My Endo is Super


I didn’t particularly mind seeing my endo as a kid….it was usually an excuse to get an entire afternoon out of school!

In my late teens/very early twenties, however, I hated it.  My control was….pretty much nonexistant.  And instead of having a helpful, compassionate, and supportive endocrinologist….I was seeing a real jerkwad (who incidentally was also stuck in the time of sliding scales and Lente) who didn’t seem to give a crap.  When your doctor doesn’t give a crap, why should a patient feel inspired to care?

I don’t mind endocrinology appointments now – I have a super endo.  I’ve been seeing him since late 2007.  I was by no means under control then, but I had finally made the switch from the jerkwad and I was trying to find my own way to be inspired to care about my diabetes the way it needed to be cared about.

I’ve come a long way since then.  My endo reminded me of that today – in past appointments (ie when he first started seeing me) he would worry aloud about me and my diabetes. Now we have time to talk about other things – what’s happening in my life in terms of work and school and marriage.  We talked about a common acquaintance we apparently have. DIabetes was the reason I was there, but it wasn’t the be all and end all of the appointment.  Yes, he went through my basal rates and suggested some changes. Yes, we talked about my blood work. Yes, he looked into my eyes and checked the sensitivity of my feet and lower legs. We talked about a CGMS, but I informed him (very sadly) that I cannot afford one.

The end of the appointment made me think the most about the comparison between appointments now and appointments back when I was out of control: my endo was looking at a graph of my A1c levels since I began coming to that clinic and was marveling at the change. He said he was ‘pleased as punch’ with me and admitted that from here on out he’s just a coach for me – that there isn’t anything glaring he NEEDS to teach me about diabetes. He said that when he first started seeing me, after I’d leave the appointment…he’d sit in front of his computer and think ‘What am I going to do with her? Can I even help her?’  He assured me that he hasn’t thought that way in a few years now. Then he did the funniest little happy dance (picture a skinny little Indian man wearing a mint green shirt and an orange/green bow tie dancing in a tiny exam room and you get an idea of how hilarious this was).

Any time a doctor happy-dances for me….I don’t mind going in for an appointment.

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