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    Showing posts with label diagnosis. Show all posts
    Showing posts with label diagnosis. Show all posts

  1. Now We Are Three.

    Tuesday, 1 May 2012

    I remember you. I remember all about you. I remember the day you walked into my life. 

    I remember what I was wearing, down to my boots. I remember the last meal I ate before you turned my life upside down. I remember what the weather was like, and how much money I had in my purse. I remember how that day panned out, down to the smallest details. The conversations, the minutia. 

    I don't remember what came before. Like the Abba song, I don't remember the day before you came. I don't remember what I wore, what I said, what I ate. Where I went. I know it was my brother's birthday, but only because, shockingly, that happens at that time every year. I remember being angry, and upset, and feeling unwell. But it's all vague. It's all fuzzy as though that very last day was something from another time. Which I suppose it was. 

    Because you walked into my life like an uninvited guest. You took off your shoes, and put your feet up on the table. And like it or not, you were here to stay. And you brought your baggage with you. All sorts of things I never wanted to have around or think about, but, like you, they were here to stay because they were a part of you.  

    So I had a permanent guest in my life. But whilst you left all these things around that I didn't want, every so often you'd do something nice for me. You'd bring home milk, or you'd buy some flowers. And on those occasions, I'd forgive you for being there in the first place. Almost.

    And three years on, because of you, I have good days and bad days. And the bad ones can be really bad. They can suck, and have me in tears. But I have the good ones too. And on either end of that spectrum, I have a Facebook and Twitter feed full of friends that I met because of the fact that you came into my life. Friends who understand. Friends that I can't quite believe weren't in my life the day before you arrived. Who make a lot of the awful things you do to me that little bit better. 


    So even if you do run up bills, and tread mud into the carpet, I can cope with it. I have to. You're not going anywhere any time soon. I wish I could show you the door, and just look at the flowers and drink the milk, but sadly it's an all encompassing deal. You can't just pick and choose the parts that you like, much as you might want to. 


    Three years ago, I didn't know you. I might not know you completely now. But I'm getting there.

    Posted by Becky at 22:43 | Labels: , , | 5 comments |

  2. Finding Neverland & The Velveteen Rabbit

    Saturday, 16 October 2010

    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.



    Posted by Becky at 16:12 | Labels: , , | 4 comments |

  3. Then, Now and Next

    Saturday, 1 May 2010

    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.



    Posted by Becky at 23:24 | Labels: , , , , , , | 5 comments |

  4. Standing in the Corner - Looking Out

    Saturday, 24 April 2010

    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.

    Posted by Becky at 22:48 | Labels: , , , , , , , | 4 comments |

  5. A drink with a friend

    Sunday, 21 March 2010

    Books are great. I was always a great lover of books as a child, and I'd get through several a week as a minimum. These days, I don't get as much time to read as I'd like. I've been trying to make my way through reading Les Miserables for several years. Rather a pathetic admission, and it doesn't please me. Especially since I've rather forgotten what's going on at the point that I'm up to, and will probably have to start over again anyway.  But to get to my point, I like to read. I like to know things. So, because my friends know me, I got brought Diabetes UK 'approved' cookery books whilst I was still in hospital (not pictured, since I just grabbed the first ones I saw), so I could read up on food. After I was discharged, I went on Amazon, and looked for books. I bought some in the sales at Borders (oh Borders, how I miss you...), and yes, I did read them. Some are more useful than others. 

    The thing that I found though, was that as helpful and informative as some of these books are on a clinical level, there were things that I wanted to know that they just weren't telling me. What I wanted to know was not how people 'controlled diabetes'. I wanted to know how people lived with it. 

    All I can say is thank goodness for the internet.  Somewhere in the bowels of the Diabetes UK website, I found a link to Diabetes Support. That place has been an absolute lifeline to me. And I can't even remember what it was that I searched for, which sent me to Six Until Me. All I know was that when I found Kerri's blog, I spent HOURS reading every post I could find. Then looked through her blogroll and found other blogs, which I read just as keenly. 

