In the immediate months after I found out I was diabetic, I instantly cut out as much refined sugar from my diet as was possible. The entire month of July 2010 is a foggy blur in my memory. I swear to you, my IQ dropped 10 full points when I removed sugar from my diet so abruptly. My short-term memory was shot. It took me three times as long to perform any basic office task that I had previously been able to accomplish. It was frustrating and unnerving, and I was constantly tired. During that first month I spent as many hours as I could doing research on the internet about diabetes and what foods were safe. I checked out dozens of books from the library about diabetes and cookbooks designed for diabetics.
I didn't realize, until I was a few days into my research, that all of the information I was reading was geared exclusively toward people who were under a doctor's care. There are no handbooks for uninsured people who play a hunch and discover on their own that they are diabetic. I don't suppose there is a large population in America who are out there testing their blood sugar levels without cause, but I thought I would at least find a few things on the internet. I found nothing.
My only real guide was common sense and what Pete had told me about his diet at the hospital: baked chicken with steamed broccoli. No sauces, no gravy, no rice, no potatoes, just protein, fiber, and the very few carbs that broccoli offers. I am convinced that I ate more broccoli in July of 2010 than I previously consumed in my entire life. Even with a newly restricted diet, my blood sugar readings were always between 200 - 300. One day I took a sip of my daughter's Sprite, just for a taste of lemon-lime refreshment. Within minutes I felt that old all-consuming exhaustion. I got out my meter and tested, only to find that my blood sugar had risen to 412. I took a nap to let my body handle it the only way I knew it could: sleep it off.
I learned that month that chromium picolinate aids in keeping blood sugar levels stable, so I bought some immediately and started taking 200mg three times a day. I also started taking capsules of cinnamon, and within a week of starting those pills I started seeing my blood sugars drop as low as 180. I was always happy if I could take a walk before bedtime and go to bed with a blood sugar level below 200. It was always back up in the morning, but it was a good feeling to be able to bring it back down away from 300 and higher.
I spent a lot of time reading labels and learning about the role of fiber and fat in the food absorption process - how they slow the spikes of blood sugar from "bad" carbs. A shining light for me was found at http://www.formerfatguy.com/ - if you have a chance to check it out, I highly recommend it. Rob Cooper is a brilliant man who is truly inspirational. You'll see how he transformed himself from a 472-pound taxi driver to a lean, mean training machine without any gimmicks or fad diets. Same thing I'm doing: diet and exercise. For the skeptics, I assure you that I do not receive anything from Mr. Cooper to share this information with you. I bought his book, and the information he offers has been invaluable. I'm still on chapter 6 - so if you read it, don't tell me what's next. :) Everyone moves at his or her own pace through his program, and it's geared towards overall health - not just minor changes like, "How do I avoid Twinkies?"
In September I discovered the best website in the world for uninsured people like myself: http://www.mymedlab.com/. I was able to go online and order my own bloodwork to find out my A1C number (a measurement of the past 3 months' average blood sugar levels), my cholesterol, and my triglycerides. My results showed that my A1C was 10.1 - which meant that my average blood sugar levels were around 275. I knew I needed to get medicine, but Pete had told me how much it was costing him for insulin and supplies, and he was insured. I knew there was no way I could afford insulin. I started researching diabetes medications and found metformin. Metformin's function is to help your body better utilize the insulin that it already makes. A friend at work brought me a pamphlet from our local grocery chain, Publix, about a new diabetes care initiative their pharmacy was promoting. One of the things they were doing was providing free metformin to customers with prescriptions.
At the end of December 2010 I woke up, as usual, to my favorite morning radio show, Bob and Sheri. At the commercial break I heard an ad for a walk-in clinic that was offering a flat-rate fee for any new patient of $55. I am certain that the ad that played that morning is responsible for adding years to my life. In January I went to the clinic with my bloodwork results in hand and asked about whether or not I was a candidate for metformin. The doctor was surprised that I had been able to order my own bloodwork, and he ordered one final test to make sure that my kidney function hadn't been affected by the untreated diabetes. When I passed that test, he gave me the prescription for metformin. I was finally able to keep my blood sugar consistently below 200.
I went back for a follow-up visit in March, and I asked him an important question. I asked if I lost weight, did he think that the diabetes would go away. He said, unequivocally, that he believed it would. He didn't say that it would stay away forever, but that if I maintained a healthy lifestyle that it would be years (if ever) before I had to go back on medication. He also recommended that I start taking glyburide with the metformin. Glyburide forces the pancreas to create insulin. The danger of taking it is that your blood sugar can dip too low... not a sensation with which I was acquainted.
