Like a child, learning his A-1-C’s.
When I was a kid, I used to get postcards like this in the mail every three months, roughly a week after my visit with the pediatric endocrinologist. Although I don’t remember it exactly (the above is a re-creation; my mother might have an original stashed in her basement somewhere), a few things I remember really well.
First, it was pink (not that it matters, but it did make it stand out among the pile of junk mail). Second, it was a postcard, which meant everyone from my mom to the mailman could read it (this is long before HIPAA). Third, that final blank always had the words “too high” penned in.
Tomorrow I get the results of my latest A1C test. I’ll get it face-to-face, not in a postcard, but I’m sure the words “too high” will still be applicable.
And, for some reason, I’ll try really hard to keep my blood sugars under control for the 24 hours before I go to see the doctor. It won’t make a difference; he’ll download two weeks of data from my pump anyway (and the blood for the A1C, which doesn’t gravitate towards the most recent day, was taken a week ago anyway), but it’s one of those dumb rituals I have. Like brushing and flossing my teeth really well before going to the dentist, to make him think that I am this great all the time.
It’s a senseless habit, but I always want to go in to see my doctor on good terms. But since it’s a reason to do well, even if only for one day, it’s a habit I choose not to try to break.