Oh, goody! My A1C has crept back up. Just what I needed.
I’d like to say that it’s not my fault, that diabetes is a strange illness and is difficult to control. That last part may be true, but it’s still my fault. I didn’t just fall off the keto/ultra-low-carb wagon. I unhitched it from the horse, knocked off all the wheels, and sent it careening downhill and over the side of a cliff.
I can’t just blame the soft serve ice cream machine on the cruise ship, although that would be convenient. Things had gone bad long before that. It was the ice cream, the potatoes, the doughnuts, the potatoes, the pasta, the potatoes, and did I mention the potatoes?
Carbohydrates are a harsh mistress.
I don’t even know what that phrase means, but it really speaks to my soul today anyway. Plus, it sounds deep.
So, now that I’m done traveling for a while and am done with most of my outside freelance projects, I can focus once again on dietary issues and exercise issues. It’ll be back to one baby step at a time, but that’s how I got in this predicament, so that’s how I’ll have to get back out.
Let’s just hope that the A1C creeps right back down… and that I don’t send that wagon off another cliff. Once was enough.
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a fad diet! It’s … KETOGENICS ‘R US!
Okay, seriously, folks. I started this crazy ketogenic diet right after the holidays last year, not knowing it was going to become a politically charged craze about three nanoseconds after I peed on my first ketone strip. Honestly, I hate following crazes, as anyone who knew me in junior high can confirm (yes, me, with my K-Mart wardrobe and bright yellow Sears five-speed bike). I didn’t own a pair of Chuck Taylors till I found a pair in a thrift store in the 1980s. I still don’t own a Mac. So what do I know or care about a fad diet craze, of all things?
Not much, but enough to lower my A1C nearly a full point in five months.
It started last autumn when a good friend was in town. I hadn’t seen her in a while, and she looked fabulous. Focused, fit, and, well, healthy. Huh. I had to have me some of that, so I asked her what she’d been doing. Turns out she herself had been on this diet for the past six months or so and had lost 40 pounds. And her mind was sharp and clear, and she was clearly ON somethin’. Yeah, I had to have me some of dat.
She wisely cautioned me to read-read-read first and to NOT try to jump in right before the two biggest eating holidays of the year (Thanksgiving and Christmas, followed by New Year’s). And so I read. And read some more. And felt overwhelmed.
Macros. Wait, don’t you use those in Microsoft Word?
Ketones. Wait wait, I was pregnant four times. Aren’t those bad?
High fat. Wait wait wait … I’m already high fat. That’s precisely my problem. Isn’t it?
Intermittent fasting. Wait … HOLD ON. Not eating at ALL? For hours? On purpose? What is wrong with you people? Plus, diabetics can’t get away with that!
Aforementioned friend also added that it might be better to ease into it. I’d already been on a low-carb bandwagon for years since being diagnosed diabetic in 2010 (with more than my share of slip-ups), so getting back on THAT way of eating was second nature to me. I kept reading as I moved lower and lower carb. Then, in January, I bought the little test strips and dove in.
Within a month I’d lost 22 pounds and felt amazing. I’m 57 years old and often groaned and creaked as I climbed out of our massive waterbed every morning. (I’m also 5’2″ and just barely reach the floor when I try to climb up over the side of that thing.) But now I found myself zipping out of bed easily, no cranky noises. My joints felt great. I never even thought about them anymore. I could get up and down the two flights of stairs to do laundry without getting nearly as winded as I once did. I was sleeping like a log.
And my IBS-D symptoms (which I’d battled for more than two years) were gone.
I admit it took some head games to get used to adding bacon to my usual scrambled eggs for breakfast. I admit it took more head games to delay breakfast (although I never ate breakfast before my T2 diagnosis because I’m a night owl and mornings are evil). So many things about this diet seemed counterproductive for a diabetic (pretty much everything but the lower carb bit).
But the numbers didn’t lie. The weight loss. The lower fasting blood sugar numbers (which went from a consistent 150+ range down to as low as 87!). Then the A1C after five months of fairly consistent ketogenic eating and fasting.
I’m currently climbing back onto this fad/craze/bandwagon from a summer of too many road trips, meetings, and times away from the house. Too much carbage! But as I slowly crawl my way back, I find once again that everything about my body feels better when I lower those low-nutrient carbs and substitute them with higher fat.
