Instructions Not Included

So I've made no secret of my love of Dancesport. We're now far into the competition season, with only Roses 2011 left to go. This has meant some late nights, some early starts, and interesting dilemmas regarding the D. And where to hide Anneka. 

So earlier in this month had me competing in the Inter-Varsity Dance Competition (or IVDC as it's more commonly known) in Blackpool - the home of ballroom dancing, doncha know? So we were dancing at the Wintergardens. This place is gorgeous, for the record, and has one of the best dance floors in Europe. Problem of course, is that in order to get there for doors opening, and to get ready in time for the first rounds (which of COURSE happen to be one that I was competing in), our coach had to leave at 5am. 

Yes, you read that right. FIVE IN THE MORNING. Oy vey. By the way, I don't live near the university, so that means getting there. Too far to walk, especially with the amount of stuff I take with me, and several hours before the first bus. So expensive taxi ride it is.

Now, in my infinite wisdom, I managed to get my weeks mixed up, and thought that I had another week before the competition, which meant that I didn't really have any time to do those two words that fill me with a kind of dread, coupled with self loathing and ultimately necessity - fake tan. So that meant I had about 24 hours with which to achieve a hopefully appropriate level of tan, which was subtle enough for me not to be scared of my own reflection. I bought a wash off instant tan. 

There are a couple of things you should know about this. 1: I spent the end of my evening in a pair of latex gloves, pyjama bottoms and a bikini top. 2: It took about three attempts to get this right. 3: This was mainly because I hadn't realised I'd bought a shade too dark. 4: I realised about half way through that I would not be able to shower in the morning, and 5: It takes much, much longer than you think it will. 

I slept for a total of 45 minutes that night. Then I got up again, and got a taxi. When we got on the coach, I disovered that I had, in fact, found the coldest place on earth. Customarily, one expects the indoors to be warmer than the outside, but I'm fairly convinced that the sadistic coach driver had actually put the air conditioning on. It turns out that it's a longer drive to Blackpool than I'd originally given it credit for. 

Now last time, when I did a the Northern Universities Dance Competition (NUDC) in Chesterfield, I seemed to spend the majority of the day pretty high, scores wise. I headed out the door that morning coming in at 6.1mmol/l (109). Since my scores have still been rather....uncooperative as of late, I was very happy with that. As we pulled in to Blackpool, I was riding higher, at 13.2 (237), but a correction pulled me back down into range, and I was sitting pretty on 7.9 (142) as Round One of Beginner's Waltz started. 

Alice and I unfortunately got knocked out of this first round. This wasn't much of a surprise though, as I got hit on the head with someone's elbow, and then got rammed by two couples, right in front of the judges' table. Sadly, there aren't any more pictures of us dancing, mainly because our heats of Quickstep, and Jive all happened in a different room, and we just got missed in Cha-Cha. It's probably for the best, because every photo of me dancing ballroom makes me look like a have no neck. It's something of a cross between my still needing to learn better dance posture, and the picture being taken from behind me!

As with Waltz, we got knocked out of everything first round, which was a real shame, particularly for Quickstep, which went beautifully - I was fairly sure we'd progress to the following round. But such is life, and there's still Roses, and next year, although neither with Alice. And whilst I could easily believe that we got knocked out of each class, what I couldn't quite believe was what was happening with my levels. I'd been having such rotten numbers that it was like the Diabetes Fairy had waved some sort of wand over me for the day. Every number was acceptable! 5.3 (95), 7.0 (126), 5.5 (99), 8.2 (147), and so on! I'd decided on trying a grazing strategy, and somehow, it seemed to have worked!

Between the Ballroom classes and the start of the Latin, was the Off-beat competition. This is so much fun. Each university team gets 3 minutes 30 to do whatever they want. It's marked 50% on dance, and 50% on entertainment. Since our entry was a piece choreographed to 'Star Wars Disco Boogie', we were clearly going for the entertainment angle. See my kick-ass Ewok mask if you need further evidence. The whole thing was utter comedy, but apparently comedy that worked, considering we made it to 6th place out of the 12 entries. I maintain that we would have broken the top 3 if we'd had more rehearsal time!

By the evening, the individual classes were over, I was still coming in good at 5.6 (100), and we were all set to go with the team knockout competition. Alice and I were dancing Waltz for the C team (I had wanted to dance Quickstep, but hey ho, you go where you're put!). In an awesome move, all three of our teams got recalled to the quarter finals, and our A team came in 4th place in the 2nd division. Score one for York!

We eventually got back on the coach home at just after midnight, and a score of 4.9 (88), with the heating finally coming on at Leeds, and into bed, after showering off my orange skin, at about 3am. That's one crazy, and very, very long day. 

