Happy Hokey Romance Gestures Day, my little gluten-free lovebugs. I hope you all are gorging yourselves silly on all the finest GF candy you can find. I'll be abstaining from my usual V-Day sugar coma, but more about that in a minute.
This week (Feb. 12, to be exact), my CD diagnosis hit it's terrible twos. So I figured it would be fitting to post about it, and pretend that I didn't just go off the grid for a couple months. It's winter. I'm hibernating. I've crocheted armloads of things, watched a lot of Doctor Who and rekindled my love of all things fleece.
Oh, and then there's the whole hypoglycemia thing.
I know. I know. How does someone whose diet rivals Buddy the Elf have low blood sugar? But apparently, it's a thing. I'm not a doctor, but something about dramatic swings in blood sugar from doing things like not eating all day and then making a box of cookies dinner. Yes, I know that is a bad choice. But sometimes you need candy. And cookies. And if you're me, that sometimes is all of the time. I kept rationalizing my spiraling sugar problem - "it's okay, I can't have gluten." Until things got so out of hand that I came damn near to blacking out a couple of times in less than a week. Off to the GP I went, and when she wasn't happy with my labs, she sent me to an endocrinologist. The good thing is that the endo's pretty convinced that my hypoglycemia is all a product of being a sugarmonster and not eating regularly, since there was nothing in my labs to indicate anything else wrong with me. Thyroid? Fine. Adrenal glands? I'm a cortisol-producing superstar. The bad thing is that it worked pretty well for three weeks, so now I have to "limit" my sugar intake indefinitely.
So, instead of hoovering an entire bag of Hershey's Kisses today, I will be celebrating the day o' St. Valentine by letting Luke cook me up a delightful dinner, and then promptly whooping his butt in Scrabble.
Because, sometimes, the best things in life aren't food.