On Tuesday August 23, I got the call from my doctor. It wasn't a huge shock to hear her say that I am indeed Type II Diabetic but it did indeed illicit feelings of failure and doom that I wasn't prepared for. Honestly, my doctor isn't always too on top of things and I would guess if she really scoured my chart, we would find that I have been diabetic for at least a year.
My mom was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes about five years before she died. She was in her late sixties. I remember it well. She went through training with a Diabetes specialist and a nutritionist. She dropped quite a bit of poundage but she refused to exercise. I think she bought some shoes to exercise in but that was about as far as it went. My mom died relatively young with every organ in her body (except her heart, oddly) unhealthy. I have been feeling like death for some time now. I am often consumed with the feeling that my life will end soon. My weight is my giant.
So. I am faced with quite a few emotions. I have completely accepted the fact that I have been a horrible steward of the body that I have been given. I have failed. I am a statistic. I am so sad about what I have done to myself. I realize that it does not matter what I tell my daughters. It matters what I show them. They will learn from my example, not my words, as I did from my mother. It really didn't matter that she didn't feed me the Oreo with butter on top. I watched her savor it and learned to comfort myself with food long before I actually did it. No. I don't eat Oreos with butter but she did.... Double Stuff at that.
Mixing with my sadness is anger. Why wasn't I important enough to myself to deal with the situation? Too lazy? Really? I don't think so. I am not lazy. Tired, not lazy. WHY? I'm kind of pissed at the Hubs. It's not his responsibility to take care of me but couldn't he have said, 'okay, we're joining a gym.' or 'how about if I take the girls to the pool three nights a week so you can have some time to yourself?' I usually feel sorry for him because he does have a fat wife. I'm fairly sure that he not only has to endure having a fat wife but he faces some social ramifications for having a fat wife as well and that's a bummer. I'm just mad and I think he's going to have to share in that a bit.
My doctor is fairly grace filled so she did tell me that she would give me 30 days to diet and exercise (before she writes FIVE prescriptions) to see if I can get my blood sugar under control on my own. (Note: This is where she usually looses track because I don't come back in for a year) I don't know that I even know what that means anymore so I did ask her what my modified diet should look like. "No carbs." Okay. That seems simple enough until I realized that sugar is like poison to my body and everything besides protein and fat turns to sugar.
The good doctor also said to exercise....... everyday. Really? I haven't been able to make time for exercise everyday for eight years. We don't have money for a gym membership and quite honestly, there is no way that I am going to put the Littles into childcare at a gym so that I can work out. It took me about five hours to work through my excuses about not working out and two of those hours I was crying about having the Fat Disease. I realize that we have to pull the money from somewhere or the Hubs will be paying for a nanny in a few years. I realize that I have to make the time now or I will never get to see what my children achieve with all of their time sucking activities.
I went for a walk with the teenager that night that the doctor called, after I dried my tears and waded through the pitty pool. It was hot out. We walked about two and a half miles and I literally thought I was in hell. I explained to my svelte, athletically fit child that I was carrying a little more with me on our walk and that it was hard for my legs to make the journey. She offered to carry Bubba on her back to make it even. It might be even if she carried Bubba on her back, Princess D on her front and a dog under each arm.
The next day I went to Curves. I liked it. It was doable although I did sweat more than the women twenty years older than I. Today will be day three of a free week trial period and then I will have to sign a one year contract. I figure if I can go everyday before the girls get up, I can make it work. It's $35.00 a month which probably doesn't seem like a lot but in some ways it is. We will make it work. There's really no choice at this point.
I'm getting excited to see what I can do in a month but a bit overwhelmed at what I need to achieve and maintain for the rest of my life. I just keep telling myself that it's better than not having the rest of my life. That makes me sad.