Instructions Not Included

I had been looking forward to the summer. Now, please don't get me wrong, I haven't been having a dreadful time, but I have been having a rather busy time. Which is why I've been away since...whoa, April. Yikes.

I've not been entirely silent though. I've recently written a guest post for DiabetesMine, and had the rather lovely experience of chatting with Chris for an episode of Just Talking. In the real world, I've been to a couple of D meet-ups - a lovely London based one with my wonderful friend, Shelley, and more recently I popped my head in (not really for long enough, sadly) to one on my doorstep. I also got invited to do a Q&A for a group of new start pumpers at my hospital (a post on that in the near future, I promise).

With the first year of my MA under my belt, with no scheduled classes for the summer term, I had anticipated having time to breathe a bit, get my thoughts in order. Has it turned out like that? Well, no, not really. Sure, I'm done with the MA until October, but other things have stepped up to fill the void. 

I don't consider myself to be immensely highly strung, or very high maintenance. But in truth, I'm not exactly the most laid back person in the world. I stress. A lot. I get anxious, which doesn't help me in any way, shape or form. Stress and I have a bit of a vicious cycle. I stress, which pushes my levels up. Which means I don't sleep well, which makes me tired and edgy. Which makes me stress more. Which starts the circle all over again. Oh and don't forget to throw in the small fact that my IBS symptoms are mostly stress induced. And round we go, again and again.

So I've been quiet on the whole social media front. I've barely been on twitter, which is normally my haunt of choice. I've not been blogging. But, oh my D-friends, I have missed you. I really, really have. But I had to try and keep a hold on my sanity, whilst struggling with this horrid cycle, working my normal 9-5, and then turning my mind over to the equivalent of a 5-9, which is getting a new company off the ground, and getting creatively and practically ready to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. 

So there you go. I've been battling the heat, the ongoing nagging in the back of my mind that I should be trying harder to lose weight after 'chubbygate', the stress, and, if I'm honest, feeling very alone and isolated. But I'm still here. I'm trying - and I've missed you all.

A couple of months a go, I had a bit of fun with trying to get my new sites to stick. Admittedly, that was mostly due to my own stupidity with some self tanning body lotion. What I've found with a few of my recent sites though, is that they're starting to unpeel at the edges somewhat by the third day of use. With that in mind, travel back a week or so with me...

Lately at work, I've been having a huge blitz on my (very large) pile of (extremely overdue) filing. I don't have any shelves near my desk, but I do have a rather extensive number of files that I'm responsible for. So that means lugging them to and fro from the main office to my desk.

One afternoon in this administrative marathon, I keep looking for something like a staple that might have got caught in my top, because SOMETHING is poking me in the side periodically, and I cannot work out what it is. But nothing is to be seen, so I carry on regardless, as you do.

Along rolls the time for me to switch files. So, resting two on my hip whilst I juggle with the code locked interior door, I realise what's been poking me.

Yes, that would be my cannula, which must have been dislodged whilst I was carrying files. Proving that either a) I have a slightly dodgy box of insets, or b) filing is hazardous to my health, and I should stop immediately. Personally, I'm voting for option B. One of two completely unplanned site changes at work that have happened recently, anyone? I'm going to have to start keeping a sharps box here, I swear.

I had my annual review with my endo on Monday. I'll be honest, I was extremely nervous about getting my HbA1c result back. I normally run the usual 'having everyone guess' pool on Twitter, etc. But I didn't this time, because for once, I was actually scared about the result. With my several month run of extremely fruity scores, I was worried. I had prepared myself for a double figure score, knowing that whilst that would be a huge jump from my previous result of 7.1, if I prepared myself for the worst, then at least it wouldn't be too much of a shock. 

As I was sitting in the waiting room, all sorts of things were going through my head - what if they took my pump off me? After all, it was supposed to help me bring my A1c down. Well, it turns out that whilst it had gone up, the damage wasn't as bad as I'd been expecting. It rolled in a 7.8%, which I know many people would bite my arm off for. So, Dr J. wasn't too worried about that. He told me that he knew I'd get it back down again, and he had absolutely no doubt about that. He also wasn't that concerned about what I've been calling my 'fruity' scores. His argument was that a) my honeymoon has clearly ended, and b) my body was still getting used to pumping - the two things together meant that the scores I'd been getting didn't surprise him. What surprised me, however, was what seemed to concern him. Which was my weight. Or more precisely, my BMI.

