Burnt Out (Seven Year Itch?!)

Burnt out.

Tired.

Tired of testing, logging, bolusing, carb counting, eating, exercising, caring.

If I were less me, less Vicki, I would just face-plant into the caramel shortbread my friend is currently eating next to me as I type this. Because one, it's from our favourite coffee shop and, two, today they look especially yummy.

But I am very me, very Vicki, and I know no matter how delicious the cake is, I know I won't feel good for eating it.

I try not view diabetes as the enemy, and more like my partner. I have to work with it and not against it, because it's here for the long haul, and there's nothing I can do to change that. You take me with it, not in spite of it. 

But I can't hate it either. Because hating something is exhausting and all-consuming. I tolerate it. I think that just about sums it up. Tolerance. Would I give it up? Of course. In a heartbeat. But I can't, and spending my time hating it isn't going to get me anywhere, so I tolerate it. It's there, doing it's thing (or not doing it's thing in this case) whilst I do mine.

I know these moments of burnout pass. I'm a huge advocate of The Pity Party. Taking the time to not be okay and acknowledge that this sucks. More often than not, this is a fleeting feeling, but this time it has very much outstayed it's welcome.

Diabetes is hard. Self-care is hard. You constantly have to monitor it and react to the numbers your meter shows you. It's ever-changing, and there are variables that are well and truly out of your control. It doesn't matter what you're doing, diabetes is there.

It's a balancing act, one that some days you ace and others your face first in the mud trying to pick yourself back up. Some days you don't even think about it, and it's background noise, others you're having to make a concerted effort to check your blood sugar and carb count, because you just don't want to anymore.

I've not wanted to anymore. I'm tired. If I could stop, I would. But, without a cure, that's not an option. Letting the tiredness turn into more than that, letting it develop into resent, into hate, isn't a choice either. Because that's much harder to get back from.

We're in it together.

Seven years and counting.

(Seven year itch?!)

I am living with diabetes, not in spite of diabetes.

And I will continue to live with diabetes as successfully as I can.

To An Old Friend.

Dear Friend,

A little while ago, you sent me a message letting me know that you finally got a type one diabetes diagnosis. (I say finally because, although only there for part of the journey, I know it started in 2010/2011, and it was a long, old, road getting to where we are today. In 2017).

I'm not gonna lie, I didn't know what to say or do when I read your message. I mean, we hadn't really spoken in a few years. Nothing personal. I did my year abroad, and when I went back to uni, you'd already graduated and moved back home. Life happened. And now here we are.

I can't imagine how frustrating it's been for you. I remember that year we suspected pancreas-gone-rogue so clearly. I remember how hard we had to fight to be listened to. I remember worrying stupid amounts, and I remember the relief felt when someone did actually listen. And I remember the card with the cupcake on that I bought you, and I remember the message I wrote in it. I actually have the message here. Because I believe in writing drafts before you write essays in cards. It may not be the same, word for word, but I have what I planned on writing, at least.

I don't even know if you still have said card. Or even remember it. For you, it's more than likely a time you don't want to remember (I get it, I don't like thinking back to how ill I was pre-diagnosis). But for me, it's something I can't help but remember. It's ironic. I wished I had a friend with diabetes. Someone who got it. Yes, I had Lizzie, but at the time her and I hadn't met. I wished it, and then I was heartbroken that it happened.

I wrote in your card that I was sorry. I still am. As relieved as I am that you're finally getting the right support and medication, I am still so sorry that your pancreas stopped working.

I also wrote that it gets better. Oh, only-one-year-into-diabetes naivety. It does and it doesn't. You learn more, but there are still periods when diabetes messes with my headspace, and it's crap. But you learn how to cope. And you find whatever the hell it is that's gonna help get you back. For me, it's this tribe - Lizzie, Louise, Daisy, Karen and Max, my friend at work who also has type one. And my littlest friend. He has a way of making the crummiest of days wonderful. So find your tribe, love them hard.

Even now, six or seven years down the line, I still don't know what to say. I have no diabetes wisdom to impart, no inspirational message to give you. It sucks. Diabetes sucks. But you do what you gotta do to live the life you want to live.

You know where I am if you need anything.

Take care,

Vicki.

Dear 2016...

Dear 2016,

Oh, 2016! You were an interesting one, weren't you?! There were laughs, lots of fun had, engagements, too much wine, too much gin and visits to places I used to live. There was travelling - Capri, Rome, Cannes, how you stole my heart! There were work opportunities, and the Queen came for lunch. I slept in an aquarium (reason number 5876 why I love being a Brownie Leader), watched my sister graduate and finally found a flat to move in to (moving still to come).