And now, I’m outta here, to go treat myself to some coffee with heavy whipping cream and stevia. Gotta keep that heart pumping!
Your Type 2 partner in crime,
Linda
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NOTE: I’m not offering medical advice, but you can’t ramp up the fat without drastically lowering those carbs. If you don’t do both, you’re a walking heart attack. Do your homework, stay away from the fad/craze part of this whole thing, and make sure you’re getting regular check-ups.
It was January 2010. I wasn’t having a good winter. Things in my personal life were more than a little wonky. So, when someone from my doctor’s office called to give me the results of my boring, routine blood work, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear that I was now a Type-2 diabetic.
I was sitting in my home office upstairs when the call came in. I’d been expecting the phone call with the lab results … just not what was actually said during that phone call.
The stunned silence from my end of the phone must have softened the heart of that office assistant who’d called me. She immediately pulled back from her stark announcement and assured me I could still eat sweets and that all was not lost. (I think back on that part of the conversation now and cringe. I understand why she said it, but it’s probably not the best thing to say right after telling someone she’s diabetic.)
Strangely, though, not much more was said that day. I was told to get a blood glucose meter and that I’d be insurance-approved for 30 strips per month. (I’d soon find out that number wasn’t exactly generous. A newly diagnosed diabetic should be testing like crazy in those early weeks—before and after each meal or snack to get information on how all sorts of foods affect blood sugar.) I felt like one of those astronauts you see in space movies—the ones who are walking in space outside the ship and whose tethers break or come loose, and who start slowly floating away from safety. Yeah, that’s exactly how I felt the rest of that day … and the rest of that month, really.
I vividly recall the first time I used a blood glucose meter. I read the instruction sheet (which, thank God, came with illustrations) over and over, leaving it spread out on my desk. I loaded the lancet with a new needle and held it hovering over my shaking fingertip for what seemed an eternity. I don’t know what I expected—probably that it would feel like being cut in two with a dull sword—but it was surprisingly painless and quick. Seeing the drop of blood well up wasn’t my favorite thing that day, but I felt empowered. This little plastic meter and these little strips were going to give me information, knowledge—things I would need in order to keep this diagnosis from ruining or shortening my life.
And I learned that the internet can be your best friend if you let it. If you’re smart. If you’re cautious. I found a forum of fellow diabetics and joined immediately. I lurked a lot. And I asked a lot of stupid newbie questions. I figured I was already shamed and embarrassed by my diagnosis, so a little more shame on the intrawebs wasn’t gonna kill me. I deflected my ignorance and stupid questions with humor. (That usually works in most situations, by the way. You’re welcome.)
And I made some amazing internet friends. A handful of the women there took me under their wings and added me to an email loop. They called themselves Diabetic Divas … and I immediately felt safe and welcome. And I learned a lot. And they’re still important, good friends.
These women were owning their diagnoses. They were beating the odds by sharing what was working for them. And many of them were routinely seeing A1C numbers in the normal ranges again. Turns out a little diligence and a lot of support go a long way. And in some small way, I kinda owe them my life. I learned to test constantly in the beginning. I learned how a post-prandial high blood glucose reading could be swiftly turned around by grabbing my shoes and taking a brisk walk around the block. (In those early months, I once lowered a post-meal number from 170 to 107 with a literal five-minute walk around the block … in February during a snowstorm. Where there’s a will—and a heavy winter coat—there’s a way.)
Those first months post-diagnosis were tough. I won’t sugar-coat that part with humor. (Technically, I shouldn’t be sugar-coating anything anymore.) I cried a lot. Feelings of failure and fear washed over me every single day. Looking at food scared me. Grocery shopping now took twice as long because I was reading every label in sight.
But, in the years that have passed since that fateful day in January 2010, I can tell you with certainty that the diagnosis snapped me back to reality faster than a few creeping pounds or even a high cholesterol count would have.
Hearing “You’re diabetic” over the phone doesn’t have to be the end of life as you know it. It means you’ll be forced to pay attention to what you eat, when you eat, and how you move. For anybody, these are good habits to learn. For a diabetic, they’re crucial.
The biggest thing I learned back then? I’m not alone. And neither are you.
Type Too 