Now, I was pretty clued up to the fact that I'd most likely put on a few pounds, but it wasn't something that I was overly concerned about. I also dislike BMI as a form of measurement a) because for some reason, the hospital have measured my height as several inches shorter than I actually am, which skews things, and b) it just seems to make everyone feel bad about themselves. However, Dr J. seemed extremely concerned about it. Apparently my BMI was too high for someone with Type 1. He wanted to put me on Metformin. I did not want this. When I was in hospital after I was diagnosed, they weren't quite sure what type I was. This was despite the fact I had ketones that were (so I'm told) practically off the scale. Since I was out of adolescence, they gave me Metformin. It did not agree with me. I know for a fact it would most likely not agree with me now, for reasons I'll come on to shortly. 

So it turns out that from about a year ago, I'd put on 5lb. This apparently had tipped things to a point where he wasn't comfortable with my weight, despite the fact that I'm still lighter than I was pre-diagnosis. I pointed out that my total daily dose was still coming in at under twenty units - I'm hardly insulin resistant, so I didn't really see the point in it. Then he asked me THE question, which has been rattling around in my head all week:

"Have you always been on the chubby side?"

Well, what do you say to that? Admittedly, I have always been heavier - I'm built that way, and even if I were to shed all excess weight, I'd still have a heavier build. I'm never going to be a size 8. That I've come to terms with. But I was slightly dumbfounded, and the best I could come out with was, "Uh, I guess so?".

The discussion went on for a while, and eventually I convinced him that I didn't want to take him up on the offer. That was fine, he told me, he didn't want to twist my arm and force me into anything I didn't want to do. I said if my weight was really a concern, then I would try and do something about it. We agreed that I would try to lose a stone by my next annual review. Ideally, I want to lose two, so that he really has nothing to complain about.

So the comments about my weight cut rather deeply. I've always had issues about my appearance, so having this put in front of me hasn't been exactly easy. It's upset me. I know he didn't mean it to, but it has. However, that's only 50% of what this post is about. 

I said I had reasons for not wanting to go onto Metformin. I remember, from the couple of days that I was on it, that it did not agree with me. It caused many of the side effects that it's well known for - abdominal cramps and excessive gas being the ringleaders. You see, the thing is now, that I have issues with IBS. I don't talk about it much, particularly not on here, because well...it's not really very pleasant. You just don't talk about those sorts of things, do you? That leads me to ask, why not? I don't mean graphically (I promise I will never do that), but why is it such a taboo to talk about this? I asked out on twitter about whether any other Type 1's had Metformin suggested to them, and eventually discovered that I wasn't alone in dealing with both T1 and IBS. I suspect there are more people out there than just the two of us, as well. But it's not the sort of thing one sits around and chats about in polite company. But surely that's where problems, particularly those of feeling isolated, start? When we don't admit things, and we don't talk about them?

So this is me saying that I have IBS as well as T1. For me, my IBS is mostly stress induced, and I don't have it half as bad as other people I know. But it's there all the same. And for me, I didn't see the point of putting myself through the wringer of Metformin, in all probability exacerbating my symptoms, for the minimal payoff. So I'm going to try and get rid of this two stone the old fashioned way. 

And if anyone else with IBS wants to say hi, please do - you're not on your own either.  

Yesterday, I 'thrilled' you all with the rather overly long story of my day out in Blackpool. However, there was a little side story that a missed out of that account. So I thought that I would share that with you all today.

So, something that tends to happen at competitions, is that various vendors will come to try and sell you their wares. In the past, I've tried not go and look at them, because they'll make me want to spend money that I really don't have. However, this time, you had to walk past the stalls in order to get to practice space, and to the toilets, so of course I ended up having a look. 

