Death Comes Knocking - crap!

We all know we are going to die someday. Some people are way overdue and some cash out way to early. But death never seems so near as when you are handed the losing hand that you know you can’t fix, you just have to play it out the best you can.

I walk every day, eat a healthy diet, and have no diabetes in my immediate family. I'm not skinny (truth be told, I've been known to pack on a few extra pounds), but I'm certainly not a couch potato or junk food addict. After the age of 40 I figured I should have a checkup, you know kick the tires and check the engine. I never really go to the doctor unless I am sick, really why should I? So, I went for the full checkup only to find that a routine blood test showed that my blood sugar was elevated and I was officially prediabetic.

The phone call from my doctor’s office left me stunned. I had left the office with the doctor declaring he wouldn’t need to see me for a check-up again for two years. Three days later I get a phone call from a nurse telling me I need to come back in for some blood work to confirm I was prediabetic. Confirm I’m what?

Prediabetic, meaning I have higher-than-normal blood sugar levels that put me at risk of developing diabetes, the seventh-leading cause of death in the United States. Yikes!

The fact that I'm not alone doesn't make me feel any better -- 57 million Americans have prediabetes and another 24 million have diabetes. Being part of what's shaping up to be a diabetes epidemic in America isn't a club I want to join. I’ve checked the dues and the whole membership package just kind of sucks – to death.

“Pre” doesn’t really sound that bad on the surface. It sounds like you have options and choice, but you don’t. It turns out that prediabetes isn't really "pre" anything, It's a danger in and of itself that sets off a whole cascade of problems. In fact, there's now evidence that a prediabetic patient's risks for eye, kidney, and nerve damage, as well as heart disease, are nearly as great as a diabetic's.

The good news is that in many cases the progression from prediabetes to type 2 diabetes can be prevented. How? By losing 7 percent or more of your body weight, in addition to exercising and following a low-calorie, low-carbohydrate, high-fiber diet. Research has shown that people with prediabetes who took these steps had a 58 percent success rate in avoiding progressing to type 2 diabetes,

My plan has always been to live to be really old, really active and really alert and just go to sleep one night and never wake up. This new club I’ve been drafted into doesn’t really offer that to its members.

The more I learned about diabetes, the more determined I am to lower my blood sugar levels. My goal is to get my A1C down. At last check it was good; however my fasting blood sugar level was 112. My A1C was 5.2 the normal range is from 4.5 to 5.7. My fasting bood sugar levels were 116 and 112, the normal should be between 70 and 100 - so, kind of a mixed message. This is what I think it all means. It means I’m at the very early stages of being prediabetic. I hope early enough that I can get kicked out of this damn club.

I’m working hard to have that membership revoked. I live at the gym. If I have free-time I’m there. I am normally there at least 4 times a week, sometimes more, but never less. Do I like it? No!

I now take medication called metformin. I take it every day. What does it do? Well, we aren’t really sure. That is a comfort. But it is believed that it tricks my liver into making more insulin for me. Does it have side-effects? Oh yeah! Do I like it? No! I can’t wait to get to a point I can stop taking it.

I now religiously read labels at the supermarket, refusing to buy anything with sugar listed in the first half of the ingredients. There are foods I miss, but foods I can learn to live without. I count carbs and sugars everyday. Eating has been more of a chore. Maybe that is a good thing, I don’t know. I used to joke that in my dreams heaven was an endless Italian meal. Well, that is more of a dream than ever as weekly pasta dishes are now just a memory.

I've been sobered by what I've learned. I know now that staying healthy is a process, one I'll have to fine-tune for the rest of my life. Do I like learning that lesson? No!

