It’s Not You, Salted Caramel & Macadamia Ice Cream. It’s Me.

Two weeks ago, I booked my test for gestational diabetes. I’ll be honest, I was feeling a little smug.

‘There’s no way I will have that,’ I thought as I sat there on my couch the night before eating an after-dinner snack (Salted Caramel & Macadamia Ice Cream – my favourite!).

The next morning, I took my little dog out for her walk before heading off to spend two hours in a clinic waiting room. I won’t say exactly what suburb I’m in, but it has equally beautiful and dodgy parts. I was about to spend two hours in the dodgy part.

With that in mind, I had been wondering what awaited me in the waiting room and the different characters that might be there.

As you may or may not know, with this test, you need to fast. They said ten hours would do the trick. After finishing my very delicious after-dinner snack at 8pm the night before, it had been 13 hours since I had last eaten by the time I arrived.

I was already starving when I woke up that morning, and I wanted to gnaw my arm off by the time I got there.

Thankfully, the clinic was surprisingly empty. Even better, the people there were not stark raving lunatics, which is what I had experienced before. So, I was feeling calm. Starving, but calm.

By the time they called my number, it had been 30 minutes. I did book, as they had asked me to, but that was clearly not the system we were running with that day.

I went into one of the back rooms and thought, ‘Great, you’ve got this. Let’s get started. These two hours will fly by.’

But that was not to be.

Shortly after sitting down, I found out they had just implemented a new software system… and they were struggling to use it.

I should mention that I was there not just for the glucose test, but also for some other blood tests my obstetrician had requested. They could not find any of them on their system, which meant they couldn’t print the labels needed for the blood tests. They ended up needing to contact their support department, who were unavailable.

As the time ticked by, all I could think about was what takeaway meal I would get on the way home. I could go with a Quarter Pounder meal or maybe a Zinger burger meal.

I don’t tend to eat a lot of takeaway food, but I figured by the end of this, I had earned a treat. A very large, supersized treat, probably with some add-ons.

Anyway, after another 30 minutes, their support department phoned back, and they were able to resolve the problem. By the time I actually started the test, I had been at the clinic for over an 1 hour. But at least now we could start.

I wasn’t too concerned about the blood tests themselves. For anyone who has gone through IVF, especially a medicated cycle, we are no strangers to needles. This time around, however, it was awful.

I don’t know if blood collection was this phlebotomist’s forte, but it felt like she hit a nerve or something. It was painful. The syrupy sugar drink, known as Glucola, wasn’t too bad. It was probably the most tolerable part of the entire experience.

The first hour between blood tests was alright. Apart from the throbbing pain in my arm. I said a small prayer that someone else might do the next two tests. Please, anyone else 🙏.

When the one-hour mark arrived, the door to the blood collection rooms flew open. And there she was. That same phlebotomist. Please not me, I thought. She scanned the waiting room until she spotted me with a big smile on her face. “Come on in,” she said. A shiver went down my spine. I must not have prayed hard enough. Here we go. Sorry, left arm. Your turn now.

I sat in the room again as she had a go at the other arm. It wasn’t as bad, but it wasn’t great either.

‘I’m never coming here again. Just think about the big burger you can get later,’ I thought to myself.

The next hour definitely dragged. By the time they called my name again, I flew out of my seat. This time, I did not care who stabbed my arm, even if it was Edward Needlehands.

But in good news, I had a different person for the final round. And this time I barely felt a thing. Yay!

When the final blood test was taken, I gently enquired as to whether they had taken blood for all the tests I had needed. Not just the glucose test. ‘I think so,’ the lady said. That answer left me feeling about as inspired as I had been all morning.

On my way out of the clinic, I looked at my watch. It had been 16 hours since I had last eaten something. I was seven months pregnant. We were hungry.

Just in case you want to know which way I went, I had a large Zinger combo meal… and some nuggets. And I enjoyed every bite.

With the test finally behind me, all that was left to do was wait for the results.

It didn’t take very long to get them back. A couple of days later, I received a phone call from my obstetrician’s office. I tested positive for gestational diabetes. Bugger!

They said I had now been referred to a specialist who would manage my care on this front. Again, like every referral I have been given to date, it was a specialist, nowhere near me, with a price tag nowhere near my budget. But what do you do?

Another couple of days later, I was at this new specialist’s office. They went through everything: what to eat, what not to eat, how many carbs I should have per main meal, when to snack, how often to test (four times per day on my fancy new glucose monitor), and what my levels should be.

Surprisingly, I learned that I was able to have a Tim Tam or even a mini Magnum as an evening snack. That sounded alright.

After the appointment, I went into research mode. Planning meals. To be safe, I took out the Tim Tams and the ice cream. It would be too hard for me to stop at one, so it was best not to have them in the house.

I did, however, find a fudge brownie mix by Noshu. These are 99% sugar free, easy to make, and delicious. They are also low-carb, so they stay within the safe snack range when measured out properly per serving.

Fortunately, I was also told I could attend all future appointments via telehealth, so there is no additional travel.

So, for the next couple of months, four pricks and a better diet per day will keep the doctor away.

Oh, and also, you know how I mentioned the less-than-inspired response I received when I asked whether they had taken blood for all of my other tests? They hadn’t. As expected.

Back I go for more blood work. But this time, I think I’ll go to a different clinic.

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