Last you heard from me I was carrying around vagina gel.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
I didn't like that very much, but you know who liked it even less? My vagina. Poor thing had a rare allergic reaction to it and...well..swelling ensued. It was a sad moment and the lady who took my phone call at the OB office said it was the first time she'd ever heard of such a thing and that I was officially the most interesting call she'd taken.
Look on the bright side I suppose.
So now I'm giving myself weekly shots. In the butt. It's glorious, it really is.
I'd moved past that trauma. My vagina forgave me. But apperently the ghost of Wildford Brimley was pissed about all these years I've laughed at him (I know he's not dead, work with me here), because I didn't have a good time at the doctor this week for my lovely 'beetus test.
Mind you, I look like a walking diabeetus case, I know this. But I've always basked in my fat girl glory when I've passed, with amazingly flying colors, my glucose test. I took it Tuesday. I was told it'd be at least Thursday before I got results, maybe Friday.
I had a missed call at work on Wednesday and listened to the message. First & foremost, the lady identified herself as from the local high risk office...the same office I saw when I was pregnant with Joel & who should still be fearful that I'll show up & burn the building down at some point. I was instantly pissed that I'd missed this call because I wanted to yell at this person for calling me. But it was entire message that really pissed me off.
"Hi, Mrs. Culver, I'm BLAHBLAH from Baby Death Perinatal Center & I was calling to set up a time for you to come in and be seen by one of our doctors so that you will be allowed to attend our diabeetus program for you diabeetus. Thank you."
First of all, she really did call it "diabeetus." Second, wha?
This, my friends, is how I found out I had caught the gestational diabeetus. I call my doctors office, who can't tell me why on earth no one from that office would have called me. I had to see a different doctor that usual, so my results went to him & his nurse should have called me...but didn't. Then there are several other problems with this. First of all, I didn't just have bad results. I apparently went for the gold of diabeetus because my fasting number was almost twice what it's suppose to be. And then I almost hit 300 after the glucose was ingested. I never knew I was that sweet.
So now I get the honor of poking myself. And trying to figure out what the hell I'm suppose to do. See, that other office has a diabeetus class & all that good stuff. I'm actually willing to go to that, however they REFUSE to let me sign up for anything unless I agree to be examined & also seen from time to time by the doctor who...um...ruined my life. So my doctor had to find another nutrition place willing to take me without being seen by Dr. Death, which took a couple days.
So far I'm flunking diabeetus. My fasting numbers are the devil & are constantly shocking to the office when I call. They hover around 150-ish. I even tried testing before bed, just because I was curious if I started out high, but they are always average before bed. Things that have gotten the OK also shoot them up. I had chicken. That's it. Chicken. Plain. And just over an hour later I was about to pass out at work & when I checked my sugars (I sound like an old person), it was 216.
I joked after I found out about the 'beetus that I'd just live on strawberries. Turns out, that might be true because they are the only thing I seem to like that doesn't shoot my numbers up out of the normal range. My target is 140 or less an hour after a meal. There have only been a couple times I've hit that. It's depressing when I feel like this will be the time it'll be good because I've been so good about what I've ate or drank, then I get this awful number. Then I want ice cream to comfort myself, which I can't have.
I fully expect to be medicated by next weekend. Doctors office wants me to chart it all for a week (yay, iphone apps!), & go from there. They are hoping that once I get in the swing of changing that I eat & such that it'll get more stable. But, if not, I'm going to be on who knows what. Not my idea of a good time. And all of my inernetting has taught me that no matter what, if I don't get that fasting number corrected I'll be on meds for that at least. I'm really excited about this whole thing.
Fuck you, Wilford Brimley.
Reid says hi though.
All 2lbs, 13ozs of him. And his THREE INCH LONG FEET. Apparently my 'bettus went straight to his feet.
C-section is set for 7:45am on 6/15/12. But I have a feeling it'll be a week before that, if not two, depending on how this 'beetus thing works out.