For the foreseeable future, my diet must follow some strict guidelines. I cannot wake and sit down at my computer; I must go outside and walk a mile to wake my muscles and excite my cells. I should be aware of sleeping a proper amount, not eating too much, reconcile that fasting should be part of my routine, and finally accept that the American healthcare system is not here to keep me healthy but instead deal with me once I’m a lucrative body in need of desperate repair.

Nobody in the healthcare profession has informed me about fasting. As a matter of fact, I’ve been told I can nearly eat what I want, though in moderation. I would like to get a continuous blood glucose monitoring system, but there’s no certainty that my insurance will cover it. The luxury of knowing just how food is affecting me at any given moment is incredibly valuable for me and would help me regulate my diet. Meanwhile, the traditional glucose test strips are a cash cow for manufacturers, hence why you see on street corners across from pharmacies people ready to buy diabetes treatment supplies from those who would rather sell them and buy other necessities instead of monitoring their disease.

Lunch in a restaurant is nearly impossible unless I find a list of places that have high-protein or Keto options on the menu. Dinner is a dilemma as no matter where we go; the portions are too large for my wife and me. Here in our 50’s the caloric count of a meal is far too often too high. Should we decide to share a meal, we face the disapproving glare of the server, who believes they just saw their tip reduced by the cheap old people, which is only made worse if we don’t order alcohol. If the look of disdain were all, we’d deal with that, but seeing the adjacent table have four server visits for our single one lets us know quite clearly that we are in the bad seats.

One upside to having the amount of free time I currently have is that I can afford to make a lot of our food at home. This offers us access to incredibly healthy dishes such as the super yummy chicken feet bone broth I recently cooked up. I can take a mile walk before breakfast and then a two-mile walk afterward. Before or after lunch, I can head out for another mile or two, and then after dinner, I’ll try for two more miles. I have time to research viable options for treating diabetes, though without doctors sharing what’s at the cutting edge, I don’t always know what to look for. We can afford books, supplements, doctor appointments, gadgets, foods, and experiments to learn what works to treat my diabetes, which I doubt many can.

So, while there are pros and cons, I at least have options. I’m growing increasingly frustrated that our version of laissez-faire capitalism is perfectly fine with allowing people to become profit centers. This is only possible in a population that is largely under-educated not only about diet but also the long-term implications of the abuse they are suffering due to their own ignorance from industries interested in profits at all costs instead of the general welfare of a country. I think about this in terms of a time such as World War II when the population was supposed to make sacrifices for the betterment of the entire earth, and yet today, corporations are allowed to practice a kind of fascistic exploitation of people for the enrichment of an elite class.

To return to my story, on September 24th, eight days after the phone call that told me my A1C had jumped to 9.5% and that I’d gained 6 pounds since I was last weighed at my doctor’s office, I had to see my doctor. I had been told initially that I was coming in to learn about going on insulin, but that’s not what happened.

I stepped on the scale and was hoping I’d lost a few pounds. Instead, the person taking my stats was as surprised as I was that I’d lost 10 pounds in 8 days. Then I showed my doctor that my glucose level for the past five days was averaging 119, down from around 240 a week before. She reminded me that it was what I maintained over 90 days that mattered but agreed that I didn’t need a change in medications as long as I could maintain my change in behavior. She also saw the importance of me being able to constantly watch my glucose levels and wrote a prescription for a FreeStyle Libre Constant Glucose Monitor though there’s great uncertainty if my insurance will authorize its use.

I’m seriously astonished by my progress, incredulous even. I feel that my motivation for success has been amplified and that the next 22 days, while they’ll certainly be difficult at times and tedious to the point of boredom, will let me see the potential results behind my efforts. I’ll continue to do my best to keep my caloric intake under 1,400 calories, I’ll set my Fitbit minimum goal to 15,000 steps (about 7 miles), and I’ll do a full 24-hour fast once a week and at least one 18/6 fast per week. The 18/6 fast is where one fasts for 18 hours and then eats during 6, so let’s say I eat dinner on Thursday night, I won’t eat again until lunch on Friday, and then dinner before 6:00 p.m.

