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Like the majority of gay men out there, not just us Hiv'ers but all gay men, I too start salivating when coming across posted pics of buff gym clones and men with really muscular physiques that appear on the homepage walls of many a Facebook friend; after all, if we didnt find dozens after dozens of those scantily-clad studs so damn attractive, we wouldnt be gay in the first place, now would we? As a matter of fact, there are millions of gay men worldwide who continously emulate such examples of male physical beauty so much that you just know that gym-owners and health-club owners alike just adore us for wanting to look exactly like those erotic models we worship, as well as prove it by all the bucks alotta folks fork out in their attempts to be as alluring as they possibly can be.
Hey, wanting to look our best, our greatest, even our hottest and yet our healthiest is a universe-given choice that is available to everyone out there, even moreso when one is Hiv+ and striving to be and look as healthy as is humanly possible. Nothing wrong with that; however, as with everything out there under the sun, moon and stars, there is a negative flip side to all this and that is when those of us who are Hiv+ do so not as justa means to make ourselves more visually appealing to others, but as a means to overcompensate for our diseases, and thus set a not-so-good example for the younger gay generations, both Hiv- and Hiv+ alike. The message that is being sent to these younger generations is "See how hot I look? See how popular I am? See how cool it is to be Hiv+?"
I wanna make something extremely clear right here and right now. Bottom line - no amount of drop-dead gorgeous physical looks is worth the price of one's life. It just aint worth it kids. Personally, I'd rather be downright hideously ugly, grotesquely mishaped, have teeth that look like Indian corn and have about 75 to 80 over-sized warts dotting all over my entire body and be in perfectly excellent health versus being a gorgeous Adonis/Narcissus-like creature whom every single gay man on the planet dampens their undies over, Hiv+ and slowly dying. Granted, I've presented two different extremes to you by using the above example but I hope I just got my point across.
If not, allow me to give a real-life personal example. When I went through the Testicular Cancer and was going through chemo, I asked both my oncologists and their nurses why I wasn't losing weight like I heard and saw so much of with other people going through other cancers, why, instead, was I actually getting a bit of a pouch in my stomach area? Their response was that first, the heavy weight loss and wasting away aspect was very much a stereotype, that not all cancer-fighters such as myself experienced those things, that all depended on each individual case. Second, I was being given a certain amount of steroids to help control my nautiousness and loss of appetite so that neither scenario would take place with me. Naturally, I thanked them all for explaining all of this to me and it did make me feel much better. But not for long.
Shortly afterwards, I told my oncologist(s) that that was all fine-n-dandy but that I was actually beginning to become extremey self-consious about what all this cancer business was doing to my body, that I started to feel awkward about having a belly that poked out somewhat and do you know what they said to me? "Hey, we'd rather have you looking a bit heavy, even fat, in one or more areas of your body and healthy than the other extreme." I thought about what they said further and you know, they were right. It finally sunk into me that it was better to not look my best and eventually be cancer-free and more healthier than usual than to be looking like the living dead and feeling worse and most of all, getting sicker. I've never been a vain person by any means (with the exception of losing my hair during that time period, but I've already written about that) but what they said really hit home for me.
My only wish is that sucha realization would hit home for alotta the younger gay generations out there who have it totally in their power to either remain Hiv- or take some extremely risky chances and become Hiv+. For those handsome, hunky Hiv'ers out there - and trust me, there are A LOT of them, I know, cause I find them rather nice eye-candy myself - dont let their new improved semi-Hercules-like improved physiques fool you. Behind each of their physical facades is a human being who is popping pills left-n-right just to stay alive as well as running to their local infectious diseases doctor every time those T-cell levels of their's takes a nosedive. I'm not suggesting you younger folks avoid such individuals like living, walking plague epicenters; but, what I am suggesting is that each and every one of you takes a coupla steps back and looks at those individuals and their situations with a more realistic, open and aware eye.
