The End Chapter to My New Beginning...

So...11 months after my diagnosis with Type-2 Diabetes, 3/4/19, I find myself at the office of my PCP for my hbA1c checkup.  My old doctor moved to another practice, so, I had been dealing with a wonderful new set of doctors, physician assistants and nurse practitioners.  Very kind, knowledgeable, reassuring and positive.  In fact, my new senior doctor had told me during one of my visits with him that in 15 years of being in his practice he had never seen anyone turn their health situation around so fast, like I had.  That gave me a sense of pride in myself I hadn't felt in, well, forever!  Anyways, The PA knocked on the door, walked in, sat down in front of me with a slight smile on her face, and told me the news I had only dreamed of hearing for 11 months...

Weight...172 pounds!  Total loss-167 pounds!

AMEN!!!

HbA1c...5.4!

Final diagnosis...TOTAL REMISSION OF TYPE-2 DIABETES!  

I am hereby off of Metformin, Abilify, Prozac.  

I only need to check my sugar once a day.

I only need to visit my nutritionist if I feel I need extra support in the future.  At this point, it was not necessary to go to any more visits.

I am free.

I sat there and cried.  Cried in relief, joy, exhaustion.  I did it.  She told me how proud of she was of me.   I just kept crying...

THE END...

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

It is incredible to me that it took me nine blog entries to get to this moment.  I certainly had a huge amount of baggage to unload, stories to tell, memories to cry over, and people from my past to forgive in the process.  I am well aware that this work will continue on, even after this blog entry.  I still have a lot of untold stories, but there will be more positive stories that will surely come my way.  There will be more memories that will inevitably bubble up only to be processed, and moved on from.  More positive memories, I am sure, will take their place.  There will still be people from my past, and people appearing in my future, that I will need to remember to practice empathy, kindness, gratitude and forgiveness.  But, with practice, comes progress.  I am a work in progress.  I am not perfect.  I know this.   But, in knowing this, I set myself free.   Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.  A caterpillar no more.  Remembering, however, the inherent beauty of a caterpillar.  All God's creations are beautiful, are worthy, have their own purposes, their own paths to move on.   But, man, is it cool to soar like a butterfly!  I ain't gonna lie!  Feeling the lightness, the freedom from burdens of sickness and obesity.   There is nothing like it.  

I realize I will have to keep fighting the fight.  I will always have to be diligent.  This is my new reality, and I now fully embrace and accept it.  I am done with repeating the mistakes of the past.  I cannot become lax, or all my inner demons will surely knock on my "past" door once again..."KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK! I'm baaack!  Remember me?"  Ohhhh...yeah, I remember you.  But, you can't have me back.  Alice doesn't live here anymore.

Until next week...stay safe and well!

Be a butterfly...🦋

"Survey Says......"

8/4/2018-exactly 4 months post-diagnosis...here were the results...

A1c...6.0!  This is considered Pre-Diabetic range, but decreased over 50% in 4 months!

Metabolic Profile...NORMAL!

Hypertension/Cholesterol Profile...NORMAL!

"Well...I'm getting there", I thought.  "The plan is working.  Now, I just have to stay the course."  Which I did.  

Was it tough?  Absolutely.  Even though my cravings for sugary, carb-laden foods slowly diminished, every once in a while the cravings would bubble back up into my psyche.  Especially during very stressful times.

  

Like the time I had a breast cancer scare.

I had my routine mammogram, like I normally had every other year or so.  I've never had any issues, no breast cancer in my family history (that I knew of, anyways).  So, when I received the call that afternoon to have me come in and get rechecked, I was floored.

"Are you frigging kidding me?  Diabetes, mouth surgery, and now this????  This is the last straw.  I can't be dealing with all of this.  Where's the ice cream?"

But, I mustered up what little strength I had left, resisted the temptation to buy a year's worth of Ben and Jerry's (how, I still have no idea), went back to the radiologist, and had a second mammogram.  Surer than shit, they saw something in the mammogram.  A biopsy needed to be done as soon as possible.

Crap.

