Sugarless in NY

I went to the doctor in January for a blood test. I have a goiter…you know those massive grotesque objects in your neck that you see in science books and then go “ewwwww.” But mine’s not really grotesque. In fact, you can’t even see it, unless you cut my neck open, I assume. For those of you out there who are not in med school, a goiter is associated with thyroid problems, potentially making you a little more tired, OR A LITTLE MORE RACY, or…you just have a goiter, and it sits there, pondering life. You’d think I’d fall into the tired category as I’m world renowned for my sleeping expertise…one time I even pulled off waking up at 6 PM (after going to sleep at 12…I missed class that day in college, by the way). But luckily, I’m currently in the nothing category for the time being, though I still have to go to the endocrinologist once a year to see if the goiter got bored of pondering life and decided that life sucks and it’s time to start reeking havoc and pillaging the countryside. I should also add that every year when I finish my appointment at the endocrinologist the nurse says, “So what time is good for you next year? How does December 21st, 2008 at 1:30 sound.” And I would respond, “I think I already have plans that day.”

Anywho, as I mentioned in one of my earlier blogs, I HATE getting my blood taken. For some reason, the thought of sticking a needle, no matter how small, into a tiny vein, and sucking the blood from my body like Dracula, never went over well with me. I left my pediatrician and started going to an internist at about 20 years old–but I never seemed to mind the pediatrician’s finger prick blood test. The guillotine that your finger went in was always a bit intimidating…and it was followed by the excruciatingly infuriating “squeezing” of the finger tip in order to get the most blood out, like they were milking your finger or something. But I never threw up, nor passed out. Lo and behold, the first time I got my blood taken from my arm, boom. First time in my life I passed out. I didn’t even know what passing out felt like (how could people just fall down like that?) It wasn’t that bad at first. Then I stared at the needle some more. Then the room started moving. Then I was down for the count. Luckily, I woke up immediately. And vomited.

The second time I got my blood taken I improved considerably. The doctor thought it would be in my best interests to lie down, and my mom would hold my legs in the air to prevent any passing out. I didn’t pass out. I threw up though as my mom struggled to hold my legs up.

The third time went without a hitch. It was amazing. I think the doctor and my mom tried to distract me with inane banter. “So where did you go when you went to Europe?” Looking as far away from the needle as possible I would mutter…”Ge-Ge-Geneva…then Par, Paris…Burgundy…Mar-Marseilles…did I say Burgundy, I went to Bur, Burgundy too.” Eventually I was done. It was a success and I had conquered the blood test.

The fourth time I thew up. This was the test I took in January for my goiter. The nurse struggled to find the vein, and it all went downhill from there. It wasn’t a little kiddy spit up either, it was violent. So, you’ll understand my satisfaction when the nurse told me afterwards, “We’re gonna have to do it again, we didn’t get enough blood.” I knew I had to take it again, but the goiter wasn’t going anywhere. If I just ran out the door now, it wouldn’t be a huge deal, I thought. But I had to do it again…it wasn’t even debatable.

Apparently if you don’t have water in your system and you’re not properly hydrated the blood won’t flow as well. But isn’t not drinking implicit with the fast before the blood test? Nope. I took it again, though. I was miserable. But I didn’t throw up again…I guess I got everything out of my system the first time.

Blood test results. Just about everything was perfectly fine, and my goiter was a-ok! But my sugar levels were very high. Like, pre-diabetic high. No need to panic yet. Both the doctor and the endocrinologist suggested that a lot of stress could trigger a spike in blood sugar. Plus my month average, or something like that, was normal, and it was unlikely I’d be pre-diabetic in such a case. Well, stressed I was during the test. Not only had I just vomited violently, but I was considering jumping out the window to escape the next prick. Long story short, I needed another blood test to make sure.

This past Saturday I took that test. Since I didn’t know what the truth was, I had to play it safe for the past few months. I stayed away from sugar since January, my worst nightmare. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m close to diabetic, because I’m a sugar fiend. If you gave me a tub of ice cream, I could devour that like it was my job. In fact, I have eaten a tub of ice cream with my friend David once from Cold Stone. I love Cold Stone, and Haagan Dazs (it’s a made up word apparently!), and Carvel and Baskin Robbins, and Ben and Jerry’s. Especially Ben and Jerry’s. Can’t go wrong with cake either. Chocolate cake in particular. With chocolate pudding inside, topped with a warm coating of chocolate covered chocolate.

So now at Starbucks, instead of ordering the Java Chip Frappuchino, I’ll get the coffee. And instead of getting the Dunkin Donuts Milky Way hot chocolate, I’ll get the coffee. And instead of eating a pixie stick, I’ll cry. Sugar-free has to be the most unappealing phrase in the world.

I’ve been good. I’ve worked out and avoided sweets. I’ve been pretty bad with carbs though, which, allegedly turn into sugar in your digestive system, but I think that’s just witchcraft. Though I’ve been avoiding bagels and eating sugar free Irish oatmeal instead…not as bad as it sounds, actually…and made with real Irishmen.

Shockingly, the blood test went without a hitch. The nurse was awesome and I drank water beforehand. She could have taken my blood and then taken my wallet, without me even realizing. She did by the way.

I should get the results pretty soon. No matter what happens, I know the days of scarfing down cakes and ice cream are gone. I don’t have that strapping 13 year old metabolism anymore, and I still have to maintain my immaculate 13 year old physique of course. For the past month, Splenda has been my lord and savior.

You may have won this round sugar, but I’ll be back…I’ll be waiting.