As for my fellow Hiv'ers who are currently active in this most latest of body-shaping-n-molding phases, if you guys are re-inventing your bodies because you want them to become healthier and stronger in the battle against this horrible disease, then please, by all means, knock yourselves out. Good for you. I'm extremely proud of each and every one of you for taking such a responsible stance regarding your overall health - seriously. However, if you guys are doing any of this with the attitude of "Well, I may be Hiv+, but look at me now, dont you just find me tantalizing? Dontcha just wanna do all kinds of filthy, lewd things to my well-defined colossal pecs, my nutcracker-like muscular thighs and my buns-of-steel buttocks?" then you're not only actively promoting the concept that "It's perfectly okay to become Hiv+ because it really IS the In-Thing to do!" but you're also glamourizing the further spreading of this disease just as much, if not more, as the barebackers and bugchasers out there are doing. The war against Hiv/AIDS can only be won when we stand united guys, not when we have two factions working in opposite directions, capice?
Another bottom line, and this one is quite simple folks. Being physically idolized and/or a constant center of attention is not worth acquiring a disease for, especially a disease from which you will eventually die. Trust me, those Hiv+ muscle-clad dudes out there who look like Captain America get sick and die just as easily as those of us who have your average run-of-the-mill body shapes-n-sizes. Dont let all those photo spreads and celebrity-ridden photo-shoots fool you - there is no glamour in dying from AIDS. Never has been and never will be. Look, we all wanna look our best, we all wanna be attractive in the eyes of others but when it all really boils down to it, only you can choose at what price you want to obtain those things. It is my hope that you'll choose wisely, that you'll choose having good health above everything else, as well as to respect and love yourself enough to keep it that way. For always. Thank you for reading.
Note: Please note that as far as I know the above photographed models are not Hiv+. I'm only using the images in this piece to provide illustration to my intended points of view. Thanks.
A coupla months back, I dont remember the exact posting itself, I wrote a piece regarding the issue of Hiv'ers who both knowingly and carelessly infect others with this disease because their rationale is "Well, the person who gave it to me didnt bother telling me, so why should I personally give a shit about infecting others?" It was a pretty intense piece, to say the least, and if all the thoughts and feelings regarding what I am writing right now werent so important to me I woulda backtracked and located it for my readers; however, when emotions and mental focus are running high, I must stay true to the writing first.
The reason why I'm writing this piece is because earlier this afternoon when I was online I stumbled upon the actual obituary notice of one of the members of the Hiv+ couple whom I wrote about in that earlier piece. For what they did to that one college student, that I knew of, and however many countless others they may or may not have infected with the Hiv virus, I always swore that I'd be elated to hear of either or both of their deaths. Yes, said out of anger and deep frustration but guess what? I was wrong. I'm not elated that the one half of that Hiv+ couple is dead. As a matter of fact, I have no feelings of happiness or joy whatsoever because there's something I've learned since that incident took place a little over a decade ago - no matter what choices a person makes in their lifetime, every human life is precious and when even one is lost, it is a sad event.
Believe it or not, it took a lot for me to admit that to all of you just right now. Sure, there have been many times in this blog when I've literarily spewed out pure-fire-n-brimstone in regards to those individuals in this world who cause great injustices towards others, whom I totally abhor with all my heart-n-soul - and yes, perhaps even one or two folks whom I've secretly wished dead and wiped off the face of this planet. But, now as I sit back and think about it, I've come to realize that regardless of what kind of an emotional reaction another person invokes within ourselves, everything we experience in our lives happens for a reason and although we may not understand the reasoning at the time of the actual situation, it still needs to be established that we all connect with each other for some reason, whether it be a chain of events that encourages us to grow further outside of the box, or simply because it is what it is.
You see, it doesnt matter that the particular man I'm writing about in this piece did something that infuriated the living bejesus outta me, nor that we never spoke to each other or saw each other ever again after the night of that one incident. What is important is that regardless of how his life choices conflicted with mine, his life did matter. No matter how we interact with each other, whether agreeable or disagreeable, all of our lives matter. 