It has been a strange few months learning when to take the glyburide, and it has recently become more challenging as I've introduced significant exercise into my lifestyle. Exercise naturally lowers your blood sugar. There have been a few scary moments when I knew that my blood sugar was critically low because my muscles in my arms start to contract involuntarily. I usually drink something sugary to fix it immediately, but doing that always leaves me feeling sick. I'm pretty determined to just get rid of the diabetes altogether. Not having been successful on my own over the past year, however, I knew I'd have to do something to help myself get moving.
I sent out a call for help at the end of May to three of my female friends through Facebook. I've met two of them through work, and the other I met through my daughter (our kids are friends). I knew that each of them wanted to lose weight, so I suggested we have a little competition - from June 1st through August 31st - and we each put in $50. Whoever has lost the most weight by percentage at the final weigh-in takes the money. One of the ladies has a scale that measures both weight and percentage of body fat, and that has been a real blessing for me. I started on June 1st at 229.6lbs, and 44.0% body fat. Last Wednesday, June 22nd, I weighed 221.2lbs, with 41.5% body fat.
The weight is, by no means, falling off of me with any degree of ease. The first two weeks I modified my diet and lost about eight pounds. The last two weeks I've been counting calories and walking a lot more... I mean a LOT more. Since I started keeping track at http://www.sparkpeople.com/, I've walked over 37 miles. I'm getting up at 5:15am to get a 3.5-mile walk in before the sun comes up. I have to, otherwise I'll get heat stroke. It's HOT in Florida! I'm really looking forward to November when it cools off enough that I can walk at 7am instead of 5:30am. In a bizarre reaction, however, my body has been unwilling to part with the fat that I have packed onto it over the past 25 years. I am hopeful that, even if the weight isn't coming off, my body fat percentage will drop this week. Wish me luck!
28 June 2011
26 June 2011
Finding Out
I met my best friend here in Florida in a roundabout way through Match.com. I'm going to call him Pete. Pete is a musician, and I met a friend of his, who we'll call Mark, on Match.com not long after I moved to Florida the second time. In Mark's profile photo he wore a "College" shirt like the one Belushi wore in Animal House. I love a guy with a sense of humor. While we weren't ever romantically involved, Mark was funny, and an all-around good guy. He told me that I had to meet his friend, Pete, who played guitar and sang at a pub on Saturday nights.
Pete and I share a similar sense of humor, intellect, and comedic timing. I have to admit, there was a time when I thought we might be compatible enough to date, but early on in the friendship he assured me (rather out of the blue, I might add) that we would never date because he always wanted to know me. Flattering, right? And, though somewhat disappointed at the time (and convinced that his declaration was based solely on the fact that I was fat), I've enjoyed our friendship immensely and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
A year ago, on June 23, 2010, Pete called me to let me know he was in the hospital. He explained that he'd had some back pain in the days prior, and that there was no position in which he could lie to find any relief. He finally surrendered and had his girlfriend take him to the emergency room. Pete's gallbladder had to come out. Before they could do the surgery, though, they had to get his blood sugar under control. His blood sugar was somewhere between 300 and 400. For those of you who don't know, an ideal blood sugar reading will be somewhere between 80 and 120. It can be higher based on what you ate and when you ate (in relation to the test), but it should never be over 300. Pete was diabetic. In addition to that, his triglycerides were off the chart - something they called hyper-lipidity. His blood sugar remained high, and it was at least three days before the surgeons could remove his gallbladder.
Something about Pete's hospitalization put me into an introspective funk. I couldn't help but think about the fact that Pete and I ate similarly, and that neither of us went to a gym or dedicated any specific time to exercise. For most of 2009 and into 2010 I had noticed that there were times when I could nearly fall asleep standing. Waves of exhaustion would hit me and, if I was at home, I would simply give in to it and take a nap. At work I would use three teabags in eight ounces of hot water and try to wake myself up with caffeine. I knew something was wrong with me. With no health insurance and an inability to pay for a visit to the doctor, I told myself it was just because I was getting older and not sleeping as well at night. I am a very light sleeper - small noises wake me up. So to be able to fall asleep at a desk at work in the middle of the day was a coup for me... or, as was the case at hand, a disturbing alert that something was seriously wrong.
On my way home from work on June 25th, I stopped at Walgreen's to see how much a blood glucose meter would cost. I found one for $13.99 that included 10 test strips and 10 lancets. Later that afternoon, in the privacy of my bedroom, I opened the box with the test kit and read everything to make sure I wouldn't mess up the test. Like most days, I'd eaten a late lunch and washed it down with a Coca-Cola. I'm pretty sure I tested my blood sugar less than two hours after I ate lunch, but regardless of the timing, my reading popped up on that little screen and the number, 386, knocked the wind out of me and confirmed what I had suspected: I, too, was diabetic.