A couple of days before the biopsy, I met with the surgeon.  A rather young, attractive woman with an interesting accent, who seemed pretty knowledgeable about all things boobs.  She started to perform the breast exam on me, and commented, "You've lost a lot of breast tissue.  You would be eligible for a breast lift.  You might want to consider that."

Ummmm....what?

I was disgusted, disallusioned.  I thought to myself, "A breast lift?  Are you serious?  What are you, from LA or something?  Do you have $50,000 to spare?  Do you really think I care about the fact that my breasts are sagging down to my knees right now?" But, I didn't say anything to her out loud.  I just chuckled, and let her get on with the remainder of the exam.  Although, I really didn't hear what she had to say after that, I was too pissed off.  Her voice was like the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons...whah whah whahhhhhh.  In hindsight, I should've told her that a breast lift was the least of my worries, and to just be quiet and get on with the exam, please.  I regret not speaking up at that moment.  Metaphor for my life, though.  How many times in my life should I have spoken up about how I felt when people hurt or disappointed me, instead of internalizing my pain and turning to food for answers, or a sense of comfort.  Coulda, woulda, shoulda.  You live and learn, and try not to repeat the behavior.   It's hard, I have to make a conscious effort to try to speak up these days.  But, I do try. 

Happy to report, the breast biopsy turned out to be negative.  Because I had lost weight so rapidly, there were little granules of fat deposits in my breasts.  Nothing to worry about, just keep on with the annual exams, and move on.  

Phew!

But, this experience was a good learning indicator for me.  I was very proud of myself, that I did not give in to my strong craving of ice cream during this crisis.  Which got me to thinking about how this experience was just another example of the true dynamics of this eating disorder.  It really was all psychological.   I came to really see that carbohydrates and sugar acted like highly-addictive drugs in my body.   When it came down to brass tacks, this addiction was not unlike alcohol, opioids, heroin, etc.  The problem with food addiction, however, is that you do need food to live!  You don't need alcohol, marijuana or heroin to live.  So, the trick, that I finally discovered, is to change your relationship with food.  Decide once and for all that food is fuel, and nothing else.  Simple.  Find the foods that fuel your body, make you feel good inside, give you energy.  Resist the foods that make you feel lethargic, cloudy, bloated, gross.   The perfect analogy is that your body is like a car, and food is the gas.  The better quality the gas, the better the car runs.   High-octane gas with no additives=high quality food with no carbs or sugar. 

BINGO.

Until next week...stay safe and well!

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Be a butterfly...🦋

  

This is what I shoulda said to the doctor!!!

Side Effects May Include...(Parental Guidance Suggested)

So, as I left off from my last blog post, by the end of April, beginning of May, I had started to see some really promising results in the combination of a low-carbohydrate meal plan and Metformin.  I had noticed my weight began to drop significantly, and blood sugar numbers were beginning to come down and normalize a bit.  I felt hopeful that my life was actually NOT going to end as a result of a diabetic coma or a stroke.  Maybe, I'd be able to live to see my grandchildren get married!  I was beginning to get some strength and vitality back, as well, walking every day and sleeping pretty well.

AND THEN...

"DUN-DUN-DUNNNNNN...

The side effects hit.  And they hit HARD.

(I apologize in advance for the TMI part of the blog.)

The first side effect that began to ravage my life was explosive, painful, bowel movements.  I call them "Bouts".  This is a common side effect of Metformin that no one told me about.  The consistency was that of chocolate pudding.  (Sorry, again).  It was like hot lava.  The bouts came out of nowhere, at all hours, without warning.  I literally would sit on the toilet for, sometimes up to, 30 minutes before the convulsions would subside.  The bouts would leave me drained and exhausted.  They had gotten so bad, that I had to always be conscious of my surroundings, making sure that there would be a toilet nearby, just in case the urge would overcome me.  This was particularly difficult at the middle school in which I worked.  I had to always make sure I knew where the closest bathroom was, or to make sure the nurse's office was within running distance to the classroom I was in.  Luckily, the teachers I worked with knew about my recent diagnosis and were very easy-going and kind to me if I had to leave suddenly, or if I had to go check my blood sugar.   There were those times, however, that these bouts reared their ugly-ass heads at extremely inconvenient circumstances. 

Case in point, my daughter's high school graduation. 