I don't know how I got such good scores. I need to look into it a bit more, I think. Shame I couldn't repeat it the other night though, when I was at a workshop on contemporary choreography for theatre. I ended up having a hypo halfway through, and spent the rest sitting on the sidelines, because I knew I was going down again after treating. 

Ah well. You win some, you lose some. Bring on Roses!

My work sometimes takes me to some odd places. Today it was ASDA (big name supermarket for you US-ers. Think Walmart). We have a party hire in the theatre tomorrow, and we had to go and buy alcohol for making cocktails. Tomorrow night I'm making cocktails, baby. For the record, for some unknown reason, this has made me have DuckTales theme in my head al day. Or more specifically, Garfunkel & Oates going 'DuckTales! Woohoo!'. But I digress.

So I've been trying to get some high numbers back under control. I've tweaked my basal slightly, and altered my morning ratio. Both these seem to be working, but it appears that for my lunch, I either over 'guestimated' the carbs, or over bolused. Or, which is more likely, a bit of both. Which meant I was walking over to get limes, and suddenly went 'ok, things are starting to wave around a little bit here. Better check things'. 

Numberwang says 2.4mmol/l (43mg/dl). That would be why then. Have some Glucotabs, buy some chocolate, because hey, as slow acting carb it works for me, and I can get hold of pretty much any that I want, since I'm smack bang in the middle of the supermarket. Sit down in the cafe. Eat the chocolate. Feel sick.

Now, it takes me full on forty minutes, and a second go at Glucotabs and chocolate to get myself to 4.1mmol/l (73 mg/dl). I then spend the rest of the afternoon dancing around high numbers. I tried not to test too much, but I was at least 11mmol/l (198 mg/dl) for most of the afternoon. 

Better luck tomorrow. But hey, I learned how to make Ginger G&T's, Mojitos and Tijuana Slings this afternoon. It also turns out that ASDA now sells FairTrade lemons. So it's not all bad, I suppose.

Yep, that is me. With weights. Andrew has a new camera (which is really awesome), and took this one of me.

I'm working out. This is a new thing for me. Admittedly, these are fairly wussy weights - which I have just noticed say York on them! - only a total of 10lbs, but you've got to start somewhere.

Why am I working out? Well, several reasons.

Reason 1 - I was hoping to take part in this event, which I mentioned a while back now, to raise money for JDRF. Unfortunately, it looks like this isn't going to happen, because although 'my team' can afford the entry fees OK, the cost of travelling, accommodation, and food in London is not cheap, and has just been brought to my attention. So sadly (and this is sadly) that particular event has had to be put on the back burner. I would have loved to do it, and would like to do it in the future - and perhaps do the whole event - but it looks like it's not meant to be this year. Unless some kind soul out there feels like helping me out with the practicalities, in which case, drop me an email!

However, there's now a new event in mind, which actually should end up being harder work for me - and make me have to face several fears! No more on it just yet, but as soon as I've got confirmed team members, and dates, I'll be putting up a sponsorship page, with the whole story. Keep looking out for it!

Reason 2 - Ginger Vieira and I are working on a project. Pretty hush-hush right now, but it WILL happen. If you don't know Ginger, do go check out her site. She's really awesome, and I'm having a lot of fun getting to know her. She's also an record holding powerlifter, and bench press champion. Hopefully she'll bear with me whilst I work up from wussy weights.

So what's my workout plan? Well, I'm still putting it together, but I'm having some help from the Wii Fit, and have put together a 20 minute yoga and muscle exercise plan, which I'm hoping to do before work every morning (giving me further motivation to GET UP), as well as reps with these 5lb weights. I'm looking to do four sets of ten reps, and work up from there.

What else? Well, sadly Dancesport has broken up for the summer, as far as I can tell. Silly university terms. So to fill the gap, I'm visiting a climbing wall, and I'm going to be taking up running.

You probably have no idea how much actually saying that fills me with dread. I hate running, I really, really do. I can sprint OK, but sustained distances? Let's just say that one of my proudest moments running was putting on a sprint at the last minute doing cross country at school, which meant that I came second from last in my year group as opposed to last.

So why am I doing it? Well, I want to try and raise as much money possible for JDRF. So I need to be able to do the event I'm planning on. I also need to be seen to be making a serious effort. I'm hoping that by tracking my progress with this, I'll be able to give you a good laugh - it's going to be thoroughly unglamorous, and maybe you'll take pity on me, and pass on the word of what I'm going to do.

Like I say, keep your eyes open. Probably next week I'll have details for you. And possibly a first vlog on the subject. I also need to get pre-exercise levels right. First 'training hypo' happened today.

We're off to a good start.