So I guess that's the real reason I wrote this piece, not just to show that I have respect for all human life, but that regardless of how I've interacted with an individual while they were alive, whether it be good or bad, that does not devalue one iota how precious their life was to begin with. Sure, yes, I did need some closure to all of this, to what I read in that obituary earlier this afternoon but I'm not saying that for selfish reasons, I'm saying it because even though I did not agree with certain choices that he made in his life, that doesnt mean his life didnt matter in regards to the rest of the known universe because it most certainly did.
Yeah, I'm actually sad the guy is dead because he was a fellow human being who battled the same exact disease I and so many others are currently battling and it just rips at my heart that once again AIDS has claimed yet another victim. Sure, I'd love to tell you that I feel like a first-class hypocrite for implying how much I detested this man years ago and how I personally felt that he didnt deserve to live period; but, I can't say any of those things because along my path of life I've learned that it's much more healthier to accept someone for being an entire person, versus just the good or bad things they did in their lifetimes, as well as respect the fact that their lifetime did their life did mean something. Will I feel that way about other people whom I have disdain with or whom I may be actual enemies with? I dont know, but if it does indeed happen again within my lifetime, I'm just gonna accept it as a learning experience in life as well as understand even further that old saying that we never stop growing up throughout our lifetimes. I wish that kind of lifetime for all of us. Thank you for reading.
Both figuratively and literally, having one ball is better than having none at all. Anyone who has gone through Testicular Cancer and hadda orchiectomy surgery (removal of one or both testes) knows this for a fact to be true. Granted, those TC folks who have had both testicles removed are not the lost, wayward eunuchs that most people would like to believe they are. Via prosthetics, testosterone patches, and other such paraphanalia, the majority of men who find themselves in such circumstances can for the most part lead perfectly normal sex lives with the same degree of sexual stimulation they had before undergoing such surgeries and I think that's great because Lord knows that means a lot to me to know "just in case."
Well, luckily I wont have to find that out for sure anytime soon and yes, it does make a helluva difference to me because although I know I would adjust and adapt in the above scenario, I'm happy to know that my one remaining testicle is still gonna be staying with me for awhile because like any and every other part of my body, it's part of me, part of whom I am, part of my identity. Some straight friends recently joked with me "Well, hey, if it's the cancer again, just think you could go a bit further for gender reassignment!" In each case I merely looked at the individual straight in the eyes and said in a calm, yet demure tone, "Fuck you." We all laughed, but I most emphatically meant those two little words because quite frankly, I'm happy and proud to be exactly who I am, a gay man; and, testicles or not, that will never change, just as I'm certain that those out there who are now transgendered are happy with who and what they are too.
For the last 2 weeks I have been extremely physically ill with what I thought MIGHT be the beginning pre-Testicular-Cancer symptons I experienced back in the late 1990's prior to being diagnosed with Testicular Cancer, then going through an orchiectormy, followed by chemo in the springtime months of 1999. After all, that's how it all happened the last time - flu & cold-like symptons, with a persistent fever, before the actual diagnosis was made. Luckily, and most thankfully, I was wrong. Never before in my entire existence was I so damn happy to be wrong, lemme tell you.
Thursday morning (October 13th), I woke up, sick as usual, but right before I got outta bed, I hadda morning itch down you-know-where. No, not THAT kinda itch, but an actual itch! So I'm gently scratching the area (trust me, when you got only one jewel left, you treat it like gold, Baby) when all of a sudden I felt something, something not quite right in Denmark. Instantly I thought to myself "Nah, can't be, there cant be anything there cause everyone told me the chances of having it a 2nd time would be close to zilch." So I decided I better give myself one of those Testicular Cancer self-exams I learned how to do over a decade ago. I did and sure as shit, I DID find something. The first words outta my mouth were "Oh no, this can't be, this just cannot be happening! This has gotta be some kinda sick joke..." But, it was not.
