Day 463: One Touch

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My eyes are fried. My wrists are already throbbing, and now I sit down to write this thing, from the recliner in the basement, in a horrible posture with the laptop on my lap; likely surrounded by ticks. Jeannette, who's now in bed -yes, with Blaze:more on that later- had one crawl across her wrist about two hours ago, when we sat down to watch Master Chef. I pulled eight more off Hubble today. The numbers are getting obscene. 88, I believe, though I don't have the board in front of me and certainly wouldn't get up for something so dull. What's in a number? The bottom line is, we're still under attack and the army hasn't been called in to help yet. 

But enough about that, though I'll say that if Jeannette wrote a blog that would be all she was talking about as well. Other than her gestational diabetes, which we're pretty certain she doesn't have. Or, if she does have it, having failed that first test, then I'll at least say that the actual protocol for dealing with it is absurd.

We were in talking to the dietician for two hours yesterday. She had.. a LOT of information for us, though not many answers to the questions we had ourselves sadly. 

She gave us a chart for all the foods Jeannette should focus on eating, with carb counting the central activity involved, and measuring cups, and a One Touch blood checker with pin pricks and supplies that are rather substantial considering you have to do it SIX TIMES A DAY. Her father, who has actual diabetes, the kind that takes you out, only has to do it once a day.

Honestly, it's like we went in there and they told us her body was a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment; she could eat a chocolate bar and two minutes later a 28 pound baby comes blasting out of her vagina; like the human body is a regulatory machine that must be tweaked and measured and gauged at all times, like a rickety old motorcycle you're hoping is able to survive to get you over the next hill, and all in pursuit to do what? To CONTROL the outcome of life.

We're at a non-starter right off the bat there aren't we.

What of nature?

Her and I both had the same reaction right away and made our feelings known, asking a bunch of questions. The dietician got a little defensive, which is always absurd to me, given the fact the whole point of this information/service, is that its just that; a service for the public. It's not an authoritative situation. A couple of times it felt like we were in grade school. She would have us repeat the information she told us, with mini-pop up quizzes, asking every five seconds if we were 'understanding' everything.. literally said, at one point, "now what do you do if the pee stick goes dark?"

"Um... call you?"

"Goooood."

Sweet, now where's my lolly pop? 

As I said before, I have no issue with medicine, nor doctors as a whole, nor dieticians, nor nutritionists, am related to many of them, with many friends as well, nor am I against any of the other professions out there involved in trying to keep people healthy and happy and alive and well. But when you're already skeptical of something going in, and you then hear the words, "you've got insurance right? Cause this gets expensive."

And then you hear statistics like the fact that 10-30 percent of women get gestational diabetes, and that it can lead to learning disabilities... (that would be a study I would love to read up on, the one that points eventual learning disabilities in children, three, four, five years down the line, with the direct link to gestational diabetes...) Never good when you then ask your follow up questions to probe a little deeper and you receive suspect, vague or non-answers in reply.

So we're doing a version of what we've been told to do by the stern woman who informed us, after much discussion. So far Jeannette has yet to have a single high blood reading, supporting once again, in my opinion, that her diagnosis is questionable. Of course Jeannette is more sensitive to this kind of pressure than am I, not wanting to have people tell her that she's not doing EVERYTHING she should be doing for her baby; therein lies the rub isn't it? That's how it grabs you, that fear of being responsible for some horrible malady of your coming child, which is, AGAIN the very foundation of the whole delusion. There are some things that are not under our control. 

You'd never say to someone that they're responsible for something bad happening when they did nothing but do what was, in the moment, the best decision made with the best intentions available to them at the time. Then what happens.. happens.

There is a place for all of this, a way for it to work together, there has to be. But we're not there yet. Not by a long shot. Encroachment is still too prominent among the various systems we've devised under the umbrella of our existing social contract. And when there is a lack of faith in the systems that encroach, you breed restless frustration among the population. That's more a fact of nature than of my own particular situation now, though I admit to being frustrated shortly after we left that meeting.

To make a sudden U-turn in the blog, not wanting to dwell on an issue that never translates well in blog form -unless I take a day and a half to craft it, which I should probably start doing soon- we had my cousin over today to watch Blaze. She came by after school which is ending very soon. It was the greatest thing in the world. Both Jeannette and I were able to work and do our thing and young master Blaze was put through his paces in the living room, tiring him out to the point that he collapsed a short time before she left and went right off to bed. 

He got up shrieking a short time after she left and is now once again passed out in bed with Jeannette; honestly, it's a losing cause trying to keep these two apart. I don't have the energy for it. The solution does seem rather simple, sitting here exhausted as I am, late at night...

We'll just have to adopt my cousin. 

Nite munks
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