Today has been difficult. I ended up having one of those hypos that isn't even that low, but ends up knocking you for six. Felt so grotty all day, and then ended up in double figures. Just lovely.

As I mentioned yesterday, I had a black tie drinks thing for a friend's birthday this evening. At about 18:00, I wasn't entirely convinced that I would be able to go. I'd been feeling totally shaky, sweating loads, and just couldn't seem to process things right. To be honest, I felt utterly rubbish. Yet I didn't want to let this win.

What I wasn't sure about though, was that if I went out for drinks, still feeling rough, would I then feel even worse for the whole weekend? Not a definite outcome, to be sure, but certainly a possibility. I wasn't willing to sacrifice my weekend for it, but I wanted to go.

I did end up going, and thankfully I seemed to level out and I started feeling OK. I think I might have been lucky though. It felt like it so easily have gone the other way.

Ever had a puzzle that you just couldn't figure out? I've had a few of them in my time. I used to have a Rubik's cube, but I got so fed up of the damn thing that I ended up putting it in a shoebox for Operation Christmas Child. We also used to own a puzzle that was actually a birthday present for my brother one year - it was a plastic box that had 3-D Tetris style pieces. The idea was to take the pieces out of the box, and then put them back in again. Most annoying puzzle ever. I think I couldn't have been any older than ten or eleven when this puzzle arrived in our house. I'm twenty-five now, and no-one in my family has ever managed to solve this thing. 

Puzzles can be immensely frustrating, so it's completely understandable that sometimes people need help or clues to help them get through the difficult bits. Which is why I'm a huge advocate of testing. 

The whole management of blood sugar is a huge puzzle - to get it to play fair, you've got to track it and learn to spot trends. Which is why I can't wrap my head around people who say you can test 'too much', or that testing more than four times a day makes you 'obsessive'. 

I don't see it that way. We're all in the same game here, which is trying to manage this thing the best we can. How are you supposed to spot the clues to help you do that if you don't test? Personally I test at least seven times a day - before each meal, two hours after, and before bed. It quite frequently ends up being more than that. I would never just 'guess' at what my levels were, because I'm a human being, and I'm more likely than not to get it wrong. If I were to try and guess too often, and it turned out I was guessing wrong, what sort of damage could I be doing to myself? 

No-one likes testing. I mean, come on - it does hurt, and there's no getting round that. It's not like we do these things for fun. So why are people testing more than four times a day doing it? Well, I can't speak for everyone else, but for me, it's so that I can feel that it's me in the driving seat, rather than diabetes. I don't want to leave these things down to chance. I carb count, so I need to test before and after, so I can check I've got the count right. I would also never not check before bed, because I need to make sure that I'm about 5mmol/l (90 mg/dl), otherwise I need to have a snack.

Aside from this, I add on any time I feel hypo or hyper, before I exercise, before I go out with Andrew on the back of the motorbike, if I'm not feeling well. I've also taken to testing at 15:00 when I'm at the office, as I tend to slump around then, and I want to make sure that I have a snack if it's appropriate.

Of course, there's only a point in testing if you know what the numbers mean, and know what to do with them. Otherwise, your meter might as well sing Baa Baa, Black Sheep to you. But if you know what the deal is? Well then I firmly believe that then you should have the ability and necessary supplies to test as much as you need to. 

Would I call that obsessive? Nope, not a chance. I don't think it's obsessive, when it's under the provisos that I've just mentioned. It's proactive. I thoroughly believe that I'm being proactive in looking after my health and my future. We're in a social climate now where we're all being encouraged to take control of our own health and well-being. So when you've got maintaining the best blood sugar management that you're able to, added into the mix, then surely that's just following advice generally given to everyone? After all, it's not easy, and sometimes we all need a few extra clues.

Just after I was diagnosed, I was bought a whole order's worth of Glucotabs from an online medical order shop. I still haven't used all of them, but I've been through a fair few of the 50 tablet pots. I'm collecting spare change in two of them, which helps me feel like I'm being thrifty. 

I don't mind Glucotabs too much, really. I don't LIKE them, but that means I'm disinclined to snack on them. I have several of the little plastic tubes that the 10's come in. I just refill them from the large pots. I do carry an empty one around in my bag with me though - it's an absolutely ideal sharps disposal pot for when you're out and about. That there's a top tip for you. I also know that three of them will bring me up from pretty much most hypos. In fact the only thing that bugs me about Glucotabs is the flavours.

Here in the UK, you have a choice of two flavours - orange or raspberry. Of the two, I prefer the raspberry, but what I wouldn't give for a change! I know over in the US, there are more choices. A quick search on the Walgreens website (I've come to the conclusion Walgreens must be a bit like Boots over here?) showed an absolute bounty of flavours in comparison! As well as your bog standard orange and raspberry, I found mixed fruit, grape and sour apple! 