Sleepy Time Daycare

“You don’t like that.” As a small child these were the guiding words I often heard from my brother, and for me no other judgment was needed. Maybe I was a lazy child and I didn’t want to take time to form options myself. He was older, he had already figured these things out why shouldn’t I benefit from his knowledge. There was no need for me to try anything. Whatever likes and disliked he had - I now had the same. My brother felt it was his duty to protect me from olives, most vegetables and anything that didn’t involve sports. He was older and wiser and was determined to pass this knowledge on to me. I didn’t really have a choice. Later in life I would fail him as I went on to discover that I liked most vegetables and detested most sports, but he was right about olives. However, at this time I was still his disciple in all things.
Our parents both taught school in the next county. This meant their day started early. During the school year my brother and I were both entrusted into the care of Odessa. While I wouldn’t always believe the sun rose and set on my older brother, my faith for Odessa never wavered. However, on this faithful morning Odessa was unable to come in. Mom hurriedly made arrangements to take us to a daycare with the quant name of Sleepy Time. Sleepy Time was an old converted house off a major thoroughfare. Out front was a black backed neon sign half faded with a child sleeping and little “z”s coming from his head. It suggested that your child would sleep in some kind of eternal darkness. Why a parent would trust a place that looked like it was conceived by Norman Bates I will never know. Mom was desperate, but the other children there – their parents owe them an explanation.
As Mom left us half asleep we watched her drive away not knowing what to do next or if she would ever return. As we took in our surroundings Steven whispered in my ear that we didn’t like this place. I think without his help I would have formed the same conclusion. We stood in the entrance hall where Mom had left us with our coats still on holding hands. We dumbly followed the orders of a stranger woman as she told us to hang up our jackets. Then, however she started taking Steven upstairs and another woman appeared and was taking me in the direction of another room. Steven escaped from the stranger woman and grabbed my hand and told me not to move. The teacher reached down and started to pick me up. I did the only thing a 3 year old can do. I cried. I cried as if the world was ending. She was so taken back that she just froze. I would think she would be used to crying children, but I did have a good set of lungs on me. My brother then started running pulling me in tow. We ran straight into the fireplace of what used to be the den in the house and wedged ourselves inside. I continued to cry. Anytime someone got near us, I would cry. So, there we stood in the fireplace all day. Neither of us would come out, not to eat, play. No amount of coaxing or threats would get us to move. They decided ignoring us would work, as we would get bored and come out to play. Steven and I didn’t move an inch.
I feel so sorry now for the sight my Mom must have seen when she came to pick us up that afternoon. Here her two sons stood in the fireplace, me still balling my eyes out until I heard her voice. Then we ran to her covered in soot. My memories of what happened next aren’t really clear, but I know we never returned to Sleepy Time. I’m sure there was mutual agreement on that. When my brother and I both started kindergarten the next year, they put us in separate facilities, but that is another story.

However, that wasn't my last encounter with the Sleepy Time daycare......

We can still eat that

I have a friend who has prefaced meals with “I think we can still eat that”. The uncertainty she has projected more than once in a meal of leftovers have left me with a healthy fear.  Healthy in that I’ve tried to err on the side of – let’s move to a food selection that you have more confidence in – like something not from the refrigerator vault. I’m not one of these people who won't eat leftovers – I don’t understand that either. But, I won’t eat a leftover if it requires carbon 14 dating to determine if it is still safe. My god, we don’t live in a 3^rd world country we can find fresh food. Sure there is the odd salmonella outbreak – but it shouldn’t be cultivated in your own refrigerator. Leave that stuff to the experts!

You see, I really love food. I’m not missing a meal if I can help it - breakfast being the one exception as I may love sleep more than food. I know there are some people who just eat because they must to live – I feel so sorry for them. It is something they really should seek counseling for. If I cared enough I would search youtube for some Oprah show that I bet covers the topic, but really I just care enough to say I care.

When I eat I want to eat good food.  I’m not just eating to live – I want some love from that food baby! I have to watch my caloric intake – I know that – so if I’m eating something it should be worth the time it is going to take in the gym to burn it off. 

So yeah, I'm a food lover. I like to believe that if I make it to an afterlife it will have some great food, otherwise they aren't going to be happy with me there!

Stop before you mess it up

Life can sometimes be a chain of reactions of bad events and the simplest of items can be the causes nexuses. But sometimes we are lucky for everything to workout.

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There is only one thing in the way.....

Hardships, challenges and problems are necessary learning experiences that have shaped me in my life journey. I must learn that lesson. I often focus so much on something ahead or something I left behind that I don't see what is here. But I can't help but wonder Is this really it? Maybe my life has unfolded exactly as it should have. Like a great symphony, with every note in my life’s song perfectly placed.

Maybe I am my own worst enemy. Always doubting. Always apprehensive. Always me. Maybe a beautiful life is already in front of me. Maybe that which I seek is already here. Just maybe.

If I squint a little can I see it?