And while adventures were had, 2016, you were also a difficult one. There were health concerns, tests for said health concerns, some rather crummy hba1cs, a lot of diabetes burnout and a lot of concern for my Mum and her health. Towards the end of the year, my heart felt heavy. I was tired. I felt lost. I cried a lot. I hid between two places: my place of work, full of distractions (hello, Queen came!) and with my head between books, reading as a form of both escapism and enjoyment.

Now? Now it's 2017. I know it sounds cliché (because it is, Vicki!) but I love the feel around New Years. Last year is last year. What happened, happened. 2017 is an empty book just waiting to be written and lived. It's a busy one for me this year. Moving house, weddings to attend, a new little friend to meet, countries to visit. And whilst there are still worries that have come with me into 2017, I'm excited for what's to come.

"Would you like an adventure now, or would you like to have your tea first?" - J.M Barrie, Peter Pan.

May 2017 be full of adventures.

Better Than Yesterday.

It was about three months ago when I got a call from my DSN asking me what thyroid tablets I'm on.

"I'm not on any thyroid tablets," I replied.

"Really? Well your thyroid function test has come back abnormal. It's nothing to panic about, but because we don't have a baseline for you, I'd like you to get another blood test in six weeks."

"Okay," I responded, not really sure what to say. I hung up the phone, closed my office door and had a little cry. At 22 years old, another health condition wasn't what I was looking for. My manager walked in during my pity party. I have no doubt he regrets that - once I've cried on someone once, I have no fear about crying on them again. Not that I knew it then, but it would happen a lot more over the coming weeks.

*      *      *      *      *

The office door ended up closed a lot more. I always used to be an open-door-kind-of-girl, but for some reason I just didn't want to deal with people. Closing the door stopped the traffic of people I often encountered (and used to love), and I could focus on other jobs.

*      *      *      *      *

Loss of interest came next. I lost my patience with people quickly, continued to hide away, if not in my office, in my manager's office or at the cafe on camp. Comfort eating became a regular thing. 

*      *      *      *      *

Then came the official diagnosis. Underactive thyroid and to start on Thyroxine.

"Have you had any symptoms at all?" my DSN asked. "Tiredness, lethargic?"

"Not that I've noticed."

"Maybe we've caught it before it becomes symptomatic then. So get started on those meds asap!"

*      *      *      *      *

It was the week between diagnosis and starting medication that I crumbled. I felt broken, disconnected, disengaged and a whole load of other things. I phoned my DSN and asked if an underactive thyroid can mess with your head. Because although I had no physical symptoms, my head was all over the place, and as far as I was concerned it had come out of no where. I completely broke down.

"I know we spoke about the physical symptoms, but can a thyroid problem mess with your headspace? Because I don't feel like me. I feel broken. And I don't know what to do...You know what, I'd actually take my diabetes diagnosis all over again over this. At least then I still felt like me. Symptoms were physical and I could explain them. But this I can't. And it's shit."

*      *      *      *      *

My best friend is a smart one. She can read me through a text message. Sometimes, it's annoying, other times I'm thankful for it. This time, I was incredibly thankful for it. We went out shopping, had some dinner, I voiced what I could explain. She didn't pry further, just let me disclose what I wanted.

*      *      *      *      *

I started taking thyroxine tablets. One 100mcg tablet a day, at 8.30am, half an hour before breakfast. It sounds really stupid, but taking them gave me hope. Hope that this was the beginning of me being me again. I knew it wouldn't be immediate, but it was a starting point. Because feeling the way I did sucked big time.

"By my birthday,"

"What?" my manager asked.

"By my birthday is when I want to start feeling like me again. My DSN said the tablets will take a couple of weeks to kick in, my birthday is in three and a half. So that's what I'm shooting for."

He smiled and left the office.

*      *      *      *      *

"How are you doing today?"

"Better than yesterday. And that's all I can ask for," I said with a genuine smile.

"I knew you'd make it. Happy birthday, my dear."

*      *      *      *      *

Not feeling like myself meant I didn't want to write here. I took the break from this blog (and social media in general) so that I could figure things out. I wasn't ready to share, and I wasn't going to bullcrap on this blog and pretend that everything was a-okay.

Today, however, I feel better than yesterday, and better than the day before that. And that really is all I can ask for. 

Diabetes Blog Week: Day 3 - Clean It Out.