I wept, finally realizing the extent of the damage I had done to my own body. I felt the magnitude of what was about to happen and the great amount of change that would have to take place immediately. I got online and found out that the exhaustion that I'd been feeling - that inability to hold my eyes open and absolute need to lie down - that was me on the verge of a diabetic coma from drinking Coca-Cola every day, sometimes twice a day. Coca-Cola is fine in moderation for people who are not diabetic. But for an undiagnosed diabetic it can be catastrophic. It is amazing that I didn't have a major medical event happen to make me wake up and see what was going on.
Today is exactly one year after I found out I was diabetic. This morning I weighed in at 218.4lbs. A few weeks ago, on June 1st, I weighed 229.6 - about ten pounds less than what I weighed on June 25, 2010.
At the end of May this year I realized that my 1-year Anniversary of Knowing was approaching... and a lot has happened in the past 12 months. What hasn't happened in the past 12 months is any significant weight loss. While I am now medicated for diabetes - I take glyburide and metformin - there is a very real chance that, if I lose this excessive weight, I will also lose the diabetes.
I don't want to be an insulin-dependent diabetic if it is at all possible to avoid it. I still don't have health insurance - I couldn't afford to be an insulin-dependent diabetic. But I have clearly lacked the self-control necessary to lose weight without some sort of assistance or ongoing inspiration... and I will tell you all about my latest weight-loss plan, and why THIS time is going to be different, in my next post.
Pete and I share a similar sense of humor, intellect, and comedic timing. I have to admit, there was a time when I thought we might be compatible enough to date, but early on in the friendship he assured me (rather out of the blue, I might add) that we would never date because he always wanted to know me. Flattering, right? And, though somewhat disappointed at the time (and convinced that his declaration was based solely on the fact that I was fat), I've enjoyed our friendship immensely and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
A year ago, on June 23, 2010, Pete called me to let me know he was in the hospital. He explained that he'd had some back pain in the days prior, and that there was no position in which he could lie to find any relief. He finally surrendered and had his girlfriend take him to the emergency room. Pete's gallbladder had to come out. Before they could do the surgery, though, they had to get his blood sugar under control. His blood sugar was somewhere between 300 and 400. For those of you who don't know, an ideal blood sugar reading will be somewhere between 80 and 120. It can be higher based on what you ate and when you ate (in relation to the test), but it should never be over 300. Pete was diabetic. In addition to that, his triglycerides were off the chart - something they called hyper-lipidity. His blood sugar remained high, and it was at least three days before the surgeons could remove his gallbladder.
Something about Pete's hospitalization put me into an introspective funk. I couldn't help but think about the fact that Pete and I ate similarly, and that neither of us went to a gym or dedicated any specific time to exercise. For most of 2009 and into 2010 I had noticed that there were times when I could nearly fall asleep standing. Waves of exhaustion would hit me and, if I was at home, I would simply give in to it and take a nap. At work I would use three teabags in eight ounces of hot water and try to wake myself up with caffeine. I knew something was wrong with me. With no health insurance and an inability to pay for a visit to the doctor, I told myself it was just because I was getting older and not sleeping as well at night. I am a very light sleeper - small noises wake me up. So to be able to fall asleep at a desk at work in the middle of the day was a coup for me... or, as was the case at hand, a disturbing alert that something was seriously wrong.
On my way home from work on June 25th, I stopped at Walgreen's to see how much a blood glucose meter would cost. I found one for $13.99 that included 10 test strips and 10 lancets. Later that afternoon, in the privacy of my bedroom, I opened the box with the test kit and read everything to make sure I wouldn't mess up the test. Like most days, I'd eaten a late lunch and washed it down with a Coca-Cola. I'm pretty sure I tested my blood sugar less than two hours after I ate lunch, but regardless of the timing, my reading popped up on that little screen and the number, 386, knocked the wind out of me and confirmed what I had suspected: I, too, was diabetic.
I wept, finally realizing the extent of the damage I had done to my own body. I felt the magnitude of what was about to happen and the great amount of change that would have to take place immediately. I got online and found out that the exhaustion that I'd been feeling - that inability to hold my eyes open and absolute need to lie down - that was me on the verge of a diabetic coma from drinking Coca-Cola every day, sometimes twice a day. Coca-Cola is fine in moderation for people who are not diabetic. But for an undiagnosed diabetic it can be catastrophic. It is amazing that I didn't have a major medical event happen to make me wake up and see what was going on.
Today is exactly one year after I found out I was diabetic. This morning I weighed in at 218.4lbs. A few weeks ago, on June 1st, I weighed 229.6 - about ten pounds less than what I weighed on June 25, 2010.
At the end of May this year I realized that my 1-year Anniversary of Knowing was approaching... and a lot has happened in the past 12 months. What hasn't happened in the past 12 months is any significant weight loss. While I am now medicated for diabetes - I take glyburide and metformin - there is a very real chance that, if I lose this excessive weight, I will also lose the diabetes.
