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I wasn’t wearing my white lab coat, just my blue striped Under Armour bathing suit. Wearing a lab coat to the beach in the summer is just plain silly.

Wading through the mid-afternoon searing hot air yesterday to Sunoka Beach for the first time this year – first stopping en route for a quart basket of fresh, juicy Lapin cherries at Blossom Fruit Stand – reminded me of my former working life in the laboratory. I’ll tell you why in a minute.

Actually, it felt like I was heat-swirling in a summer blender of beauty and laughter and worry.

Standing in the shade at the top of the wide, white and grey granite stairs that lead down to the warm, cozy sand of our local Okanagan Lake beach, I gazed over the crowded scenario on my left and right.

There’s been flooding this year and the lake level is so high that only a really narrow landing strip of sandy beach exists, you might say kinda like the lap-zone of a woman post-waxing.

Placing hordes of sunbathers on a congested strip of sand concentrates the view so I can absorb a whole whack of sunshine-soaked society in a quick scan.

It was a gorgeous afternoon, lots of human and motorboat sound, accompanied by french fry-scented breezes that attempted to woo and seduce me in the sultry heat.

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Sunoka Beach water lapping at the trees normally well back from the water’s edge

The beach held a balance: a human balance of gender (not sex, although there is no shortage of eye-sex going on out there), rainbow skin-tones ranging from black-brown-golden-red-white-pink, ages from infant to elderly, choices of book or Kindle/Kobo, shade seekers and sun soakers.

Looking about, I spied a few stunning, beautifully-toned bodies (sadly I can’t count myself in this category!), a scattering of young couples with adorable babies and yearlings and chatty two year-olds, a large group of teenagers and young adults from a nearby bible camp – waist deep – tossing footballs in the surprisingly warm water…

… but mostly – and this is where my former lab occupation, and my sense of worry kicks in – the sandy shoreline was replete with tourist and local bodies knowingly or unknowingly waiting in line for…  metabolic syndrome… that wondrous triumvirate of diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol… our society’s menu special-of-the-day.

Maybe I was hallucinating a touch in the swelter, surveying a diabetic epidemic tsunami washing over the beach in front of me.

For the last 10 years of my lab career I sat in front of a computer (whoa, another high-risk diabetes sign!) monitoring numbers Alice’s Restaurant-style: “… injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected, and selected…“… diabetes statistics

Yup, lots of numbers… lots of burgeoning numbers… lots of out-of-whack blood sugar and A1C test numbers, numbers that wrote a horror story book of self-inflicted auto-immune Russian Roulette.

I didn’t need a special book of instructions on what to look for this day on the sand. It’s not difficult to spot the risky types; the Speedos and Jantzens so generously overflowing with loose, floppy skin, spilling over their waistlines like waterfalls, and bust tops stretching against their lycra restraints.

These sights pretty much tell the tale.

These were the same folks I would see day after day, week after week, filling the lab waiting rooms, quietly reading magazines while waiting for their quarterly diabetes tests.

Each day as I sat at my computer, I oversaw the scary numbers: the high levels of blood sugar, the high levels of cholesterol, and the rising tide of high blood pressure multiplied by the hundreds upon hundreds of newly diagnosed diabetics that walked through the lab doors each month.

Pancreatic panic. Insulin insolence.

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Overwhelmingly, the nice folks I added into the mushrooming database of newly-diagnosed diabetics were not regular denizens of the walking tracks, the gym, the tennis courts or the golf courses.

The diabetes risk factors of out-of-control eating habits and low physical activity were, and are, the common denominator.

You should know that I’m no “Saint of Restraint” myself, this blog post is a warning shot across my very own bow – I love sugary snacks like creamy milk chocolate and cheesecake.

We’re victims of success. We’ve made it folks. Our western world has a Horn of Plenty in each of our refrigerators.

And at some point we’ve gone beyond the tipping point where good sense and discipline have totally melted away, making an employment opportunity in the lab for people like me that should never have been needed.

Our enjoyment of the sparkling diamonds in the water can linger warmly for years to come, or with inattention, sugar-dusted away in a chill wind.

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