Yesterday we kept stuff in, so today let's clear stuff out. What's in your diabetic closet that needs to be cleaned out? This can be an actual physical belonging, or something you're mentally or emotionally hanging on to. Why are you keeping it and why do you need to get rid of it?

Guilt. That's what I want, need, and am trying, to get rid of. Diabetes-related guilt.

It comes in many forms. A high blood sugar when I thought I'd carb-counted my meal precisely. A low blood sugar when I'm looking after my godson. Feeling down when I have a lot of good in my life, yet I can't can't snap out of that funk. Or after comments other people are making regarding my health/food/diabetes-related choices.

One of the things you're taught in school is kindness. Be kind to others, treat them how we wish to be treated ourselves.

And that's true, don't get me wrong.

But what about being kind to ourselves? Going easy on ourselves, and remembering that we're only human and there's only so much we can do?

I try my best to keep my blood sugar levels in line, and my head in a good place to make that happen. Sometimes, the two aren't in sync, and when they aren't, that's when I feel the most guilty: I'm lucky enough to have access to test strips and insulin, I wear an insulin pump, I don't have to pay for my health care. I have no reason to feel the way I sometimes do, I just do. And because I feel that those feelings are unjustified, I don't spend time addressing the situation. Instead, I tell myself to get on with it.

I don't ease up on myself mentally. I don't give myself the time to work through where I'm at emotionally. I don't vocalise where my head's at, worried that comments from others will make me feel even more guilty.

Since my appointment last week, I've really tried to ease up on myself emotionally, take things one day at a time and not expect everything to fall back into place overnight. It's so much easier said than done, and still early days, but I feel so much better for it.

I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. And I don't have it all figured out. But I'm here, pursuing a career post-graduation, travelling, hanging out with family and friends, rambling away on this blog, excited about what comes next. All, apparently, a whole lot more fun when you're not giving yourself a hard time. 

Source

To read more posts for day three of Diabetes Blog Week, click here.

Diabetes Blog Week: Day 1 - I Can.

In the UK, there was a diabetes blog theme of "I Can..." that participants found wonderfully empowering. So let's kick things off this year looking at the positive side of our lives with diabetes. What have you or your loved one accomplished, despite having diabetes, that you weren't sure you could? Or what have you done that you've been particularly proud of? Or what good thing has diabetes brought into your life?

I truly believe that the things we experience and the people we meet help shape and influence what we do in the future and who we become. Kind of like those Orange mobile adverts that graced our televisions a few years back.

I was 17 years old when I was diagnosed with diabetes, and since then I have moved away from home. I went to uni, made some life-long friends, lived with some of them whilst there, went on a year abroad and graduated. 

I've since moved back to my hometown. I've landed a job I enjoy. 

I've had the opportunity to connect with, and meet, so many lovely people within the DOC. 

I started this blog and found a love of writing (even if it is still a little clumsy and all over the place). 

Whether it's because of diabetes or in spite of diabetes, I don't know, but the people I've met and the things that I've done have taught me that I can live the life I want to live with diabetes.

Can't ask for more than that!

To read more blog posts for day one of Diabetes Blog Week, you can find link list here. 

Self-Care.

Self-care: the act of looking after yourself in a healthy way.

The NHS definition makes it sound so easy!

It's not, and I'm done with the self-care stuff. But I know that diabetes without self-care becomes a shit-show very quickly, which I'm currently experiencing. Yet I'm really struggling to find the motivation at the moment to do anything more than test my blood sugar and guesstimate at my insulin doses. 

Have you ever wished there was an "off switch" and you could just magic diabetes away for a little bit? That's how I currently feel. I want out for a little bit, maybe bribe my pancreas to do its' thing for a week to ten days so I don't have to think about carbs and blood sugars and where to stash my insulin pump.

I had my first appointment at the hospital I've transferred my care to the other week. I was referred to the wrong clinic. Not the best of starts. I received a letter in the post with a new appointment. September. I wasn't happy with that. So I phoned them up and requested an appointment with a DSN. 

That appointment was yesterday. 

And it helped. 

She downloaded my meter and pump data and I cringed, despite having checked the reports function on my meter the night before, so I had some idea of what to expect.

"I'm high like 75% of the time," I said as my meter was downloading, "It's not a pretty picture, it's not where I want to be, but I just don't know what to do."

"It's okay," she replied, "we'll look at the data, we'll work together to make the changes. We'll get you back to where you want to be."

"But, really, it's not good. I just want you to know that. Here it from me and not my meter data."

