Not to make light of a very serious topic, but how ironic is this?

  The name of the doctor who told me I have diabetes three weeks ago: Dr. Jeffrey Sweet.

  No lie.

  That's kind of like Dr. Mary Meniscus letting you know you need knee surgery or Dr. Al Aorta dropping the heart disease bomb on you.

  I can't say Dr. Sweet's diagnosis took me completely off guard. Although I'm not overweight and I'm in relatively

good shape, diabetes runs in my family tree like soul music runs in the Isleys family tree.

  My grandma Abel, who battled the disease with the courage of a lion until she passed away at the age of 76 in 1987, was a diabetic as were at least three of my uncles.

  So, I've always looked at it like Matt Stafford looked at getting sacked after he was drafted by the Lions: It's not a matter of if it's going to happen, it's a matter of when.

  I have already learned that diabetes demands some life-altering changes, particularly with the diet. If you don't change your eating habits, the damage the disease can inflict can be like - to steal a phrase from Eminem - when a tornado meets a volcano.

  The day after I received the diagnosis, I met with a dietitian, who I greeted by saying, "Don't tell me: All I can eat now is tree bark."

  "That's not true at all," she responded, smiling. "You can eat all the broccoli you want!"

  She was kidding, thank goodness.

  I can still eat pretty much anything I want, just not nearly as much. Those eight-pancakes mornings are history as are the devour-an-entire-"Hot-&-Ready"-pizza-in-one-sitting evenings.

  I have to count carbs like I spend money: very carefully. If a food is white - flour, sugar, bread, rice, etc. - I can only eat it in very small quantities.

  The good news: Meat has very few carbs, so, theoretically, I can eat Wendy's Triples until the cows come home, so to speak. Granted, I have to eat them without the buns, cheese and condiments, but, hey, I'm not complaining.

  (Actually, my cholesterol was a little high, too, so I'd better stick to a bunless single the next time I go to Wendy's.)

  In layman's terms, diabetes happens when your pancreas doesn't make enough insulin to lower the amount of glucose in your blood. It is often genetic, like in my case, but is often brought on by excess weight.

  Millions of people have it and don't know it.

  That said, do me a favor and get a physical if you haven't had one in the past few years. A simple blood test reveals your blood-sugar count.

  Considering I'd rather walk over hot coals in bare feet than puncture my skin with a needle every day, I'm fortunate that my number is at a point where I am taking oral medication to treat the disease - for now, at least. Insulin injections are a strong possibility down the road.

  I'd really like to put together a feature story on local athletes who have diabetes. If you know of anyone, please have them e-mail me at info@plymouthcantonsports.com.

  Five minutes after my diagnosis, I immediately became one of the biggest diabetes-awareness catalysts you'll ever meet.

  I am determined to turn this potentially daunting diagnosis into a positive, life-altering experience.

  I'm sure that would have made my grandma happy.

  Ed Wright can be reached at (734) 453-1980 or info@plymouthcantonsports.com.
 
 
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If you would like to advertise on PlymouthCantonSports.com or if you have ideas for the site, please send an e-mail to Ed Wright at info@plymouthcantonsports.com.