I immediately flounced out of bed, got on the phone and called both my urologist and oncologist and decided that whichever one I got to speak to first, that's the one I'd go to. I got through to the urologist first and they scheduled my appointment for this past Tuesday. When I finally heard back from the oncologist (an hour or so later) they told me I did the right thing cause IF the urologist found anything substantial, they'd definitely wanna see me afterwards. 
Tuesday came, my urologist appointment was on-time and as I was standing there in the exam room, while he was examining my testicle, I let out 3 consecutive giant yelps in a row(!) to which each time he said to me "That hurts, doesnt it?" to which I automatically responded, with half-sarcasm, half-humor "Noooo, ya think so??" He was obviously amused and laughed, while I on the other hand looked into his eyes and said "Okay, so what's the deal?" to which he responded, "Well, I just found something very hard and considerable sized near or on your testicle." When he said that a few tears flew outta my eyes, my heart sank and I said "Oh no, please dont tell me..." and he said to remain calm and explained to me that IF it was something OUTSIDE of the testicle or even slightly near it, it was most likely some kind of a cyst; IF it was ON or INSIDE the testicle, then more evasive action would need to taken.
Evasive action. Those words didnt sound any less ominous than they did over a decade ago when the board of oncology directors at two different downtown Boston cancer clinics got together and asked each other "What do we do with this guy? By physical appearance this young man DEFINITELY appears to have Testicular Cancer; yet, there are no tumor markers showing up in his bloodstream. Do we operate? Do we do chemo? Which one do we do first? What do we do if we are totally wrong about all of this??" After they presented all their information to me, I took the chance that it indeed was Testicular Cancer and to this day, I've never regretted sticking with that decision.
So, before I left his office that afternoon, he told me "Look, we gotta do an ultrasound on this thing as soon as possible so we know exactly what it is what we're dealing with." Naturally, I couldnt have agreed with him more. So that's what we did and rather than go to work at all the next day, I went directly to the hospital before my ultrasound and then sat there and chilled for a good hour or so afterwards "just in case." It's funny, I even called a few of my online friends just to have someone to chat with (for some reason, every waiting room I visited that afternoon was dead, no pun intended) but now that I look back on it, had any of them answered their phones, I probaly wouldnt have known what to say anyways. I probaly woulda sounded very blue, so I guess it's best that I never really got the opportunity to speak with any of them.
The ultrasound itself went extremely well though I was pretty damn nervous throughout it the entire time. As the technician put that icky gel all around my groinal area and performed to scan me with the roller-wand all over that area, all I could think of was how it was the 1st time I had that procedure performed more than 12 years ago. The room was darkened and all one could hear was the small beeps on the computer as well as the sound of my heart beating and my semi-paced breathing. Had I not seen a small digital calendar in the exam room opposite from mine, via my exam room window, there would not have been one differentiating factor setting the exam that took place in 1999 with the one I was going through at that moment.
Of course, all of the above thoughts and reminisciences were continousy overshadowed by the big question of the hour "Oh God, what IF it is IT again? What do I do then?? Oh please, dont let it be the cancer again God, I just dont wanna go through it again, I dont know if I can go through it again..." So many thoughts raced through my mind...I've never even gotten the chance to look into the eyes of my next special someone to see if he really really does care...I've got so many things to do, so many places to go and so many people to meet....I just gotta be around when Crush unvails its next new soda flavor! Okay, okay, maybe not so much the latter point but you get the picture...
But I didnt think all those whirlwind thoughts for too long...I about jumped up off the exam table when the technician told me calmly and firmly - "Omg, you wanna take a look at this...? THAT is what's been causing you all your pain.." and I saw what looked like a blackish, pointed mass shaped similiar to what would be considered a thin, narrowish Andy-Warholesque black chocolate-chip of some sort eminating from somewhere near my remaining testicle. We found it. It was real, it wasnt a fig-newton of my imagination. I stared at it for a moment and the tech said to me "Penny for your thoughts?" to which I responded by looking at the computer screen and saying "You sonnuvabitch, the pain you've caused me!!" to which she chuckled and guffawd....
