Instructions Not Included

I have hope on my mind today. I also have it on my hand. I would show you a picture, but I chose a fairly rubbish felt tip pen to do it with, and it's rather faded at this point.

But why? Well I got 'invited' on Facebook to what apparently is the 'Day of Hope' today. I won't cut and paste the info from the event, because I found some of the phrasing awkward, and I didn't quite agree with everything that was suggested. However, what I did agree with was the hope. All the people there are hoping for a cure.

When I met with my consultant a few months after DX, he said to me, 'I thoroughly believe that there will be a cure whilst I am still practising, and probably within the next ten years.' And I really wanted to believe him. But the thing that stopped me was that I knew oh, so well, the stories of my new friends who had all heard the same thing before. A cure in five years, a cure in ten. So whilst I wanted to believe him, I didn't want to put too much stock in something that might never materialise. 

There was recently a lot of publicity over the announcement of the artificial pancreas project, which JDRF are involved with. I recall that being asked about it when I'd read an article on the BBC, and what I thought. I thought it was amazing. But I wasn't jumping up and down. And surely I should have been? Well, maybe. I didn't want to feel desensitised to hope 'before my time', not even being a year old yet, in diabetes terms. But the truth was that I didn't want to get too excited over something that might not come to fruition, not matter how much I might want it to. But more than the artificial pancreas, what I wanted was a cure. I wanted this to be over. 

And that made me think again. It made me think of all my new friends, and if this was how I felt with not even a year of diabetes-life under my belt, how did they feel with five, ten, twenty, thirty or more years under theirs? Do they still hope, after hearing promises of a cure that turned out to be empty, time after time?

One of the Bible verse I hold closest to my heart is all about hope. I have it stuck on my wardrobe, so it's always there when I need it in my lowest moments:

I'm not saying that having hope is easy. It's not. But I thoroughly believe that everything I go through teaches me more patience. And as that verse says, it makes me a better person day by day. The troubles give me hope.  I believe that there will BE a cure. I don't know whether it'll be in the next ten years, or I won't live to see it. I don't know which generation will know the joy that is brought around by the end of this disease. But I know I want to be part of the generation that is part of the change in the world. I want to, and will do all that I can. On the days that I can't quite manage hope, I will settle for faith, as I don't see them as quite the same. On the good days, they'll walk hand in hand. 

But I'm not ready to give up on either yet. And if you have, whilst I can, I'll take your share and hope for you. 

Happy Christmas one and all!

Well I promised you a post today, and though I'm cutting it rather close to the wire, here we go.

So last night, I went to midnight communion, as I usually do of a Christmas Eve. Skimming over the ice, insanely squeaky clarinet playing, and the fact there was a rather frighteningly drunk man walking the same path home as me, I decided to test as I arrived at the service. 4.5. Hmm. Fair enough, but if that doesn't alter, I might need to have a snack before I go to bed.  Now when it comes to actually taking communion, I remember that the church I go to when I'm at my parents' place serves grape juice rather than wine for communion. Ah. All the times I've taken communion since being diagnosed, I've either been served wine, or I've been free to take the tiniest sip of juice from a comunial cup. So I start wondering whether this would be a problem. I decide that it shouldn't since the amount you get served in the individual glasses is smaller than a shot glass, so it couldn't affect me too much, surely?

Well, I'm 5.3 before I go to bed, so all's well that ends well, right? Well, I wake up this morning with a fairly strong headache, and test at 8.8 in one hand, and 7.6 in the other. Huh?! So I have some breakfast, and go back down to church again. After the service, I'm starting to feel a bit grotty. I figured I was probably on the edge of hypo. Nope! 10.3. An hour later, when I'm doing my proper post meal test, I come in at 4.3. AN HOUR LATER! What the heck is going on by this point?