Let's just say I'm jealous!

So, Andrew took me out on the bike again tonight. It had been a strange old day, in that when I looked out of the window this morning, it looked like it was going to pour it down with rain. And it looked cold. 

Thankfully though, it both brightened, and warmed up enough for me to go protesting (great turn out, both the speakers and people in the crowd were lovely), and boil in clothing I thought was going to be weather-appropriate. 'Interesting' fact about me is that I never, ever choose clothes that are appropriate to the weather. I freeze or boil - it's not fun.

But by the time I'd got back home, (after another hypo) it had warmed up nicely, and Andrew wanted to try an experiment. I recently acquired a little pocket video camera, and I've taken to making short films. So Andrew wanted to try seeing if he could attach the camera to his bike gear and film his rides. This meant another experiment with 'Gaffa- Mache', in which you make a case for things out of Gaffa tape and clingfilm.

So we tied it to him, and it did indeed film. However, we forgot to cut a gap for the microphone. So it consequently sounds like there is a giant helicopter attacking us the whole way through this!

Things that it is important to remember! 

1: I've said it before, but bike clothes make you look unbelievably fat

2: I don't know why I say 'hello' like a complete loony. I don't normally talk that, I promise

3: There is no helicopter. Much in the same way 'there is no spoon'. If it's really hard for a lot of people to understand, let me know, and I'll put up subtitles!

It's ended up turning in to one of those days, it really, really has. We've got a show in the theatre tonight, which means working late. However, half our staff are away, which means we're understaffed. On a normal evening when we have the public in the building, we have three members off staff on. Tonight, we had two - myself and Andrew. 

So, I'm busy doing box office (shocking), and we're about five minutes off opening the house. I'm feeling a bit wibbly, and I'm pretty sure a hypo is headed my way, but unfortunately, box office is busy, and my meter is in the other room. OK, I think, I can wait a couple of minutes to check. 

Then the fire alarm goes off. Oh yes, you heard me right. ANOTHER fire alarm with me in the building. Thrills! So, good, responsible little steward that I am, I make sure everyone is out of the building. It's not going to be fire, I know that - it's going to be the haze machine combined with the fans in the theatre kicking up dust. For some reason, that sometimes sets off the alarm, as has been previously observed by the times our Stage Manager, Rob, has set the alarm off with his sander. But we get everyone out, and I'm running up and down the stairs (we have quite a few), to check all the levels. Everybody out, everything is safe, everybody in. 

Wait a few minutes, serve lots more drinks. OK, I feel REALLY low now. I drink some juice off the bar, but I'm shaking on the insides, I'm sweating, and I can feel waves of heat rushing up and down me. Lovely. A couple of minutes later, I see a window of opportunity, and I run off and grab my meter, and try to check. 

Shunk, goes the lancet. 

No blood. Try another finger.

Shunk goes the lancet.

No blood this time either. Grrr!

Flick my arm to try and get some blood to my fingers.

Medical ID bracelet flies off my wrist, and is now a bunch of beads cluttering the floor between the box office and halfway through the main office. Well, that's just peachy, isn't it? I start picking them up, and try again to test.

Shunk goes the lancet.

4,3,2,1, numberwang says......3.2mmol/l (57.6mg/dl) AFTER juice?! Aw man. I'm seriously sweaty and swaying by now. I go back over to the bar.

So being as I'm supposed to stay downstairs as Duty Manager, whilst Andrew goes upstairs (ironically, mostly in case of a fire-related emergency, ha ha ha(!) ), I decide to possibly over treat this, so that he knows I'm not going to drop whilst I'm working alone downstairs, and can't get to anyone. 

Pour another glass of apple juice and down it. Then pour another glass (they're very small). I pause to look at it. There's mould floating in it. Well, isn't that just LOVELY? And isn't it good we hadn't had anyone buy any? I couldn't have noticed this before I'd drunk two glasses of it though, could I?

I drink a bit of orange juice instead, and grab a bar of chocolate off the bar as well, thinking that my bar tab is rocketing up by this point. Everyone goes up, and I sit down at my desk.

I post a cry for help on Twitter, Facebook, and Diabetes Support, saying I was on my own, and could anyone who had my mobile number check on me in ten minutes or so?

And bless their hearts, did people come through for me? Sam, Siobhan and Tom all texted me within a matter of minutes, asking if I was ok, did I have stuff to treat with, etc.

I was climbing slowly. 4.9, 5.2, all the way up to 6.8mmol/l (122mg/dl). Still felt like utter rubbish though, and my WORD was I hungry by now?