If I’m below 220 pounds over the next few weeks, I’ll consider this a huge win, and I have no reason to doubt that I can get there. While it has taken me three years to fully integrate the lifestyle changes I’m living with, I feel that quality of life is worth every bit of sacrifice. I only wish I had known all this 40 years ago when I first embarked on a daily food indulgence and abuse regimen attacking the future of my well-being.

It was Sunday when I started writing this blog entry, as I wanted to capture some thoughts about my progress. Friday saw my effort at fasting that technically started the evening before when I finished dinner at 6:30 on Thursday. I made it exactly 24 hours before eating again at 6:30 Friday night. This was, in so many ways, a magic day as I woke with a blood glucose level of 160, but by midday and then for the rest of Friday, my blood glucose never went over 120. Keep in mind that this was just seven days after my doctor’s appointment when my 2-hour-after-lunch reading was 239.

In my Wednesday entry, I noted that I was adding a fasting day, but over the course of the next few days, I was learning a ton about the current theories and amazing results that are coming out of the work of Dr. Jason Fung and Dr. Valter Longo. Dr. Fung is a proponent of fasting, and he seems particularly fond of intermittent fasting, now known as IF. Dr. Longo, on the other hand, has been exploring the Fasting Mimicking Diet, of which he is the pioneer. It’s incredible how far my knowledge has grown about the health benefits of allowing the body to do what used to be a normal process, that is, allowing it to go hungry.

What’s important here is that the day after my fast, my blood glucose after eating breakfast was 96; after lunch was 103, and after dinner was an astonishing 89. Mind you, my restricted caloric intake was just under 1,200 calories for the day, with only 23 grams of carbohydrates finding their way in.

Another big win for me this week after learning my diabetes was running out of control was about the health benefits of bone broth. I was looking for tips about fasting when I came across a video titled “Bulletproof Bone Broth: Quick Recipe for After Fasting” by Thomas DeLauer. The rabbit hole opened, and while this bone broth sounded intriguing, I wanted to know more, and that brought me to Dr. Kaayla Daniel and a video titled “Bone Broth and Health: A Look at the Science.” Cell health and anti-inflammation are topics the diabetic should be aware of, and this got me curious enough to head to Whole Foods for some marrow bones to start a pot of bone broth.

While I’ve been counting calories this week, I’ve come to learn that this is frowned upon in some circles and appears to be mostly irrelevant. I needed to count them, though, as a bit of side knowledge while monitoring amounts, which was something I didn’t do back when I was first diagnosed with diabetes. Back then, I was content (not really, but…) to quit products made with flour, sugar, potatoes, and white rice. Then, by splitting meals with my wife and not paying attention to much of anything else, my diabetes started to come under control fast. Being creatures of habit, like I said in my blog post a couple of days ago, I let some of the glucose offenders back into my routine. Seeing the relationship between portion size and calories gave me a better idea about the amount of food I can reasonably eat, remain energized, and hope to pull my glucose level down rapidly. It worked.

So now I’m here trying to sift through a ton of information regarding the continuation of eating healthier, fasting, and wondering why the healthcare and food industries are apparently reluctant to push the 100 million Americans with pre-and full-on type 2 diabetes to start a serious examination of alternatives rather than taking the path of maximum suffering. I can assure you that after witnessing 40 years of fad diets come and go, I’m skeptical of this fasting, calorie reduction, carbohydrate reduction, and exercise regimen. While it seems reasonable to eat healthy meals and less of them, I’ve been conditioned, like so many other Americans, to the idea of prosperity through abundance and happiness through gluttony.

I’m not writing this for anybody else but myself because someday I might need to remind myself where my mind was when I was rational enough to know how to deal with this horrible affliction and, if need be, to Google “Diabetic Gangrene” for images that remind me of what I’m trying to avoid while doing my best to maintain the ability to get out and enjoy life and my time with my wife.

