It’s a great tabloid headline, mainly because it plays fast and loose with the truth. The kernel of fact in it, though, shows the danger of being prediabetic – and having no clue.
The vacation part is true; my physician (who’ll remain nameless, mainly to spare embarrassment) went away for a few weeks last August at the time I called in for an annual checkup. I asked the office if I could get blood work done in the meantime, so I’d be ready as soon as the doctor returned.
As noted in my Welcome, I wasn’t the picture of health at that point. Overweight? Yep. And, well, I was sure I could be better overall, but I wasn’t losing any other body functions. My main concern was the PSA screening, since both of my older brothers went through bouts of prostate cancer.
My family’s health history showed a few other warning signs – high blood pressure and colon cancer – but nothing pointing to diabetes. My doctor ran lipid panels on my blood, but nothing on glucose.
Last August, the test lineup changed as another physician in the office OK’d a full workup, including A1C and fasting glucose. I didn’t know that at the time; the only difference came with the nice lab attendant taking another vial of blood. (I only saw that as I left; I can’t stand the sight of the draw.)
Two weeks later, I went in for my office visit with my regular physician. After discussing my weight – a regular part of my annual visit – we got to the matter of the blood tests. The doc didn’t mince words; my numbers showed that I was prediabetic.
Looking back, I can see that the physician put it a bit too kindly. With a 6.6 A1C, I crossed the line into diabetes territory. My doc counseled that we could get that number down, depending on how I serious I wanted to get on treatment.
I don’t like anyone to get rosy about health, and mine in particular. I’ve always said that when it gets time to get the bad news, I wanted it straight, as in “how long have I got, doc?”
This wasn’t the ticket to the Big Adios, but diabetes didn’t seem like anything that needed a half-hearted approach. “Ok,” I said, “what’s serious?”
The light approach, according to the physician, would be to watch diet and weight and see if I could reduce the numbers. Going serious would mean daily glucose monitoring, daily medication and some hard work on diet and exercise. My medical plan also offered a class with a dietician to educate me on my diet.
“Then let’s go serious,” I said. “When do we start?”
“Today. I’ll send the orders to the pharmacy. And good luck.”
With that, I walked out of the office, a new entry in the growing crowd of millions nationwide suffering from a diabetic condition. Outside of some literature, a scrip and a phone number for a dietician, I had little clue on how to proceed.
Actually, I didn’t feel like I was suffering anything … but that’s the problem with prediabetes. The only thing I could credit for the diagnosis was my doc choosing late August to get out of town.