I don't want to be an insulin-dependent diabetic if it is at all possible to avoid it. I still don't have health insurance - I couldn't afford to be an insulin-dependent diabetic. But I have clearly lacked the self-control necessary to lose weight without some sort of assistance or ongoing inspiration... and I will tell you all about my latest weight-loss plan, and why THIS time is going to be different, in my next post.
24 June 2011
The Beginning
I'm no Quentin Tarantino. I am not the skilled storyteller who can begin at the middle of the story. I can, however, try my best to embrace the notion of being succinct and cause only minimal damage to your psyche.
So here's where it begins: a little girl grows up in a relatively idyllic setting with 3 siblings. Somewhat lacking in social skills, with a propensity for sticking her foot in her mouth frequently, a sort of desperation develops - that need to "fit in" becomes all consuming. Through the years all sorts of poor decisions are made with regard to choosing friends, what sorts of things will be done to keep the "friends" she has, and what sorts of sacrifices will be made to gain the affection of the opposite sex.
With each disastrous encounter with friendship, love, trust, and betrayal, simultaneous comfort and punishment occurs in the form of secretive binging.
While I could recount many of those encounters in vivid detail, they're not quite the point of this blog... well, not yet anyway. We all (more or less) have those experiences; it's part of being human - and I agree with Shakespeare: It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But I digress.
When I was 13 years old I weighed about 120lbs. At 1/4" shy of five feet tall, that's about the most weight my frame should support outside of pregnancy. That was the last time I weighed 120lbs. As a senior in high school I weighed about 170lbs. Then I got pregnant. When my son was born I topped the scales at about 218lbs. Giving him up for adoption was the single hardest thing I have ever done in my 38 years.
Not being a quick study in the ways of the world (or, apparently, birth control), during my senior year of college (at 215lbs) I became pregnant with my daughter. She is now 12 years old, and even though life as a single parent isn't always easy, she makes it so much easier than most kids would. She is a fantastic kid; I totally lucked out. However, I weighed about 240lbs after she was born... and not much changed in the past 12 years with regard to my weight.
Every now and again I've tried dating, but the long and the short of it is this: I wasn't ready to be honest with myself. I don't like the way I look. It's not an accurate representation of who I am. I don't want to date anyone who wants to date someone who looks like me.
For years I have hidden beneath a more-than-cozy layer of adipose tissue designed solely to keep the world at bay. When the world is held at bay, there are fewer conflicts. Unfortunately, holding the world back also means isolating yourself from really meaningful relationships.
In my next post, I'll regale you with stories of a friend's hospitalization and how it inspired me to take control of my own health.
So here's where it begins: a little girl grows up in a relatively idyllic setting with 3 siblings. Somewhat lacking in social skills, with a propensity for sticking her foot in her mouth frequently, a sort of desperation develops - that need to "fit in" becomes all consuming. Through the years all sorts of poor decisions are made with regard to choosing friends, what sorts of things will be done to keep the "friends" she has, and what sorts of sacrifices will be made to gain the affection of the opposite sex.
With each disastrous encounter with friendship, love, trust, and betrayal, simultaneous comfort and punishment occurs in the form of secretive binging.
While I could recount many of those encounters in vivid detail, they're not quite the point of this blog... well, not yet anyway. We all (more or less) have those experiences; it's part of being human - and I agree with Shakespeare: It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But I digress.
When I was 13 years old I weighed about 120lbs. At 1/4" shy of five feet tall, that's about the most weight my frame should support outside of pregnancy. That was the last time I weighed 120lbs. As a senior in high school I weighed about 170lbs. Then I got pregnant. When my son was born I topped the scales at about 218lbs. Giving him up for adoption was the single hardest thing I have ever done in my 38 years.
Not being a quick study in the ways of the world (or, apparently, birth control), during my senior year of college (at 215lbs) I became pregnant with my daughter. She is now 12 years old, and even though life as a single parent isn't always easy, she makes it so much easier than most kids would. She is a fantastic kid; I totally lucked out. However, I weighed about 240lbs after she was born... and not much changed in the past 12 years with regard to my weight.
Every now and again I've tried dating, but the long and the short of it is this: I wasn't ready to be honest with myself. I don't like the way I look. It's not an accurate representation of who I am. I don't want to date anyone who wants to date someone who looks like me.
For years I have hidden beneath a more-than-cozy layer of adipose tissue designed solely to keep the world at bay. When the world is held at bay, there are fewer conflicts. Unfortunately, holding the world back also means isolating yourself from really meaningful relationships.
In my next post, I'll regale you with stories of a friend's hospitalization and how it inspired me to take control of my own health.
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