May 11, 2006 at 4:46 pm | Posted in The Sweet Life | 10 Comments

Our first winter here in the snowbelt, before I discovered the wonder that is snow tires, I hit a patch of black ice on the highway and found myself spinning in circles. I spun 180 degrees, facing the oncoming traffic, or where oncoming traffic would have been, had there been any. And then I spun back, somehow regained control of the car, and pulled myself over onto the shoulder. I sat there for a minute, my heart pounding uncontrollably and then gradually eased back onto the road, back into the cars speeding by oblivious to the fact that I? Had almost died. When I got to work, all I wanted to do was sleep. The adrenaline had torn through me and left skid marks behind.

Right now, I am holed up in my office at work, with my face three inches away from the monitor so that I can see the text. My car is parked in the parking lot outside, but I can’t drive it for another three hours or so. I am exhausted. Going to the doctor always leaves me feeling this way. Like I’m lucky to have made it through in one piece.

My eyes were normal. Twenty years, and I’m clear for another year.

I did not however, escape without the mandatory harangue from the nurse, who informed me that my A1C was high. Gee, no one’s ever told me that before. Really? You mean if it’s under 7 I reduce my risks of complications? Well now that I know that, I’ll get right on it. I was very tempted to tell said nurse, who was carrying a good 50-75 pounds more than her doctor would probably recommend, that losing weight would reduce her risk of heart disease and diabetes. Because, I’m sure being told that is all she needs to make it happen.

I don’t understand why my eyes are okay. Dumb luck, I suppose. My last A1C, which I have strategically avoided mentioning here for fear that I will become a diabetes O.C. pariah, was 9.1. It’s been lower and it’s been higher. But I haven’t seen seven in a while. I don’t lack knowledge, I just have a very hard time moving from knowledge to action.

And so I leave the opthamologist’s office feeling not unlike I did on the shoulder of the highway. As though I have somehow dodged a bullet that by all laws of nature should really have passed right through me.

I know that a recent study showed no connection between being prayed for and successful surgery, but I can’t help thinking that maybe all your prayers, voodoo ceremonies, crossed fingers, and general goodwill helped – and will continue to help.


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  1. Me too – my A1C was 9.1 And it has been higher and lower (although I can’t really recall that). I think that the doctor’s appointments for us are like waiting for the other shoe to drop – we have this feeling that complications will come our way it’s just when & where. The eye appts. are especially scary in my opinion. If it really is just luck, be thankful for it…although you would probably rather use that luck for another cause.

  2. Yea!!! I am so excited that your eyes are all safe and sound. Even if you don’t so much have faith in the praying thing, I will continue to pray for you and your family if that would be ok with you.

  3. I’m glad your eyes are ok – that’s a very good thing.

    Olivia’s last a1C was 8.2. I’m not too thrilled with that either, but I’m working on it.

  4. I’m glad your eyes are doing so well, regardless of why or how.

  5. good-good, very-good news. I’m so glad that everything s alright with your eyes. If the world stays well-ordered, you’ll need them to see certain precious things a few months down the road. Hoping on all accounts!!

  6. Good morning! Michele sent me.

  7. I’ll keep praying for you regardless.

    Sometimes, I wish health care didn’t have to be such a minefield.

  8. Art-Sweet,

    Are you at all noticing a trend here?


    Pili — Pregnant.
    Eyes — Normal.
    S1955 — Defeated.

    That’s a whole heck of a lotta good.

    But hey, (along with many other folks) I’m still gonna keep sending positive thoughts your way– you know, to make absolutely sure we keep this streak going 🙂


    BTW, This was a powerful, beautifully-written entry.

  9. Very nicely written post, and I’m very in touch with your feelings here. As well as the feelings of Melissa – who’s post I’m heading to shortly to comment there too.

    Waiting for the other shoe to drop is a very accurate way to put into words the feelings I usually have about those visits.

    You should not feel worried about sharing your A1C with the OC. A1C’s are a very personal thing to us, but I think we gain some sense of “yeah, me too” when we share them. So, “yeah, me too”.

    I’ve been diabetic for 26 years now, and I think I might have had one, or maybe two A1C’s in the 7’s. Averaging probably mid to low 8’s, but lately have been mid to low 9’s.

    Like you, I feel that according to the statistics I am supposed to have been struck down with complications – but alas – I’m good, so far…

    I strive and work hard on working hard on getting better, but it’s a constant struggle, and I often get tired of it. It wears me down.

    But I continue to march through the crud – because I – we – have to.

    I think we can ask ourselves to do the best we can, and not be too hard on ourselves when we feel we’re not doing good enough.

    You’re not alone in the A1C arena – I’m right there next to you, and Melissa too. We can do it though.

  10. I am indeed thinking of you both and hoping that the little sac creature stays and grows and comes our all perfect and pink and lovely.

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