    I think it was seeing how people handled the day to day highs and lows that interested me the most. Reading about their lives made feel stronger. These amazing people, who were so willing to share with the world the their day to day trials and tribulations made me feel as if I could do it too, because they were doing it. So there was no reason that I couldn't do it as well.

    There's something about hearing about diabetes from some who is living with it. It's comforting. It's like being sat down with a friend, having a drink together, and knowing that you're not alone. So to every single one of you who writes a blog - thank you. I'd sit down for a drink in real life with any single one of you. And for those of you reading this, I hope it might make you feel less alone. Writing it certainly makes me feel less alone.


    Posted by Becky at 23:30 | Labels: , , , , | 1 comments |

  6. How it all began

    Friday, 19 March 2010

    Ah the things we do at work. It's been a strange (and fun) few days, really. And it's in stark comparison to this time last year. I'm pretty sure that over the next month or so, I'll come back to this theme again. It's heading up to my first D-Birthday, which will be 1st May. But the journey to my D-Birthday, in my mind, begins with my actual birthday. Which, for the record, is today. 

    Last year, I remember feeling distinctly unwell around the time of my birthday. I looked back on pictures of last year's joint party, and the day after, and for some of them I look OK. But the morning after, when I'd taken off the make-up, I looked grey. And no, I wasn't hungover. I'm not a big drinker. I wonder a lot about that time. I'd been feeling ill, and now I think, was that the start of it all? Or was that what started it? And I guess really there's no way to ever know for sure. 

    What I do remember was having no real energy to party. I went home relatively early, and nearly fell asleep when we moved from the restaurant to a club. I felt sick, and wanted to sleep. So, I went home and slept. 

    On the day of my actual birthday, I went home to my parents' place in the afternoon. When I came home after the weekend, I remember saying on the phone to my Mum that I was unbelievably thirsty, and couldn't work out why. I believe in the end we put it down to a packet of crisps that we hadn't tried before. 

    What a difference a year makes, as I say. When we went out on Wednesday, I carb counted out pretty much perfectly, which was very satisfying. Then we went to try and find somewhere to get a drink. At 23:00, I found myself sat on the steps of the Hilton, doing my Lantus, as a police van drove past, finding the scene hilarious. Today, I went and had sushi for lunch, and had my chin painted by the graphic designer who works upstairs from us for photographs for a children's theatre festival.

    Rather different, as I say.

    Posted by Becky at 22:44 | Labels: , , , , , , , , | 2 comments |

  7. All you need is blood

    Tuesday, 9 March 2010

    Blood's an amazing thing if you stop to think about it.It's fascinating. I just had to pull myself away from my reading to even post this! It's so balanced, that even the slightest change can throw it into complete chaos. I just decided to look up what its pH value should be, and if everything is normal, it stays between 7.35 and 7.45. That's tight control! It really makes me think about what on earth the pH value of my blood was when I was in DKA. All they ever told me was that 'it's very acidic' and that the ketones were at least ++++ most of the time I was there. The part of me that wants to know everything would really like to read my medical records and see for myself.

    I had a thought though. How often did I ever used to see any of my own blood? And how much of it did I ever see? Most of it, for most of the time, stayed inside of me. Which is rather how it likes to be! But these days? Well, I obviously bleed several times a day, I get blood tests done, and so on, and so on. I think about blood so much more than I ever did. I naturally think about blood sugar many, many times a day. But I still remember a time when I didn't, despite that feeling like a heck of a long time ago!

    I used to donate blood. I never did it as frequently as I liked, because donating sessions often used to clash with work, rehearsals, etc. But I did donate, and I was proud that I did. Yes, I was a complete wuss, and used to ask for the local anaesthetic, but do you know what? I didn't care. My moment of wussiness was likely to help someone, so hey, I was perfectly fine with being a wuss.
    Seems though, that I'm not welcome as a donor any more. This makes me really sad, because I know lots of people who, for various reasons, won't donate. Some of them are scared of needles, and I totally understand that. What I don't understand though, are those people who just 'can't be bothered'. Because you don't know whose life that blood is going to save. What if it was someone you loved, or they couldn't be saved because everyone else didn't bother to show up?

