As part of my increasing good feeling from walking, I decided it was time to get a medical checkup. After all, it had been a couple of years and I knew that was not good.

Overall, the checkup had good results. But there was the dreaded D that was confirmed. I had diabetes!

My mother was diagnosed with diabetes when she was 60 and was equally upset. I didn't realize at the time what that meant. But over the course of the next 20 years I watched her health decline. Now I realize that diabetes was the start of it all.

As I spent countless weeks in hospitals at her side, in nursing homes, or helping her as she recovered in our home, I remembered thinking - I don't want to end up this way!

So when I got the diagnosis of diabetes, I feared it was the beginning of the end - a long, slow downward decline.

It was confirmed when I got my first glucometer. I hated the whole process! My fingers hurt from the pricks. They were discolored from the bleeding. The test strips were expensive. And I hated every minute of it!

Likewise, I resented having to change my diet. I knew I should, but I felt like I was eating more sugar - just to prove a point. Besides, I wasn't quite sure where to begin, so basically I did nothing. I just pouted, tested my blood sugar, and kept walking. But I felt like I was just bidding my time...



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