My birthday — 46 is in a few hours. 46 bothers me. 46 is the year my father was diagnosed with congestive heart failure after being diagnosed with diabetes 3 years earlier — the same birth year I was.
Granted, that was 36 years ago, and a wealth of knowledge and technology has come along since then. When he was diagnosed, they told him not to eat sugar and sent him home.
In my case, I was sent home with oral medications and told to make an appointment with a CDE service as quickly as possible.
I’ve got blood sugar monitors, and the pump. Stuff they didn’t even dream of giving to a Type 2 diabetic. Oh, I’m not even sure they had blood sugar monitors — it was 1982, and they darn sure didn’t have pumps. They didn’t put Type 2’s on insulin. I think he had a urine test but I’m not sure of that even.
My goal is to avoid my father’s fate as much as possible by keeping the best control I can.
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