The Good, The Bad and the Hell Yeah!!

Well, after not seeing my diabetes doc for 2 years they finally netted me like a gazelle and made me come in. Actually, it was not intentional, I just slipped through some sort of medical crack, my prescriptions kept getting renewed online and I happily thought everything was jolly and was bounding through the fields with not an enemy in sight.

Bad news, blood sugars were up 2 points.

Good News, she's pretty sure it's related to an imbalance in my "stress hormones"... well effing duh!!

At one point she asked, "How long has it been since you two have had a real vacation?" Koiboy and I looked at each other and said, "three years?" She rolled her eyes and said we needed one, but when I asked for a doctor note for my boss saying I needed a vacation stat, she surprisingly didn't give it to me. (Yes, I let Koiboy come in on my appointment, but I made him stand way down the hallway like a trained dog when they were weighing me )

Bad news, liver enzymes where up, but that's related directly to the sugar shit.

Good News, with my minimal Wii fit hula hooping, panda bear dodging, sword swinging exercise I have not only achieved a gold star status, according to that Hal like girl voice on the wii but lost I have 5 pounds!

Bad news, she's making me see the OBGYN and since I'm turning the big 4-1 next week I need to get a mammogram (which I should do anyway). Not since Koiboy and I were riding the chlomid 'let's get pregnant" train have I had someone digging around my lady bits and I'm not so sure in my grumpy old age I won't say something put-offish or flat out rude.

Good news, even though I have diabetes and have already past through the gates of menopause hell at the tender age of 35, both are huge contributors to heart disease. BUT since my bad cholesterol came back freakishly and inexplicably low, she's willing to strike one of those marks thanks to my fish oil, oatmeal and sans bacon behavior.

So this weekend? Like with the blood of virgins, I will allow myself to bathe in the salty finery of bacon. I will not go near a vegetable unless it is dipped in something creamy and fatty and enjoy the plethora of Superbowl sales of all things bad for you.

The bad news? I will not regret a mouthful of it but it will only last a weekend.

The good news? Me and my squeaky clean arteries are goin' into the weekend happy campers.