Anyone who knows me well knows that I have diabetes. And that as a “foodie”, this disease is the very bane of my existence. I have my peaks and valleys in my fight against this disease, and right now, I am kinda in a valley state, which is not good. It was only four months ago or so, that my doctor called me with the good news that my labwork was wonderful on all fronts for the very first time since I was diagnosed three or four years ago. (Yeah, I was in such denial about the diagnosis, that I never memorializedtak it – on my calendar or in my brain – and EVERYTHING gets put on the calendar! EVERYTHING.) I was working out (well, sort of), trying to eat better, more diabetes-friendly meals (operative word: trying); taking my various medications as prescribed and all sorts of stuff. And the results and report was a good one. So, you would think this would motivate me to keep on doing what I was doing, right. I mean, according to the childhood fable, THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE, slow and steady is what wins the race, right?
But we live in a “fast food/microwave/instant gratification” world. And I wasn’t getting the results I wanted quick enough. Why get up 30 minutes earlier every morning to work out with the Wii Fit if the weight was going to continue to fluctuate within the same range of 10 pounds? Why take my medications when the numbers of my test say that everything is fine? Why watch what I eat if I don’t feel any better and the pounds aren't dropping off and who can remember that schedule of what to take in the morning and what to take at night and what needs to be taken with food and…? See where I’m coming from? So, I stopped.
Dead in my tracks.
No more exercise. No more taking of the meds on a regular, consistent schedule. Not as much concern about what I ate or when I ate it. And the time of my three month checkup was looming.
Now, you know when you aren't doing the right thing that there will be consequences. I knew my test results would not be anywhere near where they needed to be or where my doctor was expecting them to be, so I delayed (and delayed) setting the appointment – like that was going to make 3 months of bad behavior disappear and make everything better. Uh…no. It don’t work like that. My meds ran out and the only way to get a prescription refill: go see the doctor and get the tests done.
I won't share my test results. They were about what I expected: not good, but not horrific. My doctor, bless his little ole heart, didn’t fuss too too much. But he did write me a brand new prescription: GET MORE (some) EXERCISE – on an 8.5x11 sheet of paper. Think he was trying to make a point?
So, once again, I am (slightly) motivated. But the question is: How do I sustain the motivation? Any suggestions are greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance and be blessed.
