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Advent of Insulin

5 Dec

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It’s that time of year again…….

Bloody Christmas…..

When I was a boy (about 100 years ago), I used to have an advent calendar.

Nothing fancy.

Just a cardboard one.

Some kind of festive picture inside.

Snow – I bloody hate snow….

Carol Singers – I bloody hate singing….

Christmas Pudding – Now you’re talking!

It had 24 doors on it.

We seem to have added one these days for some reason.

I guess things change, don’t they?

The calendars have changed too.

Some now have chocolate in them.

I’ve even seen ones with whiskey in them.

Ones with beauty products in them.

A gift for every day in the build-up to the day of gifts it seems.

I have to admit, I was tempted to treat myself to the whiskey one.

Really tempted!!

Well, Lets face it, no amount of beauty products will fix this face.

I was so tempted that I went online,

Found the one I wanted,

Added it to my basket,

Hovered over “Check Out” ready to click.

After all, what would be better than a whiskey advent calendar….

Then I realised.

An Insulin one!

What if I could send an insulin advent calendar to a child with T1D that has no access to insulin?

Of course they don’t exist.

So, I did the next best thing.

I deleted my basket items.

I went to https://lfacinternational.org

I donated £25 to Life for a Child.

£1 for every day of advent.

I can’t send an insulin advent calendar, but I can make it an #AdventOfInsulin

Live Long and Bolus

Grumps

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The Beginning of, the Beginning….

25 Nov

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Today I was asked the question that I have been asked more times that I can remember over the last 13 months.

“How is your foot?”

For the first time, I answered.

“It’s fixed”

It’s been fixed for over a month now, but its not been something I was comfortable in saying out loud. I guess it’s because through all of the issues and treatment with my foot, there has always been an element of guess work. Often the appearance on the surface of the foot gave us an educated guess of what lie beneath.

Also, I guess that I didn’t want to temp fate. Not that I believe in fate but given the slightly elongated journey to getting a fixed foot, I wanted a period of stability and for it to all look ok and CRP markers to stay down before I could admit to myself that my foot is actually fixed.

So, I have discovered a slight chink in my resilience, which is not easy to admit…

I can take any shit that is thrown at me on the chin, tackle it head on and not bat an eyelid.

  • Ulcer
  • Bone Infection
  • Self-administered IV antibiotics
  • Long distance travel with all of the above
  • 32 weeks out of the 54 of treatment were on some form of antibiotics

All of the above did not phase me. However, tell me that everything is ok, and I can’t get my head round it.

Weird?

Well, I never claimed to be normal, did I?

Anyway…..

That’s it right?

Grumps is fixed?…

Well, yes.

But….

If I’m totally honest with myself (which I actively avoid being) my foot is fixed, but I am not.

Everyone kept telling me how much I have been through the last 13 months.

I still genuinely think it wasn’t as bad as I may have made it sound, and it now seems to have gone fairly quickly. I do have to admit though that whilst I was not in the greatest of shape (total underestimation) and not the fittest (again, really not), by body is properly screwed now…

The lack of exercise whilst resting my foot means I have next to zero fitness. I’ve put on some weight and my insulin resistance has gone up. My BG management has been ok but running a bit higher than I used to partly due to the above with the infection and antibiotics thrown in. Kind of a vicious circle that needs to be broken now. Especially that I have in my mind more now that I need to what I can to minimise my risk of further related conditions.

So, my foot is definitely 100% fixed, and I have my head around that now, but I am not fully recovered.

However, I will be!!!

The resilience that saw me through the bit of a foot issue will see me through to recovery.

I am not planning to train for a marathon, I have a foot infection, not a lobotomy….

I’m not planning some epic sporting event. I’m way too lazy.

I am planning to make a few changes to ensure that I am #FitBy50 (you can credit @anniecoops for that one).

But first…….Pizza!

Live Long and Bolus

Grumps.

If I weren’t so lucky by Matt Butler

7 Feb

It is pretty simple……..

If my insulin was not provided for by the National Health Service from the second I was diagnosed, I would be in a lot of bother. I may even be dead. I certainly wouldn’t be married to the woman I am now.

