Shoot Up or Put Up

A scene one might, or might not, see on holiday

Tra la la la laaaa!

I’ve packed my bucket and spade and Katie and I are off on our holidays for a fortnight. Incredible though it might seem (not least to me) I won’t have any Internet access at all (pretty scary, eh, readers?)  So I’m going to leave you in the very capable hands of my esteemed co-writer Alison, forum moderator extraordinaire Mike and, of course, the woofy ball of fluff that is our resident newshound Neville.

I’ve locked the windows and left a note for the milkman, so it just remains to say behave yourselves, enjoy the forums and be nice to any new sign-ups. Unless they’re spammers. Toodle-ooo!!!

Eager Shoot Up readers queue up to vote

It’s approximately mid-way through the month, so that means it’s poll results time (cue wild applause). Last month we asked the diabetic intermaweb community what aspects of the day-to-day ‘running’ of their diabetes caused the most hassle.

Top of list comes regular blood tests with 32% of the vote; perhaps unsurprising given checking 2 or 4 or 8 times a day (delete as applicable, depending on your diabetes negligence) is a pain in the, well, finger. Carb counting also scores highly, with us diabetics being forced to whip out our calculators and work out the carbohydrate content of our snacks before cramming double handfuls of syrup pudding down our gullets.

It’ll probably come as a surprise to non-diabetics (who seem to have an endless fascination with injections) but regularly shooting up scores relatively low with only 13% of the vote. Perhaps that’s because it doesn’t really hurt and is very quick and easy to do. Who knows?

However, I see that dealing with non-diabetics’ reaction to any of the above scored highly, coming third highest on the list. Now, I’ve never had the slightest problem with shooting up in public or people’s reactions, so I don’t really get the popularity of this option. But, as people who’ve met me will attest, I’m a quiet, shy, retiring person, so people probably just don’t notice me.

Coming, now, to this month’s poll, regular reader Terry has suggested that in this wintry economic climate us diabetic drains-on-the-NHS should pull together and help save money by advocating one of the following options. Give your opinion over on the poll down to the right!

• Reduce blood glucose testing
• Reduce Hb1Ac testing
• Reduce research funding
• Manage diet/exercise more effectively
• Multiple uses of needles and lancets
• Return to bottled insulin and hypodermics
• Summarily execute all T2s.

Last month’s results in full:

• Regular blood tests – 32%
• Carb counting – 21%
• Dealing with non-diabetics’ reaction to any of the above – 21%
• Regular injections (or cannula changes for pumpers)- 13%
• Clinic appointments – 5%
• Blood taking for clinic appointments – 3%

A cure for diabetes is found!

Just imagine if there was a cure for diabetes tomorrow. Say if some mad scientist came up with a magic serum that restored one’s beta cells to full production and health within a day or two. (One imagines said scientist working from some sort of dark, gloomy castle, surrounded by angry storm clouds and frightened villagers, but I digress). That would be pretty cool, no?

I don’t think any of us would doubt that it would be rather nice; but wouldn’t it be rather odd too?

I don’t know about you, but I’m utterly programmed to do diabetes now. At about 7.30pm every evening a little mental alarm goes off in my head to bung in my lantus. Without relying on watches, clocks or alarms, I rarely miss lantus time by more than half an hour nowadays.

I also automatically guesstimate the carbohydrate content of everything on plate from about 50 yards. I can’t help it. I even do it with other people’s food – telling friends that they would need to put in about 9 units for what’s on their plate. Well, that’s what they would need to if, in fact, they were actually diabetic.

The list goes on, I find it bordering on impossible to leave the house without checking I’ve got my kit – finger pricker, insulin and a plentiful supply of fruit pastilles. If I go out without a man bag containing all said kit I feel positively naked.

So I wonder if our mad scientist friend did come up with a magic serum whether we diabetics would need to be gradually weaned off the diabetic way of life and back into normality. The shock of not having to do all these things might just be too great. Perhaps we would have to  spend the first few months injecting saline instead of insulin – much in the way that ex-smokers can buy those stupid looking faux cigarettes, giving them the feeling of clutching something cigarette shaped.

Who knows? But if such a serum was invented I wouldn’t be too worried kicking the diabetes habit – I’d be busy fighting my way to the front of the line!

