Instructions Not Included

Let's just get this said right off the bat - diabetes sucks. It isn't any fun, and it's not something we ask for. I'm riding at a 'lovely' score of 14.8mmol/l (266) as I write this - I'm not exactly in the best mood, as you can imagine. However, I'm trying to put a positive spin on things as best I can. 

I read the '15 measures' article from Diabetes UK the other day, and had to stop and think some. If you've not read the article (which I suggest you do, if you haven't), the basic premise is that there are 15 basic health checks that people with diabetes in the UK should get every year. What was rather horrifying was the statistics provided of the sheer thousands of people who were failing to access basic tests to help educate and prevent complications. Education and basic tests are far more cost efficient than treating complications later down the line. Really, there is no excuse not to be offering these checks to people. 

I'm lucky. I really am. I've been offered, and taken up several diabetes education courses. Of course I'm pro-active about my health and my diabetes education. Not everyone is. But through asking, and I mean simply asking - I didn't have to beat down any doors - I've accessed carb counting courses, courses for 'newly' diagnosed people and pump training. I am aware how lucky that makes me. Not every area offers these things. On the whole I've never had to fight for my test strips. I pray that never changes. Through being educated, and given the right resources, I can know that my sugars were at that 14.8. I know how to correct and what to correct by, rather than leaving it up there. This has to be a good thing, surely? This is the application of preventative measures! This is how you enable people!

On the flip side,though, the problem with having all these checks done is that sometimes the results tell you something you really don't want to hear. I reference you back to the whole 'chubbygate' situation. I didn't want to hear that. It hit a raw nerve for me. But my consultant wasn't to know how my weight has been an issue for me for pretty much as long as I can remember. And I'm trying to do something about it. You bet I am. It's not easy though, and I'm sure many people out there can relate. 

It's not just chubbygate though. I've been going round and round in my head about how I was going to bring this one up. I don't want to make something out of nothing, but it got to me. This is going back over a month, to the end of July. I had just got back from working a week long event as part of my job. Believe me when I say I was tired when I got back home. I found a letter waiting for me at my door, which I knew from looking at the envelope was from the retinal screening service. I wasn't worried to open it - the rather lovely young woman who'd taken my pictures had said that it all looked fine at the time.

The letter was saying something different. Minor background changes. Apparently nothing to worry about, and nothing that required anyone doing anything. We'll see you in a year. 

I would very much like to meet the person who reads that letter and doesn't worry. I'm sorry, but they're not human. I was tired, it hit me from nowhere. I dumped my bag at the top of my stairs, lay on my bed and started crying. Was I going blind? Was this my fault? I'd only been at this whole diabetes game for just over two years, and I was already getting this letter? The one I wasn't hoping to see for another ten, fifteen, twenty years, if ever? Had I done this to myself? Could I fix it?

Well, of course, I got past that eventually. And do you know what? Being upset was ok. I keep telling myself that. Staying that way, though, is just self pity. And no-one likes that person. I certainly don't. I've since been for a standard, 'real-person' eye test. Part of that was the non-drops version of the retinal photograph. I talked to my optician about what I'd been worrying about, and he talked me through everything. Seems that if it were his own eye, he wouldn't have been concerned; it's the sort of thing that can disappear as quickly as it came. Turns out I needed to get glasses for cinema and driving, which I wasn't expecting, but what can you do? Most of my family wears glasses (or should - but I won't go there), and it wasn't like I was completely shocked. That's 'real-person' stuff, and nothing to do with me and my D. 

Getting that letter, and 'chubbygate' were a real punch to the gut. I didn't want them, and I didn't really see it coming. But in the long run, I'm probably the better for knowing. You can't see your way through the darkness, and you can't work with information you don't know. It hurts, and sometimes it feels personal, or like people are rubbing salt into the wound, but I've been thinking and asking myself lately whether I would rather not know these things, and carry on blind, or know where I stand and what I'm working with. Personally, I'd go with option B. So to anyone out there who might be reading this who isn't getting all their '15 measures', please do yourself a favour. Make some calls, knock some doors down. Be your own advocate and your own enabler. Get what is rightfully yours to inform yourself and arm yourself against a disease that, let's face it, sucks and isn't going anywhere. We need all the tools available in our arsenal, so let's make sure we get our hands on them.

So a few posts back, I told you that I had named my pump Anneka. I also said that I would explain why. So here goes.

I don't know if you guys in the US had anything like this, but back in the late 80's to mid 90's, we had a TV show called 'Challenge Anneka'. Wikipedia seems to think you had something called Challenge America, but dammit, we had it first! 