    After my DX, my mum decided to ring up the National Blood Service for me, because she knew I was likely to not get time to do it during the times they were open. She wanted to talk to them and ask whether I could still donate or not. Apparently, they didn't really understand what she was saying. I was supposedly welcome to donate if I wasn't using medication. When she told them that I was a type one, and used insulin, they replied as follows.

    'Well, get her to give us a call when she comes off her medication.'

    I really wish it was that easy. With things as they stand, unfortunately that's one life-time ban.

    Posted by Becky at 23:49 | Labels: , , , | 2 comments |

  8. Here's To Hope.

    Monday, 1 March 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

    We also have joy with our troubles, because we know that these troubles produce patience, and patience produces character, and character produces HOPE. And this hope will never disappoint us, because God has poured out His love to fill our hearts. He gave us His love through the Holy Spirit, whom God has given us. - Romans 5: 3-5

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

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




    Posted by Becky at 22:09 | Labels: , , , , , | 1 comments |


  9. So this morning I had my baffling appointment with the Health Care Assistant. I came in and sat down.


    'Now, Rebecca, why exactly are you here?' 

    'To be honest, I have absolutely no idea.'

    'Doesn't the hospital do all your care?'

    'Yep, as far as I know.'

    'So who told you that you had to do it here as well?'

    'One of the women on reception.'

    'Oh, I am going to have to go and shout at someone later!'

    Basically, it was a completely pointless appointment in one sense. I didn't need to do it. However, I did get told how impressed she was with my improved HbA1c - down from 12 at diagnosis to 6 at last check. Had my foot check done, and then we moved on to my prescription review.

    Rid of the stupid test strips that aren't for my meter? Check
    Increase the number of boxes of strips I get in one go from two to four? Check
    Ketone urine testing strips on repeat? Check

    So whilst it wasn't useful in a lot of respects, I still got a lot out of it!


    Posted by Becky at 22:53 | Labels: , , , , , , | 0 comments |

  10. Happy Half Birthday

    Sunday, 1 November 2009

    So, it's been a while. I don't know why I seemed to fall off the blogging wagon (as it were), but I've a plan to counteract this, to the point where those of you who follow this will probably be yelling at me to shut up.


    NaBloPoMo. It's hard (but fun) to say, and I imagine it will be exactly the same to do. It's a blog post a day for each day of November. It comes, as I understand it, from the same school of thought as NaNoWriMo. (National Novel Writing Month). Now, I was hoping to take part in NaNoWriMo this year, but for the life of me, I haven't been able to come up with anything that seems worth writing, or that isn't a complete hash of already existing novels. So, with the aim of doing Script Frenzy in April, I thought I would give this a try. Plus, as  Northerner pointed out, I have been neglecting this, so here's the remedy.


    So it's update time, since I've been absent for most of October.


    Now, a while ago, I talked about how I've always wanted to dance. And I promised that I was going to start doing some ballroom dance classes. For once, I've had some follow through. I signed up as a member of York Dancesport, and thus far, I have done two days of lessons, and a practice session yesterday. As of yesterday, I've covered beginners' and improver's Cha-Cha-Cha, beginners' Waltz (which was great fun, but a complete disaster!), and beginners' and improver's Quickstep. And the verdict? It's totally amazing! I highly recommend it to anyone, because it's just so much fun. I've been dancing with a lovely guy called Ben, who's also a total novice, just like me, so that's great. I'm already looking into buying my first pair of dance shoes (I'll not get started into what a minefield that is. I'll save that for another day!). Roll on next Saturday, where we'll be tackling improver's Quickstep and beginners' Jive. As I've said before, I've done Jive in the past, so here's hoping it might be my dance! Watch this space!
     

