Well, hell.

I actually have stronger words to use than "hell", but I feel crappy enough right now that it doesn't much seem to matter. The long and the short of it is that I have finally had my wake up call. Or as I like to refer to it, "The swift kick is the ass followed by repeated kicking while I am down".

I was officially diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes last week. November 30th to be exact. I knew it was coming from the blood work I had done at my OB/GYNs office a couple of weeks before, but now it is official. The irony is that I should have been running the half marathon last weekend. If I had actually followed through with that training, it might have prevented all of this. Instead, I started new medication, feel like shit and am hoping my body will hold out long enough for me to turn this health crisis around.

Because Type 2 diabetes just isn't enough. No...I have to do things the right way. Go big or go home and all that. So I get to add on a fatty liver (with elevated liver enzymes), high cholesterol, high triglycerides and, the current most fun one, high blood pressure. The blood pressure that was normal in the doctor's office three weeks ago is now high enough to require meds. That make me feel like absolute dog shit, by the way. Add obesity and you have a trifecta. Or a quintafecta. Whatever. Fun times.

Even more exciting, I got to tell my mother in person this weekend when I was home (for the half marathon that my friend actually did follow through with and run). It went how I thought it would - she cried and worried and told everyone at work. Which made me feel fantastic. I certainly wanted to be trying to make her feel better about it all while I am scared to death and trying to hold it together myself.

On the bright side, I think I got the message. I would really like to stick around for a while and see my kids get older and spend some time with my husband. I know there are plenty of people who have the whole host of problems that I have plus some, but this has kind of felt like a death sentence. I finally realize that this might not end well if I don't get my shit together. Scary stuff.

So in the meantime, I try to deal with the bad medication side effects, watch what I eat to control my blood sugar and weight, exercise a little when the meds allow, ignore the constant chest pain (which is likely reflux that I probably need to go have officially diagnosed) and try not to freak out about my mortality.

Some days are better than others. I am looking forward to getting through this storm and coming out on the other side (relatively) unscathed. I am hopeful that it will happen.