The premise of the show, if you're not familiar with it, is that the charming all-action heroine, Anneka Rice, would fix some terrible crisis, whilst wearing a blue jumpsuit. She also had a mobile phone, which was a really big deal in those days. The best part of the whole show though, when you were young, was the little animated hedgehogs in the opening credits. Seriously, I always thought they were adorable!

It always seemed that Anneka Rice could handle anything. So that was part of my reasoning behind calling my lovely Animas pump that. But after a number of Borg and robot related jokes, it's also a partial nod to the human name of Seven of Nine from Star Trek Voyager, which was Annika Hansen. Yes, I loved Star Trek as a teenager. No, I'm not really ashamed! But she was always calm, collected, and fiercely intelligent.

So my hope rather was that whichever Anneka/Annika she was taking after would be a good omen. At least they both had jumpsuits in common. Shame that so far, it's been a bit more of a challenge than anything Anneka Rice ever took on. 

I always remembered her building orphanages, and youth centres and the like. Seems that though she did this, she also did some far more bizarre things - 

and of course, my personal favourite:

As for me, I'm hoping not to have to challenge my Anneka to do any of these things. However, I have been dealing with an absolutely rotten cold for the past week, which has been making things much more of a challenge. I did mention that I'd been struggling with high scores. After seeing my team on the 6th, we'd made alterations to my basals in an attempt to try and sort things out. Of course the next day, this absolute beast of a cold makes an appearance. 

This is the first time I've been properly ill since my DX, so I wasn't sure what to really expect, bg wise. They've carried on being high despite corrections, putting on temp basals, and such. Thankfully no ketones have appeared. But the problem of course is that I don't want to make any huge changes, because when this cold has gone, it'd be hard to tell whether I'd made too many. So I think I'm just going to have to hang on in there, until it clears up, and make my changes then. 

But in the meantime, I suppose we could terrorise children with monkeys?

I thought I would let this really wonderful flashmob speak for me. I've been away far too long, for reasons that I'll explain momentarily. So a welcome back to hopefully far more normal and regular service here.

It's a little bit ironic that on this entry, I can announce that I was nominated for one of the 2010 DOC Awards! Category? Blogger that we wish would blog more. I'd like to say a huge thank you to whoever nominated me - I'm really touched. I'm also proving true to form, as voting has now closed! 

So what's been keeping me away from here for the past month? Well, I'll be honest with you. I've been a)overly busy, b)stressed, and c)exhausted. I mentioned having to do some pretty intense testing immediately after my pump start, but that drained me more than I was willing to admit. I'd not been sleeping well before the pump start, so my energy tank was running on low from the get go. By mid December? I was so tired that I was worried that I was going to end up making some sort of REALLY stupid mistake that I would end up regretting. I tend to squirrel away my holiday days, rather like...well, a squirrel. With nuts. I don't like using them, in case of discovering I need them all of a sudden. But I ended up having to use several, simply in order to sleep. Not the most constructive use of the time, really. 

And over Christmas? Thankfully work shuts for a week between Christmas and New Year, which makes sense, as we'd have no-one to do business with (straight out of A Christmas Carol there!). Several of my days off were occupied with travelling up and down the country to see the wonderful Rob 'Faceman' Gooch, of D-Team fame, get married to his lovely, now-wife, Anna. I managed to go home to see my family for a couple of days for the first time since May. I say May, but I think it may have been longer than that. I just read that sentence back to myself, and I promise you no pun was intended. Because if it was, that would be unforgivable, really. 

I had a lovely Christmas at home, I really did. But between all the loveliness, work for my MA has been piling on, and although I've managed to get part of my work done to at least a first draft stage, I still have the evenings of the following week to get that piece up to scratch, and finish and then redraft my play. I'm swamped. And I'm back to work tomorrow. 

And life with the pump? Her name is now Anneka, for reasons that will be better explained in a later post. I'm now over a month in to this pumping milarky. First two weeks? They were a lot of hard work, with all the testing, and getting used to the A,B,C's of the whole affair. Then I got into the swing of things, and my levels started falling into place. But over the past week or so? Well here are examples of a few tests, admittedly not in the right order, but still all genuine from over the past week.

Meter goes 'Dee-Deed!' (I never like the double beep - it means I'm either high or low)

11mmol/l (198) - Huh?

Dee-Deed!

15.3mmol/l (275) - WTH?

Dee-Deed!

13.8mmol/l (248) - OK, I'm starting to get narked off now...

Dee-Deed!

10.9mmol/l (196) - Better, but still no cigar.

Dee-Deed!

12.9mmol/l (232) - I'm losing my patience now...

Dee-Deed!

