I sit here in the doctors waiting room writing this piece because here I am yet again in for another appointment, this time I have the absolute pleasure of enduring a glucose intolerance test. If you don’t know what that is it’s a a test the nurse does to determine wether or not you have diabetes in pregnancy, also known as gestational diabetes which is just a massive inconvenience and another nail in the bloody coffin for a lot pregnant women.
So why am I having this done? Basically any women with a BMI over a certain number is offered this test because their chances of developing the condition are higher. Basically if your a fat fat fatty like me your getting this test! Whoppeee fucking doo something else to add on check list of hundreds of appointments had so far. Another bonus of being overweight, being fat is just the gift that keeps on giving!
So I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything but water after my dinner the night before the test which I was absolutely bloody thrilled about as you can tell. I DO NOT and I repeat I DO NOT start the day any other way than with a cup of tea so waking up knowing all I had to look forward to was some crummy old water was fucking thrilling. I could practically hear the kettle screaming my name. It took every ounce of my being to ignore my tea cravings and carry on as though my cupboard wasn’t full of teabags calling out to me.
Anyway off I went to the doctors surgery armed with a flask of tea and a mini roll to have once the test had finshed. It was only 9:30am and the nurse was already running late which really got my back up because it was cold and I wanted to be anywhere but here. It was finally my turn to get called in. First things first was a blood test. Which stung like a bitch (Yes I’m a wimp when it comes to needles) so after I was done having the blood sucked out of me I was given this very large drink of orangey substance that I had to down. Christ this is it isn’t it, this is where I throw up all over the floor. If the surprise orangey drink wasn’t enough of a treat I had to go back into the waiting room to try and get this down my neck infront of a waiting room full of paitients wondering what the fuck I’m doing. All I could keep thinking was please don’t vom on all the oldies sat next to me, they prob have a hard enough life without being sicked on by some strange pregnant women.
Anyway I managed to get it down me (Just) It tasted like a mix of capri sun and cough mixture, very appetising! NOT anyhow the rules were made very clear to me I cannot leave the surgery while I wait for my next blood test which was scheduled in 2 hours time! 2 hours!! Sat in a mildly uncomfortable chair in a very cold waiting room. So what else to do other than stick my earphones in and watch a couple episodes of wentworth. I spent the whole time thinking about that flask of tea that was in my bag willing myself to just hold out abit longer and I will be rewarded with the long awaited hot steamy goodness.
2 hours later with my fat arse still sat in the same mildly uncomfortable chair I get called back in for the second round of blood sucking fun Horray! Almost time for that hot mug of steamy tea! Blood test number 2 scratched just as bad as the first one, plasters on both arms feeling very run down tired cold and vulnerable off I headed for home , after being poked and prodded I couldn’t get out of the door quick enough so I made my way out of the surgery and headed for home. Not before I poured that hot cup of tea into my travel mug and downed the whole thing before I barely made it out the door. Awwww heaven! Off I went home freezing cold because my coat won’t do up (Dam baby) rushing as fast as I could having enough of life already with 2 sore arms a sore belly from having to drink that orange shit and I finally made it home and went back to bed for 2 hours.
Less than a week later and the results are in…
Drum roll …..
I do NOT have diabetes! get in! Now where’s the chocolate cake to celebrate.
Z
Xxx
The Z word 