More better.
It was another long, hot, summer day in Portland and the neighbors had created an impromptu block party on one of their porches. One of our neighbors offered a fellow from down the street a second beer, but he politely declined.
“Nah buddy, thanks but I’m trying to get healthy. I’ve been focusing on eating better, drinking less, and working out more. I saw the doctor a few weeks ago and he said I’m pre-diabetic. Pre-diabetic! Can you believe that?! I kinda freaked out about it. I mean, I never thought I would ever hear that from a doctor. That really hit me hard. But, I’m really trying man.”
It’s hard to convey the underlying sense of urgency and panic that loaded his words, but it was clear that indeed, this had truly hit him hard. He went on to talk about the fact that he didn’t realize that he had gotten so unhealthy, and that he didn’t realize that a diet of beer and grilled steaks coupled with a sedentary job could be the recipe for Type 2 diabetes at a relatively young age. He had always associated it with those who were very old and very overweight.
I didn’t chime in and let him know that I also have diabetes, but that mine won’t be solved with a healthier diet and more activity. I wasn’t in the mood to explain that mine was caused by an inexplicable and irreversible assault on my beta cells, or to get into specifics in that very moment. I did offer words of support for his healthy lifestyle changes and let him know that just about all of us are capable of doing a little better with the food and exercise thing, and that a wake-up call from a doctor can be a blessing.
What was so refreshing about his comment was that this was a person who truly realized he had a opporuntity to intervene. He had taken to heart that he was in the “pre” stage and that he had time to turn it around for now with lifestyle changes. And interestingly, I also found myself feeling a twinge of jealousy. Why does he get the kind that might not last forever? Diet and exercise only? If that was the case for me, I’d be living on the treadmill with nothing but carrots and chicken breasts for meals. But I also realize that it is because I truly know the burden of insulin-dependent diabetes that I can even feel that kind of jealousy for someone who’s got options.
But mostly, I was stoked for him. Stoked that he had a chance to intervene, stoked that he wanted to intervene. Although it’s not awesome to get that news, it is awesome to actually do something with that news. Too often with both Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes we don’t hear about people taking action until something really bad happens - a hospital visit, a wound that won’t heal, or maybe something even worse. And the bottom line with diabetes - whichever kind you have (they all suck by the way) - is that our only job is to get up every day and try and “do better .” That is, actually, good enough, and all anyone can ask for.
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(Sometimes) it’s that wakeup call that works, isn’t it? For me it was a picture of myself at a barbeque, sitting down, with room on my ample stomach to set down a beer (or two, or three). That was the day I said “I think I’d better go ahead and loose some weight .. about half would be good”.
And if someone had said half a year before that “Hey, you need to loose some weight”, I’d probably have called them an inconsiderate idiot.
And I suppose if the motivation is your own, rather than something prescribed by media/doctor/family it’s more likely to succeed.