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Liveblogging the Glucose Tolerance Test

On Tuesday I had the enormous pleasure of having the 1 hour glucose tolerance test. I hadn’t necessarily planned on doing it that day, but since I was in the medical building already, I didn’t need to be fasting and I wasn’t going to get out of work early again for many, many weeks, I took the opportunity to get it over with. And it was a real treat.

I had been warned about the drink, told that I would only have 5 minutes to down it and that it would make me feel weird. And wow did it ever. As I sat alone in the waiting room, bored out of my mind and with very spotty internet access, I decided I should probably record this experience for anyone who has never had the pleasure of completing it. These are the notes from my phone from that wonderful hour of glucose fun.

4:28: I checked in and was told that if I had arrived 2 minutes later, I’d have had to come back another day. I’m wondering if this is a good sign or an omen of things to come.

4:31: I am taken back to a little waiting area just outside of the normal waiting area and handed a lightly chilled 10oz bottle of orange something or other. In big letters it says 50g of sugar on it. I feel almost like this is no big deal. I knock 50g of sugar out in 5 minutes all the time.

4:32: Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. This tastes like Triaminic cold syrup from my childhood which wasn’t so bad in tbsp full doses. The other pregnant woman who got her drink at the same time as me is done. She did it in 2 sips. I have taken 8 sips and still have 8 ounces left, at least. She can have a trophy if she wants.

4:34: This is what they should use in interrogations. Torture.

4:35: My nurse takes out a piece of gum and apologizes that she can’t offer me any. I think little of it at the time as I have 1 minute and several gulps left.

4:36: I’m done, and told to go wait in the waiting room. No food or drink for an hour and they’ll call me back at exactly 5:36 to draw my blood. Awesome.

4:38: The baby woke up. There is an epic dance party happening in my uterus.

4:40: I feel…weird. Like, I might be bouncing a little bit. Or buzzed. Maybe sugar is the new booze.

4:44: I’m definitely bouncing now. Holy sugar high, Batman.

4:50: The aftertaste of that drink is absolutely horrific. I suddenly want to track down that nurse and steal the gum right out of her mouth. Except that’s gross. Also, WHY CAN’T I SIT STILL?

4:56: The woman next to me just changed seats. Apparently she does not like my constant movement. I’ll blame it on the baby.

5:00: My bouncing is slowing. I’m suddenly in a war with the bouncing baby to see who has more control over my bladder. Must find a bathroom right. this. second.

5:05: Won the war with the baby, back in seat. Starting to feel calmer.

5:15: The calm has morphed into epic exhaustion. And seriously, the aftertaste. I would drink another bottle of that stuff just to get this taste to go away.

5:19: If I just lay on the floor of the waiting room, would anyone make me get up?

5:22: All of a sudden, I’m sweating. Everywhere. There is not enough deodorant in the world for this.

5:24: My feet are sweating. If I’m going to lay on the floor, I may as well do it barefoot, I mean really. My dignity was lost at least 40 minutes ago.

5:27: A boy just had a seizure in the waiting room. I am now free from all sugar and am living on adrenaline.

5:29: The boy is okay, mom and dad declined 911. Coming down from a sugar high and an adrenaline high is NOT MY FAVORITE. I’m now shaking for entirely different reasons and also feel a lot like throwing up.

5:30: I will not throw up. I will not throw up. I will not throw up, because I will NOT do this all over again.

5:32: Maybe if I sit in the little waiting area they’ll call me back early.

5:33: They won’t. Not even if I give them puppy dog eyes.

5:36: Finally.

5:38: I’m done. I have a horrific headache, I’m sweating out my eyeballs, I’m somehow extremely hungry and I have to drive myself home.

6:00: Home. Dead. Decide that if I fail this test, I’ll take the gestational diabetes diagnosis and eat better because you’d have to pay me a million dollars to do the 3 hour version. And I’m pretty sure you’d have to pay the entire waiting room too. Holy moly.

I’m now awaiting the phone call with results from the doctor. Fingers crossed that that drink and I will not have to cross paths again for several years because I’m really not sure I’ll be victorious next time.

Photo from Cardinal Health

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