I will hug you and squeeze you, pet you and love you, and I will call you George.

I wasn't formally introduced to George until December, 2008. Even then, I can't say it was much of an introduction, or, that I was excited in any way to meet him. Quite frankly, I was not impressed at all, he ruined my Thanksgiving, and my Christmas that year, and really, every holiday since we've met.

Looking back, I remember clearly the day George came into my life. It was a beautiful fall day, the sun was shining and the smell of autumn leaves was in the air. It was mid day and I had stepped outside on my small front porch to smoke a cigarette. Now, keep in mind that so many people have told me smoking would eventually kill me, and the humor in this story is that seriously, it almost did, but not in the way anyone would think.

Now, to keep myself on track, I stepped outside to have a smoke, was chatting on the phone, and decided I would sit in my five year old, canvas folding chair that I kept on the porch. This chair had spent it's life sitting in the sun, the wind, and the rain for half a decade, and had lived in 3 different states. It had been around a WHILE. Apparently, my chair was "old" in chair years, and my 140 lb rear end proved to be too much for this "furniture senior citizen". The seat ripped, and I suddenly found myself with my butt just about on the ground, and my toes, in my face. I'm sure all this would be humorous enough, but it wasn't the end of the excitement. My chair was, it seems, precariously perched too close to the edge of the porch. Sadly, the porch had NO RAILING. Do you see where this is going? Or rather, where I was going? You guessed it, as I struggled to free myself from the accursed chair, I accidently flipped myself right over the edge of the porch. Ass over teakettle as they say. I'm sure it was quite a sight! My cell phone flew from one hand like it had suddenly learned to fly, and my cigarette flew from the other, and I, I just flew, chair and all!

Seriously comical, yes? Even I agree, I would have laughed so hard I might have peed myself had it been someone else! I know that doesn't make me nice, but it does make me honest Seriously though, even I laughed, I mean, I thought things like that only happened on Americas Funniest Vidios.

What does this have to do with George? Well, this is where George and I first met, although, I didn't realize it at the time. After I extricated myself from the aforementioned chair, with the help of my fiance and sister in law, who, unfortunately for me, had witnessed my perfectly executed back flip off the front porch (they DID laugh till the just about wet themselves), I realized that my left side hurt. Not a lot, just a little, or maybe in between a lot, and a little, and it hurt when i breathed in. Being a tough old cowgirl, who has survived multiple internal injuries in her life, I just sucked it up, and made Pauly Shore inspired jokes, think, Encino Man "you could hurt somebodies pancreas like that!".
Seriously though, you can, I can, I did.

For the next six weeks following that seemingly mild accident, I was increasinly plagued by health problems. I, who had always been so active, even hyper if you will, suddenly compained of complete and utter exaustion. I remember telling my fiance that I just felt so tired, tired to the point that I felt I might pass out. I slept every minute I wasn't working. I developed muscle cramps in my legs. They kept me up at night, and I felt even more tired than before. Was that even possible? I also had a yeast infection. Or at least, I thought it was a yeast infection. I hadn't had one since I couldn't remember when. I tried every remedy there was, including yogurt ! I should have bought stock in that stuff! Nothing worked.

I also developed severe abdominal pain. It came and went, and I couldn't seem to pinpoint the cause, it had no rhyme or reason I could determine.

I began getting food cravings. I ate chocoalte like there was a planned shortage coming up and I had to get it while I still could. I was constantly thirsty, I was hungry all the time, I ate burgers, and fries, and every starchy carb I could get my hands on. I lost weight. I ate more, I lost more weight. And I peed. I peed ALL the time. I peed so much it hurt to pee. I felt like I was personally a never ending source of pee.

My fiance was the one who called it, he told me he thought I was diabetic. I told him he was crazy. He told me to go to the Drs. So, just before thanksgiving, I did go. We didn't care for the doctor much, she was one of those pretentious, she knows everything doctors, who didn't put much stock in anything we said. My fiance told her he thought I was diabetic, she told him he wasn't a dr. I told her I felt like crap and just wanted to feel better. She gave me a script for gardnerella. Apparently that's why the yeast remedies didn't work, it wasn't yeast. She never even checked my blood sugar levels despite our suspicions that it might be diabetes. I can "almost" understand. I really wasn't a likely candidate for either type 1 or type 2 diabetes. I was 42, I was in great shape, not an ounce over weight, and extremely active. I worked hard, played hard, and if I had time left, I played even harder.

I got the call a few days later, the day before Thanksgiving. There was sugar in my urine. I needed to be careful what I ate over the holiday weekend, and come see her on Monday. I was to stop at the lab on my way in to have a fasting BS done, as well as an A1C. My fasting level was 235, and my A1C was 7.2 That was my formal introduction to George. He's been muckin' up my life ever since.

So, why the quote "I will hug you and squeeze you, pet you and love you, and I will call you George."? First, I apparently watched too much Bugs bunny as a child, and second, well, because it is MY diabetes. Not my neighbors, or my friends, but MINE, and if I don't learn to take care of it, ie: hug it and love it, it will be the death of me.

So, a belated welcome to my life George. You are like a petulant child , demanding attention, gadgets, and expensive meds. You control almost every aspect of my daily ruitine. I don't like you, don't want you, and I personally think you suck.
But, in my own best interest, I will hug you and squeeze you, and pet you and love you.

Now go listen to some good music!

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