Reversing diabetes, curing diabetes, I see it all the time. When I see it, I think to myself, it only works as long as one works it, diabetes is still a life sentence, not always a death sentence, but a life sentence none the less.
In April 2011, I embarked on the journey of a lifetime. I was set to path with choice, inject-able insulin or change my lifestyle.
Lifestyle change was a choice I had been given in 2007 upon diagnosis, trade in my white for wheat, use moderation when dealing with sugar, you no doubt know the drill, and well, that mess backfired. The lifestyle change of 2007 helped me to not only up the dosage of Metformin, but invited it’s friends starlix and glipizide to the party. They in turn welcomed hypertension, GERD, and elevated cholesterol to the mix. Four years of ups and downs on the blood sugar roller coaster was no piece of cake.
With the exception of some birthday sushi and a rogue pork wonton this year (2 1/2 years into my newer lifestyle change), my blood sugar has been that of a normal person. On those 2 occasions, I hit 140 at an hour, but was back down to around 100 (give or take 5 points) at the two hour mark.
It is so easy to go a couple years of good blood sugar control and think one’s self cured. I’ve read about a lot of people reversing, curing, what have you, sticking to my guns, telling them that I am not cured, rather remission, matter of fact, I’m thankful my doc didn’t remove my diagnosis, that just one bite could have my diabetes rearing it’s ugly head once again.
So as I sit here waiting to tie this up, I think about how Tom Hanks was talking about his doc telling him to just get down to his high school weight and he wouldn’t have to worry about his diagnosis of T2D, and I’ve got just a bit of pent up anger about the whole “fat makes us diabetic” nonsense, while today’s little experiment shows me that the fat didn’t make my diabetes, the fat was a symptom of my diabetes. At 157 pounds this morning, 80.5 pounds less than three years ago, 3 pounds less than my high school weight, wearing clothing several sizes smaller than the size 15/16 I wore in school (8/10 currently, thank you very much), I’d like to tell Tom Hank’s doc (and all the other docs that tell us to just lose weight and we won’t be diabetic) to go suck an egg.
Test at bedtime, test after fasting 12 hours, upon waking, eat the banana, test. Simple, take pics, using the conventional wisdom that since I’m not really fat anymore, I should be perfectly capable of eating a freaking banana without having any problems. Easy, peasy, maybe?
Because this test was important, I set rules in place, fast like it’s the night prior to a lipid panel (I ate nothing after dinner), go to bed and try to get a good 8 hours, banana only, water is ok, no other thing eaten because bananas are nearly fat free and fat is the evil villain right? Anyways, just the banana, some water, my test kit, my camera. This is how the games began:
It couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes when his hotness started getting ready to go out to start the truck and wait for his crew to arrive. As he was getting his boots on, I said “This is how Peter Parker felt”. He looked at me crooked and said “What?”.
“I feel it, surging through my veins, the sugar from the banana, it’s like this weird little buzz, zipping around, like when Peter got bit by the spider.” I said. He told me it was probably my nerves and to just test my glucose. I did just that at the 30 minute mark.
After the hour reading, it was time to take May to school. I made it home without making a bee line for Nashville and the nearest Krispy Kreme. While in the past, sugar made me hungry for more sugar, today’s banana has left me feeling quite nauseous, tired, and overly thirsty. The bacon waiting for my breakfast has been bagged and put in the fridge because even though the test is over (as I type this), I don’t feel like eating.
Today’s experiment was a test on my nerves. I learned what I already knew about my diabetes, that 1. it’s still there. 2. Even if I lose another 5 pounds it will still be there. 3. I am not diabetic because I was fat, I actually lost 25 pounds prior to diagnosis, I gained 50 after diagnosis. 4. My increased lean mass did not help me to be ok with eating a banana, but it will probably help me to live through this experiment.
Just so no one worries their pretty little heads over my glucose experiment this morning, I will tell you that I took a break typing to test at the 2 hour and 15 minute mark. My glucose is down to 119, still feeling thirsty, another glass of water please, and my tummy feels poorly. While the minis didn’t bother me, it didn’t mean that bananas are ok for me, only that 1/6th of a banana combined with cream cheese, pecans, eggs, and dark chocolate isn’t so bad as an occasional treat, just no more whole bananas.