La fée verte

I was idly rummaging through my old notes, leaflets and booklets that I was given by the DSN when I was first diagnosed. I did because I wanted a) clear some space in my drawers; and b) remind myself how many bad habits I’ve picked up in the last five years.

One booklet in particular did leap out at me. And that was a useful guide produced by the Royal Infirmary which gave the carbohydrate contents of various meals one might encounter out on the high street. After flicking through it again, I was reminded that there are 83g of carbs in a McBigMac, 45g in a McMuffin and 99g in a KFC Family Bucket (whatever that might be).

However, this led me onto thinking that while somewhat useful, it doesn’t really help the posh diabetic. Those within the pancreatically-challenged masses who dine on fine food and eat in exclusive restaurants. So, dear reader, I’ve done some research and calculated the carb contents of some fabulous meals for poshos:

Pheasant & port

Like most right-minded Englishmen, I like to start each morning with a good, sturdy breakfast and like nothing better than a roasted pheasant, a large glass of port and a copy of the poems of Blake propped up against the tea pot. Sets you up for a day on the rugger pitch (in winter) or an afternoon in flannels listening to great, English sound of willow against leather (in summer). Ruddy marvelous!

Carb content: 15g (depending on amount of port)

Narwhal & absinthe

Of course, some of our readers will tend towards the more bohemian echelons of upper society; so I have included this classic dish of narwhal steak, washed down with a soupçon of la fée verte. Best enjoyed with close friends at a left-bank bacchanalian feast, you won’t even be able to even feel your legs after the first course, so taste is fairly academic.

Carb content: 22g

Ortolan

Finally, a particular favourite of mine – Ortolan. Illegal in most countries (even France, for heaven’s sake), an ortolan is a small bird which is drowned in brandy and then roasted whole. Pausing only to cover your head in a large, linen napkin (to hide your shame and gluttony from God) you consume the bird whole, biting through bones, beak and sinew. An added bonus is when said bones pierce your cheeks, mingling your own blood with the bird’s flavours. The best bit is, of course, when you bite through to the lungs and stomach, which burst and release the delicious brandy within. Best enjoyed with one of the better clarets. Yummy!

Carb content: 97g

So there you have it; please feel free to add your upper class eating favourites in the comments below. Bon appétit!

People who read this blog for a long time (you poor souls) may dimly recall that in September 2009 I wrote an article where I mentioned I would be getting a pump (it’s here, if you don’t remember it).

You may also dimly recall that I was a bit eggy about having to wait eighteen months (or 2.8% of my lifetime, I cleverly calculated at the time) to get the damned thing. I swore blue murder and mentioned that I would write to all concerned to remedy this crappy state of affairs.

Well, months passed, and I did indeed write to my MSP (health is a devolved matter and so is handled by the Scottish Parliament rather than Westminster) and the chief big cheese of my health board. I’m pleased to report that I achieved absolutely nothing and, in fact, I hear ugly rumours that since writing my original article the waiting list for pump therapy in the Lothians has now increased from 18 months to three years. Very not so good.

Anyway, time has now elapsed and I’ve been given an approximate start date for my lovely new pump – sometime in November. So that’s something to look forward to, an early Christmas present of sorts.

I’ve also been given a choice of pump. The decision of which pump to go for was, in the end, a pretty easy one as I was given a choice of *drum roll please* one. The Medtronic Veo or the Medtronic Veo. Fortunately I hear it’s not actually a bad pump and I suppose it does cut down on training costs – apparently the reason for the long waiting list. The probable fact that apparent difficulties relating to training is an excuse for rationing and limiting the supply of expensive pumps is, of course, neither here nor there.

As we all know, pumps aren’t a magic wand for good diabetes care. I’m not expecting it to magic my diabetical problems away in an instant (and anyone that does is somewhat deranged). However, I do think pumps are a more subtle and versatile tool for trying to manually replicate what your pancreas does automatically (well, it would if it worked!) which is, after all, what we diabetics are trying to do day in day out.

So there we have it – the end of the pump saga is gradually hoving into sight. No doubt I’ll keep you all updated with further developments as and when they eventually happen.