I remember my day of diagnosis well: the nurse called me in to a small room and told me that the blood tests I’d had done did indeed confirm that I have Type 1 diabetes and I would have to inject insulin every day. As crappy as I felt (apparently I wasn’t far from being hospitalised), there was the small matter of being told to stick a needle into myself. See, at the time I could not stand needles. I still cannot watch the television if an injection is being depicted. The abject fear on my face was probably plain to see. I can’t imagine what the look on my face would have been like if the nurse had have added that every injection I did would cost me. Because when I was diagnosed I was in a pretty poorly paid job, as I was only just embarking on my journalism career. So if insulin hadn’t have been provided to me (literally there in that room, mixed 25-75 short and long-term, in a burgundy-coloured pen with a fresh shiny needle of 6 millimetres in length), I would have been faced with a pretty tough choice. Either take out crippling health insurance, pay for my insulin via unsustainable loans, or buy an air ticket home to my parents on the other side of the planet and ask them extremely nicely to fund my new needle habit. Or of course I could have just not taken it. And then died. None of the choices above would have been attractive. In fact looking at the alternatives to having insulin provided to me makes me wonder what I would have done. As well as the new world of regular blood-glucose tests, carbohydrate counting and the need for a supply of jelly babies to be kept close at hand, I’d have had to either uproot my life, take out a second job or be plunged even further into debt. Or I could have keeled over drowning in ketones.

Of course there are people in the world who do not benefit from a comprehensive state healthcare system – but still cannot afford the insulin they need to stay alive. We will ignore the accusations that pharmaceutical companies contribute to an artificially inflated insulin market, but just acknowledge the fact that insulin does cost a lot of money. And it is not as if people with diabetes have any alternative.

Spare a rose. Save a child

https://lifeforachildusa.org/

 

Jane’s Story

30 Jan

This year, on January 22nd, I celebrate my 53rd Diaversary. It was also the night I was supposed to see the Rolling Stones in Sydney. I ended up in Hornsby Hospital in a coma, and my brother used my ticket.

I was expected to die, but the medical gods, and insulin, were on my side. I was 15, and about to enter my final year of High School.

This was what I call the ‘Dark Ages’ of diabetes treatment: no glucometers, no disposable syringes, no ‘human’ insulin. We had to mix wee with water in a test tube, add a Clinitest tablet, and wait to see what colour the mixture turned. Supposedly there were 5 grades of colour. In reality there were two that mattered: blue, and brick orange. Blue showed that you had probably been hypo 2 hours before, and orange showed that you were high 2 hours before the test. Not really very helpful, especially as I nearly always reported to the parents that it was blue. I took one injection a day, mixing Isophane with Regular insulin, and eating to the insulin. No wonder I put on weight!

Yes, I have complications. In some ways this is not surprising when you think of the treatments of those days. However, not all PWDs from this era have complications. I believe that complications result as much from genetic make up as from lack of good treatment. I am not ashamed of these complications. Diabetes, and its complications, make me who I am.

Very early on, maybe 6-7 years after diagnosis, I used to vomit undigested food after meals, or have bloody aawful hypos. Yes, you guessed it: gastroparesis. I suffered with this for 39 years before it was diagnosed by a very bright GP in country NSW. Once I was put onto Motilium tablets, I didn’t look back. Yes, it was a damned nuisance, especially when it occurred at a dinner party at my parents’ home, and other guests thought I was drunk. My husband had seen me like this before, and knew it wasn’t to do with how much wine I’d had. Socially embarrassing, yes. My ‘fault’? No.

Retinopathy. Ah, now’s there a word to conjure with.

I showed no signs of retinopathy until about 20 years after I was diagnosed. This was treated with laser therapy. I was seeing an eye specialist whose practice it was to schedule 3 patients for every time slot so that, unless I got there first, I waited … oh, how I waited. The man was an arrogrant pig who delighted in making me feel that this was all my fault. I hadn’t kept ‘control’ (oh, how I hate that word) of my diabetes, or I must have been eating the wrong foods. I’m sure he enjoyed lasering my eyes – it doesn’t hurt, he’d tell me. Like hell it didn’t! After the first time I took paracetomol and codeine tablets before I went in, and repeated the dose when I came out. I knocked myself out for the day, but this way I could cope with it. He did so much treatment over a period of about 5 years that I now have almost no peripheral vision, and had to give up driving 14 years ago. The good thing is that since 1992 I have no signs of retinopathy.

I had cataracts removed last year. The eye specialist I now see thinks that they were due to diabetes, but he is not the shaming kind of health practitioner. At least now I only have to wear specs for close up work.

