The contrary diabetic

It’s a cat and mouse together. It’s contrary. Geddit?

Having set out clear and logical rules for my body to abide by when it comes to diabetes (which are in reality about as effective as trying to teach an amoeba to tapdance but never mind) it is unfortunate that my mind doesn’t apply similar logic. These are genuine things that I catch myself doing, for no good reason at all.

• When treating a low, if one of the three fruit pastilles taken out of the pack is black, that one will be eaten last. If the next fruit pastille in the pack is black, the low will be treated with four fruit pastilles. This is obviously the most valuable way to spend your time when you’re a three.
• I am drawn to people with dodgy islet cells. Despite hating shows like Britain Has Losers and the YFactor, I will develop a passing interest in any contestant highlighted in the press has having a broken pancreas. Despite living oop north, I supported Tottenham Hotspur for many years because of a certain diabetic Gary Mabbutt. And despite being a little out of the boy band target audience age range, my ears do prick up at any mention of the Jonas Brothers because one of them (and I’m never sure which) is pancreatically challenged.
• Any low blood sugar that occurs within 2 hours of the time set for the alarm to go off will be ignored for a while in the hope that it will go away and let me sleep. This never works, but I never learn.
• Despite raving about how pumps are easy to hide and no one need know that you’re wearing one, I am almost physically unable to talk about my pump and CGM without showing them to you. Thereby blowing my own cover.
• I would rather not have a drink than have to bolus for a sugary soft drink. But beer is always bolusworthy.
• I like to be at the forefront of diabetes treatment, looking at the latest developments in pumps, CGM and other wizardry. But the thought of replacing ye olde blood glucose meter with the latest gadget holds little appeal.
• I will sometimes look at what my pump bolus wizard recommends and decide to override it for no reason I can put my finger on. The scientific data to support this approach is lacking to say the least
• I rarely record my own diabetes results, but any test results from the Dr will be dutifully recorded on a spreadsheet.
• I deal with the day to day stuff and nonsense of diabetic life pretty well, but any mention of how much extra junk I have to carry when I travel prompts a disproportionately impassioned response.
• In my mind, my little finger is the cleanest of all my fingers. If I can’t wash my hands before a blood test, I will always test my little finger, having first rubbed it vigorously on my jeans. This is an obviously foolproof method of removing muck when I don’t have access to water.

If I was one of the pancreatically-privileged, I’d definitely be starting a campaign called “Diabetics are even more difficult than diabetes”. Please tell me it isn’t just me.