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Hitting 110: Dealing with a diabetes diagnosis

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110.
That number can mean so much to so many. It can be the average temperature of an Arizona summer day (I grew up there, so I know). It could be your average golf score. To some, it could be your ideal weight. I think it’s also an L.A. freeway.
What does it mean to me? Well today it means I hit a milestone, and it just happens to also signify an anniversary — a month since I’ve been diagnosed with diabetes.
Yes, I have it. I’m a 44-year-old Latino with diabetes. My blood sugar was 110 this morning. Big deal you say? It is to me.
By initial blood work showed 299 — on an empty stomach. Not good.
Doctors say normal is between 70 and 130. I had gotten my blood sugar down to 132, but I couldn’t break 130. I began to think it was just psychological, because I had changed my diet, limited carbs, eaten even more salads and fruits.
And I gave up regular soda, and my midnight snack of Pop-Tarts! Now my treats are sugar-free popsicles (actually pretty good, especially Fudgesicles).
Still, I couldn’t break 130. Until today. Did I starve myself on Father’s Day? No, my wife got me a steak and shrimp dinner from our Perko’s (we live in Delano). And I ate a baked potato — the whole thing. I passed on the dinner bread, though!
I was slightly worried that my blood sugar would top 140, but I was pleasantly surprised this morning upon poking my right ring finger. 110. I was almost as excited as when my son and daughter got their first hits in Little League.
Diabetes has certainly changed my life.
For the better or worse? Well, some days seems like the worse. But while I was outside playing my son “street tennis,” which then morphed into a game of “whiffle ball” in the front yard, I would certainly say better.
Why? Well, because I was able to play without losing my breath or energy, almost non-stop for 45 minutes. My son, meanwhile, decided to take several “water breaks.”
He’s 7.
It helps that I’ve dropped 32 pounds. How did I do that? Well, the diabetes had a lot to do with it. How else could I eat boxes of Pop-Tarts and gallons of ice cream and lose weight?
I started dropping weight in March. On my 44th birthday April 25, my wife noticed that I looked sick. I was tired, but thought, it was just age or maybe the fact that I was coaching my son’s baseball team and my daughter’s softball team.
Finally, in May I pulled out the scale from it’s hiding place and put it on a level floor, making sure it was perfectly aligned on that big zero.
Last time I weighed myself, I was 237. The heaviest I’d ever been was 244. My 5-foot, 10-inch, large-boned frame seems to conceal weight. I guess it doesn’t  hide weight loss that well.
In my head, I was hoping the scale would stop at 225. I hadn’t been that light in probably 10-12 years. That would be great. Maybe, I’d be 220. Wow, now I’m dreaming.
The scale spins around and lands on 32, black! Winner! (OK, bad roulette humor).
Actually, it hit 210. Yeah, I got off the scale, and pushed my hands down on it, making sure it was set on zero. I went and got my kids and weighed them (they had been at the doctor the week before, so I knew their weight).
Both my kids hit their weight within a pound. OK, so the scale was accurate. That didn’t mean anything, did it? When I told my wife, she immediately made me a doctor’s appointment t. That’ll teach me!
The doctor asked a lot of questions, and I gave him a bunch of vague answers, like most men do. Does he really know more than me? Well, he tells me to give some blood and return in two weeks.
The next day I “fasted” for 12 hours, and gave three vials of blood. Two weeks later, I was back in the doctor’s office after much worry. I was a little relieved when he told me it was “just” diabetes. I was thinking  cancer or worse.
My mom has had diabetes for almost 15 years, and her mother had diabetes for 30-plus years. My Nana Olga died of heart issues at age 83.
So, what are the positives of diabetes? Well, I’m down to 205 pounds. Haven’t been that light since 1990 — I was 25. I’m eating healthier, thanks to counting carbs (bad potatoes, rice and bread!). Before, I was just counting the number of beers I would drink at a party, or count how many McDonald’s French fries I could shove in my mouth at once.
Fast food is now a thing of the past for me. And my family has cut back dramatically. Sure, it’s a lot more work feeding me and the family. Whole wheat pasta. Diet soda. Egg beaters. Sugar-free this and that. Salad for lunch, dinner and snack!
Do I miss my Pop-Tarts? Oh yeah. Can I believe I dropped from a 2XL to an XL and in some cases a simple “L.” Oh yeah. It’s a balance. Sure, my pants are now just hanging off me. I had a 40-inch waist, now I fit into 36-inch pants/shorts.
My family is trying to walk the track at least three times a week. And my mom, who takes insulin and is supposed to be checking her blood sugar four to five times a day, is doing just that. She is managing it better, and adhering to her diet now that she has someone to “share” her disease with.
I only check my blood three times a week, and take my Metformin daily. I don’t need insulin yet, and I’m hoping it will be quite a while before I have to inject. Mostly, because I hate needles!
My main motivators: my wonderful wife, Maria, who made me go to the doctor, my son, Aidan, and daughter, Alysa, who both want me around a while.
On Father’s Day, Alysa had a stomach virus. As I helped my wife, clean Alysa’s vomit, I couldn’t help but think that this is the reason why I need to stay healthy:  Just to be a dad and help my wife take care of my son and daughter. And not my wife and children taking care of me.