Back in the Saddle, Again
Apparently, my sugars are high. How can this be true, I wondered, as did my little girl who emailed this query: How are your sugars high? Genetics? You eat like, NO junk… That's an affirmation I can get behind. I don't like candy or chocolate. I'll eat a piece of cake if it's yellow and your birthday, or a cookie or ten if JannyLou brings me her home-made goodies, but, in general, I'm a fruits and veggies, bread and cheese, kind of girl. Yet, the numbers don't lie. The blood was drawn in October and then, again, last Thursday. I was properly hydrated, I'd fasted the requisite number of hours, and the truth was in the digits on the page. Pre-diabetic is a frightening phrase. The doctor was wonderful and reassuring but I was bummed. Peeved. Annoyed. Scared. Luckily, TBG was able to ride to the rescue. "Pre-diabetic" isn't like "incipient cataract," you realize. No, I hadn't thought that deeply. I was stuck on...