Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Beetus (part two).

I just realized that I never followed up on my post about gestational diabetes. Oops.

After hanging around the laboratory at the Cleveland Clinic for four hours and nearly starving to death, the official "diagnosis" is that I am "borderline diabetic", which is fancy doctor-speak for "you have diabetes except your numbers don't add up, so we can't actually tell you that you have diabetes or do anything to help you".

I passed the damn glucose test by one point, which, in my mind, shouldn't qualify as passing at all, especially if you are a 210+ pound whale-beast with a family history of diabetes who pees sugar like it's her job. But hey, I'm not a doctor, so what do I know?

Basically, I have to pretend like I'm diabetic and keep up the low-carb, no-to-low-sugar thing that has been working so well these past couple months. I'm extra salty over this. I don't get a glucose monitor, I don't get treatment, but I have to follow the diet (that doesn't work) anyway?

If I were a more petty individual, I'd be eating boxes of doughnuts before all of my remaining OB/GYN appointments and/or pouring sugar packets in my urine samples. My doctor should be glad that I am not that petty.

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