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“I’m telling you...this is it.” Dr. S was emphatic. I was discouraged and because I’d been fasting for a blood test, irrational and overly emotional. It was January 3rd and already my second doctor appointment for 2014--not how I had anticipated starting the new year.
"Your insulin levels are four times normal,” he incredulously, but firmly stated, “the highest I’ve ever seen.” He pulled up my lab work: there were absolutely no indicators of cancer. I could only keep doing what I was doing; removing most of my pancreas could help, but that would lead to diabetes--it wasn't even an option. "You lost three pounds! That's incredible with the numbers you have--it proves that its working. It's going to take a while--probably many months."
I was out of ammunition...I was tired...I wasn't changing his mind..."I trust you."
On Sunday, I was reminded of a dream I had in June 2012, shortly after the super-duper-clinical-trial-scan came back all clear:
At a gas station, I ended up in an ink-blue colored car exactly like mine, except with a bench seat. Dr. S was driving and I was in the back leaning over to the front seat and, pointed left and told him he needed to go that way--down a brick road that was almost too narrow for a car--between tall Europeanesque buildings. The brick was deceptive and turned into mud...we got stuck a bit and slid around, but with his experienced driving skills, we got out easily and kept on going. Then he turned right onto a broader more modern road that in the distance intersected with the road we’d been on prior to my insistent directions. Dr. S turned around a bit, smiled and held up a sealed manila envelope, “I have the directions, the map, on the way to go.”
For the past week, I’ve been tracing the root cause to my myriad of symptoms...and all roads lead to: hyperinsulinemia.