Okay, so maybe I should have a better title that does not involve profanity. But, seriously! NO gd-GD!
Who is your daddy?
I was at lunch with a friend, what we were calling my farewell lunch as I had already determined that I would have diabetes by the end of the day.
The phone rang.
It was the doctor.
I pick it up with a, "I have diabetes, don't I?"
"Excuse me? Is this Mrs. Cagle?"
I sigh... "Yes, this is Mrs. Cagle. I have diabetes, don't I? You can tell me. I can handle it."
"Actually, no. You don't."
"SHUT! UP! Seriously?"
"Seriously. No diabetes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yep. You're in the clear."
I high-five Alice. She is looking at me while the lobsters crawl out of my ears with a question on her face. I am doing a little shimmy shake dance in my chair. The waitress passes a glance my way.
Talking to the nurse and for Alice's benefit, I say, "So- you're certain. I do NOT have gestational diabetes?"
"Schwing! That's awesome. Who's your daddy?"
"Mine is Bill."
"Hah! That's awesome. And guess what? I don't have diabetes! Thanks, dude! See y'all next week."
Another high five to Alice.
I squeaked by with [a good fasting number], two passes and a fail by one point- but a squeak is a squeak. And I squeaked.
I squeaked with glee at the news. And we celebrated with a piece of Key Lime Pie and two forks.
Stick it, gd-GD!