16.5mmol/l (297) - I could cry, I really could.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Getting below 10mmol/l (180)? Quite the accomplishment, at the moment. Admitedly, I did start out having problems getting the hang of changing cannulas, and I've had a few pretty purple and red ones, but the cannulas themselves? Aside from one extremely dodgy one, they've all been pretty good. So I'm thinking that my carb ratios or basals have to be off. At the moment, ratios are the number one suspect. And right now, I'm just grateful to have an appointment with the pump team on Thursday. Trying to get a handle on Masters' work whilst running high all the time? Not easy - I get extremely restless and agitated when high. And I can't concentrate. Not the best combination. 

Ah well. Bring it on, I suppose...

Here's a blast from the past for those of you who read from the UK, and something to boggle the minds of those of you from elsewhere in the world.

Who remembers Going Live? Ah, Phillip Schofield when he still had colour in his hair, and of course the national institution that was Gordon the Gopher. Saturday morning kids' TV at its 'finest', in that wonderfully tacky late 80's and early 90's glory. Happy days.

So whilst I want to talk about going live, it's not that going live. Maybe another day?

I've been given my date for going live on the pump. Over the phone, I'm still waiting on the letter. But it looks like my 'plugging in day', as the clinic admin told me on the phone, will be Tuesday 23rd November. Wow. That's soon. I'd been thinking that it would have been in December, and pushing it to be happening before Christmas. Stranger things have happened though. 

In the end, I had a choice between three - the Accu-Check Spirit Combo by Roche, the Paridigm Veo by Medtronic, and the Animas 2020.I know how lucky I am to have a choice in the matter, so I spent a long time thinking about it before making my choice. Or at least I think I did. Andrew seems fairly certain I made my mind up pretty quickly, and just didn't want to commit to having made a decision. 

Well, despite having some rather 'interesting' information told to me by the three reps, at an hour that I'd much rather be having my tea/dinner (depending on your part of the country), and the hours of contemplation, I did finally make a decision.

I've gone with the Animas 2020, in 'it goes with everything' black. I was torn, colour wise, but came to the conclusion that I could always get skins for it. 

In the end, the Animas just had an awful lot of features that I liked. I enjoyed the fact it had a customisable database, the low bolus and basal incriments, and I just liked the aesthetic. The screen was large, clear, and didn't remind me of a late 80's text adventure game. The fact that the Paradigm Veo is CGM ready was something that was holding me back, but after a frank discussion with the DSNs, it seemed that with the way the country's funding is being 'handled' at the moment, the chances of sensors being available more freely within the four years I'd be tied to the pump are so slim as to make it rather a moot point. So with that not really an issue, the Animas won out for me.

There were 8 or 9 people in my initial pump meeting, when we met with the different reps. It seemed a mixed group, and I don't think everyone was necessarily convinced about pumping full stop. So it will be interesting to see who comes back, and which pumps they choose. 

I'm not sure how I'm feeling about it all, to be perfectly honest. I thinking having the choice of pump has helped me feel a bit more in control, and I'm certainly more convinced that I was to start with. I just need positivity about the whole process, which I've been getting for the most part from wonderful people on Twitter, and in the real world as well. I know as it gets nearer, I'll become slightly terrified, because that's just the way I am. I just need to get over that initial first hurdle.

At the start of November, I will have been doing this whole diabetes thing for a year and a half. Whether you think that's a long time or not is, I think, a matter of perspective. You can accomplish a whole lot in a year and a half. To channel my musical theatre nerd for a moment, let us consider Rent. There are many ways in which you can measure a year. They suggest a whole variety of things, but also measure a year as 'five hundred twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes'. So half that again would be... according to Google.... 788 923.149 minutes. Yes I googled it. That's far too much maths to be doing in my head on a Saturday. 

My point being that if you look at a time like that, it suddenly seems like an awfully long time. On my part, dealing with T1 has become such second nature in a lot of ways that it feels strange to think about 'the time before', because that's almost like another person these days. But that's how I look at it. Other people will see it differently. And that's what I really wanted to talk about. 

So I have Type 1 Diabetes. Big revelation there, but it's true. I was diagnosed at the age of 24, and apparently 'well past' the prime age for T1 diagnosis. It does seem that T1 is thought of by many as a 'kid's disease', being that yes, the prime age bracket for diagnosis is childhood, and for heaven's sake, it used to be called Juvenile Diabetes. What does that mean for the rest of us? Kids with T1 grow up. Adults get diagnosed with it too. I know I'm not the only one who was diagnosed outside of childhood or puberty. 

