Now more than ever, the evidence is stacking toward an indisputable fact that I may have become diabetic. Crazy. I haven’t had an uninterrupted sleep for the past three weeks, always needing to void hour by hour at night. My lips are parched most of the time, and though constant hunger has not been one of the hallmarks in my case, I do get hungry, yet cognizant of the perilous disease I might have launched myself into, I eat less.

The malaise and the sluggishness and the fatigue, yes, like nothing I’ve experienced before.

Now a definitive test would be the A1C, and I can almost guarantee that I have arrived at the diabetic level. I was pre-diabetic before and it only takes but a little bit of a push from there. No thanks to me, I made a push for the worst. I only have me to blame.

Self-torment will do me no good. And doctors, they’ll, give me meds faster than I can refuse them. So doctors are out of the picture, for now.

Hey, I’ve dug this hole for myself. I’m going to climb my way out of it.

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