    In other news, I went to go and get my seasonal flu jab yesterday. I've been offered it for years now, because as well as having diabetes, I also have asthma. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to bother me as much as it used to when I was younger. I rarely ever need to get out my inhaler, but trust me, when I do, I'm extremely thankful that it's there. Yet, because I've always seemed to have a pretty solid immune system, I've never bothered with the flu jab. Of course, the irony that in the past I've had a stonkingly good immune system, yet now have an auto-immune disease is not lost on me. But having heard that flu, which I'm told is never fun, also can throw your BS control completely out of whack, I decided that I'd actually go and get it this year.  

    Over at Diabetes Support, there's been a fairly extensive discussion over not only the seasonal flu vaccine, but also the H1N1 (swine flu) vaccine, and whether or not to get it. I hadn't really made up my mind on the issue, but I was leaning more towards the getting it side of things. I personally get completely befuddled over the whole 'anti-vaxx' school of thought,  but even I had a moment of doubt when it comes to getting a vaccine that hadn't been trialled on a huge wave of people (as best I understand the issue - I'm more than willing to be corrected!). But when I was at my surgery, they asked if I wanted it as well, because they could do them both there and then. So I said yes. This was, I'll be honest, mostly a laziness on my part, in that I didn't really want to have to go back a second time, when I could get them both done in one go.  For those interested, the needles are really tiny, and if you look the other way, it's a small, sharp scratch, and then it's done. The worst that can apparently happen, is that your arm feels a bit achy for a while. And that is true, because my left arm is a bit achy, but apart from that, everything else seems fine.


    The one thing I wasn't particularly impressed with about the whole thing was that I hadn't actually received a letter about the seasonal flu vaccine - I happened to see it on the top of one of my prescription slips. I gave the surgery a ring to make sure that it was still on, and to ask whether I should have received a letter. The receptionist was exceedingly snotty, and told me 'It's been advertised in the surgery, and we haven't sent out letters for the last two years'. Well, that's all very well and good, but I've only been registered with them for six months, and since the majority of my diabetes care is done via the hospital, and I order prescriptions over the phone, and use a collection service, how on earth am I meant to know that?!  So, I ask about the H1N1. Apparently she didn't know anything, couldn't tell me anything. I asked whether I would get a letter about this, or was this something I wouldn't get a letter about either? 'Well, you'll have to wait and see what your letter says, won't you?' *facepalm* Oy vey.


    Anyway, I'm up at the hospital tomorrow morning anyway, to go and see one of my dieticians. I say one of them, I seem to have acquired two, which is a bit strange. As is the whole reasoning behind this appointment, but I'll save that for tomorrow.

    So, to shed some light on the title of this entry. Today is the first of November, which means, as of today, I have been living and dealing with diabetes for a whole six months. Which is strange, when I think about it. It's like so many things in life, which can seem like an instant and an eternity depending on what details you decide to focus on. Six months is a milestone, but it's also a complete nothing, when I think about how long I'm going to potentially be handling this for, and how long other people I know have been living with it for. It's pause for thought, at any rate.


    What am I doing to celebrate? Well, I'm currently trying to wash chocolate off a bedsheet (it really IS chocolate, I promise. My friend Nick came to see me last weekend, and as a joke, I put a wrapped Lindor chocolate ball on his pillow, which he forgot about, and went to sleep on), and there is no prospect of cake, unless I decide to make some. Which I could. I'm good at that, which some of you will know. But I probably still won't....although now I'm thinking about it. Hmm.....











     


    Posted by Becky at 16:25 | Labels: , , , , , | 1 comments |

  11. Making yourself visible

    Wednesday, 16 September 2009

    It's no secret (since I've mentioned it on here before), that I like reading Kerri Sparling's blog, Six Until Me. And over there, Kerri is blogging, like so many people out there in the online community, for Invisible Illness Awareness Week. Now, I've been wanting to do my part, and raise my voice, but what to say has been hard to come up with. And I think Kerri said it best, when she pointed out that, if you were to look at me, or take a picture, you wouldn't think there was anything wrong with me. You'd have to look hard.