I remember being in hospital after being diagnosed. A doctor (who is now my consultant) came and asked me if I wouldn't mind talking to some medical students. Because I was 'unusual', and they 'almost never got someone being diagnosed outside of childhood.'. I was put on metformin as well as insulin at the hospital as well. Because I was clearly in DKA, but they still weren't sure I was a T1 for a couple of days. Because I was 'too old'. This did make me feel just a little bit like there was something wrong with me. Apart from the whole broken pancreas thing, obviously. 

Like I say, I know people who were diagnosed outside of childhood, but the majority of T1's that I know were diagnosed as children or teenagers. They're the norm. So what does that make me? 

I've thought long and hard about how to say what I'm about to say. Sometimes life as a T1 diagnosed as an adult can be a bit 'lonely', for want of a better word. You were never a 'child' with diabetes, and as far as I know, my mum and dad have never sat up at night thinking about my diabetes. They've never had to 'deal' with it - it's always been my thing (please feel free to jump in if you feel I'm wrong, Mum, since I know you'll be reading this!).

I have heard from various sources that I 'don't understand', because I never had to deal with growing up with D. I'm an adult, and I've not had their many years of experience. But that doesn't mean that I don't know a thing or two. I've been dealing with this myself since day one. Sure, I've had a lot of help from wonderful people, but the shoe drops with me and no-one else. Just because I haven't been doing it as long, doesn't mean that I don't know what I'm doing. 

I was amazed this summer, watching twitter, and reading the many blog entries about

CWD: Friends For Life Conference. I had always assumed that this event was....well, for children, as the name does suggest. I would never have considered attending, because I'm not a child with diabetes, nor am I a parent of a child with diabetes.  But then I saw all the reports coming in about it (and the Roche conference, but that's another case entirely!). And I wished I was there. I think it's about needing a sense of belonging.

I will never be able to reminisce with you about 'way back when'. I never went to diabetes camp. I never had to deal with teachers not understanding. I never went to a prom or graduation and worried about it. But we're all here in the same boat. We all have 'Lost Boy' pancreases (pancrei?). One day they decided not to grow up, and all ran away to Neverland.  We have the pancreases that never grew up. Mine just ran away a little later. And despite that, I'm here, and I'm on the same journey with you. I test, I carb count, I inject. I hypo, I hyper. I get blood drawn, I think in numbers. It's like in The Velveteen Rabbit, which was one of my favourite books as a child. I do all these things that you do as well, whether you've had T1 since childhood, or if you're like me, and joined in a little later in the game. Regardless of the starting point, we're all real.

 Leaving it til late in the game here, I know, but I thought that, since I missed it last year, I really should get around to doing the '30 things you might not know about my Invisible Illness' meme, being as this is the last day of Invisible Illness Awareness Week for 2010. So here we go.

1. The illness I live with is: Mainly? Type 1 Diabetes, but of course you knew that. However, also Asthma and IBS, which you might not have known. But I'm going to be answering this in reference to T1.

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2009

3. But I had symptoms since: The start of 2009, at the latest.

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: Being much more self disciplined, and analytical.

5. Most people assume: That T1 is either the end of the world, or it isn't a big deal. Neither of those statements are true.

6. The hardest part about mornings are: When I've gone to bed higher than I would like, or I've had an evening hypo. Either way, I always feel like absolute rubbish the morning after.

7. My favorite medical TV show is: Scrubs! Love it to death, and also the fact they have a diabetic character (Turk has Type 2, in case you don't watch it) whose diabetes doesn't just disappear after one episode. Also the bonkers humour is just about bang on.
 

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: My Bayer USB. Honestly, I can't imagine a meter I'd rather use. 

9. The hardest part about nights are: When something goes wrong, and I have to make the call on what to do.

10. Each day I take __ pills & vitamins. (No comments, please) Well, being as insulin is neither, none, actually.

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: Have no time for people who are flogging false hope through 'treatments' that have no actual medical application. Insulin is the only treatment option for T1. However, I'm not completely dismissive of 'alternative' therapies when they are appropriate. I'm a big advocate of aromatherapy and massage, for instance, but I would never suggest that these should be used in isolation.

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: to instead try and make invisible illnesses 'visible'. It's achievable to think that we can break taboos and educate people about invisible illnesses, whilst science works on cures.

13. Regarding working and career: There's a part of me that's concerned about broaching the subject of diabetes with my next boss, whenever I move on. I think that's part of the reason I'd either like to freelance or run my own company.

14. People would be surprised to know: That sometimes I'll say things are ok, because I don't really want to explain the whole story. But it's not as easy as I'll make out.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: That sometimes diabetes will make demands that you have to pay attention to, and can't push aside. Also sometimes you've got to be a little bit selfish.

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: I've never really thought that there was anything I couldn't do.
 

17. The commercials about my illness: I've never actually seen one. Although, the leaflets that come with various magazines and letters that always seem to be for hearing aids, walk in baths, and funeral plans do annoy me.
 

