Now pass me the cookies!
Last week at my 28 week doctor’s appointment I had to take the dreaded glucose test. All I really knew about this test going into it was that the purpose was to test for gestational diabetes and the drink was disgusting. I met Collin at the house before we headed up north for the appointment and I chugged the drink as quickly as I could so we wouldn’t be late. Surprisingly, it didn’t taste nearly as bad as I was expecting. No, chugging it wasn’t the hard part for me. Keeping it down on the ride to the clinic? Now that is a slightly different story. I could feel it sitting in my throat and although I didn’t actually throw it up, I would have forgone my fear of puking to have gotten rid of that feeling.
When we got to the clinic I went first to the lab to have my blood drawn and then headed up to see my doctor. The appointment went well, we were still measuring on target and I got my questions regarding episiotomies and drugs answered. You know, the important things….what kind of drug options do I have? When I left the appointment the results from my glucose test were not yet in. Before we even made it home, however I had a message from the clinic asking for me to return their call. I knew immediately that the results of the test were not good. And I was right. My numbers came in at 164 when they want to see your levels below 140.
Yesterday I had to return to the lab for a 3-hour glucose test. The test started at 9 am with a fasting blood draw followed by another lovely cocktail. This time I choose fruit punch, and honestly, it wasn’t half bad. I got it down in my allotted 5 min time frame and then I plunked my butt in the waiting room, which is where I’d spend the rest of my morning getting up once every hour to have another blood draw.
I was working on thank you cards and watching Henry Paulson make his speech regarding the financial bail out when the nurse came into the waiting room to call in another patient. She looked at me and asked if I was doing okay and right there, in the middle of a full waiting room I told her, “Yeah, but I feel like I might puke.” And I followed with a “Would it be okay if I puked?” By the look on her face I knew that no, it would not be okay if I puked, it would screw up the whole test. So I assured her that I’d be fine and returned my attention to the TV. Right at this time is when a man from the other end of the lounge said “Oh, too much information for me” and from the corner of my eye I could see him return to his book. I’m still unsure if he was referring to Paulson’s speech (it was kind of information overload) or the fact that I just told a waiting room full of innocent bystanders that I was about to loose last nights dinner.
Thankfully, the need to vomit passed after the first hour. During the second hour I came down off of my sugar high (which they told me would happen) and I felt dizzy and extremely tired. It was during this hour that I was certain I was going to have to call in sick for the afternoon. There was just no way I was going to be able to function at work like this.
But, by the time I made it into the third hour that too had passed and I felt like myself again. Actually, I felt really good. Better than I’ve felt for awhile, I think because I put myself to bed early the night before. By the time I had my fourth and final blood draw I was good to go. I treated myself to lunch and then went back to the office.
This morning I finally got the results to the test and I am so happy to say that my numbers are normal and for now there is nothing to worry about. Yeah!!
Wait. There is one thing I need to worry about. How quickly can I get a milkshake here? I’ve been craving ice cream - soft, creamy, full of sugar, ice cream - all week simply because I knew I couldn’t have it.