    So, because it might be hard to see, here are my signs.

    I wear a medical ID bracelet. (And yes, that picture is actually the stock photo off the website for my actual bracelet) As they go, it's actually rather nice. I was totally resistant to getting one at all, because I didn't want to 'flaunt' my diabetes. I wanted it to be invisible. But, I could hear in the tone of my Mum's voice, and sometimes from the things she flat-out said to me, that she was worried about me going hypo somewhere on my way home from a late night rehearsal of from stewarding, so on, so on. So it was mainly to appease her that I bought it. It's not so bad, I suppose.

    If you look at the sides of my fingertips, they're covered in tiny marks from testing. This, I really hate. And laughably, as I just finished writing that sentence, my meter starts bleeping at me, telling me to test. 3.2mmol (58 mg/dl). Bring on the apple juice. I thought I'd felt a little shaky. But there you go. That's the point. I'm sat in the room with my flatmate, and because I'm not at the stage where my shaking is more than an inward feeling or slight tremor of my hands, there is absolutely no way of telling that there's anything wrong. Even knowing me, and knowing my diabetes the best out of my friends and family, there's really no way he could tell.

    Recently, I've been trying to compose facebook messages to two friends of mine. One who I'm close with despite having not known her that long, and then another who I lived with and was super close with at university. The first I don't see often because she's over in America. The other, I haven't seen in nearly three years. Now, when they ask you 'what's new with you?', what am I supposed to say? Diabetes is obviously my big news, but how do you drop it into casual conversation? With people I haven't spoken to in a while, like a lot of my old uni friends, it's turning into my rather big elephant in the corner. And bless these friends, they're not ignoring the elephant, for their part, they don't even know that it's there. I can't do a big facebook announcement. I'm not going to call them all individually and tell them, I'm not going to email them just to tell them these things. It's not what you do.

    I went to see doctors, and went in and out of hospital without mentioning this to a lot of my friends. My circle of friends who I see daily through work, and my friend Nick and his partner (who I am unbelievably close to, but lives the other end of the country. So we stay in touch mostly by phone, facebook and now Skype) were the only people who I told. In heading up for 5 months, I've only made one facebook status update relating to diabetes. And even then it was vague. I'm not ashamed of this. I haven't done anything wrong. But why would my friends on facebook care about my HbA1c, when I'm hypo, etc, etc?

    This last weekend, I took part in a fundraising event with my work. It was a 24-hour Improthon, where there was non-stop improvised theatre for 24 hours. I did 13 out of those 24 hours, from 4am-5pm. I took injections whilst I was there, I tested my BS, I treated a hypo (dammit!). I had a few odd looks from some other people taking part. Mainly because some of these were people that I had either taught as a youth theatre leader, or had otherwise known for years. And they'd never seen me do these things before.

    But how do I bring it up?

    If they ask me a question, I'll answer, but how do you make something that is completely invisible, visible?

    Well, diabetes is a chronic illness with currently no cure. I guess I've got time to try and figure it out.

    And as a move forward, I may just make a facebook status to let people know that I'm blogging for Invisible Illness Week. Maybe some of them are just as invisible, and would like to be seen. Who knows?

    xx

    Posted by Becky at 22:54 | Labels: , , , , , , , , | 0 comments |

  12. Dream a little dream of me...

    Sunday, 30 August 2009

    I think everyone has dreams. I don't think you're really human if you don't. I know I dream. But it seems to me that, so often our dreams seem completely unattainable. I think back on the many, many things I've said to myself that I want to achieve over the years. So many of them seem utterly ridiculous now. For years and years, I've wanted to be an actress. And guess what? I've done it. So that's one box ticked. It may not have been for a particularly great company, or very long lasting, but I did it.

