So while “vacationing” in State College, PA last week, on a whim I had my mother test my blood sugar after the b-day cake. It was astronomical. Test again later: same. Test after ‘fasting’ in the morning, still high. Make an appointment for the croaker. I go in today. Yup. I’m diabetic as fuck. (Best way I can think to describe it.)

Fill the script ($4 for a month’s courtesy Wal-Mart). Pop a pill. Bring home a pile of “information” (thinly veiled adverts for the drug companies). Do some googling. There’s a lot of information out there, most of it conflicting. Anyways, tested before dinner and got a good reading after only one pill (500mg Metformin for the win!).

I’m not especially concerned. I’m getting pumped about turning over a leaf diet- and exercise-wise, and don’t have very far to go. Loose a few pounds, eat a bit healthier. Should be manageable. Every single blood relative on my mother’s side is or was diabetic – can’t say it’s a surprise. PITA, sure.

*SHRUG*

But don’t expect a bunch of diabetes-related posts. I’d much rather write about my car or dog.