Diagnosis

“You’re diabetic.”

I looked at Dr. V skeptically from my perch atop the white-papered exam table, swinging my legs just a little. “I’m too young to be diabetic,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“Not really – people are developing Diabetes younger and younger these days.” She did not smile, but wore pleasant neutrality on her face. “The important thing is to start treating it right away – you should be able to reverse most of the damaging effects if you work hard at it.”

“I’m only 36. I’m not thirsty all of the time. I don’t pee all of the time. I can’t be diabetic.” I paused and gave her a sheepish look. “Could the test be wrong?”

Dr. V crossed her arms and looked at me. The pleasant neutrality had begun to wear a little around the edges. “Were you fasting when they took your blood? Or did you eat a dozen Krispy Kremes™ for breakfast?”

“I was fasting.”

“Your fasting sugar was over 200. You’re diabetic.”

I tried once more. “Oh, you mean I am pre-diabetic! 200 is not so bad, right? My uncle had diabetes and he had sugar, like, 700 or something…” I trailed off, noticing that Dr. V’s pleasant neutrality was crumbling like a cookie in warm milk. mmmmmmm…cookie

“There is no such thing as pre-diabetic,” she said firmly, “you are either diabetic or you are not. Diabetic means your blood sugar is too high.” She paused for emphasis. “Yours is too high.”

I went home, deflated, with a stack if informational brochures, 2 new prescriptions, and instructions to attend Diabetes Education Class as soon as possible.

It was the Spring of 2003.