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by Dave

A day without strips

1 March, 2012 in diabetic days, Kit & equipment, Living with diabetes

As well as being a regular commentator at your soaraway Shoot Up, Dave is a blogger extraordinaire and regularly posts over at http://www.thetangerinediabetic.blogspot.com/

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The day was planned perfectly. Twice a week I work in Leeds, which is a leisurely two-hour train ride away from home. Strips for my (current) favourite testing machine ran out on Thursday but I had a plentiful supply of backups for another meter I get along with, so I wasn’t overly stressed about getting to the pharmacy to pick up my repeat prescription that I’d ordered online a few days earlier. Knowing the pharmacy opens at 7am and my train leaves at 07:20 gave me the perfect opportunity to collect them on the walk to the station in the morning. I tested on waking and was higher than I’d have liked (11.7) but breakfast and a correction on a dual-wave would sort that nice and simply. I left the back-up meter at home whilst I set off for my leisurely walk to the station.

Now if you’ve read the title of this piece you may have guessed that my flawless plan had a flaw – and you’d be correct in that assumption. On arrival the bloke behind the counter apologetically explained the pharmacist was running late and wouldn’t be in for another fifteen minutes. No pharmacist, meant no dispensing and thus no strips. For the day. At all. First thoughts were anger and a quickly worded but slightly too rude email to the pharmacy boss ignored the fact it was my own stupid fault for just assuming my tight timelines wouldn’t cause any problems. Within an hour I got a very apologetic reply and I gracefully accepted that and replied apologising for my bluntness earlier.

So I was now sat with a pump in my pocket and no way of knowing if the day ahead was going to be good, bad or indifferent control-wise with my only real judge of BG levels being my normally half-decent hypo–awareness signs. A quick tweet to anyone reading was met with a mixture of ā€œOh no, total nightmare!ā€ to ā€œHey ho, that’s how we used to live wasn’t it?ā€ That last one was very true and quickly reminded me how far I’ve come in the last two years. I’ll admit Dave and ā€˜good diabetic’ weren’t terms that went together too often in the previous twenty years – before that I had parental guidance so can accept no credit for doing any better.

Back in the day, well two years ago anyway, I’d quite happily go days without testing and without it worrying me at all before a random test at some point in the day on some days just to make sure my BG didn’t start with a 2. There’s a whole other story on how I totally mismanaged my diabetes but that’s for another day. So why am I less able to prevent myself going low today than a few years ago without assistance? Indeed the bolus wizard on Adam the pump should mean I am more able to handle circumstances like this and avoid ketoacidosis and collapsing from being low.

On the train home I was reading the latest Shortlist magazine and there was an article on how we get too attached to technology and whilst this isn’t really similar it does strike up thoughts about how dependant I have become on my tech recently.Ā  The link is very tenuous as not tweeting for a few hours is not at all like judging if I’m in danger of a serious medical emergency but I’ll go with it anyway. For those who had ā€˜the diabetes’ as my Type 1 uncle calls it, for a couple of decades or more you may remember the days when testing involved peeing into a test tube – easier doing it as a boy than a girl I guess – before dropping in a tablet and waiting a few minutes before holding it up to a colour chart to decide whether you were high a couple of hours ago – low was irrelevant and couldn’t be checked without looking for shaking hands. It was an entirely different, much more vague world back then. I’m not saying it was better, as it obviously wasn’t but it does open the debate as to whether having constantly available information always assists.

Well I made it through the day with my usual fast walks from the station and my standard 70ish grams of carbs for lunch and a bag of crisps on the train back. I got home after sheepishly returning to the pharmacy to collect my strips and the closing result for my time without a meter was…………can you feel the tension?…………5.8mmol! That’s the best home arrival test result than I’ve ever achieved! I’d survived but I know I didn’t like the separation of knowledge about what my body was doing. It was certainly an interesting exercise – though one not to be deliberately repeated.

I’ll finish by acknowledging that I’m very lucky not to have complications or any lack of hypo-awareness and I understand how for others (I’m looking at you @Lizz) being without a means to test would cause very real life-critical problems; it’s just for me that a day without testing was inconvenient but not that frightening or stressful. It was also a suggestion by @Tim that maybe I could go to Boots and just buy some. I feel I’ve come to know my online community better than they know me. Buy? Spend money on something I’ve always got free? Are you mad??? Saying that, it would be a good option for those less reckless than myself.

I’d love to hear how others would feel in a similar situation – or maybe I’m the only one stupid enough to live that scenario for real?

