Speedbreakers.....

There I was, leading a happy go lucky, responsibility free life. A year into marriage, with a patient wife who was custom made for me (with great patience,  i must add, by whomsoever makes wives), going about daily life and generally being fussy about small things,  which generally happens whenever god bestows good fortune; I was expecting the arrival of my firstborn.
There is something called an annual medical exam. That which all pilots, throughout the universe probably, approach with the apprehension of testing the water of the pool on a cold morning.
As usual i had prepared for the medical. given that i was heavy, i had been going for the occasional run for the past four weeks. The idea being, the ex nda body cannot fail; and beneath all the layers of fat was an iron core, which is indestructible.
Not so, said the body.
The day after the tests, i was feeling satisfied  after a busy day of flying. Just need to collect  the reports and file them. Routine.The figures hit me like a goods  train. Deranged sugar levels. Not only deranged, dangerous. Worry, worry.
Repeated the tests next day. Same result.
Broke news to wife. Then boss. Wife broke down. Spoke to the specialist. They all had the same thing to say. You have diabetes. It seemed like an accusation. Am quite sure some people meant it that way. What was the use of trying to tell them that you can not choose to have our not to have the malady. Anyway.
This is where i guess the the hard years  help the most. If nothing else,  the training makes you mentally strong, to think rationally in adversity and try and find a logical end to the situation at hand. The grit that it provided me, was and remains, better than any injectable devised by the docs to help me.