Just Fat, Not Diabetic, Thanks. 

Greetings friends, from the hospital. I think I get to go home today, but it’s still early and it’s the weekend, and I have yet to see a doctor and they’re still just bringing me broth to eat (NO MORE BROTH) but that’s not what I feel like writing about.

Here’s a fun side effect of being overweight and in the hospital: everyone keeps assuming I’m diabetic.

Like, they went ahead and added insulin to my list of medications without ever asking me if I took insulin.

But perhaps I should back up.

Maybe it’s my own fault. They asked me if I had any medical history of diabetes when I got here and I told them I had Gestational Diabetes in 2013. I guess somewhere along the way they lost sight of the gestational component, my chart indicated regular ol’ diabetes, and every time I got a new doctor or a new nurse I got to explain alllll over again that, nope: Just fat! Not diabetic!

I thought it was weird that they kept checking my blood sugars, and then everyone seemed surprised when my results were normal (because I’m not diabetic).

“Well, your first test was a little high,” they told me.

Oh, you mean after those two bottles of Gatorade on an empty stomach?

Since then? Totally normal blood sugars.



So color me surprised after I’m admitted and my new nurse is going over my list of medications and she says, “And you get insulin three times a day.”

Not a question, mind you.

So we start again.

Two days and two nights later I guess I finally have enough documented normal blood sugars that the order has been updated and I don’t have to keep defending my already wounded pancreas’ ability to make insulin.

Now if we can just get someone to sign off on me eating some actual goddamn food, we’ll really be on a roll.


Danger Zone

Friends, relatives, random Internet users — we are in trouble.

And by we, I mean me, and anyone with diabetes.

Easter candy is everywhere.

I should clarify — I love all candy (as long as it hasn’t been tainted with raisins, nuts or — god forbid — coconut). But my favorite candy ever is currently smack-dab in the middle of every grocery store, drugstore, Walmart and Target.

I’m talking, of course, about Cadbury Mini Eggs.

Everywhere I go — they’re there, just taunting me.

Sure, I could probably buy some, eat a little, and then put them away so one bag lasts several weeks.

Ahahahaha! Oh, wait. No I can’t!

One bag lasts two days, if I’m lucky. They are literally the most delicious things in the world — I lose all self-control as soon as they’re in my shopping cart. It’s everything I can do to not buy dozens of bags to stockpile for the rest of the year. Actually, are they on Amazon, do you think?

Oh, crap. They are.

My life is ruined.