Trying not to worry

On Monday, I went to the doctor for a physical. See, if you're me, you've been under a specialist's care for most of your adult life and you forget that you also have to see a "normal" doctor for that basic preventive maintenance type stuff. So I finally made the appointment and went. And my cholesterol is fantastic! I'm feeling pretty good about everything...I quit smoking last winter, I'm getting exercise, I eat pretty good, nothing's bothering me.

Which is why getting the phone call Tuesday that they wanted to repeat a blood test really didn't bother me at all. Having been under a specialist's care for 17 years, I know that blood tests sometimes are wonky. And I also knew that I may have eaten a little past seven the night before, so maybe it wasn't a good 12-hour fast before the bloodwork.

And that takes us to yesterday, when we repeated the test and an hour later my doctor's office called me to have me come in again because the second blood test is wonky too. Well, not wonky. Just high. Glucose. A cursory internet search suggests that diabetes is really the only reason to see this result. Or maybe just pre-diabetes. Or a risk of developing diabetes. None of those are happy situations.

Which means today I get to go to the doctor again and take the dreaded glucose tolerance test. Dreaded? Have you had one? Have you consumed the horrible drink that tastes like sweetened bat piss? Yeah. It does. (Not that I would know, but I'm pretty sure.) (I mean I know how awful the drink is but never have actually consumed bat piss.) (At least I hope not.) Oh, and I don't get to eat or drink anything (except water) until the test is over. And that's at 3:00 this afternoon.

If this post doesn't make sense, blame the caffeine addiction. I'm sorry. I'm coffee's bitch.