She laughed. "Stop worrying. We'll sort it. And then it'll go to shit again and we'll sort it again." She stopped and scrolled through all the various reports that could be accessed. I wished there weren't so many. "Okay...well you're all over the place, but you knew that. And you know that nothing's going to change unless you're prepared to put a bit of work in. I'll be here in the background, you can come back in in a few weeks and we can number crunch again and see where you're at, call me, email me, whatever. But nothing's going to get better unless you put the work in. Basal testing, insulin to carb ratio testing, carb counting properly, you know the drill."

I sat there nodding, tears threatening to spill, and I let them. (If this DSN is going to know every little bit about my diabetes health physically, she can know where I'm at emotionally as well. Because it's not just the physical stuff.) I let everything out: how demotivated I've been feeling, how I know I need to do something but I don't know what, how I'm getting used to running at the numbers I'm seeing on my meter.

I calmed myself down, we came up with a plan, and we wrapped up the appointment. 

"Quickly, before you go; as this is your first actual appointment with us, I just need to ask you a couple of things. Insulin to carb ratios? Basal rates? Do you smoke? Do you drink? Do you exercise?"

And I reeled off answers to all her questions.

"Last one, how often do you have hypos?"

We both laughed.

"I've just told you I'm high like 75% of the time...hypos aren't the issue right now!"

"Okay, I'll ask you that one again at your next appointment. I want you back in in four weeks. Will your work let you do that? I think we need to review and just catch up, make sure we're getting things back on track."

I nodded. I apologised for crying, thanked her for her help/support/advice and made an appointment for four weeks time. 

Time to get back on this whole self-care thing. For real this time. 

So Over It!

That's what I am. Over it.

It's a feeling that's come over me in waves over the last couple of months. Initially, I didn't think it was burnout. I thought it was just stuff. But the stuff is still there, and emotionally I'm not feeling any better. But at the same time, I'm just over it. 

Checking my blood sugar? Over it.

Image credit: Dallas Clayton (who totally gets it!)

Counting carbs? Over it. 

Changing cannulas? Over it. 

Crap cannulas? Over it.

Sore infusion sites? Over it.

My hba1c? Over it. 

Hospital appointments? Over it. 

Chomping down glucose tablets in the middle of the night? Over it. 

Rage bolusing the hell out of a high? Over it. 

Venting to my best friend to tell her just how over it I am? Over it.

Harbouring a pancreas that doesn't do its' job? Over it.

It's Christmas, and I hate that this feeling has stuck around for as long as it has. So now I'm acknowledging it, hoping that talking (writing) about it helps begin the process that is clearing those pesky mental cobwebs from my brain. 

Lucky for me, as of Tuesday I'm on Christmas leave for a couple of weeks. I'm going to enjoy myself, but I'm also going to start honing in on different parts of my diabetes management in the hopes that I can start seeing the bigger picture clearly again. 

Because right now, all I see are a ton of little things that I'm just over. But I know I can change that.  I've done it before, so I'll do it again.

(In other news, on a day I wasn't feeling so over it, I wrote a blog post for JDRF about diabetes and the office party. Click here to have a read!)

Revisiting Food, Guilt And Diabetes.

For me, there is so much head-spinninng-ness that accompanies the three things in the title of this post (indicated by the length of this ramble!)

At my last appointment with my DSN, I was asked to (once again) keep a food diary for a week, and mail it back to her when I had. I don't often write about food and the like on this blog, but the couple of times I have, the main theme has been fairly consistent: I don't like keeping a log of the food I eat. At all.

For me, the emotional side of diabetes is a bigger problem that the actual "acts of diabetes". (And by "acts of diabetes", I mean the blood sugar testing, carb counting, bolusing insulin etc). I can test my blood sugar, but whether or not I act on the numbers my meter shows me very much depends on where my head's at. Likewise, how precise my carb counting is also depends on head-space, meaning that my insulin doses vary in precision too. 

My biggest battle is often with diabetes-related guilt, normally linked to food. (There's other guilt too, but food is the big one). So it's safe to say that keeping a food log, yet again, didn't put a smile on my face. 

My food diary arrived in the mail. I wrote the dates at the top of each page, ready to begin logging food and blood sugars and insulin doses. Day one came and went, as did day two.

Then there was day three. Oh, day three! Day three was a bad day. Work was busy and stressful, I worked through my lunch break, I drank a lot of coffee, and I grazed throughout the day, not really keeping track of the food (carb-full food too) I was eating. The same thing happened on day four.

Not that I wrote that in the food diary.