Mark Mansheim – friend of your soaraway Shoot Up and frequent contributor – has written an article over on his blog about his experience of reverting back from a pump to MDI. He covers off the pros and cons of each and gives an interesting view of the benefits of pumps. Well worth a read!

See: The Jagged Edge

Long term readers of your soaraway Shoot Up will recall that last year in the run up to the Edinburgh International Festival (the world’s largest arts festival™) my friend Dave drafted “Diabetes: The Musical!” You can read all about it here and here, if you dare.

So it’s that time of year again when seemingly half of the USA comes to Edinburgh to sit in packed out venues watching half-baked comedy acts; hurrah for the Festival and Fringe! But as part of the Festival at large there is also a television festival. We all know that diabetics are woefully and diabolically under-represented on the small screen, so I have started to write a wonderful new soap opera – dubbed “Insulin Square”. Set in the east end of London, Insulin Square is a nightly soap opera where every single character is diabetic.

I hope, nay guarantee, it will be commissioned and in your living room before the year is out. I’ve published the first scene here and more will follow very, very soon. Enjoy!

Insulin Square

OPENING THEME TUNE.

INT. DAY – INSULIN SQUARE CAFÉ. Two friends DEREK and SUSAN are conversing over a pot of tea

DEREK …so when the specialist nurse said to me “did I bring a urine sample?” I says to her “why? Are you taking the piss?” (laughs uproariously)
SUSAN (giggles) You never
DEREK I did so. I bet she’d never heard that one before; she didn’t know where to look.
SUSAN (wiping tear of mirth from eye) You really are a card Derek, you really are.
DEREK Thanks treacle. (pause) Speaking of which, I better inject for the seventeen spoons of sugar I’ve just had in my tea
SUSAN Seventeen? Ain’t that a bit much?
DEREK Nah treacle, I’m on multiple daily injections now; I can eat what I want and inject the right amount of humalog to cover my carbohydrate intake.
SUSAN Ohhh, that sounds awful technical. Wouldn’t it be easier to just have less sugar, like what I do?
DEREK Nah, treacle; multiple daily injections is where it’s at.
SUSAN So you mean there’s no need for me to make my own insulin anymore?
DEREK Yer what, treacle? You make your own insulin? Are you kiddin’ me?
SUSAN Well yeah, Derek. Every morning the local abattoir delivers a dozen pigs round to my back door; I slaughter them in the parlour; gut them; extract the pancreases; grind them up; filter them; centrifuge out the gore; extract the insulin and then finally inject the bloody – but insulin infused – residue.
DEREK Blimey, treacle, that sounds really hard work
SUSAN Oh it is, it is. And I’ve got to do it every day. But that’s how I was taught to do it by Glasgow NHS Health Board. They told me it was cutting edge stuff [a little bit of satire there –Tim]
DEREK Nah, my love, you want multiple daily injections.
SUSAN Coor
DEREK Tell you what, (pause, nervous) I’ve got an appointment down the diabetic clinic next Monday. Why don’t you come with me? Maybe they could sort you out with something?
SUSAN (blushes) Derek, would this be a date? Like a proper date?
DEREK (embarrassed) Well if you put it like that, then, well… Listen Susan (takes her hand) there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…

(café door tinkles; enter STEVE – youngish, handsome, smartly and trendily dressed)

STEVE (talking into mobile phone) …yeah, yeah, listen I’ll see you in Lausanne. Ciao. (sees SUSAN; smoothly) Hey, Susan! Long time, no see, babe.
DEREK (frosty) Hello Steve. Back from Lausanne I see.
STEVE (to DEREK but looking at SUSAN) Yeah Derek; just flew into Luton this morning. easyJet flight then taxi to the train station. Susan, I must say you are looking ravishing today
SUSAN (blushing) Oh Steve!
DEREK Sorry Steve, but me and Susan were in the middle of a conversation. Quite an important conversation. Do you mind?
STEVE Don’t worry about me Derek; I just came in to show Susan my new pump!
DEREK A pump? You have a pump? How did you get hold of one?
STEVE Let’s just say I have connections, Derek.
SUSAN Oh, Steve, a pump? That’s much better than those silly injections isn’t it?
STEVE Sure is, babe. Take a look at this (proffers pump). Two grands worth of latest, tip top  Medtronic technology. CGM sensors, insulin reservoir, 40cm of plastic tubing. The lot. Check it out.
SUSAN Oooooh. That’s wonderful…very impressive (looks admiring at STEVE, while DEREK looks on, crestfallen)

CUT.

