In Search of Presence

Thursday, March 6, 2007, 9:05 PM. Blood Glucose 9.7(!!!), 2000mg daily of Metformin.

9.7! That's the highest in weeks. I guess the whole wheat buns at Earl's aren't as whole wheat as they could be.

Friday, January 22, 2008, 10:00pm. Blood Glucose 8.8 (okay, so I knew I shouldn't eat the cream of broccoli soup at Quiznos... but so good), 2000mg of Metformin daily. Still with the headaches.

So as of eight weeks ago, Shar and I pregnant. Well, six weeks plus two. The way the conception date is measured is bizarre to me, but it gets set from the end of the last cycle, not from the moment of conception. I guess maybe this makes sense, but we are pretty sure we can pinpoint the conception, and it was closer to six weeks that eight. But anyway...

Shar reads this blog called dooce. On it, the women writes a monthly letter to her daughter so that she (the daughter) will have a mom's eye view of her childhood. Also, I imagine that a leather bound version with embarrassing pictures will be kept around to show to the high school boys that she is brave enough to bring home.

Now, I don't know if I will be able to be consistent enough to write something every month. It seems like every time I look up from my keyboard these days that I am three month ends behind again. But an occasional note from daddy on the joys experienced during one's demonchildhood might be appreciated in later life. Plus, I expect that by the time the little bundle of miseryjoy may wish to know that at one time, /his/her/its parents where young, hip, and cool. Err. Or boring and crazy... however you wish to interpret it.

So some might consider this bad luck to be doing this so early in the pregnancy. Or even during the pregnancy at all. But since I am a thoroughly selfish person who is only doing this for himself and not for him/her/it anyway, I am going to go ahead.

So, without any further ado:

Dear <Future>Squalling</Future> Parasite growing in my wife's belly.

I have wanted this for so long now that I can't remember when I first wanted to be a dad. I'm sure it was sometime in my late teens while I was working at a bible camp that I realised that I truly enjoyed spending time with young adults, being a role model and older friend. Or maybe it was watching Ed with his two kids, and realising how much love they had for each other, and how willing they were to bring me into their family.

But whenever it was, I have been bugging your mom to do this for nearly fourteen years now. It's okay. She's always this slow. You'll figure that out.

So now that you are on your way, I find that my self assuredness and confidence has fled. I am nervous. I have a lot of ideas on how to raise kids (You'll find that Daddy has a lot of ideas about everything), but now I wonder if I will be able to put those ideas into practice, or if the overwhelming force that is a baby will shatter my ideals into a sleep deprived million pieces. I wonder if you will hate me, or find me not charming and funny, but dorky (I know I'm a geek, but somehow the thought of you thinking me a geek sits awkwardly with me). I worry that I won't be the cool, video game playing dad that you and your friends like, but that I will be the dad everyone makes fun of. I dread the day that you or one of your friends kicks my ass in an online match...

Anyway, you aren't even big enough yet to have significantly grown Mommy's waistline (no matter how much she claims to need new jeans because of you). But I look at your two little cousins, both of whom are going to be within two years of you, and I realise that I am going to have soooo many conversations with their parents about what trouble you talked them into. I just suspect somehow that, being the product of Shar and I, you will be a little trouble maker.

Anyway, that is all I have for this one. I hope these letters end up meaning something to you one day. I know I would have liked to have had something from your Grandma that would have let me get to know her as an adult. Maybe, whether I am here or not, you can learn something about me from these letters that being your Dad clouded from you.

Sleep well, little one. And if you feel the urge to kick Mom in the bladder, you have my permission.

Love,

Dad.

2:23pm, February 9, 2008. Blood Glucose 6.3, 2000mg daily of Metformin.

So I went to the specialist on Tuesday. Apparently, I have moved my blood sugar into the asymptomatic range. Which is a little confusing to me, since it is still higher than I thought it was supposed to be, but hey, he's the specialist. He told me that it is probably a result of both my diet and the medication, but mostly the diet right now. He congratulated me on that, but warned that lots of people start off well, but end up going back to their old ways once they start feeling better. He also told me that I should start taking my glucose tests before and after meals, so I can see how different foods affect my blood sugar.

My fingers look like I'm a chronic heroin addict who doesn't know you aren't supposed to use your fingers.

Anyway, the specialist was confused as to why I wasn't feeling well. He told me I should be doing fine. My response, of course, was that I'm not doing fine. I find it interesting that when presented with this piece of information, he kinda shrugged his shoulders and told me I'd feel better soon.

And I do, sorta. The last two days I have felt a little better. Or, rather, I have felt better for longer, before I start feeling my pulse in my left eyelid and I start feeling like crap.

It has surprised me the number of people who look at me confused when I say that I feel my pulse in my eyelid. This is something that happens to me periodically, and then generally goes away. It never really occurred to me that this may not happen to most people.

I mention the pulse in eyelid thing because I have been watching a lot of House. So I, of course, am paranoid that I might have some other illness other than diabetes that is causing the eyelid thing and the fatigue and the weird not-a-headaches I have been getting. So I go to webmd, and type in "pulse in eyelids". It was not reassuring that Lupus is the first search result, btw.

Anyway, I think I am probably going to feel better over the next little while. I am getting a handle on eating more frequent meals, and I am slowly getting used to the idea that everything I love to order in restaurants is bad for me. Next time I will talk about how much I hate that restaurants don't seem to get that 5% of the population is diabetic, and we can't fucking eat 95% of what they have on their menus. Then I will also talk about how much I hate when people afflicted with a specific disease or issue crusade for tat issue, and how much of a hypocrite I am.