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!