    But, before that, I had a dream that I quite frequently pretend that I never had. It's one that a lot of little girls have at about the age of 5 or 6 I think. I wanted to be a dancer. Quite badly. I went to ballet classes, as a lot of girls do. Actually, if memory serves me, I had a chiropodist who 'strongly recommended' that I went. I had a curvature of the foot that meant I didn't really walk in a straight line, and he thought that would help. And I did ballet classes for a couple of years, and then started tap. Then I stopped. And for the life of me, I can't remember why. I think it was getting too expensive. But over the years, I've done various dancing classes. I did modern dance, where I remember my mum bargaining with me, that I could only go if I had school dinners, which we got for free. Otherwise we couldn't afford it. Now, I did this for a while, and did a few exams and earned a few rosettes even. But again, I stopped. Again, I think I knew it was getting too expensive to carry on.

    After that, when I had my own pocket money, I took up line dancing. It was pretty fashionable at the time, and I was actually good. I won a regional trophy against people I was pretty sure would wipe the floor with me. I passed lots of exams with extremely respectable marks. I had a bash at choreography, and it actually led me to meet the closest thing I've ever had to a boyfriend (but let's leave my miserable excuse of a love life out of it, hey?). But again, I stopped.

    I was a fat kid. I got thrown out of the school dance production auditions because I was too fat. This sounds like something I'm making up, I know. But I swear it's true. I got through to the last audition, only for the head of dance to tell me 'You're too big. You won't keep up with the rest of the cast.' and ask me to leave. And I didn't really dance any more after that. Sure I did a few workshops and whatnot, but all I could think was that I was clumsy and graceless, and too fat for dancing. I had far too many people who called me clumsy, and it really did nothing for my self esteem. Because I believed them.

    Now, I'm sure you're probably wondering what this all has to do with diabetes. And that's a fair question at this point. But stay with me, I'll get to the point eventually.

    So when I went to university, I went to Cumbria Institute of the Arts and did a degree in Performing Arts. This, naturally, included dance. Our dance tutor there put me in the 'high stream' class. I argued with her, and didn't understand why. I found the whole thing extremely frustrating, and shed more than a few tears over it, because I just couldn't keep up. But in retrospect, I know why she did it. I was better than I gave myself credit for. I didn't sign up to take part in dance shows, or take the dance electives, because all I could think was 'fat, clumsy, graceless'. But I'd see what they were doing, and part of me knew I was missing out. But I took up tango for a while, and loved it. Then after uni, I took modern jive classes as something to do in our town, which was in the middle of no-where. It was simply bad timing that I actually got an acting job which took me away, and I then moved to York, so I've not been able to carry it on.

    There are lots of other things I've wanted to be able to do. When I was younger, I imagined that by the time I was 25, I'd be working regularly as an actress, have an amazing boyfriend, two cats and a gorgeous home. I'd be playing at least five instruments, painting, know how to surf. I would be a published author. I would travel, and speak multiple languages. I would know how to fence, do archery, and I'd be an amazing cook, I would be happy going for a run. I would be pretty and slim and confident. Oh, and of course, I would dance. And if I want to stay in line with that, I have about 6 months to complete an awful lot! And it wasn't that long ago that I thought all these things were achievable.

    Now, with diabetes thrown into the mix, I've got a whole load of new things I want to achieve. I want to lose enough weight for my BMI to edge away from its current 29 (I really hate BMI - I think it makes everyone feel bad). I want a brilliant HbA1C. I want perfection in my blood sugars. No hypos. No highs. I want to be able to take everything in my stride. I don't want to ever feel down, depressed, angry, stressed or frustrated about this chronic condition that I didn't ask for and don't want. I want to eat better despite the hang-ups and issues I have with food. I want to exercise plenty. And I want to do it all with grace and humour. I want to make it all look easy and effortless.

