Oh For Crying Out Loud

The first thing I drank in the hospital after my breathing tube was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of my throat was a cup of apple juice. It was such a flavor shock that it burned itself more or less indelibly into my brain. It was cold and wet and refreshing and sweet and it tasted good, and it was like being reminded that I was alive and good things still existed in the world. I'd never been a real fan of apple juice before, but that first cup? Man! It was like manna.

Since then I've had to give up a number of guilty pleasures. Smoking? Outta here! Alka-Seltzers? Outta here! Ice cream? Outta here! Cheese? Outta here, for the most part. But I always had my apple juice, which I used to wash down my pills in the morning and evening, sort of a tasty start to the day and a cold, refreshing end to the day.

Now I read that drinking fruit juice twice a day increases your chances of developing Type-2 diabetes by 31 percent, though it varies somewhat with the juice in question. But apple juice is one of the heavy sinners; grapefruit juice on the other hand is much less dangerous.

Isn't that great? It's like the world just handed me a telegram saying "Oh, by the way, remember apple juice? That's what you'll be doing in the future, remembering it, because if you keep going, it's probably diabetes-city, and welcome to the seventh coronary risk factor."

Double drat. Maybe I can find sugar-free apple juice, or drink sugar-free lemonade. That would work, in a pinch, but once again I have to give up something I like because someone out there found a reason it'll kill me.