Grumps and I share the joy of having had Charcot foot. I think I was luckier than he. I had a slightly sore spot on the top of my foot that didn’t go away. My GP sent me for X-rays, which showed a fracture of one of the small cuneiform bones. I have no idea how that occurred. I’ve always had weak ankles, and can turn my ankle on flat ground. I could have stepped on something that I didn’t feel (thank you, neuropathy), or walked on uneven ground. Who lnows? I certaily don’t. We went to A&E at the local hospital, and was put in a temporary plaster cast an instructed to make an appointment at the fracture clinic at Gosford Hospital. Boy, was I lucky. I got in quickly, and was seen by two of the best orthopaedic surgeons at the hospital. The consensus? Charcot. Plaster for 3 months. This was in an Australian summer; not the best time to be in plaster. Because of the quick, good treatment my foot is not misshapen by Charcot, only by good old osteoarthritis in a couple of toes.

And my latest (and I hope last) complication: Chronic Kidney Disease due to Type 1 diabetes. Aren’t I lucky? This was diagnosed about 10 years ago. It has not progressed, and thanks to my renal physicians, is unlikely to lead to dialysis.

People, I can live with all this. Shit happens. I deal with it with help from a very good health system in Australia. I just thank goodness I am not in the USA or an African, third world county. I am not ashamed of what has happened. I wish it hadn’t, but there’s nothing I could have done, or can do, about it. Yes, I get depressed at times, but that seems to be normal amongst T1s, whether with complications or not.

Here’s to a good life, and to a cure, but I won’t hold my breath for the latter.

Jane Reid

Peer Support at IDF 2017

11 Dec

If anyone is interested or just needs a cure for their insomnia, here are the slides from the talk I did at #IDF2017 World Diabetes Congress on my experience of Peer Support.

It was also live streamed on Facebook so if you want to see it then feel free.

Type1 Peer Support Slides IDF 2017

 

Live Long and Bolus

Grumps.

Another Bloody Diaversary Blog

25 Aug

23 years ago today (unless you are watching on +1 or catch-up) my Type1 Diabetes was diagnosed with me.

Seen stuff recently asking “what would you have done differently?” or “What would you tell yourself if you could have?”

So here goes:

I was 90% sure what was wrong but I kept delaying going to the doctors.

So what would I gone earlier knowing what I know now?

No

Why?

I was a stubborn bastard then

I’m a stubborn bastard now

 

It didn’t worry me in the slightest

Would I react differently?

No

Why?

There was no drama.

No emergency.

My T1D was lucky enough to spend 25 years without having me inflicted on it, and I’d got as far down the path to so called adulthood as I was ever going to go.

I was the kind of person that is offensively calm about everything

I still am now

 

I didn’t involve any family, friends or work colleagues in any way

Would I if I went back in time?

No

Why?

I didn’t like people then

I don’t people now

 

I could go on but it’s all going to be the same

Would I do anything differently?

No

Why?

Because I’m the same person now that I was before diagnosis.

It has not changed me.

It never will.

I won’t let it

I don’t live with Diabetes, it lives with me!

I would however have made sure I was wearing shoes when I left hospital. The sudden realisation that you are crossing the road still wearing your slippers makes to feel like a total knob…….

Live Long and Bolus

Grumps

Love Changes Everything

9 Feb

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They say that Love Changes Everything.

Someone even wrote a song about it…..

Is it true though?

Personally I couldn’t give a toss if it is or isn’t!

However,

It’s almost that overly commercial time of year where women receive skimpy garments that they would never purchase for themselves, bought by naive men that think it’s going to increase their chance of getting a blow job. All in the name of “Valentine’s Day”

 Call me unromantic, but guys, if you give that much of a shit about someone then just tell them. Every day. Show them. No. Not by sending them a picture of yourself trying to make your stomach look smaller and your know what look bigger, but just by being kind. Every Day!

Who knows, it might even increase your chances of getting laid more often……

So if you now wonder if your token Anne Summers purchase is a bit tokenistic, and that for some insane reason she will think that you bought it more for your benefit than hers, you can fix it…..

Buy the love of your life 11 roses.

On the card, explain why you didn’t buy her 12.

Tell her that you donated the money for the 12th to Life for a Child.

She will see that you have a heart, not just an erection………

 To donate, please visit:

 https://lifeforachildusa.org/sparearose/give/

 Live Long and Bolus

Grumps