Sorry, Wilford Brimley

I failed the glucose tolerance test. After all that confusion, I could have drank the damn cup of coffee with real sugar and it wouldn't have mattered. I don't know why I failed but I did. I could attribute it to the fact that I ate jalapeno poppers and other unhealthy things the night before, but it's all moot anyway. The nurse called me Friday morning to tell me that I had to take a second test that is three hours long, and you have to have your blood drawn four times throughout the test. And you are a prisoner in the St. Joseph's Medical Center basement. Wow? That sounds great. I thought I was getting spoiled with the pelvic bone pain and terrible heartburn. I figured I'd get this thing over with sooner rather than later, so I went in on Monday morning. For 14 hours prior, you can't eat or drink anything other than sips of water. That means no poppers. That part wasn't so bad, since I was asleep most of the time. What was bad is that as soon as you get there, they draw your blood. Then they give you a whole bottle of the gross orange syrup that you have to drink for the first test, then only being a tiny cupful. I chugged it. The nurse was impressed. She even commented on how I didn't even have to stop to take a breath. This ain't my first rodeo, lady. Normally it's a mixed drink when I'm being rushed to leave to go to a different bar. So I sat there for three hours, doing the Star Tribune crossword, reading a book, and occasionally watching Law and Order SVU. (Ice-T is a terrible actor by the way.) No internet on my phone because I was in a virtual dungeon. I shouldn't complain because it wasn't THAT bad. As soon as I got home I immediately ate a piece of leftover Domino's Pizza. It's still not that good. Oh and if you're wondering about the "new" taste, they changed everything but what I don't like about it, the mushy cheese. Anyway, now I have heartburn again, but I do have good news. I passed the test! No ordering diabetes supplies from our good friend Wilford Brimley! I think I'll go pour myself a glass of straight Hershey's Syrup and toast to passing the test. Who knows, I might even cross the nurse who told me I looked "full term" and asked if I was positive there was "only one in there" off of my To Kill list. We'll see.