Mmmm…I’ll go there for a moment, but not without a mild PTSD shudder…I was 57 years old when told I was T2. I leapt to my feet and yelled at my doc. And exited at high speed, not to return for a long time. Checked out every Diabetes book at the library, studied a lot and eventually got a meter, which lived under the glass of a cheese tray on the dining room table for a month before my beloved pharmacist and my husband helped me figure out how to use it.
That was in very early 2007. As much as my doc at the time was clueless and lacking in any kind of empathy, she caught me very early. So even though I fired her because I had to tell her that saying something nice when my A1c dropped from 6.5 to 4.9 in months, I thank her for the early catch…
In the previous fall, she had told me pre-diabetes (mostly dad’s genes) and prescribed that Damn Dash Diet, which I followed religiously, while continuing my regular exercise. That was before a major surgery, which changed everything in my life for the worse.
So I am very thankful she caught it early, and that I found TuD within 6 months to make adjustments. But I also find unforgiveable fault with her advice—which yes, did represent the uninspired thinking on the subject at the time…Enough…Don’t want to go back there…Shudder!