You hear warnings all your life about the million different ailments out there and just figure it will never happen to you. I’ve been superman all my life; I rarely got sick unless I got close to my kryptonite, which is a scallop. As a matter of fact I find it strange to think that I even have an allergy with how rarely I ever get sick. Then your body starts to feel out of whack, you visit a doctor, have blood drawn, and you get that call.

I remember it was a hot summer day, as our summer days tend to be, and my wife was out with the kids. I was at home relaxing at the computer in the half zombie mode my body has gotten so used to being in since I was young. The phone rang and the caller ID showed my doctor’s number. I had been waiting for the results from my blood test for only three days. I’ve had many blood tests before and never gotten a call back, I was nervous to pick up the phone. Wishing my wife was home, I pick up the handset. My doctor’s nurse kindly explains to me that my tests results came back mostly normal but I had a really high blood sugar level. I explained, in a defensive manner, it wasn’t possible. I told her I didn’t eat anything prior to going to see the doctor that day. She paused in silence, seconds later she started to speak in a measured slow pace. My blood sugar was well above four times the average and if I indeed did not eat prior to visiting the doctor, it only means I should have more cause for alarm. I hung up the phone and slumped down in front of my computer.

I had the courage to pick up the phone without my wife around, but now I was a coward to let her know what was going on. I’ve been warned numerous times by her about my sugar intake. But, I was superman! Superman doesn’t get sick. I was in a downward spiral, both in terms of denial and my health. I had just recently started a third bout with Bell’s palsy, while speaking to the nurse the right side of my face was paralyzed. My paralysis being the reason for visiting the doctor in the first place. And still I continued my selfish ways, instead of thinking of how I would affect the rest of my family; I was only thinking of the sweats I would not have to eat. How would I tell my wife, I was scared; not only of what I had awaiting me but what my wife would do. Would she leave me, would she lecture me endlessly, or would she embrace me and try to comfort me? When my wife arrived I didn’t tell her, I wanted to but was too cowardly. I finally told her over diner, I just spit it out as if it were part of normally conversation. “By the way could you not pass me the sweet potatoes, I have to watch how much sugar I take in as a possible diabetic.”

I was foolish for being afraid of my wife’s reaction, I move forward with her support and the hope that my test results are wrong. The nurse’s call stated my blood sugar was high that day. In order to confirm me as a diabetic I’ll have to undergo another test. So for now as that day grows closer and closer, I spend more time with my family. I decided to exercise more, eat less, and stay away from sugars and any of its family tree such as starches and carbs. It is tough to not stop at a Baskin Robins in the sweltering summer heat, but all I think is one less gram of sure equals one less needle of insulin I’ll have to inject. Of course, I’ll have to wait to take the second test and get my results back.