To be continued…

Some rather flash medical alert jewellery

Nearly five years after my diagnosis of Type One, I’ve finally got around to getting myself some medical alert jewellery. I thought it was time that should I be found collapsed in an Edinburgh gutter late one night then the ambulance men might have a chance of identifying what the problem might be. The fact that I’m more likely to be in that state because of too much Scottish wine than anything diabetes-related is, of course, neither here nor there.

The reason I’ve put it off for so long is that I don’t really wear jewellery, aside from my wedding ring which never leaves my finger (resulting in it nearly being lost down drains, in rivers, inside cows, etc.)  I’ve just never been one for wrist bands, signet rings or medallions (thank God). I’ve never really felt the need for any bodily adornments, so in addition to jewellery, the prospects of getting a diabetes tattoo also seem pretty limited.

So what changed my mind? I suppose I just thought it was a sensible thing to do. Now that I am inexorably advancing into the twilight years of the early thirties, I suppose I’m gradually getting more sensible and wise. Long gone are the days of all night Scrabble sessions and drinking Horlicks ’til dawn. Sigh, happy days; happy days.

The other thing that changed my mind was actually finding some medical alert jewellery that was actually quite nice. The general rule that seems to apply to such jewellery is a) discrete; b) practical; c) stylish – pick two. However, over on www.icegems.co.uk I did manage to find a pendent and a wrist band that did actually fit all these criteria. I then arranged to have them engraved with my name, date of birth, diabeticness and my wife’s mobile number. And very nice there are too. I actually now wear one or other of them most of the time.

This means that, much like a family pet, I can be let out on my own to wander and can be returned to my owner if found lost or collapsed in a hypoglycemic heap. Comforting for all concerned, I guess.

Well chaps, after nearly 18 months of thinking about it I’ve finally gone and done a video blog. It’s a review of Bayer’s Contour USB meter and it’s almost unbearably  brilliant. In my view.

Anyway, watch and enjoy; and do let me know if you like the video blog format and I’ll do some more – we actually rather enjoyed doing it! Huzzah!

Mmmmm...pie...

Hello, good evening and welcome to the results of the (approximately) monthly soaraway Shoot Up poll. Last month we asked what frustrates you most about diabetes?

Unsurprisingly, perhaps, with 34% of the vote came “the utter illogicality of it all”. I think we’ve all had days where  we’ve filed to take into account the phase of the moon, the turn of the tides, the wind direction or the myriad other unrelated things that seem to randomly effect our blood glucose levels. Bah!

The lack of cure ever coming our way came out second with 22% of the vote. I know that there might indeed be a cure within our lifetimes, but like most people I’m not really banking on it. Depends on what you mean by “cure” as well I suppose, but that’s a discussion for the forums I guess.

Hypos also scored well, with 17% of the vote. Pesky things! Healthcare professionals may be dismayed to hear that, yet again, they score well / badly (delete as applicable depending on your point of view). Finally, the “I love diabetes” option only scored one vote – and that was just Terry taking the piss.

So there we have it – the randomness of diabetes is clearly our biggest bugbear.

Moving on; this month’s poll was kindly suggested by Annette. Given that she demands new options each month it seemed easier to cut out the middleman and ask her to write the whole poll from scratch. I feel we saved ourselves a lot of effort. Anyway Annette asks what aspects of the day-to-day ‘running’ of your diabetes causes most hassle?

• Regular injections (or cannula changes for pumpers)
• Regular blood tests
• Carb counting
• Clinic appointments
• Blood taking for clinic appointments
• Dealing with non-diabetics’ reaction to any of the above
• I have no hassles (option for Terry)

Exercise your mouse finger and click your favorite option over the right. Go on, you know you want to. 

Last month’s results in full:

• Sometimes the utter illogicality of it all (34%)
• No cure, ever (22%)
• Hypos (17%)
• Healthcare professionals (11%)
• Hypers (8%)
• Lack of equipment (7%)
• Nothing, I love diabetes (1%)