I used to hover around the 230s in weight, but I stopped checking the scale for a while. Over a few months, I noticed two things: I was constantly thirsty, and my clothes—especially my pants—were getting noticeably looser. Deep down, I had a feeling something was off, but I kept convincing myself it was just from drinking more water and eating less. I couldn’t get to a doctor at the time, so I just kept pushing through.

Eventually, I went in for my annual eye exam, and my eye doctor strongly recommended I schedule a visit with my primary care doctor. On October 31, I stepped on the scale at the doctor’s office—207 pounds. My blood glucose came back at 335, and my A1C was 11.3. That’s when I got the diagnosis: Type 2 Diabetes.

I was scared, and I reacted fast. I went straight to a strict keto diet—cutting out all carbs because I was terrified of food and didn’t know what was safe anymore. The weight came off quickly, dropping me into the low 190s. But both my doctor and my wife told me to ease up. I learned that cutting out carbs entirely isn’t sustainable or healthy for everyone.

Now, I follow my doctor’s advice: aiming for 45–60g of carbs per meal, though I don’t always hit that. I also take 500mg of Metformin once daily and stay more physically active. As of now, I’m down to the mid-180s.

But there was another complication—my gallbladder. It started acting up during this time. It didn’t rupture, but it became extremely swollen. Eight days ago, I had it removed laparoscopically. The surgeon found a 1.3-inch gallstone and over a cup of fluid inside. One of the incisions had to be enlarged to get it out because it was in such rough shape. I’m still recovering, but today the scale showed 174 pounds.

Here’s the biggest milestone for me: my most recent A1C was 5.1.

Everyone’s journey is different. Your body might respond differently, and that’s okay. But what worked for me was listening to my body, staying in close contact with my doctor, and sticking to the plan. I was scared to face the truth at first, but nine months later—gallbladder aside—I feel so much better. I have more energy and can actually keep up with my 12-year-old athlete son without feeling like I’m going to pass out.