When the exam was done, I was told I was free to go home but I told them I was gonna stay there for an hour or so "just in case" I gotta call from my urologist's office and when I finally did hear from his office, they told me as soon as he reads them, he'll let me know, definitely no later than Friday morning. Well, they were wrong, I didnt find out till last night, early evening but that really didnt bother me in the least because I spent the rest of the afternoon just sleeping on my loveseat because even as I am writing this piece this very moment, I'm still battling whatever virus it is that I have. Around 5:15 p.m., I FINALLY got the call from my urologist and I was never so damn happy to getta call from a doctor before in my entire life
1st, I do NOT have Testicular Cancer a 2nd time - yes!!! What I do have is what is called an epididymal cyst, a common occurrence among Testicular Cancer survivors, something that you just more or less live with. Eventually the pain of it goes away but if not, painkillers and/or antibiotics may be prescribed for it. If it grows larger, or even swells a bit, then more tests will have to be run, perhaps even some type of surgery; but, that doesnt automatically mean it's the cancer again. Also, the reason why it didnt feel like an epididymal infection (which I've had a few of already over the years) is because of where it's located, which is why I didnt have any of the usual symptons to begin with.
2nd, all these cold-n-flu-like symptons I've been having? Just the current flu-cold virus strain that is currently sweeping itself up-n-down the entire Eastern seaboard at the moment. Some folks have been known to have it up to 3 weeks or longer but from his examining me in general, it looks like mine is on the tail end of it. In other words, just suck it up and make the best of it. I just knew that I shoulda gotten my flu shot earlier than usual this year...
So, that's why I have been so sick the past coupla weeks. Both my pcp and my urologist said that if I dont feel better by Monday, to just let them know; otherwise, I'm just gonna have to wade this all out like everyone else does. But again, the thing that I'm most thankful for is that I continue to remain cancer-free and I hope I always will be from here on out. I mean it's one thing to never be able to get rid of the Hiv+ status and the diabetes, but a 3rd chronic, possibly life-threatening disease? Sorry, two is enough for me, thanks.
As coupla more things before I close this piece. First, I cannot stress enough to all the guys out there, whether you have a history of Testicular Cancer in your family or not, please, try to give yourself a Testicular Cancer self-exam at least once every few months, if not more, and IF you ever find anything abnormal or not quite right about the feel of either of your testicles, please do not hesitate to contact a urologist to have it checked out. Doing so may very well save your life someday. 
Second, a very special thanks to each and every one of my friends, readers and online family members who went above and beyond the call of true friendship in sending me numeorus get-well wishes, good thoughts and sincere prayers for full recovery from everything I've been going through these past coupla weeks. Several of you told me "You may be facing this all by yourself in real life but you'll never ever be alone in spirit, Spice" and those people were right. I never felt alone, not even once. I'll never forget any of you, I mean it. As always, thank you for reading.
This is probaly one of those very rare posts where I should stamp "Parent Advisory: Explicit Language Within" on the outside of it because I gotta admit, writing about this subject - let alone even talking about it - with as sick as I've been since this past Friday evening is very odd at best, but I look at it this way. If you've ever wanted others to know some of your innermost thoughts and feelings, to know what really made you tick on all kinds of things, sharing with them this most private of one's individual psyche would definitely be an eye-opener regarding the inner you, perhaps even causing your own brow to rise here-n-there.