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by Alison

Diabetic days – always thinking

16 November, 2011 in diabetic days, Living with diabetes

Those with a working pancreas only tend to see the big stuff when it comes to diabetes. The dramatic hypos, scary injections and lots of stabbing and bleeding. What I find really hard to explain is the minutia, the constant drip, drip, drip of diabetes related thoughts and activities that take place even on the most uneventful of diabetic days. Take last Sunday for example…

- 0730: Wake up. Blood test, bolus.

- 0800: Realise that while I spent most of yesterday thinking about changing my infusion set, I never actually did it. This has the pleasant upside of meaning I can have a properly naked shower as it’s sensor change day too. Wince like a complete wimp as I pull off the sticky from my sensor and infusion set and then feel strangely liberated. Put CGM transmitter on charge.

- 0820: Out of shower and dried, remember to insert new infusion set before putting moisturiser on otherwise the damn thing won’t stick. Dither over where to put infusion set, I’d like to move it to my bum but we’re going to a christening and I’m wearing a dress, which means tights, which means I’m more likely to pull the thing out if it’s on my bum. Put infusion set into leg instead.

- 0825: CGM transmitter is charged, time to insert sensor. Preferred sensor location is my back, but this isn’t ideal when wearing aforementioned dress. Normally my pump is clipped to my waistband somewhere, either front, side or back, so it can always pick up the signal from my transmitter. But wearing a dress means no waistband so the pump moves to the bra. And my body is too dense to allow the CGM signal to pass through from back to front, so the transmitter needs to be on my front. Stick sensor in stomach, on the same side of my body as my infusion set so I don’t have to pull the tubing across my body.

- 0845: Bolus for breakfast, wrap christening present, paint nails, eat porridge.

- 1000: Convince husband that as I’m carrying my pump, it would be lovely if he would carry fruit pastilles in his suit pocket rather than me having to carry them. Love husband lots, he lets me get away with being a lazy diabetic when it comes to carrying stuff.

- 1002: Get into car.

- 1003: Realise I’ve not picked up my meter, get out of car, collect meter, get back into car, depart for christening.

- 1015: As we are being godparents decide that vibrating boobs around the font would be quite inappropriate so silence all CGM alarms. Forget all about diabetes.

- 1155: Take advantage of a trip to the loo to retrieve pump from bra, turn CGM alarms back on and check blood sugar on CGM.

- 1200: Spy post christening buffet challenge. Attempt to calculate how much I might eat. Confidently estimate it will be somewhere between 20g and 150g of carbs. Give up trying to guess, bolus for 40g as a start.

- 1220: Buffet plate in hand, realise the christening cake has been made by a very good local baker and therefore is bolus-worthy, bolus for another 40g and try to exercise some self-restraint.

- 1330: CGM alarms to say I’m an 11. Seize the opportunity to put the new godchildren to good use. Spend 15 minutes chasing them barefoot around the hall and throwing them around a bit. Thankfully the godchildren are 4 and 6 so are much better at helping to reduce blood sugars than babies.

- 1700: Home. Realise I haven’t used my meter all day, instead have been relying on CGM results. Test blood and calibrate CGM. CGM says 5 and dropping, meter says 4.3, that’ll do.

- 1705: Not in the least bit hungry but need some carbs to fight off impending low. Eat second piece of christening cake, it’s tough, but someone has to do it.

- 1930: Christening cake did the job, so salad for tea. Tiny bit of insulin to offset slight upwards creep.

- 2230: Test, remember I need to order more strips, calibrate CGM, sleep ready to start all over again tomorrow.

So there you have it, even a relatively uneventful diabetes day is still packed full of diabetes thoughts. It’s quite amazing I have any brain power left for anything else. But I suppose at least it gave me a blog post, otherwise I’d have been stuck with ā€œWent to christening, became godparents, enjoyed itā€.

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by Alison

Diabetes and the day job

31 May, 2011 in diabetic days, Living with diabetes

Being a full time pancreas really doesn’t pay well, so I’m forced to also have a day job, alongside my diabetes hobby.

On a typical working day there isn’t anything of great diabetic interest going on, beyond the humdrum normality of test, bolus, repeat.

Last week was marginally more exciting in that I was running a big event in London for some of our senior managers. I do it a couple of times a year and it’s interesting, but a bit stressful. I’m considering applying for danger money to compensate me for the number of highs and lows it caused.

Tuesday – final day of preparation for the event. Mild panic all around because no one seems capable of hitting a deadline, everyone wants to change their presentations at the last minute and we suddenly have to video conference in one of our main speakers fromĀ Spain due toĀ problems with flights. Blood sugar – low teens all day until 9.30pm when I realise that I haven’t eaten since 11am and it appears sometimes you need a bit more than stress to keep your blood sugars up.