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Drinking fruit juice, just because I'm thirsty.
 

19. It was really hard to have to give up: Grazing.
 

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: DanceSport - I love it.
 

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: Cherish it. Not having to calculate every bite of food, or think ten steps ahead would be wonderful. Oh, and drink a lot of fruit juice.
 

22. My illness has taught me: That you can't ask for patience without expecting that you'll be given a chance to show how you can be patient.
 

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: It could be worse, it could be a,b or c. Yes, I know I could have any number of other things. But I don't, I have Type 1 Diabetes. Telling me that doesn't help me deal with what I have, it just makes me feel like I should feel bad or guilty when I find things difficult.
 

24. But I love it when people: Genuinely want to know more, or ask questions.
 

I know that You can do all things, and no plan of Yours can be ruined (Job 42:2)
 

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: It's ok to be scared, but there are people just like you out there who just a bit further down the road. They will help you.
 

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: I'm actually probably a more well rounded person with my illness than I was without it.
 

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Just sit with me when I needed it.
 

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: I meant to do this last year, but never got around to it!
 

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Like you have a lot of patience! And that you might post your own list.

Yesterday evening was the last session of my four week course at the hospital, called 'Living With Type One Diabetes'. Sure I've been doing that for a year, and sure it's not the catchiest name of all time, but in its way, I found it useful.

Two of the sessions that we had, involved some time talking as a group with a 'psychologist with a special interest in diabetes'. If you ever get the chance, I would encourage you to take it. I think others in the group would have found it much more useful than I did, but it did make me ponder over a few things.

She asked us what we actually thought about diabetes. About what it might look like. Personally I couldn't come up with an answer for that, but the nearest that I could come up with was something that I remember hearing off someone a while back. I can't even remember who it was. Whoever it was, what they said was that diabetes was like wrestling a tiger. Sometimes it's a baby tiger (one of the cutest things in the world), but it still has teeth and claws! But other days it's a full grown, and rather angry tiger. Sometimes you've stepped on its toes as well. But how do you learn to do that? No-one is good at that. Also, on the days when things go right, is it that the tiger is behaving better, or that you have better control of the tiger? Or both? How can you know?

This also makes me think of a discussion that I had with Andrew a while back. Imagine a trying to stand on a surfboard, whilst being in the possession of naff all balance. That's hard, I'm told. But paddling along moves to standing up, and you get the hang of the basics. After that though, the waves start. You never know whether these waves are going to be big or small, and when you're knocked off the board, you might feel like you're drowning under the water. 

You come to the surface though, and you have to get back on the board and start again. Like everything, the smaller waves which flummoxed you at first become easier to handle. But there are always more waves coming. Bigger ones. Because you can't stop the ocean, and you can't stop a tiger. You don't mess with nature.

There was an interesting discussion on Diabetes Support today, about whether people were actually taught how to inject by practising on oranges, or if this was just a myth. Now personally, after I came off the sliding scale - delivered by what I believe to be a syringe driver - scary looking piece of equipment when you're not actually sure what it is, by the way - after I came off that, I did my first injection myself. Novomix 30, into my arm. No oranges for me. I can't imagine what advantages there would have been to me learning that way. I think it would have frightened me more, and built it up to be this huge thing that had to have lots and lots of practice before I was able to do it. Also, this might be me, but I can't see how oranges and skin would actually have that much in common - much more effort to get a needle through an orange than through skin, surely?

Also as a separate topic, I've found myself thinking about all the news articles you see about research into diabetes. It's always on mice. I'm not for animal testing for frivolous reasons (ie, cosmetics, etc), and I'm definitely anti-cruelty. But I do see a need for testing medicines on animals, even if I wish we didn't have to. All the same though, if you had to be an animal with diabetes, wouldn't it be great to be a mouse? Research into curing Type 1 in mice seems to be quite extensive.

Just a thought...

During last Friday's mad hypo incident, my medic alert bracelet broke. How annoying. It was actually my second version of the same bracelet, after my first one snapped back in December. The very nice people that I bought it off replaced it without any complaint. I wouldn't put down their customer service - it was excellent. I plan to give them a ring, in case they're willing to replace it again. 

However, I'm wondering if beaded bracelets are just not the right fit for me? It might be that I'm just a bit too 'rough and tumble' for something so delicate! I had an amusing conversation on twitter with Holly from Arnold and Me about bracelets. We both admitted to be more than a little clutzy, and I said I would probably end up resorting to something coated in kryptonite! 

