Watching the Monitor

Since late May I have lost almost 11 lbs. That loss has accelerated since I began using the Freestyle Libre 2, the continuous glucose monitor. Like my old Fitbit, I am constantly checking my progress through the day, scanning the monitor dozens of times. The bad news is that my glucose levels are not good. For instance, this morning at 5:30 I ate a regular-sized bowl of pumpkin seed, flax and chia seed granola. I also had a peach.  I had already woken up with my

blood level higher than I would like, which is common for people measuring their glucose levels. I didn't eat again until 2:00 p.m., because my levels were shit for the next 9 hours. Just before I ate a snack at 2,  my glucose level was 130. I ate a handful of lightly salted mixed nuts. It should have minimally impacted my sugars, but instead they cranked up over 150. Blood sugar should be below 120. 

So, I stopped eating lunch. There is no way, given the propensity of my body to maintain high sugar levels, that I can snack or eat a meal in the middle of the day if I expect to even get into the neighborhood of "it's okay." So, until today, for the last week, I have had at least 12 hours between my meals. Today was the first day I snacked--and won't do it again.

We never had a scale in any place we lived until Jenny was needing to monitor her weight as she was disappearing. So, apart from doctor visits, I just hadn't used a scale. Now, I climb on it every day.

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At almost 57, I still don't know the purpose of life. I suppose, given my lack of religious belief, that life is what you make it, or perhaps more accurately, life is what you make it from where you are situated and subject to the vicissitudes of life. Truth be told, I expect I will never know, and the idea that there should be a purpose goes right up there with there has to be an Easter bunny or Lazarus was brought back to life through a

miracle of Jesus. What I do believe is that we should be kind to each other, should help one another, and to show patience and compassion toward others. 

 As a young kid I was compassionate. As a teen, I was schizoid. As an adult, I have done my best to show compassion as much as I can. I used to volunteer. A lot. I used to do politics a lot. I used to believe I could make a difference. I no longer believe that in a larger sense. But I can make a difference by helping others, by lending a hand. I am so fucking isolated, I am sick of it.

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