Didn't See That One Coming.

"And what are you here to see the doctor for today?", the nurse asked; her eyes remaining on the three-inch-deep pile of paperwork that is my medical file. 

It's a question that gets asked at every visit, even though I'm always there for the same reason.  "Oh, just the usual diabetes check-up, you know?"  I watched her scribble a few things down, and then she asked what medication I'm taking, which I always have to struggle to not laugh at.  "Well, it should all be the same as the last time.  Do you want me to list them all again?"  She shook her head.  More scribbling.

She checked my blood pressure - 126 over 76 - and we talked about pregnancy (hers in the past, and the one I'm hopeful for in the future).  She drew some blood.  She wished me luck, and left the exam room.  I relaxed, and waited.

The wait was so long that I began to wonder if they'd forgotten I was in there.  I Facebooked, I Twittered, I checked my blog stats.  I browsed the forums on Juvenation.  I considered reading an issue of People, but decided against it.  (Magazines in medical offices have to be some of the most germy things out there.)

Eventually, the door swung open, and my P.A., "D", walked in, smiling like usual - except this time, there was a little something behind that smile.

"Hi Kim!  How are you?"  We exchanged pleasantries, but she knows me well, and got to the point she knew I was anxiously waiting for.

"You know we checked your A1C today, right?", D said, with a bit of teasing in her voice.

"Yep!  How'd I do?" 

"Guess."

Oh, this game.  We do this every time.  Like always, I had brought all of my "reports" - the Dexcom data, two weeks of logs I had downloaded from my pump and meter, and my pump settings.  Jim's memories of the past two months led me to believe that I might have actually broken the 6.5 line, and I went a little bit gutsy with my response.  "6.3?"

Her smile broke into a grin.  "Nope.  Guess again."

I turned my head slightly and squinted at her; disbelieving.  "6.2?"

"Nuh-uh.  Guess again."  Her grin grew even wider, as did my eyes.  "What?  Seriously?  Okay, I can't guess anymore.  You'll just have to tell me."

There seemed to be an inaudible drumroll.  Then....  "5.8!"

My jaw hung open, and the corners of my mouth slowly turned up into a goofy grin.  I started laughing.  I didn't know what to do - but she did.  D wheeled over and showed me the proof, right there on the lab report. 

All I could do then was let out a single "Huh", and then, "Are you sure that's right?  I mean, I figured I'd be lower than last time, but... wow.  Wow!"  She assured me that it was, indeed, correct.

I don't remember what we really talked about the rest of the appointment.  I was in too much of a daze - first shock, and then amazement, and then realization - that I'd finally achieved that impossible dream I had of an A1C under 6.  I still can't really believe it, even as I'm typing this.  I know she asked me if I was having a lot of lows (I asked, "Um, define 'a lot'?"  We determined I was doing okay.), and she wrote me some new prescriptions.  She told me that she was proud of me, and of all of the hard work I'm doing.

My head was swimming with thoughts, with one treading water a little bit better than the others:  that's a great baby-building number.

On her way out, she chuckled.  "Well, I think I can guess what you'll be blogging about tonight!" 

She knows me well.