Giving a Tough Answer to a Tough Question

Today marks the one well anniversary of my induction in to the “Officially an Adult Club.” That’s the club my mother told me I joined by getting my first ever colonoscopy. The procedure went well, and, according to the doctor, I’ve got one of the top five nicest bung holes she’s ever seen.

Ok, I made that last part up, but she didn’t say it wasn’t so I can still indulge my ego πŸ˜‰

Having a video shoot for my guts wasn’t the only first that occurred that day. It was also the first time I had to answer this question, “Do you have diabetes?” since being told by my doctor that I do, in fact have diabetes.

For years I’d been able to hide behind “you’ve got pre-diabetes” to answer that question with a confident no, but now things had changed. I was lying naked on a hospital bed with a few layers of thin cotton/ polyester blend covering my modesty when the inevitable question came from the attending nurse.

“Do you have diabetes?”

“Um, not yet because I haven’t officially gotten the diagnosis face-to-face yet (I get that the first Monday in June),” was my actual first try at answering that though question.

I guess I should be grateful it sounded like the copout, weak, stupid response it was. By about the third time being asked the embarrassment of ducking the question led me to I finally came to acceptance.

“I have type-2 diabetes.”

“But she did say it’s diet controllable!” I was quick to add. Have to keep hope alive somehow πŸ˜‰

So now I’ve admitted it, and now I’m back on a low carb diet and doing Atkins. I’m down 20 pounds in the month since finding out, and I’m actually feeling better than I have in a while. The words still don’t come easily out of my mouth yet, but I’m getting there.

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