I had felt pretty good that day.  No bouts had showed up.  I went to work, came home, worked out, showered and got all dressed up pretty.  We got to the high school and sat down at the bleachers.  It was a gorgeous night, about 75 degrees, slight breeze, the whole stadium was abuzz with excitement.

AND THEN...

"DUN-DUN-DUNNNNNN..."

Like a bolt of lightning from the sky, my stomach started to scream at me.  The pain and cramping hit me like a freight train.  I had to go, and FAST!  What made matters even worse, was I had on three-inch wedges!  Imagine having to run down bleacher stairs in those things!  I thought I was going to break a foot, and have my gastrointestinal explosion right there in front of hundreds of people.  I started thinking to myself, as I finally made it to the bathroom injury-free, "Maybe I should start wearing Depends! Or buy stock in the company.  I'd be the best spokesperson!"  The good news is, though, my bout lasted only about 10 minutes, and I didn't miss any of the crucial parts of the graduation.  I was still able to see my daughter get her diploma on the podium, and all turned out well for the rest of the night.  Although, it still left me exhausted.

There were other times that the bouts showed up inconveniently.  Like road trips.  One particular road trip to my daughter's college we had to stop suddenly for me.  We stopped first at a Burger King.  CLOSED.  Then we arrived at a rest area.  But, it was too late.  By the time I got to the bathroom, well, let's just say I had to throw out my underwear.  The shit literally hit the fan, as it were.  After I cleaned myself up, I walked out of the bathroom with a balled-up pair of underwear wrapped in toilet paper in my purse, and asked the rest area attendant if he had a paper bag.  Looking at me sideways, he handed me one, I went back to the stall, put my underwear in the bag and threw it out in the feminine hygiene receptacle.   I was so embarrassed, but there was absolutely nothing I could do.   From that moment on, I always carried an extra pair of underwear wherever I went.   

Because of the violent nature of these bouts, and the exhaustion and pain I experienced from them, I began to notice they were taking a toll on me mentally, as well.  I started getting a little depressed, and started wanting to treat myself, comfort myself, with food.  Cake, pizza, ice cream.  Anything that would lift my spirits, give me a jolt of energy, give me peace, make me happy, anything.  I started to daydream about cheesecake.  My every waking thought was about cheesecake.  Could I buy it without anyone knowing?  Could I eat it in the car and throw away the container?  Sure, I could!  I just wouldn't check my blood sugar that day, no one would know!  I would fool them all!

But, I would know.  

And I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I gave in.  

So, I didn't.  I persevered, and moved on. 

Another side-effect of Diabetes that I also had no idea about was Diabetic Neuropathy in unexpected parts of the body.  Now, I was aware that high blood sugars, over time, could cause nerve damage.  Numbness and tingling in the extremities, especially the hands and feet.  What I didn't know, however, was that, in some cases, the nerve damage can mask symptoms of infections in other parts of the body.  Because there is nerve damage, you might not be able to feel pain.  Well, this was going to impact my life in a huge way, come to find out.

It was dinner time on a Thursday night in June, the graduation had come and gone, and I also was out of school for the summer.  My husband had bought one of those prepared rotisserie chickens that I so enjoyed.  I bit into a chicken wing.  SNAP!  What the hell?????  I ran into the bathroom, opened my mouth, and saw my front tooth was dangling from the root!  I screamed...actually almost fainted.  I called the dentist and left an after-hours emergency voice-mail.  Within an hour my dentist called me back, and got me an appointment for the next morning. 

