It’s early afternoon. The phone rings, it’s the nurse at my Dr.’s office. I had been there that morning for a checkup. All I remember hearing were the words “pre-diabetic” and “limit sweets.”
“But its two days before Halloween. In three days the leftover candy will be half-off!”
I had been planning a shopping spree for some large bags of Kit Kats. Shit.
I can’t say I was too terribly surprised, although I didn’t think I had been doing to bad eating-wise. You see, my grandfather had Diabetes. I’m not sure of it was Type 1 or Type 2, but I do know that he took insulin, he had occasional hypoglycemic incidents, and wasn’t supposed to eat the ice cream that he ate when he took me “uptown” to the Sundae Corner.
He had a three-wheel bike, and it had a wire basket on the back that he had padded with scrap carpet. That’s where I would sit whenever he wanted to take me uptown for a haircut, run an errand, or get a treat. I was a small kid. So I know that he got some exercise that way. Most of the time, though I remember him sitting in a lawn chair under the big tree on the yard watching me play, or just smoking a cigar and watching the world go by.
We spent a lot of time together, especially during the summer, and I really enjoyed the bike rides. I think he did too. So it was very difficult to see him go through those Diabetic struggles. I really wanted to avoid being Diabetic, I don’t want to go through what he did.
I did pretty good for a while, then some difficulties came along in our lives, and I went off track for a while, and was diagnosed as Type 2 July 30th, 2012.
So on the end I’m disappointed in myself for not staying a little fitter, working on it a little harder, but I realize that it probably would only have delayed the onset, and not prevented it.
Now my challenge will be to manage it in a way that would make Grandpa proud.