So I’ve been having insomnia, lots of joint pain and neuropathy. I go to see Linda, my DO, last week and she does a crap load of lab. Her office calls me on Tuesday and says that my blood sugar was 320. She starts me on damned metformin and says come back in two months for further lab. I ask if I need to be checking my blood sugar and she replies in the negative. She doesn’t tell me when to take the damned metformin. The pharmacist told me to take it with my biggest meal, which is usually supper.
Earlier, Dawn tells me that I should be checking it two hours after I eat, to see how the damned metformin is working. So I buy a monitor thingie at Walfart. My sugar, two hours after taking the damned metformin, is 550.
When I was in high school and college I was known for a saying I’d use when things were less than good: “Whoppie shit!” Well, double whoopie shit. Whoopie shit cubed even. As my dear Dawn said earlier tonight as I ranted: “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt…”