Friday morning I went to the dentist, and he took some x-rays.  Years ago, back in 1989, I had a root canal in my front tooth due to an accident I had had when I was 5 years old.  Well, come to find out, the root canal had finally failed.  The infection had took hold, like, months before, and I had no idea.  My tooth had formed a crack that went all the way to the gum line.  Bacteria made its way in, and systematically ate away at my jaw bone.  Hence, the gum surrounding the tooth died, and my tooth became loose.  I FELT NONE OF THIS!!!  No pain, no discoloration, nothing.  THANK YOU, DIABETES!!!!   Later that week, I met with an oral surgeon.  Ultimately, I had four painful surgeries to rebuild my mouth.  Starting in August of 2018, and finally ending the day before Thanksgiving in 2019 with a new dental implant tooth.  He had to rebuild my jaw bone with bone graphs, repair my gum line and insert the dental implant post.   These surgeries were not only painful, but really tested my fortitude to stay on my meal plan, because I had to be put on a soft diet each time.  It was very difficult to find low-carb soft diet options.  I had to resort to eating bananas and soups, both of which were higher in carbs, but there was nothing I could do about it.  It wasn't like I could drink milkshakes and eat ice cream all day long!  I also couldn't exercise, because I was so beat up.  With the added stress of these surgeries, the pain and suffering, and the guilt I felt because of the unexpected economic impact it was having on my family, especially with one child in college, I could really feel the eating disorder once again trying to creep back in to my life.   "KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!  Here I am, again!  Let me in!"  I started to daydream about ice cream and cheesecake, again.  Screw it all, I thought to myself, especially at night while I was trying to sleep.  I could eat it!  I deserved it!  I just wouldn't test my blood sugar that day and there would be no record of any wrongdoing!  No one would know!  I would fool them all!

But, I would know.

And I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I gave in.

So, I didn't.  I persevered and moved on.

I am proud to say, looking back, I never gave in to my eating disorder.  I believe experiencing and ultimately journeying through these painful, horrible, debilitating side effects, elevated me to even higher levels of strength and courage, reserves deep within me that I never knew I had.  Knowing I am strong, knowing I am capable, knowing I am worthy of health, has sustained me throughout this journey and will, I am sure, sustain me for a lifetime.

Thank you for reading this post! Please find me on Instagram, as well!  I will be finishing up my "New Leslie Sansone daily DVD challenge" this week on IGTV.  Stay tuned!

Have a great week, and stay safe!

Be a butterfly...🦋

Me, 25 pounds lighter, in June, 2018

Me, sans front tooth!

"Hey, Carbohydrates...Kiss My Ass!"

A few days after my initial appointment with my PCP, I finally met with my diabetic food counselor.  She was very nice, non-judgmental and knowledgeable.  She weighed me ( I had already dropped 10 pounds since my diagnosis, so that was a welcome surprise), did vitals on me and took my blood sugar reading.  High 100's.  Again, much better than 510, so there was definite progress being made.  I had been vigilant taking walks as much as possible, taking Metformin as prescribed and trying to lessen my sugar intake as much as I knew how.

She went on to explain that the most important thing to remember when it came to food intake was to read labels.  READ, READ, READ.  Make it a conscious habit.  Boy, this made a lot of sense to me.  I never read food labels, I just shoved food down my throat.  Reading labels would force me to see the reality in what I was putting into my body.  Would force me into realizing how much fat and sugar, how many calories, I was actually subjecting my body into digesting.  It would be a complete eye-opener, and would probably make me feel even more guilt and remorse over the self-inflicted damage I had caused over the years.  But, I believed these feelings would only be temporary and eventually the feelings of health and vitality would take their place.  One would only hope, that is.

The next point she drove home was that the main factor to look at on the labels was CARBOHYDRATES.  NOT SUGAR.  Sugar grams were actually factored in to the carbohydrate grams on food labels.  I didn't know this.  This concept was totally alien to me.  I always thought the cause of Diabetes was eating too much sugar.  In fact, it is actually your body's resistance to the insulin response of being able to break down carbohydrates.  Carbohydrates cannot be broken down as energy, so they are dumped and stored as extra sugar in the blood.  In a nutshell.  There's much more to it than that, of course, but I'm not that technical.  Anyways, after hearing this, I kind of breathed a sigh of relief.  If carbohydrates are the only thing I really needed to focus on food-wise, not having to be a math whiz and do all types of calculations and measuring, I felt it was pretty doable.  She gave me a huge 3-ring binder that gave me all types of information on food choices, mental and physical health resources, and a blood-sugar log, that I continue to use to this day.  She told me to check my blood sugar three times a day, gave me a meal plan to try, with a daily carbohydrate maximum of between 60-140 g, wished me well, and sent me on my way.

