For an entire week, I have done the near impossible - at least for me. I have kept track of everything I eat - portions, time, carb count, and everything. I have also been keeping track of my exercise. I didn't reach my goal of working out 4 times this week, but I came close. This is a monumental feat.
I have felt my stomach "eating itself" (my euphemism for hunger pains) as I try to rationalize "No, you do not need a Shamrock Shake from McDonald's, even though it is Happy Hour." I bravely staved off my need for something sweet by partaking in a very tasty (and very low carb) diet root beer and whipped cream treat. (It tastes just like an ice cream float.) And I have sabotaged myself by eating an entire bag of Valentine's Tootsie Rolls. But I still feel pretty proud of myself.
No, I did not cure cancer, save a life, or even pick up my walking pace to a light jog. But I did begin the grueling process of getting myself healthy again. Part of the reason is vanity. Let's face it - bumping up a size or two every couple of years has added up to a robust middle section which I have termed "the inner tube". A few of my pants are not-quite-buttonable, but that wasn't the impetus for change. That came from a tricky little devil called A1C.
A1C is your three month blood sugar average. A non-diabetic person will have an A1C of less than 6 - preferably in the 5.5 or lower range. Since I was diagnosed in late 2005 my A1C has ranged from 6.2-6.9, which is roughly the equivalent of an average blood sugar reading of 140. No danger of diabetic neuropathy or glaucoma with those readings, but I was headed down a bad path. At my last visit in January I told my primary care physician my conundrum - I am a smart woman. I read. I research. I pay attention to details, synthesize them, and put them together to create deeper meaning. I can understand the physiological changes going on in my traitorous, diabetic body whenever I ingest carbs. My logical brain comprehends these things and realizes the consequences of my actions.
My emotional side - that one is a tougher nut to crack. This is the side that says "Hey, the bag of chips is already open - might as well finish it up." Or it might tell me "You've had a rough day. Why don't you treat yourself to Dairy Queen on the way home?" Sometimes it even disguises itself as a seemingly-logical entity by entreating me to "Buy the most economical meal because then you will save money."
Keeping a log of my food intake, exercise outtake, and blood sugar readings isn't revolutionary. It isn't even new to me - I did it for a couple of months when I was first diagnosed. Yet, it took me awhile to admit to myself, and then admit to others, that I needed help on my journey. I need someone to hold me accountable for my actions. Unfortunately when it comes to my health, I haven't done the best job proving that I am the boss. So, for now, the dietitians and nurses at Well Aware are my superiors. On March 4 I will turn in my logs and attend my first class with them. I hope to continue my brutally honest recordings and increase my caloric output. Most of all though, I want to gain back my health, energy, and control.
Because I expect to post about my successes, and my struggles, with nods to other great songs. I already have the title picked out for next year - "Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes" - the take back continues.