    Of course, that's ridiculous. I'd be completely in cloud cuckoo land if I thought I could do all that. But wait! There is hope, as I see it. Of course I can't do all that. I can't be a multi-instrument playing, surfing, quad-lingual, travelling actress with perfect blood sugars, a HbA1C to envy, and probably perfect hair and skin as well. But what I can do is try. Simply TRY to achieve some of these things, and be realistic about what I can and can't do. Self-destructive behaviours don't help anyone, and they simply hurt you. Now, I'm not claiming that I won't ever doubt myself or want to quit trying to do better. What I need to try and realise is that I could do all these things, and be this amazing person, but I'm probably not too bad as I am. Even if I don't think I am.

    So, just to take stock of a few things, I've lowered my HbA1c from 8.8 to 6.0 since June. That's pretty good. I've lost about a stone pre-diagnosis, and I've not put any of it back on. I've lost another couple of pounds. That's an achievement, Becky! I'm going to try and get to the bottom of why I keep hitting the 3's before lunch. Oh, and I plan to send an email to York Dance Sport about their beginner's ballroom classes after the Bank Holiday weekend is over.

    So what about you? Want to join me? What's your dance class?

    xx

    Posted by Becky at 21:38 | Labels: , , , , , | 0 comments |

  13. Friends. They're amazing. But I think sometimes you don't actually realise how good you've got it, and how wonderful they really are until you're in it deep. And I don't just have it good. I have it great. I just don't say it often enough.

    If it wasn't for my friends, I don't know what would be going on with me right now. It was one of the most wonderful people I have in my life who pushed, urged and damn near kicked me to go and see a doctor in the first place. It was my friends who sat with me in hospital til 12:30 in the morning so I wouldn't be alone. They were the ones who made me laugh til I wanted to cry, who burned me cds so I wouldn't be bored, brought me books, spent hours on the phone with me when they couldn't physically be there.

    It's been my friends who've asked me loads of questions so they know what's going on, but who've also known when to back off and give me some space. Some who have sat with me and listened to me as I've cried and moaned. Who drove an hour each way to go and pick up test strips for me when I'd been a complete plonker and forgotten to put in a prescription, and was manically worried that I was going to run out over the weekend.

    It's been friends that I've called when I've been alone having a hypo, and just wanted someone to know. They've been the ones who've then said that they'll call me or come and find me if they've not seen or heard from me in ten minutes. They've been the ones who've known when it's right to make jokes, and when it's not appropriate. They've not been the Food Police on me, but simply had gentle curiosity, which I'll been forever grateful for.

    I've been surprised by how much people care who I perhaps hadn't anticipated to. And I've felt unbelievably humbled by it.

    Now I don't want you to go on thinking that my family haven't been great as well, but though I talk to them a lot, I don't see them very often. It's my friends that are my second family - the one I chose, and the ones I live and work with every day.

    So this is my small way of saying thank you to each one of them. You know who you are - I love you, and I salute you all for being completely amazing people that my life would be that much poorer without.

    Thank you so much. I couldn't do this without you.

    xx

    Posted by Becky at 13:41 | Labels: , , , | 0 comments |

  14. Dear Miss Thomson,

    We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment...

    No wait, scratch that.

    So I've been re-reading all the Harry Potter books. And last night, made the trip to see Half Blood Prince (seriously, what was up with all the pointless burning of buildings? Do they have some sort of pyromaniac on staff? Inquiring minds want to know!). So when a slightly unexpected letter turned up on Saturday, it was a bit like getting my Hogwarts letter.


    Dear Ms Thomson,

    Your blood test results are now available, and are consistent with you having Type 1 Diabetes.

    Not the biggest shocker in the world, you might think, but since I've been waiting on these results for a while, and didn't think I was going to get them until I went back to clinic next month, this letter was an absolute bolt out of the blue.

    But that's it - I've got a proper,GAD antibodies-and-similar-test confirmed, straight from the labs official diagnosis. This is possibly one of the most reassuring letters I've ever received. I know now where I'm at, and crazy as that is, that feels great.