I went home, opened the refrigerator and the cabinets and read every label I could find.  Holy crap.  No wonder I'm diabetic.  This was crazy!  According to my calculations, I ate, at the very least, 60 g of carbohydrates in ONE SITTING!  EVERY DAY!  Ugh.  This might be harder than I thought.  But, "I gotta do this," I thought to myself.  "I have no choice".

The next morning, I started to prepare my usual breakfast.  A banana and a bowl of shredded wheat with skim milk.   Then it occurred to me...wait a minute, I better check the carb content of these foods before I chow down.  First, the banana.  Since a banana does not have a food label I figured I better look it up in my resource book, and maybe recheck on Google.  One medium banana=27 g of carbs.  Really?  Then, I checked the skim milk.  Surely that can't be bad.  1 cup=15 g carbs.  Wow.   Finally, I checked the shredded wheat.   Uh oh.  38.4 g of carbs per serving.  Per serving???  I think I ate three servings in one big bowl!  I stood there looking at the food in front of me and decided to throw caution to the wind, try eating one serving of the shredded wheat with one cup of milk and forgo the banana.  Check my blood sugar in two hours, and see what happens.

Two miserable, slow hours went by.  Then, I went upstairs to confront my inevitable fate.  Two hours after a meal when you are first diagnosed with Type-2 Diabetes per ADA standards is under 180 mg/dl.  This is with an A1c of under 7%.  Any reading over 180 mg/dl, you have to "take action", whatever that means.  The ultimate goal is under 140 mg/dl two hours after a meal per AACE guidelines.  This is once you get your disease under better control with an A1c of under 6.5%.   I was nowhere near any of these numbers.  In fact, these numbers seemed like a complete fantasy and pipe dream to me.  The counselor, however, told me to start using the ADA standard for readings, then work my way to the AACE standard.

The last Wheat-Based Carb I Have Ever Eaten

189 mg/dl.

WHHHHAAAATTTT????!!!!!

That's it, I'm gonna die.  Literally have a coronary right here in my bedroom.  So, I have to take action? What action do I have to take for crying out loud?  Jesus, take the wheel.

In a panic, I called the diabetic counselor and tearfully told her my situation.  She calmly told me to drink some water, take a short walk, and take another reading in an hour.  If it's still high, call my doctor.  She then asked me what I had to eat for breakfast, and I reluctantly told her.  I remember her response as clear as day, "Yeah, shredded wheat is highly concentrated in carbohydrates.  In fact, most wheat products are."  I thanked her, hung up the phone, drank some water, took a walk around my condo complex, and after an hour, rechecked my blood sugar.  176 mg/dl.  PHEW!  I breathed a sigh of relief.

Her words, however, haunted me as I went through the rest of the day.  I did a lot of research and reading the rest of that day, in my resource book and online, especially TED Talks on YouTube.  Finally, I came to some glaring conclusions.  Do I REALLY need to eat wheat?  No, I don't.  I could live without it.  There are a lot of carbohydrates in processed foods too, like my favorite, granola bars.  Do I REALLY need to eat processed, sugary, carbohydrate-laden foods?  No, I don't.  I could live without it.  Could I live on fruit, vegetables, fish, lean meat and protein sources like eggs and peanut butter?  Yes, I could do that.  Could I try to use lower-fat versions of cheese and condiments?  Sure, I could do that.  On top of all that, could I also incorporate daily walking exercise?  Maybe do a little weight-lifting?  Could I commit to 7 days a week?  No excuses?   I definitely could do that.

So, I did.

And the weight started to fall off...

And my energy increased...

And I started to get the feeling back in my toes...

And I wasn't thirsty anymore or had constant dry-mouth...

And my vision came back clearer than ever...

And my blood sugar numbers started to gradually and steadily go down...

My body was beginning to heal.  I could see it happening right before my eyes.  I had analytical proof, in black and white.  It wasn't too late, after all!  Eventually, my mind and my heart began to come along for the ride on the healing train, as well.  CHOO-CHOO!  All aboard the healing train!  My depression began to lift, a little.  My anxiety began to soften, just a little.  But, enough to help me sleep better at night.  Enough to keep me from crying in the bathroom.  Just enough.

I might be on to something here...

Until next week...stay safe and well! 😀

Be a butterfly...🦋