If being a slacker on diabetes management is a crime, I'm preparing to do the time. Please send your baked goods with saws and files hidden in the center, because tomorrow I'm off to the endocrinologist to get my annual big ol' lab workup results.
I do not expect pretty numbers. I do not expect a nice A1c. Some moments I think I am okay with this. Some moments I wonder how it is that I've had diabetes for just about 20 years now, and I still can't figure out how to get it together or stay motivated.
Had a rather impressive argument/emotional breakdown with Matt tonight that I don't care to detail, because it's over now. We're back to being us, trying to figure out how to focus on improving me without making me feel like I'm being nagged/judged/wearing a diabetes police special ankle bracelet.
Please send positive vibes and pointers. I want to get serious.
But on a less serious note, when expressing my frustration, a friend offered to punch my diabetes in the face for me. I told her she should make sure she knows she has the right Diabetes, because it's not really nice to punch Type 2. He can't run terribly fast, and he might not necessarily deserve it anyway. Type 1 on the other hand is a gangly, nasty fellow who will force-feed you gallons of liquid and then keep you peeing for upwards of 5 hours at a time for his own amusement. What a creeper. Punch him in the creepy teeth.