Interval comes, and we do a roaring trade on the bar. But I want to go home. Show has just finished, and now I'm at 10.7mmol/l (192.6 mg/dl), and I'm still having to think much harder than normal to type this correctly. 

Is it home and bed time yet? How was your day?

I've been way behind on my logging. And no, not the sort in the picture. I'm onto my third log book now, as provided by my clinic.

I've said time and time again that I struggle to kick myself into being organised. I also struggle from sieve-brain in a lot of areas. Oh yes, I can be a real winner!

It's been a couple of weeks where Andrew has been going to me 'Logbooks?'. It actually doesn't need to be a sentence, because it only takes that one word to get me going 'Yes, I know, I know, I'll do it tonight.'. Which I invariably would not do. 

But what's a girl to do? I know if I were to do it daily, it's a task that wouldn't be any sort of issue. I'll say to myself that I will sit down at the end of every day and log my scores, and I'll keep that up for maybe three days. I'm such a procrastinator. Now kids, listen to your Aunty Becky -  don't procrastinate. It's not cool. It just means you've got loads of rubbish to deal with later.

So tonight, it seems that my putting off doing my log books had gone on long enough. We eventually resorted to bribery. Not that it was called bribery. Hoovering the stairs, giving the George Forman grill, and taking out the bins, since it's bin night, were all the things it was decided I would have to do if I didn't sit down and write up my logs.

So I did. I really, really hate taking out the bins. It turns out that though it's immensely tedious, it was quite interesting. I hadn't logged since the end of March. Bad, bad Becky. I've had way more hypos than I perhaps had realised. On the flip side though, I've had more 'reasonable' days than I'd been anticipating.

I know I should do it more often. It's hard to see any sort of patterns if I don't write it down. The Contour USB is great for showing me trends and patterns. However, because my own laptop is being seriously squiffy at the moment, I haven't got access to my graphs. Which is making me sad. But the game of 'what the HECK happened on that day?!' is both frustrating and fascinating in almost equal measures.

But don't do what I do. You can do it better! I'm just an idiot who needs to get her butt in gear, really! I better. Otherwise it's bin night again this time next week. And the stairs will need hoovering again, I'm sure.

I'm really very tired today. Now admittedly, this is mostly my own fault. It's hard to say entirely whether this was because I was stubborn (which I am), but I was determined to stay up to watch the results of the UK General Election. The concept of going to sleep whilst my country was changing around me didn't sit well with me. 

I made it to 4am, before going to bed. I'm told that I just missed the result for the York Central constituency, which came in shortly after 4am. I woke up at 7am, but got up shortly after 8am. All in all, I didn't feel too bad. Had a low waking score in the 4's (about 79 mg/dl). Well, it's low for me, as I rarely ever get a waking score lower than 6mmol/l. 

But two hours after breakfast? Hypo. Before lunch? Hypo. Two hours after lunch? Hypo. Good job I had a lot of Glucotabs on me, really. Chug some Diet (Cherry, yey!) Coke, and at about 16:00, Andrew makes me go out for walk to buy milk for the office, which clears my head a tiny bit, but man did I feel rough. To be honest, still not feeling brilliant. 

I do feel like I've been through the wringer today, both physically and emotionally. I don't like sitting on this knife edge of a decision. I don't think I've ever watched so much news in a 24 hour period. The fact that I'm really stressed out over this probably hasn't helped matters much. But I often find that my hypos seem to come in three's. I hate being proved right!

Hypo symptoms are weird things. You don't want to lose them, because that's dangerous. On the other hand, you can sometimes confuse with them with signs of hypers. On top of that, I have been battling recently with normal levels, disguising themselves as hypos. I hate that.

This afternoon is a classic example. Legs like lead, absolutely no dexterity, feeling like my head is full of cotton wool - but completely sound levels, of 4.8 and 5.2. Any other time of the day, I would be thrilled with those levels, so why did I feel so rubbish? 

Whenever I've been feeling like this, it's not like I've dropped from an unusual high, and the feelings could be explained away by what I've come to term as a 'relative hypo'. I honestly don't understand.

So being as I don't understand, I turn this over as a question to you in the DOC. Can anyone help me shed any light on this? I find it frustrating and bewildering, and advice would be most welcome.

Wow, I went quiet there for a while. Sorry about that. I would say that I've had no excuse, but that wouldn't be the entire truth. I've had a fair bit to deal with over this last week. 

So last Sunday, I was all set to write about all the fun I'd been having riding around on the back of Andrew's motorbike. I've no licence of my own to speak of, but have been enjoying riding pillion as of late. 

We rode out to Rievaux Abbey, which is absolutely gorgeous, and a really lovely ride.