Jokes aside though, I'm currently wearing my band on a piece of ribbon. Works for now, but I need something else. I'm really quite picky here. I want something attractive, but robust. I'd be willing to consider a leather cuff of some sort, but they all seem to look either too broad, or remind me of a watch strap. I already wear a watch - I don't need two straps! I don't really want to wear a necklace, either. I don't want something that slides up and down my wrist. I don't want one of those rubber sports type bands. I'm not actually sure that the thing I want exists. As soon as I find something I seem to like, it turns out I can't fit what I need on there, engraving wise. It won't fit my name, for heaven's sake!

So I'm finding the whole shopping experience frustrating. To be fair, I find this to be true whatever I'm shopping for. Shoes, trousers, you name it, I hate shopping for it. So does anyone have any good leads for me? A robust but stylish bracelet that you can actually fit my name on? Silver, not gold?

The 'kitteh' (yes, I am fluent in lol-speak, but it is so against my nature to spell poorly on purpose!) says 'hai!'. I however, want to talk about thighs. More specifically....erm, my thighs. Which is a bit of a weird start to a post. 

I inject in my stomach pretty much exclusively. When I started injecting, I didn't want to, because I found it strange, and I wanted to inject in my arms. Now, as I say, it needs a very good reason for me to not inject in my stomach. 

It's warm at the moment, and that's lovely. It does mean that I want to wear skirts and dresses more though. I'm not a big one for skirts and dresses. I love my jeans, which lend themselves to injecting in the stomach. Skirts aren't too hard to overcome. Dresses on the other hand? Now those I find awkward. I was rather thrilled when I was at my work's Christmas party, whilst wearing a rather lovely dress, that (the still wonderful and amazing) Jenny told me I didn't need to leave the table to inject before dinner, as I was puzzling out how to inject without either shooting into my arms, or leaving to lift up my dress. She helped me be subtle with some shielding from napkins and the tablecloth. Problem sorted. 

I'm wearing a dress today, and I was trying to work out how to inject in my stomach. The conclusion I came to was that I couldn't. There was no way I was going to go into a toilet to inject, and I couldn't lift my dress in the office. I can't seem to juggle things right to inject into my arms. So that really left my thighs. Dress is just above the knee, so it's a perfectly acceptable and decent thing to do.

Was it easy? Not too difficult. Was it comfortable? Not really. I wasn't confident that it was definitely fat that I was injecting into. Trust me, my thighs are not short of fat to inject into, but knowing me, I'm bound to get it wrong. But my worry is that if I'm constantly injecting into my stomach, I'll end up with the fatty lumps that you get from injecting into the same place repeatedly.  So I guess whilst the weather is encouraging me to wear dresses, it's also encouraging me to try and get the hang of this thigh thing.

I don't know if you've seen the film 'Enchanted'. I love it. It's camp, and fun and pokes fun at itself and the genre of Disney 'princess' films in the most wonderful way. I highly suggest getting your hands on a copy, if you haven't seen it. If you've got any warmth in you, it should leave you with a smile on your face.

Anyway, Amy Adams, who plays Giselle in it, has this most amazing, old school style song called 'That's How You Know', where she talks about all the different ways that a guy will show a girl that he loves her, even if he can't actually say it.

I didn't want to start quoting loads of songs at you, but this one is right. Love is a many splendoured thing, I believe it does lift us up where we belong, and much of the time, all you need is love. But since I'm not a big winner in the world of romantic love, I'd like to take a moment to exalt the virtues of the other kinds of love, and platonic love in particular.

You don't necessarily go around all the time telling your friends how much you love them. Maybe you do, I don't know. I try to let them know as best I can, as the song in question says, with the little things you do. What I know though, is that there are people in my life who have been showing me day by day how much they care.

It's the friend who, when we go out for lunch, is happy to drop whatever she's doing so that the time we go fits with where my numbers are.

It's the dance partner who will carry my Glucotabs in his trouser pocket when we're performing because my skirt has nowhere to keep them.

It's the friend who brings brownies in to work, and has carb-counted the recipe

The other friend who says she's found a place round the corner that sells ice cream with an option of diabetic ice cream cones, if I'm interested. (Franks Diabetic Ice cream being the only 'diabetic' thing I'll buy)

It's the absolutely amazing friend who will do a thirty mile round trip to pick up your prescription of test strips because you forgot to call it in, you'll run out over the weekend and are panicking.

The same friend that took cans of diet coke on a trip because he thought you would go hypo due to all the walking and would want the caffeine after you came back up. Who can't stand needles, but has never said a word about me injecting in front of him.

It's all these things and a hundred more that I could spend all day listing.

That's how you know.

Today I suppose is a day like any other, really. Nothing has actually changed. Except I find myself thinking things through a lot today.

