Farewell, My Sugar

​                     Books by Patti Liszkay available on Amazon:   
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     "Hail Mary"                                           https://www.amzn.com/1684334888
     "Tropical Depression"                        https://www.amzn.com/B0BTPN7NYY

​Farewell, My Sugar

      Last week I was feeling down enough over all the news about the state of our Union.

     
​      But then I read some news that really dropped a big dark grey cloud over my world. This news arrived in a message from my doctor's office that conveyed the result of one of the lab tests taken as part of my yearly wellness check up.
​        Here is what the message said:

     
​        Here is what I read:

     
​        The words were accompanied by a chart which appeared to confirm my dire condition:

      Oh my God, I thought, I've almost got diabetes! What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? 
           I knew there were certain ways diabetics - and, I assumed, people like myself who were heading straight for diabetes - must eat. I also knew (or thought I knew) that diabetics aren't supposed to eat sweets. I love sweets. The thought of having to go through life without sweets was what really darkened the cloud: No more apple pie with ice cream. ​

​      No more birthday cake with ice cream.

      No more bread pudding with whipped cream. ​

          No more French Toast with whip cream. 

       And, should providence grant me another trip to Hawaii, no more daily trips to the Kulu Kulu Honolulu bakery for one of those those heavenly, heavenly, cream puffs. 

       The thought of those cream puffs almost brought tears to my eyes. 
        But, in spite of being somewhat in a state of concern - all right, I was freaking out - I knew this was one of those moments when one must embrace the reality of one's situation with a stiff upper lip and a resolve to do whatever needs to be done.
       But I was at a nervous loss as to what needed to be done. Or rather, what needed to be eaten. Or mostly, not eaten. 
        It was in this state of agitation that I sent this message to my GP:

   
​       I also asked them to send the results of my A1c test to my endocrinologist, whom I have to check in with a couple of times a year because I apparently have a thyroid condition called Hashimoto's Disease. (I once asked my endocrinologist why I had to keep getting checked all the time, since I felt fine. They then ran down a list of awful outcomes that could development from Hashimoto's Disease should it someday opt to get up and boogie, so to speak. I now wondered if maybe this diabetes was the sneaky little Hashimoto's doing). 
          My doctor responded to my fraught message fairly quickly, not exactly telling me to take a chill pill, but that was the gist of their response. They emphasized that I was PREdiabetic, not technically diabetic, and that, while avoiding concentrated sweets (candy, etc) was the recommendation, they wouldn't recommend that I deprive myself, but rather just avoid eating concentrated sweets in excess. 
         They added  that my endocrinologist would likely recommend the same thing at this time, but added that they'd nonetheless send my test results over.
          This message made me feel better. For about five minutes. Then I started ruminating over, besides candy,  what exactly else was included in the "concentrated sweets" taxonomic group.  Cake? Pie? Ice cream? Cookies? Kulu Kulu Honolulu cream puffs?
​            I waited until I thought enough time would have passed for my GP to get my lab results over to my endocrinologist, then I called my endocrinologist's office.
            Now, several days later I related my tale of prediabetic woe to a nurse practitioner friend who chuckled and assured me that my endocrinologist had far more serious cases to worry about than mine. My friend, like my GP, didn't think my test result was the 5-alarm fire that it at first seemed to me.
              However, even though the endocrinologist likely did have many more serious cases to deal with that day than mine, soon after I called a nurse from the office returned my call. (Mayhaps, judging from my tone of voice in the message I left, they were more concerned about my mental state than my prediabetes).
                The nurse, very kindly, very patiently, answered my questions and addressed my concerns. She explained that type 1 diabetes was an autoimmune disorder that no change in diet could cure. Prediabetes, on the other hand, was for type 2 and could be reversed by changes in diet. However the nurse, like my GP, seemed not overly worried about my test results: my A1c number, though it looked alarming (to me, at least) on paper, was actually not all that close to diabetes. And I'm far from being overweight. I could probably walk the number back to within the normal range where it had always been until now by cutting back on the sugar. But I didn't have to give up sweets completely. And I didn't need to give up my vacation cream puffs.
              Still, I had enough of a scare that I decided to give up sweets, maybe making exceptions for special occasions. But on a day-to-day basis, no more sugar on my cereal, no more jam on my bread, no more ice cream or cookies, no more watermelon gummy slices.
               I was told that cutting out sugar would make me feel better. I haven't had any sweets for a week. I don't feel better. But then, that's probably because I haven't cut out the news.