But this is where it starts to get really interesting. I'm 4.6 before we have Christmas dinner. I don't go crazy, but I'm not stingy either. Turkey, roast potatoes, parsnips, carrots, stuffing, sausage. Have a bit of ice cream and a very tiny bit of Christmas pudding after. Two glasses of light sparkling (very sweet) wine. Post meal I come in at 5.9. Having told myself I can be a bit more relaxed today, I have a handful of savoury nibbles, and pick at yoghurt coated ginger (something I discovered I loved after being diagnosed. Then shortly after discovered the sugar content of it.). Come about 8pm, and I think I should probably have something else to eat, or I'll hypo later in the evening. But thinking about the ginger and what have you, I think it's still going to be a high score. Numberwang says....5.8.

Post meal numberwang says 4.5!

What is going on?! On a normal day, I wouldn't eat like this! I wouldn't pick at ginger. I wouldn't drink the sweet wine. I wouldn't have stuffing, potatoes and parsnips at the same meal. It's rather like the diabetes fairy, who normally is such a curse, decided to turn the usual game on its head. Thus I have had two of my mum's chocolates, and a small glass of port. I daren't see how far I can test this out though.

In other news, I have many, many pairs of socks. This is a very good thing. Note that I do not say that I have enough socks. One can never have enough socks. They are also all fabulous. I did take a picture of my feet in one pair to show you, but sadly this computer does not like to upload things. But believe me, they are rather wonderful.

I hope you are all having a great time, with good levels.

Again, Merry Christmas to you! xx

I started off today being a bit miserable and grumpy. Overslept, but still tired. I had forgotten that we had a room hire in at work today, for a company who were running auditions for a showcase. Which meant people were coming in and out of the door all day. Our front door is a code-entry only door, with a 'ring bell for attention' sign. People do not read the sign. They bash the door, then bash the fire exit, and when I DO put the door on the latch so people don't need the code, they decide then is a good time to actually notice the bell. It is a constant source of frustration. So people were at the door all day which meant my getting up and down, up and down. Which, when you're trying to get your own work done is annoying.

So I get to mid afternoon, and I'm feeling like I've been run over by a steamroller. I'm totally exhausted, and sensing myself flag. I was 4.8 mmol/l two hours post lunch, so I figure that it is entirely possible that I've gone hypo. I feel like I'm hypo. I test, and prepare myself for a low score.

8.6 mmol/l

What? That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Why am I feeling so rubbish, and yet I'm actually higher than I would like to be? That's just as frustrating as the door issue. I'm just trying to get comfortable in listening to my own body and its signs that something's not right. And then when I think I'm half way there, I realise that I'm right back where I started from?  It's deflating, upsetting, and leaves me feeling a bit defeated. I need a hug rather badly.

Come the end of the day, and I start walking home. It's Thursday night, and late night shopping appears to have started. It's cold, I'm cold and rather miserable. As I'm heading down one of the main shopping streets, I can hear some weird music. I can't tell what it is, and I have my Ipod on, so it's a bit muffled anyway. But I make my way into one of squares, which happens to be where the York's big Christmas tree is.

Turns out that I've wandered in to the turn on of York's (admittedly extremely naff) Christmas lights. The music is a brass band playing Christmas carols. (Eee, I do love a good brass band).  So I stood for a minute, took a quick snapshot of the tree with my camera phone (difficult due to the fact I was apparently standing in everybody's way, and it was unbelievably windy), and listened to a couple of carols. And then I actually thought about the lyrics.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen,

May nothing you dismay.

For Jesus Christ, our saviour

Was born on Christmas day.

Huh. How about that? Now, I haven't really talked about my faith on here, but I am a Christian, for the record. And I take a lot of comfort in faith. I find that God constantly provides moments that make me stop still and take of stock of everything. The other morning, I was desperate to speak to someone to sort something out. 'Please, Lord', I asked, 'please make him just appear from round the corner, so I can clear this up.'. And he did. So, I actually wasn't in the least bit surprised that when I was feeling down and unhappy with how I'm dealing with things, for me to hear 'rest happily, you don't need to worry - God is looking after you.' How great is that?

I walked the rest of the way home feeling rather more content. I was thinking about how despite everything that has happened in the last six months, I'm still here. I'm still standing. I've thought 'I cannot do this' sometimes. But whether I think I can or not, I still have to. And that's a reality. I've been safe, even through some sketchy times, I've been provided for. I've managed. And that's good.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:13)

And that's a fact. I just need to remember it more.