View from a plastic chair

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Because I takes meds for various things, it's necessary to go back and see the doc every 3 to 6 months, depending what's going on. Diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in December I did really well at first, eating well and losing about 20 lbs.

Then my mom got here.

With less time for shopping and preparing healthy food, once I went off the wagon I went the opposite direction and totally started medicating with food. Long day? I deserve Taco Bell. Awful day at work? I deserve ice-cream. A day off? I deserve to indulge. At work - have to get on that conference call? Wait - lemme get a candy bar first. Have to drive to the nursing home? Get some Skittles for the road. So, going to the doctor today I wasn't looking forward to what he had to say about gaining weight again.

Surprise! When he asked what was going on I answered with some variation of "Stress. Stress at work, stress at home, stress stress stress." And then I started to cry. And I absolutely had no idea going in there that I was feeling on the edge of well .. anything.

Queue the box of Kleenex while I dried my eyes and my doc tried some lame distraction-aimed conversation. How embarrassing. But oh, was that ALL that was going to happen? OF COURSE NOT.

Hopped up on the table and sat while the doc listened to my heart, my back, took my blood pressure, etc. I remember thinking "geez .. enough deep breaths already ..." and "am I going to pass out? A hot flash? What?" Sat back down on the chair and realized .. "Hey doc - you have something to test my blood sugar?"

Off I went to the little lab area where the nurse fumbled all over the place to find the right strips for the right meter and my doc (apparently a chocoholic I found out) brought me a Kit Kat to eat once they determined it was low blood sugar. Sigh-h-h ...

So there I was in an area normally considered a biohazard area eating a Kit Kat and drinking some diet coke, sweating profusely, flushed, and feeling a bit woozy. God was THAT attractive!!

When I made my way up to the desk to make a new appointment and pay my mom's bill, the receptionist came around the corner and said "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you - you look great!" She must have seen the shocked-don't-have-a-clue look on my face so she said "BetteJo, right?" My brain started sluggishly going through files .. someone I went to high school with ... someone I know from work ... nothing was registering. She continued "You used to have short hair right?" "Er .. yeah .." "Right! You really look great!" I thanked her, still having no idea what change I might have made other than to grow out my hair .. or who she must have thought I was. I still have no idea.

Bizarre.

She went into the computer and pulled up my mom's file and told me the amount she owed, telling me what a good daughter I am - and how good I looked. It was surreal. Home now, feeling kind of hungover and headachy. And I've sent my son off to get me a grilled chicken sandwich on chiabatta bread and a cannoli with chocolate chips. After this day, I deserve it, don't I?




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