I was borrowing Andrew's trousers. These are made for a slim man with no hips. I am not a slim man with no hips. Rather I am a woman with a fair amount of curves. However, I do not normally look as big as I do in this picture. Unless you are naturally extremely slim, biking gear has the tendency to make you look like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. So wearing trousers that were a real struggle to get in did not make for the most comfortable of rides. I got fairly horrendous cramp down my legs about forty minutes in. I was also finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. 

Now, the observant amongst you might have noticed several items that feature in the above photograph. Points if you noticed what I'm holding in my right hand. More points, however, if you noticed the slightly harder to spot open meter case on the tank. Yes, it would appear that riding pillion burns a lot of carbs, as what I am holding in my hand (and was halfway through consuming by that point) is a fun-size Mars Bar. So I spent some of Sunday afternoon going hypo in a field!

After we got home, we set to work on a joint of beef that we'd been planning to roast. A few things ended up happening (which it turns out weren't entirely user error), and later that evening, we ended up with a kitchen fire. Complete with two fire engines. Thankfully, Andrew had managed to put the fire out before I'd even got off the phone with 999, but there was a LOT of smoke damage to the kitchen. Which meant we were up till gone 3am cleaning, and spent the next two nights doing much of the same.

You can't see quite how soot-covered the walls were in this picture of Andrew cleaning the ceiling, because my camera wouldn't pick it up. But have a look at that bowl of water. That was barely a couple of minutes out of the tap. That might give you a bit more of an idea of how much damage we were dealing with.  And by the way, the motorbike helmet is to stop whatever cleaning product was dripping down as we were trying to clean the ceiling.

Having no oven, and for several days, nothing other than the microwave and the kettle to cook with meant getting slightly inventive with food. Oven was out of action for quite a few days, and though it was fixed, it's now out of action again because the rubber seal has now come apart. It's getting rather annoying.

But the seemingly endless cycle of work, home, food, cleaning, bed (and repeat!) was starting to get to me. So I'm glad the cleaning has more or less finished.

In numbers news, I seem to have temporarily banished the highs, so I'm back to handling the lows again. Most of them are explainable - my mental clock seems to be out by about an hour, so I keep losing track of time. But there are some that seem to be coming out of no-where. It's the stealth-hypo effect. I know I'm not the only one dealing with these ninja episodes as well. Maybe there's something in the water?

Or perhaps it's not the water, but rather the air? I know all this volcanic ash is causing a huge variety of types of mayhem. I hope no-one out there has been too badly affected by the chaos.

All I know is that it gives you one beautiful sunset.

Things are changing over in pancreas land. Up until now, I have been living in a state well known to many as the Honeymoon Period. To those not in the know, it means my poor wheezing pancreas is having one long swan song before it retires permanently. Which everyone keeps telling me is a good thing. I'm sure that they're right. Of course there are pros to not using as much insulin. On the flip side, however, it makes carb-counting virtually impossible. 

I've been working on the ratio of 1 unit of NovoRapid to every 35g of carb up until now, with 2u of Lantus.  This is where I pause for a moment, whilst there is a strong chance that you just went (mentally or out loud) 'Whoa, those are tiny amounts of insulin!'. Why do I think you probably said that? That would be because, making a rough guess, maybe one in two or three people that I talk to about my doses has that exact reaction. Even when I went on a carb counting skills workshop, my (otherwise wonderful) dietician said pretty much that. Just to rant for a moment, yes, I know those are small amounts of insulin. I'm very much aware of it. I'm always rather surprised when people tell you something that it should be pretty clear that you already know. OK, rant done.

Over the past week or so, that ratio hasn't really been working for me any more. I began scoring lots of double figures, and couldn't get myself below 8mmol/l some days. Further maths means I am currently working with three different ratios. A breakfast one of 1:20, a lunchtime of 1:25, and an evening of 1:35. I've also added an extra unit on my Lantus. So far, this seems to be working without too many errors. Only had the one hypo recently, and again this is good. 

But it looks like the Honeymoon could be coming to an end. Or so it seems. But it's been all I've known so far, rocky as it has been. I'd be curious to know how anyone else out there  coped with this. Was it gradual or sudden for you? Enquiring minds want to know...

It's a strange thing, work. In general, we spend the majority of our week there. I know I do. I was reading this post over at Olivejooice about work, and it got me thinking. I've worked a whole bunch of jobs since I was old enough to be legally employed. I've been a waitress, a dishwasher, worked in retail with clothes, jewellery, newspapers, toys, electronics, chocolate, and food. I've worked in a library, I've stuffed envelopes. I've worked for the Health Protection Agency. I've been a secretary for an estate agent. I've been an actress. I've been a professional viking, and a professional fake archaeologist. Oh, and then the job that I do now. I'm also sure I've missed a few off there, but I'm not going to go through old CV's to make sure I've got them all! I think it's clear though, that I've had a lot of jobs. I don't like being unemployed. I haven't constantly had a job, even when I was doing my degree. But it's not far off the mark to say that for most of my employable life, I've been working. So to say that I spend the majority of my time at work is probably true.