But for myself, I think the real reason I'm writing about it this evening is not simply because I feel like it but also because I have this unquenchable desire for people, hell, the entire world, to know that just because a person is part of any certain group does not mean that they automatically fit any given stereotype regarding that group. Libido = sex drive. Yes, it's a known fact that like any group of individuals out there, we gay men (homosexuals, queers, pansies, butthole-surfers, mud-rocket-scientists, whatever you wanna call us) love to have sex just as much as the next person. However, to instantly categorize all of us as "promiscous" due to our deep connection to the AIDS epidemic is a sweeping generalization that I find extremely offensive as well as, most definitely, incorrect.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not ashamed of being Hiv+, not by any means; but, I - and I assume many other folks out there if you were to go up and ask them - did not become infected with this disease because of weekend after weekend of endless, unprotected sexual encounters. Yes, some people did but I became infected because my partner was infected and naturally before that happened, both he and I were not too much into safe-sex. Obviously so, ya think?
But the myth I wanna debunk right here-n-now is that every gay male, every person, who is infected with the Hiv virus got it from being a major slut 24/7, seven days a week. Is it sucha big deal? Yes, to an extent it is because society itself, both inside and outside of the GLTBQ communities, has used so many blanketing, generalized statements regarding this disease over the years that it's enough to make any rational, sane-minded person roll their eyes upward in pure disgust.
Yet by the same token, no, it's notta big deal as to how any of us got it - it's how we lives our lives and utilize what time we have left with them that makes all the difference in the world. In fact, that right there can make or break a person a helluva lot more easier than this disease itself. But, back to my libido....
Let me just start out by saying this...when I joke around about being a "good gurl" and likening myself to such perennial "Good Girls" as Annette Funicello, Hayley Mills, Sally Field and Sandra Dee, to name a few, I may be utilizing humor on the latter point but most certainly not on the former point for this one simple reason - my sexual habits do NOT fit the psychological makeup of your average gay man. I'm not like most of them who will be getting off of work on a Friday night and mumble to themselves "Hey, it's Friday night, time to party, I need to go get laid." Uh-uh. Because as I've mentioned in this blog a year or so ago, I dont get into one-night stands - very VERY rarely and the reason for that is stil the same after all these years.
And in regards to all of this, let me use an example to put this all into the proper perspective for everyone out there.
Now I ask you, what are the friggin chances of the above scenario happening to someone? I'm serious. What are the chances of surviving Testicular Cancer only to have the first lug I decide to get naked with infect me in one of the only remaining unscathed areas of my sexual genitalia? I'm notta statistician but I hope all the math whizzes out there wont mind me borrowing the "One-in-a-Million" phrase, because I think that one is absolutely appropriate. So there you have it Ladies & Gents. THAT is why the Genital Herpes infection has been sucha major issue for me, not because I couldnt mentally grasp what was happening to me but because the odds of it happening the way it did were simply astounding. 
As for what my sex drive is nowadays and whether or not what I went through with both the Testicular Cancer and the Genital Herpes affected it, quite honestly, not a lot has changed so I consider myself one of the very lucky ones. I wont lie, I'm a horny person and whether I am by myself or with someone else, I like sex about twice a day. For some folks that's not much yet for others it's like a marathon since some folks are happy if they get it once a week. So I guess in my opinion, I do have a bit of a sex drive, but do I need to go out at night hunting for it the way a vampire hunts for his next prey? No, I'm just not made that way. Dont get me wrong, I'm not critizing my fellow gay brothers (or anyone else for that matter) for being that way, I just want them to try to understand that NOT all of us are made that way. Yeah, it really is that simple.
So in my particular set of circumstances, when I say I dont put-out on the 1st date, it's not just because of how I'm psychologically designed, it's also because with all of my diseases, the other person involved usually doesnt wanna get too frisky right-off-the-bat (no pun intended) either. And that's okay. I'd rather ease into everything gradually (again, no pun intended) and make sure that we're both comfortable with everything that's happening first. After all, at my age and with all I've been through, what's the point of rushing it anyways? I love sex just as much as anyone but I think it's important to really understand ourselves intimately in that way before we start sharing that part of ourselves with others. You may call it pollyanna, goodie-two-shoes, or whatever you prefer but I think the best way to look at it at this current point in my life is this - I'm the one who has to wake up and face myself the next day, you don't. At least for now that is. Thank you for reading.