    I'm going to Hogwarts, baby!

    xx






    Posted by Becky at 13:24 | Labels: , | 2 comments |

  15. And so I begin...

    Tuesday, 23 June 2009


    Well. I always wonder how to begin things like this, but here goes, I suppose.

    *stands up*

    I'm Becky. I'm 24. And I'm diabetic.

    *sits back down again*

    Now with my AA-style introduction out of the way, I'll expand on that a little. I'm newly diagnosed - 1st May 2009. So I've been dealing with this for....one month and twenty-three days. And trust me, June has been going a lot faster than May. May was like the month that went on forever. It truly did not want to end.

    So what's the point of this? Well, I've been reading some pretty amazing blogs out there from PWD, and I thought I'd give it a bash for myself. I doubt anyone will ever read it, but you never know.

    Now, just to warn you in advance, this is probably the introductory post that will get really long. Turn away now if you like.

    Before my DX, I did actually know a fair bit about diabetes. My Mum and Grandma are both Type 2's, so was aware it was a distinct possibility that I might develop T2 somewhere down the line. But we don't have a history of Type 1. Which is why this was a little bit surprising.

    For April and the last half of March, I was drinking - a LOT. Which for someone who normally struggles to drink the recommended amount of water a day is somewhat out of character. I was in and out of the bathroom all night. Tired all the time - I felt like someone had opened up a tap that had just drained all my energy away.

    But I didn't want to admit that something was probably wrong. But I got 'persuaded' (and I use that word with a touch of the sarcastic) that it might be a good idea for me to go and see someone. So Friday lunchtime before the bank holiday weekend (for which I had many plans), I popped into the walk in clinic. I wasn't registered with a GP here in York, so I figured this would be the next best thing. I told the nurse there some vague description of symptoms, as I was pretty convinced that I was wasting her time. She told me that it was probably nothing, but she could do a urine test for me 'if I wanted'. In retrospect, it was a good idea I said yes.

    'There's a lot of glucose. I'd suggest you went and registered with a GP today.'

    So I did. I went over to the nearest surgery to my work, and registered. They had no appointments with a doctor, but could give me an appointment with a nurse, who could do a blood test to sent to labs, and schedule me for a glucose tolerance test.

    Went away, came back. Saw the nurse (who I have seen several times since, and utterly adore, for the record), who did a finger prick test on me. Raised eyebrows are not a great reaction.

    31.4 (565 for any US readers)

    Now, as you would imagine, this means absolutely squat to me. I ask if that's high. She tells me that if it were 13 (234) or higher, she'd say I probably needed to get some immediate help. She goes out to confer with a GP, who comes back in and sits down next to me.

    'I hear you're planning on going to Manchester this weekend?'

    I was. I was going to support my friend Jenny in her try-outs for something, and then coming back for another friend's annual house party, having missed it for the past two years.

    'That's not going to happen. You need to go to the hospital. Now'.

    OK, that was not what I wanted to hear. But I was composed, dignified, and took it sensibly and like an adult.

    For between 30 seconds and a minute and a half. Which was when I started crying. And I couldn't stop. I went and sat out in the waiting room whilst they printed out a letter for me to take to the hospital. So I'm sat there, frantically calling my housemate (who I'm surprised could understand me), crying my eyes out, when my fab nurse calls in her next appointment. A boy of about seven, who was looking at me with rather wide eyes. In retrospect, I find that quite amusing. I'm sure he wasn't too keen on going in when he saw what the nurse had done to her last patient!

    So off I go to the hospital. I insist on going back to my flat first to get some things. And then walking there. No way I'm doing anything but, and I can be extremely stubborn when I want to be. I'm told that if I'd left it much longer, I probably would have arrived in an ambulance after having collapsed from DKA, rather than on my own two feet.

    I go in on the 1st, and leave on the 5th with a DX of Type 1 diabetes, a sharps box, glucose meter which will now be my daily companion, and box of NovoMix pens.

    So, congratulations if you've made it through this. Welcome to my world.






    Posted by Becky at 22:18 | Labels: , | 7 comments |