I find it strange when people talk about their 'colleagues' or 'work friends'. To me, work is so much my life that most of my friends are my 'work friends'. And I love them. I don't know how I would have coped this past year if I'd worked somewhere else. Particularly if I'd still been working for my previous employer. I'm not going to name names publicly, but I could see my getting written up for 'not being able to work to standard'. I don't have much pleasant to say about that company. 

But I feel safe where I work. Not only do my best friends work there, but pretty much everyone there understands that sometimes I need to do things a bit differently. Which I appreciate so much. For the most part, if they don't understand something, they ask. They know there are Glucotabs in my bag. That sometimes a really bad hypo can leave me sluggish, and if I'm trying really hard to chug a Diet Coke, it's most likely for the caffeine to try and wake my brain up.

I hate feeling useless. I've been having (for me) some real highs as of late. I don't do double figures normally. But they make me feel anxious, jumpy, drained. I can't concentrate well. I get aggressive. When I'm low, I can be just as drained. I still can't concentrate. I can get weepy and scared. None of these things are particularly conducive to being productive in a worth environment. Of course, I'm always trying to control these numbers, and get rid of the highs and the lows, but sometimes that's just not possible. If you're reading, you probably know how it is (if you don't - it is difficult).

I like my workplace. But as much as I do, I'm not going to work there forever. Eventually, I will want a new challenge. What do I do then? I have several friends online who have told me about being 'let go' because of their diabetes, or who just haven't been able to find work in the first place. Some won't tell a potential employer. It's certainly something to think about.

I know in the UK I'm covered by the Disability Discrimination Act. This is interesting, because I don't like to think that I have a disability. Not that I have any problems with the concept of disability, but more because a) diabetes seems a strange thing to consider a disability, and b)I didn't think that it would ever happen to me. I guess no-one ever does. I've been told that, when applying for a job, if I say that I have a disability, in some instances I'm entitled to an automatic interview. I'm not sure how to feel about that. Do I look at it with the view of 'I don't want any favours, or pity. I just want to be judged on my merit alone.' or do I look at it as a foot in the door? I still don't know, as it's not something I've been thinking about for a long time. 

I'd like to say that diabetes doesn't change my ability to work to 100% all the time. But I'm forced to admit that it's just not true. I find myself thinking back to when I was completing my undergrad degree (BA Hons Performing Arts, if you're not aware), and the sorts of hours I used to work, and the kind of things that were required of me, in order to get a good mark. I'll give you an example from my second year. I was rehearsing a community theatre show for my own degree. I was also working as Deputy Stage Manager and Lighting Designer and Operator for a third year performance of Jesus Christ, Superstar at the same time. That was what we did. You were pretty much expected to do both performance and technical roles for third year performances. It wasn't necessarily written in the course syllabus, but it was part of the way things were. It was how you got better opportunities. It was how you learned. How you got ready for your own third year shows. So the production 'week', which was really three days, went something like this:

Wednesday day I had my own rehearsals all day. I probably got some food before going to see a performance of Sarah Kane's Blasted, which was in the main house theatre. After that show went down, begin the turn-around for Superstar. By the time the set is in, which is a LOT of heavy lifting, it was probably gone midnight. Then most of the production crew goes home, and myself and the Stage Manager begin rigging the lights. If you've never worked with stage lighting, these lights are heavy. Hanging them over a gantry, which has a low ceiling and about an eighteen foot drop, is hot, rather sweaty (sorry for the lovely mental image) work. We didn't finish this, but got told we had to leave because the theatre manager wanted to lock up, at about two thirty or three in the morning. I walk home, and after showering, get to bed at about four. Up at six, to be in by seven thirty. I think some food might have been eaten. More rigging, and trying to start focussing the lights. Go to my own rehearsals at ten. Break at one, but have to carry on focussing and trying to plot the lights onto the board. Back to my own rehearsals at two. Well, let's just say that I'm running on adrenaline and sugar, with no real break till gone past midnight again. Back again in the morning before nine. Show nights and my own rehearsals, until Saturday night, when we take it all down, and life goes on.

Could I do that now? No. I don't know if I could safely manage one day of that. At the time, it was all something I could just power through. It was all part of the game, and was 'hardening me up' to actually go into the profession. And in my ideal world, I would probably still be chasing acting work. But it's hard to get, and I seriously wonder if I'd be able to get a decent contract now, if I decided to passionately pursue it again. I'm not sure I would. I don't think employment law is quite the same in the arts, since they can turn me down for a job simply because they don't like the shade of my hair.

