Page 7 of Sweet Heart

The doctor blinks at me and then shakes her head before turning to the computer. With a few swift strokes on the keyboard, she pulls up my file. Her posture is rigid, and her neck is slightly flushed. My stomach swoops at the sight. Oh, that got to her.

“Have you monitored your levels?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a smile.

The doctor freezes for a moment before she very slowly turns around. Her jaw is locked, and her eyes are dark and stormy. She lets them roam over my face as she breathes deeply, opens her mouth, snaps it shut again, and then shakes her head.

“Please share your data,” she eventually sighs.

Oh, that got to her too.

I pull out my monitor and show her the history. She goes over it, her brow furrowing.

“These morning levels… are they before or after your walk?”

I blink. “You remember?”

Her frown deepens, and she looks up at me, confused.

“Of course I remember. I am treating you. That’s my job.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I mutter, unable to ignore the pang of reality hitting me in the chest. Why are you like this?

“Your levels?” she asks again, her tone softer this time.

“Before. Straight out of bed, actually,” I answer, my gaze dropping to my toes.

“And those evening levels?”

“Right before bed.”

“Dawn phenomenon. That would be… unfortunate,” she murmurs.

I can’t help but clench my teeth. I’ve been struggling for years to accept the fact that my body betrays me by raising my glucose levels during the last few hours of sleep. It is the clearest testament to the fact that even when I do everything right, my body is the one really in control. Simultaneously, it is also my main motivator. Because if I slip even once, I risk raising those levels, and I am not ready to die yet.

“I wonder…” the doctor muses, pulling me from my thoughts. “Have you ever had a continuous glucose monitor?”

“You mean like one of those round things on your arm?”

Her lips curl up at that, and her whole face softens instantly. I am struck by the beauty of it. I thought she was gorgeous before, but this hits different. My breath hitches slightly at the sight. It feels as if I was given a little insight that not many people get to see, and something inside me goes very quiet.

“Yes, one of those. The CGM takes measurements at multiple times throughout the day and night. It might be worth looking into one. Consider talking it over with your GP.”

“Why?”

She cocks her head, that amused smile still on her lips. For a moment, she considers me. Maybe I pushed her buttons a bit too much, but I am not playing now. I am actually curious.

“With this data,” she nods at the monitor and hands it back over to me, “it’s easy to assume dawn phenomenon. You know what that is, right?”

I nod.

“Your levels are perfect before bed, but spike right before you wake up.”

“Story of my life,” I reply before I can stop myself.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she huffs out a laugh, catching us both by surprise. I grin as the doctor scrambles to pull her composure back together.

“The CGM will give you insight into what happens during the night,” she drones on.