The conversation that changed my life

It was mid April, 2011 when I got my wake up call. I had blood work done earlier in the month, as a diabetic I had blood work done every three months to insure that my liver, kidneys, and pancreas was working, along with fasting blood glucose and lipid tests. 

At that time I was taking 1000 mg of Metformin twice daily, glipizide twice daily, starlix thrice daily,  lisinopril, simvastatin, and had just been changed from Protonix to ranitadine for my GERD. I only ate cake at special occasions, and made sure that I would eat whole grain bread instead of white bread. 

I guess you could say that was my lucky day. My doctor had been called to the hospital for some matter, and I was left to be read my blood work results by the new doc, nurse practitioner, whom I call Dr. Christie. 

She had some bad news for me, my  hbA1c had gone up again and as far as oral medications were concerned, I was pretty much taking the maximum dosage. She told me I had 2 options, inject insulin, or do something that helped her, Atkins.

In hind sight, I should have thanked her but I didn’t. I was angry. I didn’t need a stinking diet. I went home like always and complained to my husband about how she wanted me to go on a diet. Yeah, she told me that it was possible that through diet change alone I might get off my meds, but I figured that was just her saying something to make me go on a diet. In my anger, I put my body through one more abuse in the form of a big southern breakfast complete with grits, biscuits and strawberry jam. My feelings were hurt, I was angry, food made me feel better, especially the wrong food. I’d like to say that meal changed me, but it didn’t. It took me a few days to get to the Goodwill store on my hunt for an Atkins book. 

All this time when diabetes was in control, I didn’t think life could get better. I never dreamed that just changing what I eat and how I look at food would fix anything, besides diabetes and big hips ran in both sides of my family, it was hereditary and there was nothing I could do about it. That is until I really decided to do something other than wallow in my own self pity…


One thought on “The conversation that changed my life

  1. Pingback: Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis | mydiabetesandme

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