Oh Baby Baby!

I recently went in for my three hour gestational diabetes testing. I know, I should have just skipped the one hour and gone for the longer one because I always fail the one hour. When both your parents are diabetic, you just expect it. Also when both your parents are diabetic, you also research everything you can about it and count every ounce of sugar and carbohydrates that enter your system. I mention all this before I enter into the tirade against the hospital.

Here were my numbers: fasting - 100 (5 points over); 1 hour - 169 (9 points over); 2 hours - 135 (5 points over); 3 hours - 97 (3 points under). if you ask me, those are pretty good numbers. I had an off day for fasting, but even non-diabetics are excused for one day of odd fasting numbers and where I went over was just by a few digits. No cause for alarm. And definitely not time for an intervention.

But I get a call the next day from the hospital saying I have gestational diabetes with someone reading me a script about what it means and that I am going to meet with a nutritionist and a nurse and have a blood meter ordered and this and that. Now I'm not a conspiracy theorist by a long shot, but I'm beginning to have some empathy for them. I said I have a blood meter and would use the same one. They said no, we're going to order you a new one and by the way there's a co-pay of $65. Hello? Am I the customer here or not? Are you really working in my best interest?

Also, they have a class I have to attend on Thursday afternoon. And so it goes. Besides the fact that they're going to employ a social worker to ask me if my husband beats me. (Because stress can cause gestational diabetes, get it?) I mean, seriously, this has gone far enough. You give them an inch and they want to take over your life.

By the time this was over, this gestational diabetes "help" I would get would end up costing me close to $250 (including co-pays, meters, babysitting, etc.) and a lot of heartache and stress for something I could do on my own!

So after a few minutes of handwringing and bitching on my part, James says, Why don't you call them and refuse? You are the customer. You can decline to meet with the dietician; you already know how to manage it on your own and did it very successfully the last time. Hmmm... never thought of that. I called back and declined. And the next day, they still call me and say, but we put in an order for lancets and test strips for you. Conspiracy theory, anyone? Hospitals are big business and the standards for supposedly good health and made higher and higher so you just can't get there without drugs.

I'm just sick of this whole game. I just want to have this baby already!