Hail fellow well met
Hey, have I told you I'm diabetic? I forget. I'd look it up but I'm too spacey from snorting that 2-pound bag of brown sugar to be able to use the search function. (I kid, I kid. They only sell Billington's in 1-pound bags, and I take it intravenously.)
I had gestational diabetes with Charlie; after that pregnancy I was classified as prediabetic. When I was pregnant with Ben, I was once again gesticulationally diabeticalistic melliteriffic — medical term, look it up; although in most women with GDM the condition resolves as soon as the placenta hits the bucket, I wasn't so lucky.
It's been okay. It's been controlled by diet, which is to say that I no longer eat my mashed potato sandwiches on white bread but on healthful whole-grain donuts, and I've discovered that you can hardly tell the difference between premium full-fat ice cream and frozen Miracle Whip Light, even if you've swapped your old favorite sugary hot fudge sauce for an artifically sweetened beef gravy.
But type 2 diabetes is by its nature a progressive disease, and mine has gotten worse. (My A1C is now 8.1, for those of you playing the home game. And as long as we're getting personal, I make $750,000 a year blogging, my cup size is Ω, and I watch ANTM. Now guess which of those is true.)
My doctor has put me on metformin to lower my blood glucose. All I know about it at this point is what Google told me yesterday, which was Blue Ball Blockhead Gumby Yellow Dinosaur Guy, and what was on the package insert that came with the meds, which I confess I didn't read thoroughly because none of the words bounced or turned into Pokey when I moved my pointer finger over them.
Now, I know many of you have been on metformin for PCOS. In fact, lo, these many years ago when we were still trying to conceive, I read posts by fellow infertiles about "the met"'s side effects that scared the bejesus out of me and made me think, "Wow, yeah! Hey! Good thing that'll never be me!" And then I got distracted by a strange jingling, which in retrospect was probably the sound of Fate buckling on its strap-on, and forgot all about it until now.
So I humbly ask, please, what your experience with metformin has been — side effects, adjustments you had to make, things that make the experience better or ohGodpleasehelpme worse. I'd click around more on the big impersonal web, but your stories are always more helpful, and Google might make me watch Davey and Goliath, or possibly even Jot.