Insulin resistance sucks. Refined carbs and sugars suck, too, at this stage of my life. I’ve written here before that my diabetes was under control after making drastic changes to my diet and exercise. Earlier this year, I had an episode where I noticed some high glucose readings, but on a follow-up visit with my doctor and the requisite blood work, I learned my A1C or 90-day average reading of blood glucose level was still in the acceptable range where I didn’t require insulin.

So, knowing how much I’d reintegrated certain foods back into my diet, I pushed things further this summer and made the huge mistake of not checking my blood sugar, not even once a week. Back at my doctor last week and new blood work analyzed, I came to learn this Monday that I’ve skyrocketed my A1C up over 9%. I was diagnosed a few years ago with an 11.3% A1C, so with numbers below 7% being in the normal range, I was halfway back to the incredibly ugly level that shook me and forced a dramatic lifestyle change.

I’m well aware of what works to combat my diabetes and must admit that the convenience of ignoring things will not afford me a free pass in escaping the clutches of this horrible disease. So, an even more drastic approach is needed, so I might finally put this behind me.

My plan went into effect the minute I got my results. I launched into walking. Going out to eat is not going to happen, at least for the next month. Yanking flour, potatoes, rice, and sugar from my diet after my initial diagnosis was sufficient to help me lose weight and drop my blood sugar. This time, my approach is to continue to eliminate those violators of my health but to also drop my caloric intake to roughly 1,300 calories a day. I’m upping my step count from 10,000 a day to a minimum of 15,000 a day. Finally, I’m adding one fasting day a week.

I have less than 40 pounds to lose to get me under 200, and I’m confident that I will get there in the next 18 to 24 months. Okay, that’s my realistic guesstimate, but my gut is screaming at me to make it faster, as dealing with the complications that could arise from my diabetes is a nagging dagger. Complacency is comfortable in ways, but I thus become my own worst enemy, and I’m loathe to let diabetes destroy me.

For the past 50 years, we’ve been at battle with ourselves. Following the post-World War II boom leading into the 1960s, America was experiencing its first enlightenment before it put on the brakes to examine what had happened. Out of the civil rights, women’s rights, gay rights, environmental, and hippy movements, there came a trigger that apparently alienated those who were riding the wealth catapult and had the ruling class recoil at the social changes that came with these structural changes to society. So, a type of war was silently declared against the rising intellect of the masses.

A large part of society would start being nudged toward mediocrity starting in the early 1970s, and there was little clue as to just how many were on their way to being on the losing end of financial advancement. At the same time, those who were benefiting from the emergent global economy continued to benefit right up through today. With the upper class and their wealth came creeping avarice and maybe fear that the populace would learn of the imbalance. Promoting fear among the masses instead of spreading a vision of the future worked: people cowered, afraid they might lose the little they had. Sadly, the growing majority is now nearly powerless to change this equation as they cannot fathom the complexity of tools that have been used against them.  All that’s left for the powerful is to lift these masses onto the shoulders of nationalism, rewarding them through patriotism for their loyalty to jargon and jingoism, and finally pushing the lemmings off the cliff of civil war.

Let’s rewind the clock about 700 years to the 14th century when a class of royalty relied on and exploited the uneducated masses in Europe while fighting endless wars at the expense of the survivors of endless plagues. Then, in the early 15th century, the Renaissance kicked into high gear, and then moveable type and the printing press forever changed the distribution of knowledge. Those advancements would need to simmer for another 300 years before the Enlightenment would take hold. Now, after 250 years of progress, we find ourselves replete with all of the tools, capital, and ability to take a quantum leap forward in intellectual and planetary stewardship, but we are flailing about like infants.

Leadership is not fulfilling its role, as greed and fear are rife throughout society. On one hand, you have those afraid of losing their privilege and having to face change, while on the other side, a vast majority do not know how to deal with change either, so we are doing nothing. I suppose this requires me to point out that America hasn’t failed to introduce great change upon the entirety of humanity, but a lot of what has been introduced has been delivered by a relatively small percentage of our population and, in many ways, has bypassed the majority of our population who should be reaping the rewards of progress.

More random thoughts collected over the course of my stay in the San Diego area.

