The office ceiling for the test is 135, and I scored 166. Given that my understanding is that at 200 they don't even bother with the second test and just declare you diabetic, I'm not feeling very encouraged.
So Thursday morning I go in for the three hour extravaganza, and then I spend the next week or two spiking my blood pressure while I wait for the results.
This really isn't something that I'm wired to cope with. I nosed around a bit to find out about some of the diet suggestions for controlling gestational diabetes, and without exception the information that I found pretty much exclusively consisted of things that I would rather be hungry than have to try to get past my taste buds. On the other hand - I won't have to worry about gaining a ton of weight at the end, because I won't be eating much. Giving stuff up isn't too bad. It's adding the stuff that tastes like crap to me that's going to be impossible.
I knew this was going too well.
On the amusement side, the nurse was absolutely flabbergasted that my office still doesn't know. What can I say - I'm still enjoying the peace and quiet. It'll be over soon enough. I'm figuring that the cat will be out of the proverbial bag next Friday, if not sooner.