Hey, you guys.
I failed my one-hour glucose tolerance test so hard on Tuesday. I have to take the three-hour test--I'll probably go in on Monday and do it--but at this point I'm really kind of wondering why my doctor wants to bother.
Here is my reasoning:
1. I've packed on 25+ pounds in three months regardless of diet.
2. I was 40+ points over the threshold for the one-hour glucose tolerance test.
3. All of my female relatives were/are diabetic and I've always known it was just a matter of time before I earned my insulin pen.
Just hand me a glucose monitor and a prescription for Metformin and we'll call it even, right? I mean, I'm all for wasting Medical Mutual's money (it's not like I'm really paying for all this), but is drawing my blood three times in three hours really worth it? I think I may come out psychologically damaged. I mean, more psychologically damaged.
My eastern-European angel did a number on my arm yesterday, for the record. I don't know if maybe she had an off-day or what, but I've got a funny-looking bruise now. Frowny-face. :(
That's another thing--where the heck are they going to get all this blood from? I only have one viable vein and now it's bruised. Can they get blood through a bruise? Won't it just bruise more? Are they going to have to root around in the crook of my arm with one of those giant needles? If they do, then it's going to bruise up and then were are they going to get draw #2 and #3? Can they just leave the needle in and draw out of it three time? Is that possible? Do I even want to think about that being possible? Could I sit for three hours with a needle in my arm without having hysterics? I'm pretty sure the answer is "no".
There's always the slight chance of my passing the three-hour tolerance test, in which case I will probably be very pissed off.
I am, quite possibly, the only person alive who would be excited to have gestational diabetes.
GD would be a handy scapegoat for the... dare I say it? The 30+ pounds I've gained while pregnant. You know, the 30+ pounds I've gained while starving myself. (NOTE: You will never get to hear an actual number. 20+, 30+, probably even 40+ by the end of all this, but no actual numbers, ever. It's just too sad.) I'm willing to bet that, once medicated, my exponential gain will stop, maybe even reverse.
If my doctor suggests trying to control this with diet, I am going to turn into a feral, rabid animal and claw her face off. What does she think I've been doing for the past three months, laying on the couch eating bon-bons? Just give me the pills/pen and no one will get hurt...