The Little Prick-Kit

With the realization that I have Type Two Diabetes, Testing for blood sugar as ordered by my doctor. The routine for me is before each meal, and two hours after, I prick a finger, and dab my blood onto a test strip, and wait for the little machine to give me a reading. NO, injections of insulin yet, just pills.

I was told that diabetes was the cause of my heart issue. Sure, OK. Did I have warnings before hand? Yes, I was told by my optometrist during an routine eye exam that I show signs of diabetes. Did I listen—no, I instead kept on going with my life as if as all was good, can we say, “denial.” I could have prevented the hart attack, a month before. How sick is that? Only if hind sight was 20/20.

Denial is a very strong emotion. Even today, I deny the diabetes, yet, the mound of pills sits in front of me, waiting for the 9:00am gulp. I keep thinking that this cannot be happening to me. The doctor’s got it all wrong. Well, the blood tests can’t lie, can they? I guess you could say, I have not figured out how to listen to my body yet.

I want to eat what I want not the other way around. I miss my juicy steaks, at the BBQ. And with all the sugary drinks that go with summer. Who cares what a blood metre says just let me eat in peace! Sadly, I cannot. If there is a change that I could make this go away—I’ll take it.

This reminds of me of an old joke I heard: Stay away from hospitals, that is where the sick people are. An’t that the truth. Having served time in one, for a week, was a very bad experience I will never ever forget.

A little prick.

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