But does that mean I give up on the things I want to do? No it does not. Maybe I don't have good enough control to chase acting work again. Or maybe I've just gone past that point. Maybe I'll come back to it again. I just don't know. That's what's exciting about life really. I have my dreams, my goals, and my aims. I know what my ideal would be by the time I'm forty. I'm not going to let diabetes stop me doing any of the things I want to do. But it might be that I have to re-evaluate things a little. 

The only person on this planet that can give me the ultimate 'no' is me. I'm not saying no.

Oh, and in case you're wondering about the turtle, it was a present off our Education Assistant, Rosie, who left us today. She also brought in brownies. She carb counted out the recipe for me. Like I say - my work friends aren't 'work friends'. They're just my friends.

We have another company using our theatre space at the moment. As a thank you, they brought in chocolates. And left them on my desk. It's like they were watching me. So I drew eyes on them. Shame that I chose to do it in a permanent marker that soaked through the paper and on to my desk. That meant getting out the meths. 

On reflection, I'm not sure it was worth it. 

Today has been a bit rubbish. A post lunch 9mmol/l was followed with my attempting to overcome a 3.7 by force of will alone. Seemed to work, as came in at 4-5mmol/l, which is fine. But I spent the follow two to three hours in a horrid state. I was unbelievably hot, and I felt like my skin was crawling. I couldn't concentrate on anything, and all I actually wanted to do was hide under my desk and cry. I was angry at everything, and I didn't want to answer the phone or the door. 

So because we had a show in with an early start, I had to eat dinner early as well. But as soon as I'd injected my NovoRapid, I realised a potentially huge problem with being over building capacity. This had to be solved, and had to be done in ten minutes, as that's when NR tends to kick in on me. Now, obviously I could have solved this issue by drinking some juice, sorting out the problem and then bolusing again for my meal. But I wasn't exactly thinking straight. 

After eating, my two hour post test comes in at 12.6 mmol/l. Fantastic. Sort that out with a two mile walk home. But due to early dinner, I'm now hungry again. What a fantastic day.

Today's hypo treatment of choice is a glass of Innocent Peach and Raspberry Smoothie. This stuff is amazing. No evil, bendy yellow fruit in that. No really, I can't stand bananas. The taste, the texture, makes me want to throw up. So it really annoys me that every single smoothie on the market seems to contain them. 

I like to have some smoothie in the fridge. Good stuff for treating hypos with. I don't tend to drink smoothie or fruit juice at any other time. Mainly because I'm rather scared of doing so. Yes, I know that's stupid, because it's not like I can't have it. The thing is that I worry about the sharp rise that'll have on my levels, and I'm somewhat nervous about experimenting with trying to cover it. Shame, because I LOVE fruit juice and smoothies. 

So that there next to the glass of smoothie is a 'fun-size' Mars bar. Shocking, I know. I doubt you'd have figured that one out if I hadn't told you. I don't really like them a huge amount, but they seem to be perfect for evening out my levels. And it's probably a good thing. They're not exactly sensible snacking material. 

I had another hypo last night as well, which was also treated with that wonderful smoothie. I suppose I should make the best of it, really. It's only a limited edition.

This is not a nice picture of me. But I figured it would be a good start to my attempt at Diabetes 365. I haven't made an account yet, but I figure I can start with my camera phone, and move on to a DSLR eventually.

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But anyway, here's the story behind this one. I went up to B&Q today to buy a storage crate for merchandise at work. I was sure I could get there and back in an hour, in time for 12:30, to have my lunch. I was happy enough with my levels before we left, and with twelve complete hypo-free days behind me, I was fairly confident that I was going to complete day thirteen. Plus it would be ironic in a cliché-ridden way for the streak to end on day thirteen. 

However, it was there by the power-tools (see over my left shoulder) that my good run ended, in a collapsing jenga-tower-esque fashion. So there I sat in the B&Q cafe, eating my Glucotabs and sandwich, all the while wondering why on earth B&Q had a cafe in the first place. I was intrigued by a sign behind the counter, which said that outside food was not permitted, but 'exceptions would be made in cases of children with medical conditions'. 

Why just children with medical conditions?  Why would children be spending significant amounts of time in B&Q? Good to know that understand that sometimes people HAVE to eat, but do they think the children that would need to eat because of medical conditions won't grow up to adults who are going to need to as well? And that are more likely to be interested in lawnmowers/shelving/taps/drills?

Well, it's an interesting thought, and a rather surreal experience, watching men walk by with probably my body's weight in timber on a flat cart. 

A new game starts tomorrow.