A year ago today I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. That day, everything did change. Suddenly I wasn't just me any more. I was me with diabetes. Now I suppose that's getting a bit existential, but it's true. I didn't just have the regular, every day things I used to worry about and handle. I suddenly had this whole new set of things that I needed to factor in to my life. The regular 'every day's' of diabetes - injecting, testing, making sure I have enough glucose tablets, strips, needles, lancets. Remembering to eat at the right times. Then learning how to navigate prescriptions, appointments and GP receptionists. Then there's the big ones. The thoughts that I try to avoid by reminding myself that 'if I take good care of myself, that won't ever happen to me'. The thoughts of blindness, kidney failure, heart disease, limb amputation. The gory 'myths' of what diabetes can do to you, but they're always there somewhere at the back of the mind. But they're the ones that have been known to keep me awake at night, or wake me up at four in the morning. That and the guilt. Oh guilt has been my companion for a lot of the past year. 

But am I looking past a lot of things on the other end of the spectrum? It's way too easy for me to get caught up in all the 'heavy' things that have happened, but what about the flip side? I'm now the lightest I've been in a very long time. According to the Wii Fit, I've gone from bordering on obese at the start of 2009 to now bordering on 'ideal'. That, my friends, is a huge deal for me. I'm eating better. I exercise more. I've taken up ballroom dancing, which I've been wanting to do for years. I don't know if I would have done that if I hadn't felt the impetus to exercise more, because it helps me keep my levels steadier. I've met some really amazing people who I wouldn't have otherwise known. I'm writing more. I started this blog for heaven's sakes! I was really slacking off my writing, and this has been both therapeutic and helped me sharpen my skills. I've seen some of the big issues out there and felt the need to get involved. I've helped form DiDkA. The list does go on.

One of the big things that happened was that I realised, in a whole new light, just how amazing my friends are.  They've been so unbelievably supportive in different ways. So in recognition of that, I decided to throw a party today. It was supposed to be a garden party, but because it absolutely threw it down (with a few hailstones in the mix for good measure), we had to move it inside. It seems that a good time was had by all - although somebody did point out that it was a little bit perverse to mark a year of diabetes by throwing a party that consisted mostly of cake. As I have mentioned in the past, my baking skills far outweigh my other culinary skills, so the party was very cake, cookie and scone heavy. 

But apart from a few moments of 'argh, I haven't got the meringues ready!' and similar, it's been a day filled with fun and laughter. This evening though, I found my mind wandering back to that first night in hospital, and how absolutely scared I was. And how determined I was not to admit it. I'll say that it's an odd experience, because I remember those emotions so strongly. That experience will be with me forever, I think. I plan to write the whole thing out in more detail soon though. Just in case I forget. I want to remember how far I've come. I was terrified then, though like I said, I didn't want to admit it. Now? I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a part of me that was on some level scared about where things will go, or what the future might hold. But for the most part? Things aren't so bad.

I've been spotting a bit of a trend lately. I've been seeing people in all different places online who are, for various reasons, starting using insulin. Some are newly diagnosed Type 1's. More are Type 2's who have progressed onto requiring insulin. This isn't the trend I'm referring to though. What I have spotted is that there seems to be a lot of negative feelings associated with this.

I hear 'failure', 'guilt', 'my fault', and 'bad'. It seems that insulin has acquired a stigma. As though it is some sort of punishment for misbehaving. This makes me really very sad. 

Starting using insulin can be scary. It can be frightening, especially if you're not sure what to expect. I can appreciate that, I really, can. I remember how unnatural it felt to insert a needle into my arm for the very first time, all the while thinking 'I'm sure my parents, countless teachers, and 'special' episodes of TV shows told me that this sort of thing was a bad idea'. I remember sitting on the floor of my living room the first evening after being discharged from hospital, and having to do my first completely solo injection. I believe I even said aloud 'I'm not sure that I can do this'. 

But do you know what? You do it. Some people might cry, some might shout and rage, but the world will keep on turning, and the second time simply can't be as bad as the first. You've done it once before - there's no reason that you can't do it again. It will never be fun. There won't be a full musical number, or kittens and rainbows. I'd love it if there was. I'm a big musical nerd, adore kittens, and everyone likes a rainbow. But there won't be. At the end of the day, you're putting a needle into yourself. However, there is a positive to all this. It's what you're injecting in.

It's not made of gold, or starlight, or pixie dust, but insulin is a little bit magic, when you get down to the nitty gritty. We didn't always have this option - the simple fact that we do have the ability to inject, and control the way we do is close to a miracle in my eyes. All you need to do is think for a moment about the time before insulin, and then, for an instant, it does take on the qualities of pixie dust.