No, this isnt gonna be a music review on Jenniger Paige's 1998 Top 40 hit of the same name, though I would like to say that didja ever notice that not only does she try to sound like Mariah Carey on some of her higher notes on that song, but out of all of her music out there, she does NOT sound like she does on that one-hit wonder in any of her other songs? Frightening, yet true. Regardless, this piece is gonna be about Crush soda-pop and what I enjoy about it as well as what I dont enjoy about it. Hey, there's good-n-bad in everything, even soda-pop.
Before I jump right in though, I'll be using the term "soda-pop" throughout this piece out of respect for the various geographical regions here in the United States. In the majority of the Midwest, we grew up calling soda, "pop"; yet, when I moved out here to the East Coast back in '95, I discovered they call it "soda" and folks out here are somewhat touchy about the use of that term. I found out rather quickly how much so. The first few times I asked for a "pop" shortly after moving to Boston, each restaurant or snackstand person responded by saying "A pop? What?? What the hell you talking about? I'm not gonna smack you...you mean you wanna soda, right?" No lie, that's exactly what happened.
There is one main reason why I love the Crush brand of soda-pops - they simply taste good! The most popular flavor, of course, is their famous Orange Crush, which I gotta admit is my favorite out of their entire roster of flavors, though I also love the Grape Crush flavor too. Soda-pop is like any other beverage out there, you can drink it any way you damn well please but I enjoy my Orange Crush best when you fill up your glass half-way with ice, pour it in and let it sit for a minute or two and then just sip away. I just made it sound eclectic - or is that eccentric? - but either way, trust me, just try it my way just once and you may be pleasently surprised...
Granted, it is generall
y believed that just because one is diabetic, one automatically drinks diet-soda-pop only and I suppose that's a result of society's way of viewing this particular disease; but, there is something that needs to be brought to the table concerning that statement. Just like with any other disease, diabetes acts both similiarly and differently in every individual - the way ones' glucose levels are affected by ones' various food--n-beverage intakes does indeed vary from individual to individual. As an example, a cup of ice cream or a half of a candy bar could literally wreak havoc on some diabetic's glucose levels, with an increase anywhere from 100 to 200 decimals on the meter. With me? Only 20 to 30 decimals, tops. Thats not to say I therefore consume ice cream and candy bars on quite a frequent basis, for even I know better than that. All it means is that healthy glucose levels depend on the individuals' dietary behavior, what type of diabetes they have and how well they manage it. However, this piece is not about diabetics and their glucose levels, it's about Crush.....
(Incidentally, not to get off subject, but in more than several of my past blog entries you probaly have already seen that I give a great deal of respect to the Coca-Cola company and there's a very good reason for that. Though most soda-pops do not affect my glucose levels dramantically whatsoever, there is one that does. In the dozen or so times I've come deathly close to slipping into a diabetic coma due to low blood sugar, every single time, Coca-Cola has saved my life. Literally. It is the only thing on this planet that will raise my glucose levels rapidly enough, via an increase of 120 to 130 decimals on the glucometer within 20 minutes of ingesting it. Now alotta folks out there actually piss-n-moan about that and say it's because of all the sugar that's in it, and it most definitely is, but we're talking about saving a persons' life here so I think in that regard, all the Coca-Cola naysayers need not be so quick to judge).
Yet - and get this - there are OTHER flavors of Crush which I never even knew existed until I visited the company's website - Lime, Peach and Pineapple. Yet another flavor that I didnt know existed till I saw it the week before I moved back from Connecticut - Blue Raspberry! But, when visiting the company's website, you will see no mention of the Blue Raspberry flavor so one of two things are happening - either that flavor was introduced in the Connecticut area as a trial product or, the folks at Crush simply arent keeping their website updated on a continual basis. Either way, I personally found all of this rather interesting to say the least.
