My diagnosis of pre diabetes was a shock.

A diagnosis of any illness can be a shock for anyone but my diagnosis of prediabetes was not only a shock, it also came about in an unusual way.
I had gone to the optician, basically, to get a pair of replacement spectacles. On looking at my notes, the optician noticed that I had not had my eyes tested for over two years ( ho hum). I was, therefore, told that I would need to have a new eye test before they could sell me new spectacles.
I duly submitted myself to an eye test, which was quite rigorous and involved the use of some new fancy machines that I had not seen before. One of these machines, they claimed, took images of the back of my eye.
It was one of these images that got the optician quite animated. She pointed to a spot on the image and asked ‘can you see that?’ Of course, I first thought this was part of the test, if I could see it then there was little wrong with my eyesight. ‘Yes’, I said, not really being sure what I was looking at but it seemed to be a white dot set apart from a long white line. The long white line I assumed, correctly, was a blood vessel. The dot? The optician assured me that it was a piece broken off from the blood vessel.

Something broken off from a blood vessel did not sound good. And it wasn’t … the optician informed me that this broken blood vessel could be caused by high blood pressure or diabetes. She then told me that she would make a referral to my doctor for me to have a blood test to check for high pressure and for diabetes.

I have to admit that my response was, how should I say, less than enthusiastic about this. I hoped my lack of enthusiasm would show through to the optician, failing that, I hoped that my admission that I’m squeamish about blood and needles, would appeal to the optician’s soft, caring side. If she had one!

A week later, I received a phone call from my doctor’s surgery. I was told on this call that they had received a referral from my optician and that they had an option of two dates for which I could have a blood test. With some reluctance, I opted for the later of the two dates.

When the date eventually arrived, I duly attended the appointment armed with a urine sample and a determination to be brave and not to pass out at the sight of a syringe or blood, especially my own blood. The nurse tested the urine sample, it was okay, she next measured my blood pressure, which was not okay but was rather high, and which I excused by saying I was nervous about being at the doctors!
I think she believed me.

Next she took my blood sample. I shall not explain the procedure, except to say that I was a ‘big boy’ and didn’t pass out or do anything other than to look away throughout the whole time, which was only a few seconds.

I was sent away and told to return in two weeks for the results and, in the meantime, I was to record my blood pressure twice a day, each day, and bring the results to the next appointment.

All was good(ish)

So, all was good(ish), it seemed, apart from the blood pressure. Oh and I was a little overweight, but I knew that already.

I did not have to wait the full two weeks for the results to start coming. One day, I received a text message from the surgery, saying that the blood test had shown that my liver was not quite right and they would like to do a follow up blood test. Heavens above, I go for a check on blood pressure and possible diabetes but then they tell me my liver is faulty, whatever next?

Another blood(y) test

I then made a date for my second appointment, which will now also include the follow up liver test. This means that I will now have to have to have more blood taken, so I’m not in the best of spirits. Just to make matters worse, I get a second text to say that the blood test shows I am prediabetic and should arrange a meeting with the diabetes team at the surgery.

Without giving it a thought! I contact the surgery and arrange not one but two meetings with the diabetes support team. The first is an introductory meeting and the second is a follow up or more in-depth explanation. So suddenly, I have three appointments arranged at the surgery.

Alcohol?

Oh, I forgot to mention that, following the first text about the liver, I had decided to stop drinking alcohol, just in case that was the cause, or part of, the problem with my liver. I had never been a heavy drinker, in fact I think I was quite a light weight when it came to drinking but giving up alcohol was the only immediate action I could take.

I was a big boy, again

Anyhow, the follow up blood test was done and I was a ‘big boy’ again. The results came back to show that my liver was now ‘okay’. So, I assume the lack of alcohol was a good idea!

The results of the first blood test had revealed that I had a HbA1C score of 44. This is right in the middle of the prediabetes scale, so there was little leeway for arguing any mitigating circumstances. At least I was not at the top end of the scale or in the type2 diabetes range. However, it seemed, that I was now at risk of developing type2 diabetes. I told myself that my maternal grandfather had developed diabetes and that my mother, too, had seemed to have it, so there was a fair chance that I would develop it. That, I know, was just me trying to explain it to myself and trying to rationalise it as a way of coming to terms with the situation.

I still had the two meetings to come with the diabetes support team. It was these that would shock me even further…