Trying to make the most of my time here I took an early morning drive down the coast from Solana Beach through Del Mar, Torrey Pines, into La Jolla, and I’m thoroughly unimpressed. Sure there’s the ocean, but not many places to park and get to the water. La Jolla is incredibly depressing unless you are white and wealthy and enjoy your time on the coast playing golf, shopping in expensive boutiques, needing a spa treatment, and really enjoying your whiteness where you can spend your time undisturbed having to see or listen to minorities.

Do you like your women talking in sing-song, high-pitched, infantile voices so the women they are talking with are fully aware of their mutual enthusiasm? Then La Jolla, like Santa Monica, Irvine, Santa Barbara, and Scottsdale, Arizona, which is now mostly a suburb of Southern California, are places for you. I think this is the voice of, “OH my fucking god, we are so white, rich, and privileged; can you even like believe this?”

It took an interaction between a girl of about 12 years old and a woman nearing her 50s to understand the dynamic: it’s vanity. As these women are aging, they are hyper-self-aware, and by bringing these voices out, they actually sound younger than a prepubescent girl. When you listen to an exchange between a 7th grader and someone who is a little more than a decade away from retirement, and the child sounds more mature, there is a problem.

Since when did the baseball cap go from hiding male baldness to being a coverup for women who didn’t feel like washing their hair? Why do I even care? I suppose I have no good answer other than it’s one of my observations of how we humans change behaviors over time and how they are in contrast between races, economic groups, and countries. Am I biased in my views? Yes, I am, as I see many of these traits arising in us Americans out of our idiocy to be seen as more childlike. Why so hostile, John? If I’m surrounded by banality, at some point, it will rub off on me; hell, it probably already has, and I’m blind to just how stupid immersion in American culture has made me.

Pride on the verge of fanaticism for the city you live in is like cancer, where the mutating cells threaten to take over the body. We see the same attitude for the home sports teams, where disagreement about who is best can result in a violent exchange. Why should anyone need to defend a city or region, their favorite TV show, or the local baseball team? What is it that carries over from childhood into adulthood that breeds this kind of loyalty? I don’t begrudge people for being respectful of these things and finding what’s to be appreciated, but the anger they display when someone points out elements they find unpleasant can propel the person to start listing the multitude of reasons why where they are is perfect. The same goes for their television show or sports team should you utter that you don’t like either. The need to be rabid in the defense of anything beyond love and education is the domain of the child’s mind, where enthusiasm is a developing immature passion.

Yesterday while checking on the readability of something I drafted a couple of weeks ago, I came upon some advertising copy that pissed me off. This all started when I couldn’t quite follow what my original intent was in my own writing as I was a bit obtuse. After running the text through a readability computer, one of the indexes said my writing was at a 9th-grade level while another index on the same page said it required 15 years of education or a junior in university. Why the disparity? So, I looked up the differences between the Gunning Fox and Coleman Liau indexes, which led me to Readable.

I’m already using Grammarly for real-time feedback on where I flub commas, hyphens, and such, but every so often, I like checking the readability of something I wrote. I mostly do this because there are times I’m astonished that my vocabulary and curiosity allow me to write what I’m reading. Well, today, I was slapped in the face with a thought that hurt me. I’ve known for a long time that much of what is on television and in books is presented at a 5th-grade comprehension level. What I wasn’t ready for was the following advertising copy:

85% – The increase in the number of people who will finish reading your content if its readability is improved from grade 12 to grade 5.

Did I read that right? My writing will be “improved” if I dumb it down? My first thought was already dumbed down enough as in my head, I blurted out, “What the fuck?”

There’s a recurring theme here on JohnWise.com about mediocrity where I’m far too often venting my spleen about things I’m hostile towards, but this idea that the average person is no more literate than a 10-year-old galls me. Add to this my two examples above about women speaking like children and people, in general, having this hubristic pride where both emanate out of our immaturity, and I’m left a bit distraught.

