I broke into my stash for the first time in over a year tonight.
I didn’t want to, but I had to check the inventory.
Because I am afraid I might have to start shooting up again very soon.
Shooting up insulin, that is.
I got a phone call from the doctor’s office on Friday letting me know that I failed my glucose screen with flying colors.
Not exactly a surprise.
I was so sure that I wouldn’t pass that I would have put money on it, but it turns out people aren’t exactly comfortable placing bets on the outcome of someone’s health.
When I was pregnant with Bronx, I failed the one-hour screen by such a huge margin that I was automatically diagnosed with gestational diabetes and sent directly to the diabetes management center.
This time, I failed it by quite a bit, but not enough to get to skip the three-hour glucose tolerance test.
In case your not familiar, this means that bright and early tomorrow morning I get to sit in my doctor’s office for three hours doing nothing but starving and getting my blood drawn repeatedly. (I have to fast for 12 hours before and all during the testing.)
This is not my idea of fun.
Even worse, my husband has to take off of work to stay home with the kids while all this is going down.
So in a very twisted way, tomorrow morning is going to be like a pretend vacation for me.
Not exactly what I have in mind when I think about trying to snag a little “me” time.
I guess I’ll take what I can get.
Especially since pretty soon the only foreseeable free time I will be getting will be spent with some old “friends” of mine.
I’m pretty sure that I won’t be passing tomorrow’s test.
And if I don’t, there’s another risk factor for preterm birth.
As if I already didn’t have enough.