The Dreaded Diagnosis

I expected to get bad news at my last doctor visit, but I was shocked when I was told just how bad my situation was: blood sugar over 400, high cholesterol, high triglycerides, fatty liver. Yikes. Yep, I had Type II diabetes and, the doctor warned, I was thisclose to having to be hospitalized. My heart -- which, at this point, I was amazed was still beating -- caught in my throat, and I felt as if I were coming apart at the seams. Still, I kept calm and somehow managed to keep it together as I was shown how to test my blood sugar and how to inject myself with insulin. However, as I later left the office, I broke down on a park bench. I knew that my life would never be the same, and that I was partially responsible.

Oh, I don't blame myself for getting the disease, but I do wish I'd taken better care of myself for the past few years. I don't smoke and I'm not a big drinker, but I have a checkered relationship with food. I was a skinny teen with a history of eating disorders, and then chubbed out in college. Fast forward to my adult years (I'm now 37) and I became morbidly obese. I'd diet, lose weight, binge, gain weight, diet, lose weight ... you get the picture. I'm a statistic in the dieting world, one of the 95 percent who manages to gain back the lost weight and then some.

I thought I'd finally broken the cycle a few years ago when I lost 100 pounds and completed a 20-mile walk. Unfortunately, the weight slowly came back on; then last year, I broke my leg and needed surgery. I could walk after three months and did PT, but my leg was still weak and sore for a long time afterward. I was inactive for nearly a year and ended up reaching my highest weight ever. I could barely walk -- not from the leg -- but from simply weighing so much. It was a nightmare.

I finally began to lose weight last spring when we visited Greece. I'd walk a block and have to sit down to rest, but I managed to walk all over Athens and even climbed up to the Parthenon. In the 10 days we were there, I lost about 10 pounds (fat people lose a lot of weight at first). I thought I was on my way to good health once again.

Then I got sick.

It started out with a really bad cold. I figured that I got it on the plane home, but this cold just wouldn't go away. Then came the thirst. I'm not talking the type of thirst you have after you've eaten something spicy; this was a full body thirst. I wanted icy, cold drinks and couldn't get enough of them -- the colder, the better. I seriously dreamed of jumping into a pool filled with strawberry smoothies. My body was hot and dry, and the only times I felt good were when I took a cold shower or took a dip in a cold pool.

Of course, drinking so much meant I had to use the facilities. All the time. Urgently. I had near accidents in the supermarket, on the bus and in Central Park. Of course, I was up all night because I had to go every hour, sometimes more. Because I wasn't sleeping, I was tired -- all the time.

I eventually ended up with another horrible cold, this one worse than the other. I lost my voice, my vision went blurry and I had no appetite. I knew that something was wrong and I was pretty certain that it was the big D. I'd made an appointment with an endocrinologist, but it was a few weeks away. I stupidly figured that I could wait. Besides, I was began to feel better. Knowing that I probably had diabetes, I tried to eat better foods and cut out sugars and some carbs. My husband and I even took a trip to the Poconos, where we enjoyed an active weekend swimming and boating.

Finally, I saw the doctor and she delivered the bad news. As bad as it was, though, it was a relief to get the diagnosis and know that help was on the way.

So far, things have improved greatly. My blood sugar is now down in the 100s (it even hit 96 the other night) and I have more energy. I'm sleeping better and no longer have that horrible thirst. I'm also training for a diabetes walk and have completely overhauled my diet.

This is the beginning of my journey, but I hope that as I go along, my health will get better. I hope that my story will inspire people to take care of themselves and get checked out if they suspect that something is wrong. As for me, I have to do whatever it takes to get well. I don't have a choice: it's do or die -- literally.