San Diego is Arizona without the morning sun. Everyone seems to sing the same chorus, extolling how great it is to live in San Diego while commiserating with Phoenicians about how it’s too hot over in the desert. Well, I’m not seeing anyone on the streets of San Diego after about 10:00 or again before about 6:00. Everywhere I go is air-conditioned, and everywhere everyone else is traveling, they are doing so by car with their windows up.

For a week now, I’ve listened to people complain that it’s too cold out at 66 degrees or 19 Celsius at 8:00. When the mercury hits 68 (20c), things are perfect. During this time, the humidity is changing too, going from about 90% at 7:00 to 60% at noon while the temperature climbs up to 72 degrees or 22 Celsius. After this, as the heat of the day bears down on San Diegans and the temps climb to 80, it appears that everyone is hiding in something air-conditioned – just like people from Phoenix. There’s one big difference here, though: the humidity hovers between 40 and 60% and makes you sweat all the time.

So by historical averages, San Diego is too cold for the people that live here from November through May, but for the perfect month of July when they get nearly 7 hours of sunlight a day compared to Phoenix with 13 hours of blue skies, they bask in the joy after dealing with a 12 lane wide freeway that becomes a parking lot for a good part of the day.

Simple math tells you that most of the people living here are not on the beaches either. San Diego County has a full-time population of 3.3 million and annual tourism that draws in another 36 million. I’ve now walked some miles along the area’s beaches, and I can assure you that the density of visitors on the seashore is not overwhelming or indicative of locals utilizing their primary tourist attraction. For example, Memorial Day is the busiest day for the 70 miles of San Diego beaches, and back in 2016, 91,300 people spent Monday next to the ocean. So if we only count permanent residents and exclude tourists, just under 3% of the population that lives in San Diego visited the beach that day.

Well then, what is the main attraction? The potential to enjoy a lifestyle here when not at work, on a freeway, or competing for a parking spot near the beach when tourism is overwhelming the few spots allocated for cars? Are the palm trees waving in the ocean breeze seen through windows deluding residents into believing they are experiencing life outside of a car and their home? I guess being here to take advantage of someday is good enough.

The best BBQ in San Diego belongs to Phil’s BBQ; that’s a chain similar to Famous Dave’s and so after driving 30 minutes inland, I ended up walking right back out after learning everything is drenched in sweet barbecue sauce. How about a search for the best restaurants near me? When In-N-Out is in the top five, you know there’s nothing here for me. I’m near Mexico, so there must be some great Mexican joints out here, right? Not within five miles. So, fifteen minutes up the 15 freeway, I’m in old town Escondido, and the Guadalajaran place is reminiscent of Garduno’s in Scottsdale (Mexican food for old white people from the Midwest). Now I’m at La Tapatia, which I passed along the way, and I’m hoping that since it’s been here since 1937, it has earned its longevity. My fingers were crossed. Alas, mediocrity squashed my culinary dreams.

Thursday was a blur. Walk the dog. Make breakfast. Go for coffee. Write. Go for lunch. Walk the dog. Play with the synth. Go for coffee. Write. Eat. Walk the dog. Play with the synth. Watch a tutorial about the Blender addon Tissue and using Vertex Groups together with Shape Keys to morph a component along a surface. While I didn’t hit the beach today or achieve a serious amount of walking, I was successful in clearing a couple more blog drafts that were lingering longer than they should have been.

How short-sighted I feel sitting here in San Diego in a coffee shop instead of outside in the cool breeze of the offshore wind, making this place a mecca for visitors. The sun, though, does not care for my comfort as it tries to burn me and usually wins. I look out the window and know that I’m missing a relatively cool day where I could be next to the ocean, but my skin reminds me of how much I dislike the pain of being taken to a crispy state.

I could just as easily sit indoors in Phoenix, where at 110 degrees out there, I have good reason to escape the blistering temperature. So I feel guilty here that I’m giving away this opportunity to do all things outdoorsy. I try to justify part of this lethargy by running around under the sun with the fact that Caroline is not here with me right now, but that feels weak. I work at writing, so it might convince me that what I was able to capture of my thoughts will have had value in making up for anything that was lost.