I know the journey for Type 2, and I suppose that of people with LADA as well, onto insulin is bound to be different to mine. I didn't really have that delay, that time of building up the event in my mind to be this huge thing. It was either have insulin there and then, or wait a day (it seemed as thought it only would have been one day more, from the way they talked to me about it), come in unconscious in a coma and have insulin then. It was as blunt as that.

But if you've got a longer journey, possibly starting with diet and exercise, then medication, then finally to be told that insulin is what's needed?  I can see how one could try blaming themselves. The thoughts of 'I mustn't have tried hard enough', 'I've done something wrong', or 'this is my fault'? Very understandable, but if you're thinking that, do you want to know a dirty little secret?

It's not your fault, and you're not to blame. Some things just don't work for some people, and you've got to look down a different road for the control. It's nothing shameful, injecting is nothing to be embarrassed about, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. 

Otherwise let me at them, and I'll set them straight.

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.

Come Thursday it will have been eleven months. Eleven months of all of this. And the thing that is bothering me the most right now? My fingers. They feel absolutely shot. I'm starting to form callouses on certain ones. Yes I rotate. But what I've found lately is that I can't get half my fingers to bleed. The ones that will are so UNBELIEVABLY sore. I picked up Cassie (my beautiful guitar) last night, to practice, and had to put her down after five minutes. I tried playing Lucy, one of Andrew's guitars, who has a lighter action, but couldn't even handle that. Very upsetting.

What else I have come to notice, however, is that whichever fingers won't bleed when I'm lancing them for testing, will then insist on bleeding on close to everything that's in the vicinity. Now, this seems familiar, I'm sure. It's not the first time I've mentioned it. But when you look and there's now blood on your mouse, keyboard, the telephone, the light switch...the list goes on. 

I'm finding that my lancing device is not my best friend at the moment. Normally, I'll do nothing but sing Bayer's praises, but this thing is really trying my patience. Even set to the deepest level, it's a real swing and a miss as to whether it will get any blood out at all. Which is why I'm alternating with using the supposedly 'comfort' single use lancets that I bought a box of online last year. I don't trust alternate site testing, since every time I've tried it, it has ended up only hurting me more. So much for 'giving your fingers a break' as it's marketed in the pamphlets I've picked up from clinic in the past.

Testing hurts. I don't like doing it. But I do it because, one, it needs to be done. And two, if I don't, I just sit and worry and end up doing it anyway. I don't think I'm the least bit obsessed, but there's no way I could cut down to testing less times than I do. Which, in case anyone is interested, is usually 7-10 times a day. I remember a particularly interesting exchange with my endo where he told me I could just get away with testing twice a day. Needless to say, I told him I wouldn't be comfortable with that, and it wouldn't be happening. 

But please fingers...get it together? Before it's not just my ability to bleed that slips away, but the last vestiges of my sanity as well?

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 post comes now with added vlog! I came across this lovely little story today on the Diabetes UK Facebook page, so I was really surprised to find it hadn't been removed. I've removed the brand name from the story, but I went on the site's website. Just to be fair to the site, I can't find anything on there claiming that their products will help diabetes. So why on earth someone would is beyond me. 

Notice the amazingly comfortable jumper I am wearing (hand made by my Mum, don't you know?) and the very strange voice I choose to read this story in. Normally I'd read a story a lot better - I am an actor by training (not that you would believe it from this video!), and am embarrassed by how rambling this goes. But enjoy!

So I'm doing my Lantus tonight, but I notice that there's an air bubble floating at the top. So I decide to do a 2u air shot.

Andrew was sat next to me and said 'Now, don't you think that's cool?'. I guess he's right - air shots are a little bit fun. However, he did then go on to point out that there was now insulin on the carpet. 

But it made me think. Lantus comes in a 'solostar' pen. I wonder if that does make me a bit of a rockstar from time to time? Hey, there are plenty of us out there. I'm not a part of it (yet), but there's even a whole site called Diabetic Rockstar. Now, in the literal 'rockstar' sense, I play guitar, albeit extremely badly. This isn't my guitar in the picture, for the record. That's Andrew's guitar Lucy (who is one of many). Mine is an electro-acoustic called Cassie, who I don't play nearly often enough, sadly. I'm aiming to carry out a project with Cassie that my poor, battered fingers probably aren't going to be too impressed with. But in the 'Diabetic Rockstar' sense? What do I think makes a rockstar? I guess someone who carries on regardless of what's thrown at her. 

I watched 'School of Rock' last night, because it was one of my birthday presents. Jack Black says rock and roll is about 'sticking it to the man'. In this case, I guess the man is diabetes. And if sticking it to the man means trying my hardest to keep this thing in check, then yeah baby, I'm rock and roll.