Learning the Ropes

I woke up bright and early for my first appointment of the day: a how-to session on using my glucose monitor. Wash hands, insert test strip in monitor, place lancet in lancet device, prick finger, place finger with blood against the test strip, wait. The process is pretty easy to say the least. We tested my glucose and upon discovering it was still high, the nurse administered another ten units of insulin. I had two hours before the appointment with my primary and I decided I would grab lunch in the meantime. The nurse informed me that I should eat protein and vegetables until I was told otherwise.

I chose Pick Up Stix for my meal. I settled into my chair with a stack of diabetes pamphlets to sort through. I scanned the restaurant and realized this was a poorly thought out plan-- there was the man in the corner with his breaded honey chicken, the child devouring her fortune cookie, and the countless others with fried rice and crispy wontons. I forced myself to concentrate on my reading as I sipped on chicken soup and nibbled blanched vegetables (note: the employee I spoke with was extremely kind and created a meal that wasn't on the menu for me). This is what I call discipline!

I returned to the doctor's office and waited to meet with my primary. She walked in and rattled off a plethora of information in what seemed like one breath. The nurse retook my glucose, which had now dropped to 220. While she performed her tests, she answered many questions, reassured me that things would be okay, and even told me her preferred choice for a chocolate fix (sugar free Dove dark chocolate cremes). She had me in stitches as she explained lows and the feeling of "shit" that comes along with them. The doctor returned, I whipped out my long list of questions, and she said, "I'm sorry, but I have four other patients. I don't have time to answer your questions. Ask your endocrinologist at your next appointment." Oh well. Both the nurse and doctor commented on how well I am doing and what a great disposition I have-- maybe they say that to everyone, but it truly helps encourage me. 


My next order of business was a lesson in administering insulin shots. The nurse and I practiced on a little plastic patch and then I was ushered downstairs for more blood work. Last but not least, I picked up $330 worth of prescriptions and hurried out the door before someone could use me as a pin cushion once more!

I drove home, fixed myself a meal, and wondered how I could possibly give myself an injection through squinted eyes. I sighed and realized that I need to learn to tolerate needles. Adrenaline rushing, I administered my first injection into my thigh-- not nearly as bad as I suspected it would be.