The stall I come to is a discount dancewear retailer. And they're having a clearance sale. This is really dangerous. I checked out the costumes, and there were several that I liked, and technically could afford, but I decided not to try anything on, because then I would be sure to buy something. But then I saw a pair of wider fitting shoes, on sale. Since I'd actually been thinking of getting a new pair of shoes, as the ones that I've been using are getting a bit worn out on the sides. 

So I'm talking with the woman running the stall, and I'm umming and ahhing a bit over whether to buy them, mostly because I'm generally really tight when it comes to my money. I hate spending money, because, well then I haven't got it to fall back on. Then she suggests that I ask my mum for the money (a suggestion that never sits well with me when people say it), because "exercise will stop you from getting diabetes in the future".

Well, ok then!

I didn't really know how to react. I wanted to just laugh in her face - I wasn't sure whether to be narked off or not. 

"Well, actually, I have Type 1 Diabetes, so...."

Watching her try to dig herself out of this hole she'd created was, shall we say, interesting? I didn't try to embarrass her, but she couldn't stop apologising. Ouch, it was rather painful to watch. It was clearly one of those moments where trying to advocate would be lost, because she just wouldn't stop apologising, and I couldn't get a word in edgeways. So I just told her it was all ok, and did she take card?

She did take card.

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!

 

 

 

 

ZOE
Probably plasma, insulin, whatever
they ain't got enough of on the
border moons.

Back in December, I was lucky enough to learn a bit of poi juggling at work, for part of the Christmas carol service at York Minster. For those of you not familiar with poi, think juggling balls, but with long strings attached, which you fit to your fingers. It's great fun, and looks beautiful when you do it right. But if you don't? Well, you'll end up whacking yourself all over the place. Especially when you're learning. Which hurts a lot of the time. 

At the moment, things really aren't that dissimilar. I've been somewhat distant from a lot of things that I'm normally so engaged with. Forums, twitter, blogging here, and it's not because I don't love being invovled with social media - if it were up to me, I'd be able to devote a lot more time to it - thoughts of whether I could actually find work doing diabetes advocacy has crossed my mind more than once, believe me. But the problem is that I'm torn between all my commitments. I know that I'm not the only one - we all lead unbelievably hectic lives these days, and I know we'd appreciate the chance to just press the pause button for a few days, and slow the pace down. 

I work full time. I study part time for a Master's degree, which means time on campus, as well as all the work outside of classroom time that goes with it. I'm part of the university's Dancesport society, which means I have lessons, and team practice for competitions. And of course, D always has to have its say on everything.

I'm extremely lucky, in that my work are very understanding about my MA. I've been allowed to rearrange my hours to allow me time to take my lectures, which all fall within the working day. Of course, when I'm not there, I'm in the office. Which means that time to use the library, etc, is all in the evenings. Despite the ridiculous price of it, I do own a  bus pass, so I can get the bus to and from university. On foot, it would take me about an hour to walk between my flat and campus, and then obviously another hour back. So I get the bus. But because buses stop being frequent after a certain time, if I miss one, I have to wait another half hour. And they only go into town, which means I still have to walk half an hour back to my flat, usually with a stack of books. 

So what's a girl to do? If I go to the library after work, the earliest I'll get home is about 20:30, but it's usually more like 22:00 or later. Trust me, by that point, I'm hungry! I've still not really got the hang of reducing my basal rates, and since I'm high an awful lot of the time, I'm not 100% comfortable with reducing them anyway, as I'd probably carry on being even higher.

I knew that when I signed up for the MA it was going to be a lot of work. I'm not complaining about that, because I knew it was part and parcel. Trading off things in order to not completely burn out though? That's a bit more difficult. I'm glad I chose to do this part time, because there's no way I could manage it full time. 

I'll be completely honest. My control has not been great at the moment. My 14 day average on my meter is way higher than I would like it. I'm probably not paying as much attention to things at the moment as I should be, and that is unsettling me a little bit. I don't like taking my eye off the ball, but giving myself some slack in one place is the only way I can think of handling things at the moment. At the end of April, all my assignments for the year will be handed in, and I can think of other things as well. 

Until then, I guess I'm just going to have to try and avoid hitting myself with the various balls in the air.