Wednesday – crack of dawn – the big day looms. I wake up as a 10 because I wasn’t brave enough to gamble that the stress would keep me high through the night.Ā  Pre-CGM I was a complete wimp when staying alone in hotel rooms and would run slightly high to avoid my nightmare scenario of waking up to find the cleaner and a paramedic hovering over me having broken into my room after I failed to show at a meeting. I’m positively plucky nowadays with my trusty CGM to keep me safe, but even so I don’t like to play Russian roulette with bolusing for stress when I’ve got a big day ahead of me.

Wednesday morning – I spend the whole morning hovering around the 9 mark. That’ll do me for now.

Wednesday early afternoon – things are in full swing and are going well. The adrenaline is starting to subside. I’m watching our chief exec doing his bit on the podium when I realise I can see two of him. I know I only invited him once. Cue crashing low as the adrenaline related highs subside and an afternoon of grazing follows to keep me off the floor. I either need to learn to stay stressed throughout an event, or maybe reduce my basal a couple of hours in.

Thursday – day two, everything is running smoothly. I have a slot on the agenda this morning which is something I quite enjoy, although if I’m honest, I get far more pleasure speaking at conferences about diabetes than for work. Either way, I enjoy my spot on centre stage. I’m always a little nervous of going hypo mid presentation as I can ramble for England when hypo and it takes me ages to realise I’m spouting more rubbish than normal. Thankfully, the adrenaline surge just before taking to the stage normally counteracts that. I learned the hard way during the first presentation I did when wearing my CGM – 15 minutes into a half hour slot the CGM started alarming to tell me I was high. Thankfully it was at a diabetes event, so it made an interesting addition to the presentation. Now I always silence my high alarms when I’m presenting. It’s one less thing to worry about.

Thursday evening – it’s all over and done with. A great event, I’m a 6, there have been no significant pancreas traumas and I saw a woman on the tube with a pump which always makes me smile. Result!

Does the playing at being a pancreas business ever make your job harder than it needs to be?

Avatar of Alison

by Alison

Did someone mention a wedding?

28 April, 2011 in Living with diabetes

The happy couple and not a spot of blood in sight

I’ve heard a rumour that there’s a royalĀ wedding happening this week. I really think they should do some more publicity around this, I’ve no idea what colour knickers the bride will be wearing or what the groom will be eating for breakfast which is quite frankly driving me to distraction.

The husband and I tied the knot ten years ago (yes, I was a child bride) with a little less pomp and fanfare than is currently going on. I now realise I should be grateful that we had so little to worry about. Security issues, press intrusion and vetting ourĀ friends to be sure they were all suitable to be in the same room as the Queen weren’t even on our agenda. Even the pac-a-mac covered well-wishers from my grandma’s bingo club were able to find a spot right outside the church on the big day and thankfully didn’t need to camp out overnight to ensure they had a good view.

There is one thing the royal couple won’t be worrying about that we did have to consider though – how do you cope with a broken pancreas in a wedding dress? There’s enough junk and faffing involved in playing at being a pancreas at the best of times, so surely it’d be a nightmare at a wedding?

I don’t remember diabetes being an issue on our wedding day, but there were a few things we had to do that others wouldn’t. Because I drew the line at sewing fruit pastilles into my wedding dress, the groom and my parents all had some kind of sugar on them. For the first time I can remember, I didn’t wear any form of diabetes ID. We took a gamble that if the bride was found unconscious somewhere, at least one of the gathered crowd would guess she was hypo. I was on MDI at the time, so hiding a pump in my dress wasn’t an issue, but where to put my pen was a bit of a conundrum. I think it ended up in my mum’s handbag, along with blood testing kit and sugar. Have you ever seen a mother of the bride carrying a rucksack ;-)

I’d decided to run a bit high for the big day, rather than risk a hypo halfway through my vows. With all the stress and excitement that really wasn’t hard to achieve. There was however, an overarching sense of fear that permeated the whole day. Would the pancreatically challenged and often quite messy bride make it through her wedding without getting blood on her white dress? As most of my wardrobe that isn’t black has some form of blood spot on it somewhere, blood on the dress was a pretty realistic possibility. It appears miracles do happen and by the end of the day, my white dress was slightly grubby from being dragged around but there wasn’t a spot of blood in sight.

I’ve always injected in public but I did for a moment ponder absconding to the toilets to do my wedding meal injection. But then I decided I wasn’t going to hide in the toilets at my own wedding, so I discretely (ish) lifted my dress and injected in my thigh whilst seated at the top table. The only fuss was my mother with tissues on standby in case of blood but luck was with me and there was nothing to see.

And so it seems, while diabetes can be a minor inconvenience on a wedding day, it apparently involves significantly less palaver than being heir to the throne. I thereforeĀ conclude I’d rather be diabetic than the Queen.Ā  Who’d have thought it?