Dodging a Bullet

We're not talking about steers anymore.  We're talking about me, and speaking of dodging bullets is excessively dramatic, but I feel like I escaped a grim prospect nonetheless.

A little over a week ago I had an A1C test, which gives an indication of whether a person's blood sugar has been under control over the past few months.  Normal numbers should be below seven.  Mine came back at 13, indicating that my blood sugar has ranged between 200 and 300 over the past few months.  (Below 100 is the goal.)  When the doctor called me, she gave me instructions to increase my dosage of Metformin (generic Glucophage) by one additional daily dose.  She also wanted me to take diabetes education classes, monitor my numbers with a daily finger stick and blood test,  and redo the A1C test in several months.  She would call in a new prescription to begin after the current meds are all gone.

I was surprised at this turn of events, not having noted major changes of late, but I supposed this was just part of aging and my luck having run out.


Today I got another phone call from the doctor.  "I have good news and bad news," she said.  "The lab made a mistake, and your A1C was actually six instead of 13.  The new number is the good news.  The bad news is that the lab made a mistake, and we apologize. We'll go on just as we've been doing with the medication, and you don't need to take the diabetes education classes."


Whew.  Now if that heart murmur she heard would just go away . . .