, into my rump. Which means, loosely, that I have to give these shots into my butt.

And somebody told me once that I couldn't find humor in Every situation...

So the glucose numbers are coming down, diets are getting more restrictive, and the insulin happens at bedtime every night. This morning post-breakfast I actually scored a real passing number. Not a marginally passing number, but an honest-to-God passing number. I guess it's the small victories that make it memorable for me.

2 comments:

Pollyanna said...

Sorry to hear you're having to deal with this! But I'm glad it's starting to work.

Fireflower said...

Thanks! I've been thinking of you and your family recently; hope that things improve for your mood. I miss your blogging.