Blood On These Hands

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Blood
Just a few drops, mind you. Lately I have had my fill of the sight of blood and bloody clinical procedures. This is a blog rant so be warned.

I’m a sweet gal—literally—I have borderline abnormal blood sugar levels. This is a condition that, my OB-GYN cheerfully tells me, is brought on by the onset of pregnancy. For women who have a predisposition to gestational diabetes, that’s not a good thing. So lately, my over sweetened condition sent me to an internist who specializes in endocrinology, diabetes, and metabolism. All three evils. After more than four hours of waiting when I could have gone into sugar shock (kidding) the young-looking lady doc happily informs me that I have to monitor my blood sugar levels for 2 weeks. Ergo—I prick, I bleed, I record. So this is what I have been doing for a little over a week now. Two fingers on one hand are full of needle holes. Two bloody readings per day. That, and having to watch what I eat is driving me nuts. I shouldn’t complain, I know. But I’ll be glad when the two weeks are up and I’m pronounced clean, so to speak. I don’t want to cross that border into gestational diabetes and have to shoot myself up with insulin, no way. Plus, there’s the threat to the baby.

I’m thankful to have a super duper girl friend who went out of her way to help me borrow a glucometer. From thrilling sources, no less! Truly, the coven of motherhood has choice member privileges. Now I must be a good girl and be mindful of my diet, it’s the decent thing to do. Arrgghhh.

So if thebeebox seemed forlorn these past few days, I’ll have you know I was losing blood over it. Haha.

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