My diabetes life begins

I couldn’t put out the fire in my body. No matter how much liquid I drank, I couldn’t quench my thirst. I was living in New Jersey, about an hour west of NYC, and I couldn’t take the bus to the city for work. I couldn’t go without a men’s room that long and, in those days, there was no facility on the bus. A nurse who lived in my neighborhood suggested I might have diabetes and recommended I see my doctor.

I didn’t have a doctor. I was 39 and in the peak of health, at least I thought I was. I made an appointment with my son’s pediatrician.

The doctor examined me and then did a test for blood glucose. This was before the days of the fast BG meters we have today, and it took time to get the results. He asked me to sit in the waiting room until he had my test results. After a few minutes, his head appeared at his examining room door. He looked at me and in a loud voice said, “YOU HAVE DIABETES!”

Everyone in the crowed waiting room, filled with mothers and children, was startled by the announcement. They looked around to see who the doctor was speaking to. Needless to say, I was shocked and embarrassed. I wanted a hole to open in the floor to suck me in. Although I was stunned at the doctor’s poor behavior, I managed to get up and leave his office, never to return.

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Will Ryan on 25 Nov 2008
He got my attention

Like many diabetics, I went into denial after being diagnosed with diabetes. I was mildly concerned about my disease, but knew almost nothing about it and concluded that the less I thought about it, the better.

About a year later, I separated from my wife and moved into NYC. This was a fresh beginning. I even started seeing a wonderful Consulting Physician who taught at Columbia Med School. He prescribed an oral medication that was intended to stimulate my pancreas to produce more insulin.

About a year later, when I was 41, the doctor said during his post-examination, “You might make it to age 50…but you might not have your legs or arms and might even lose your eye sight!” Clearly, he got my attention as I exclaimed, “What can I do?” His rapid reply was, “You’ve got to lose weight.” I was nearly 230 pounds and was five feet nine and a half inches.

After gaining my composure, I asked the doctor, “How much should I weigh?” I will never forget his response, and I offer it here for other overweight diabetics or pre-diabetics who are reading this. The doctor said, “When you stand naked in front of a full-length mirror and like what you see, you’re there.”

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