The number doesn’t matter, but I got my A1c back after another 15 minute chat with my endocrinologist. It’s not great, but it’s not terrible.
Driving through a downpour, the result of a tornado warning in Northern Virginia, I found myself trying to understand what my apathy means for my health. I’m still testing my blood glucose at least four (4) times a day, my Dexcom’s high alarm is still at 180 rather than the default 200 (and I’ve actually been debating the consequences of lowering the high alarm to 160, more on that later. Maybe.
I’m not apathetic about my health and I understand the consequences of my actions if I don’t take things seriously, but I’m facing a conundrum. When the results that typically begin conversations about our diabetes health vary by very small margins despite mountain-moving efforts, it’s hard to get enthusiastic about a 6.8 versus a 6.6. I know my perspective is a little different than other members of the diabetes community because, obviously, I can’t have kids. When you’re planning a pregnancy and living with diabetes, A1c has a bigger meaning. There’s a greater purpose to working for better control when you’re talking about bringing life into the world. But, as a guy, it’s a little bit harder me to find the motivation to work for that .2 or .3 on my bloodwork report. I imagine this problem exists for women that aren’t planning a pregnancy, but I’ll let them chime in as they deem appropriate.
So here I sit, counting down the next 3 months until I go through the paces at my endocrinologist’s office. It’s entirely likely that I need a new voice to help kick things in gear. I got the name of a local Certified Diabetes Educator from my endocrinologist’s office. I may call. I may not.