A New Journey Begins!

Up until the age of 50, I never gave it much thought. Told myself I was "eating healthy" for the most part. My grandmother took insulin, but it had nothing to do with me. No health problems whatsoever. Maybe got sick once a year, at most. No doctor visits, no prescriptions, no trips to the hospital. "I'll never go," I said, "Until I have a problem."

Then it happened. But not all at once. Somehow, I found myself drinking more water, more Gatorade (G2), more bottled ice tea, more juice, than ever before. My mouth would go dry again within minutes. So dry that I could barely moisten my lips. Barely speak. I would have to stop and sip from a cup repeatedly throughout the day.

This routine put me in the bathroom every thirty minutes. Up at least three or four times every night. I kept telling myself, "It's not my imagination. Not some kind of prostate thing. This is for real. Every time, I really have to go. It must be normal."

But of course it was not. Nor was it normal to fill our grocery cart every week with so many beverages that it barely left room for any food. I would joke with my wife that I was on a liquid diet. At first I thought maybe my body was just making up for all those years when I didn't drink much water. Eight glasses a day? Please! Suddenly it seemed to take no effort at all.

And there were bouts of fatigue. I'd come home from work, sit on the porch and sleep for two hours. I attributed this all to summer. Day after day over 90. Barely any below 80 degrees. It was our first one in the home we had purchased about eight months before. I had tackled some ambitious outdoor projects. July turned out to be the hottest on record.

And it was dry. So little rain that I barely mowed the lawn for months. Once a week or even two weeks, trimming a small patch here or there. We had planned to walk every day, but the heat made it unbearable. So, the exercise did not happen. Less time in the sun meant no tan. No big deal.

But then, the concerned comments began. People at work that I barely knew but had not seen for several months all started to say the same thing. "You look different. Have you lost weight?" Some tried to make it sound like a compliment. But most of them said I looked pale. I thought, what are they talking about? Even my wife said the same.

Finally, I stepped on the scale. My weight had dropped dramatically. Not five or ten or even fifteen pounds. More like twenty. I couldn't believe it. Like most people, I had always considered myself just a tad overweight (real or imagined). But to drop from nearly 190 to 168 without trying seemed a bit out of the ordinary.

My arms and legs had dwindled. I could not bear to see myself in the mirror. At night I'd lay in bed feeling small and weak. I was starting to get scared.

So, as an absolute last resort, we scheduled a doctor's appointment. Not an easy thing to do, especially since we didn't have one. My wife kept saying, "We have to get established. What if something happens? They won't take us in the hospital." We got a referral from a family member.

I had a full week to fabricate my own miraculous recovery. All I had to do was gain weight. My god! Most people did that without effort. How hard could it be? I'd just eat everything in sight. Mashed potatoes, oatmeal, cookies, bread and ice cream. And soft drinks. I'd drink lots of Coke and Pepsi. Sip it all day. All that sugar. It had to work.

And it seemed to, at first. One pound here, two pounds there. But then, after a few days, I dropped right back. I redoubled my efforts. Breakfast sandwiches from the drive-through. Peanut butter, fruit, more oatmeal, more bread. Hard-boiled eggs. Eating in the middle of the night. Every night. Every time I got up to go to the bathroom. I was bound and determined to fix this problem by the day of my appointment.

After a full week of eating like there was no tomorrow, I stepped on the scale. No change. Still 168. I knew I was in trouble.

So, I went. A brief and simple exam. Nothing obviously wrong to look at me. BP almost ideal. Normal breathing. No aches and pains. He said I seemed pretty healthy. They drew some blood. It was all pretty routine. Maybe I was over reacting. But I needed to know about the weight loss. Hopefully nothing too bad. Maybe I just needed vitamins.

We got results the next day. The nurse asked my wife over the phone. "We told him to fast. Did he fast?" Of course, I had. Nothing but water after midnight. She could not understand it. My blood sugar was 360. I didn't really know what that meant. Turns out, it wasn't good at all. She said it should never be that high. I had to make another appointment.

A week later, my doctor dropped the big "D". "By definition, you have type 2 Diabetes," he said. From that moment on, though I wanted to believe otherwise, I knew my life would not be the same.