A numbers game
I hate math. I do. It took me a long time to be able to admit it, but that’s a fact. Strangely I come from a family of finance guru’s, CFOs and doctors. I guess not only did I get diabetes, I got the anti-math gene. I can essay my way out of a black hole, but ask me to figure out anything more than balancing my check book and how much tip to leave and we’ve got a problem on our hands.
Yes, I know, diabetes and math go hand in hand. Carb ratios, correction boluses A1c’s and weekly averages. I never paid attention to the averages on my meters, just what my A1c clocked in as. I am generally pretty happy and pretty consistent with my A1c so I leave it there. Although, the pump makes getting those numbers and averages easier than ever. So I’ve started to pay attention just as a general point of interest.
I was sick for a bit over the past month and I noticed my averages starting to creep up. A tell tale sign that the A1c that I generally find acceptable may be a bit higher than anticipated. Once I was feeling better, I started eating better, and have been pretty happy since then. Last night after a marathon house cleaning session, I checked, 103 again. I thought that I’d take a peek at the averages just to appease my curiosity. It had been lingering around 158 when I was sick, so I was psyched to see a 110. wow, 110. That’s fantastic. Then in there I found myself confirming what I have though for some time. It’s not that I don’t like diabetes math. It’s not that I can’t do the calculations, it’s my deep down fear that when I do get things figured out, I won’t like what it says.
When I was a kid I was relentless with not getting my A1c done. I have hidden, shredded, burnt, and flushed lab request forms. I’ve faked fevers and “lost track of time” until the lab closed more times than I can count. Still to this day, I often pass out when getting blood drawn. I would always think that maybe its that little rubber band, maybe the sterile glow of the fluorescent bulbs humming oh so quietly, or the fresh out of phlebotomy class technician that can’t quite find the vein. Sure, I suppose those are things that no one likes. But to me it’s the office visit a few days later, seeing in hard cold black and white my “overall indicator of health” on a stark white piece of copy paper that really is at the heart of my apprehension. I find it overwhelming that all of the finger sticks, all of the good food choices and all of the worry can be whittled down to one number. (I know I know, I’ve been told time and time again that it’s just a number and there are many factors that indicate health and wellbeing etc… bla blab bla… I don’t believe it.) I am working on believing that my test results are a tool and not a test. There is no pass or fail, its just a guide. My problem is that I didn’t get D’s in school, and I certainly don’t want to get D’s with my health.
But for now, I will bask in the glow of my 110 average and make friends with my inner math goddess.
Yes, I know, diabetes and math go hand in hand. Carb ratios, correction boluses A1c’s and weekly averages. I never paid attention to the averages on my meters, just what my A1c clocked in as. I am generally pretty happy and pretty consistent with my A1c so I leave it there. Although, the pump makes getting those numbers and averages easier than ever. So I’ve started to pay attention just as a general point of interest.
I was sick for a bit over the past month and I noticed my averages starting to creep up. A tell tale sign that the A1c that I generally find acceptable may be a bit higher than anticipated. Once I was feeling better, I started eating better, and have been pretty happy since then. Last night after a marathon house cleaning session, I checked, 103 again. I thought that I’d take a peek at the averages just to appease my curiosity. It had been lingering around 158 when I was sick, so I was psyched to see a 110. wow, 110. That’s fantastic. Then in there I found myself confirming what I have though for some time. It’s not that I don’t like diabetes math. It’s not that I can’t do the calculations, it’s my deep down fear that when I do get things figured out, I won’t like what it says.
When I was a kid I was relentless with not getting my A1c done. I have hidden, shredded, burnt, and flushed lab request forms. I’ve faked fevers and “lost track of time” until the lab closed more times than I can count. Still to this day, I often pass out when getting blood drawn. I would always think that maybe its that little rubber band, maybe the sterile glow of the fluorescent bulbs humming oh so quietly, or the fresh out of phlebotomy class technician that can’t quite find the vein. Sure, I suppose those are things that no one likes. But to me it’s the office visit a few days later, seeing in hard cold black and white my “overall indicator of health” on a stark white piece of copy paper that really is at the heart of my apprehension. I find it overwhelming that all of the finger sticks, all of the good food choices and all of the worry can be whittled down to one number. (I know I know, I’ve been told time and time again that it’s just a number and there are many factors that indicate health and wellbeing etc… bla blab bla… I don’t believe it.) I am working on believing that my test results are a tool and not a test. There is no pass or fail, its just a guide. My problem is that I didn’t get D’s in school, and I certainly don’t want to get D’s with my health.
But for now, I will bask in the glow of my 110 average and make friends with my inner math goddess.
posted by caren at 10:24 AM
4 Comments:
"it’s my deep down fear that when I do get things figured out, I won’t like what it says."
bingo.
110. Nice. Very nice.
Nice average :)
If Brendon ever gives me the "why do I need to know algebra" complaint, I'll tell him why.
I've never done so many equations in my life until he was diagnosed, LOL.
thanks for the support! :)
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