Instead, I wrote that I had a salad and a yoghurt, which is what I had taken in to work for lunch on those days. I may have even tweaked my blood sugars a teeny bit to make them look better.

At the end of the week, I skimmed through the log, put in an envelope and went to mail it back to my DSN, knowing that I'd changed quite a significant amount of information.

It was whilst at work that my colleague was telling me about her husband, who happens to have type 2 diabetes. Together, the pair of them had been attending the X-PERT course, and she was talking to me about what they'd learnt at the latest session.

Hanging out with DWED volunteer, and friend, Lucy.

"The GP that diagnosed my husband made out that he wouldn't be able to eat anything...don't eat this, it will cause your blood sugar to rise...but you can eat this as it has a minimal effect...turns out that's not the case at all...the nurse that runs the X-PERT course...she's a specialist...a DNS...no...a DSN, and she says that, yes, we do need to keep an eye on what we eat there's nothing stopping us [her use of 'we' and 'us' here made me smile] from having a treat like a cake or a chocolate bar or whatever...there we were thinking there would be all these restrictions..."

It was at some point during this conversation that I really thought about what I'd done. I don't know if it was something specific that was said, or just the subject of diabetes and food, but it kick-started something! I didn't post the fake-food diary I'd kept.

Now, I have the task of phoning my DSN and explaining to her that I can't send her the food diary I kept because I wasn't completely truthful about the food I was eating. It's so easy to type out and "confess to" here, but I know when I call her, it's not going to be as easy (think fast talking, not taking a breath "I-need-a-new-food-diary-because-that-first-one-you-sent-me-well-I-lied-when-filling-it-out" and then holding my breath waiting for her response!)

When I compare now-me to the me of three years ago, now-me is in a much better place food-wise. But, quite clearly, there are still things that need to be addressed. Like why I felt the need to lie in my food diary. I knew it wouldn't have achieved anything. The whole point of doing it was to see what doses I used on my pump for different foods (extended, multiwave and standard). It wasn't even to specifically look at the food I was eating, yet I still felt the need to make my food choices "look better". 

Food, guilt and diabetes: a mind-field of emotions that, recently, have been bubbling closer to the surface. But after reading some blogs, and talking with a couple of friends, I've realised that it's time for me to do something about this. I'm not a big fan of being told what to do, and I think that if I were forced to talk about this sooner, it would have been a disaster. Now, however, I feel ready to talk about this. Both with my DSN and here on this blog, and I want to change this perception I seem to have surrounding food, guilt and diabetes.

In short, (she says after a stupid-long ramble) I don't want to fear food diaries anymore! That may be the stupidest (and worst) conclusion to a blog post ever, but it's as simple as that. My relationship with food changed when I was diagnosed with type one at 17. I omitted my insulin when I was 19/20 years old, and I turned to DWED for support. I'm now 22, and although insulin omission isn't something I'm struggling with right now, going back down that road is something I fear. So, as trivial and "not-a-big-deal" as this may seem, I'm doing something about it. Because I don't want this to be the cause of more issues in the future. I want to be chasing a career, hanging out with family and friends, generally living my life. Stressing over food, food diaries and the diabetes/food-related guilt isn't something I want on the agenda. 

Stuff.

November 14th marked World Diabetes Day. Last year, Diabetes Awareness Month was something I was all over. I took part in the Postcard Exchange, I blogged, I took part in the Big Blue Test with the help of the mySugr app. I made the decision to get involved, and I enjoyed it. 

This year, however, I've felt blue (unintentional pun, but one I am keeping there).

Diabetes hasn't been smooth-sailing recently. I've had highs I can't explain. I've made adjustments, and been rewarded with lows. Cannulas have been coming loose before their three days is up. I've caught my pump tubing and ripped out the site, more times than I'd like to count. These things happen, yes, but just recently it seems constant. 

As a result, there's been digital tumbleweed here. I've not been as happy in my personal life (direct correlation between my blood sugars/diabetes management in general and my mood). Finding the motivation to self-care has been hard to come by. And no motivation to self-care makes my life very messy, very quickly.

It's not burnout. At least, it doesn't feel like burnout. And it's not a pity party. It's just stuff. Diabetes stuff that, for the last week and a bit, I've wished I could erase from my life. 

But no can do.

So I'm writing, hoping that by talking out my frustrations here, my head will feel clearer, and I can start finding that get-up-and-go to take better care of myself.

Tomorrow's a new day. And Monday is a new week. 

Changing Teams.

Being diagnosed at 17, moving away six months later, doing a year abroad and then going back to uni for one more year means I've switched up my GP and health care team more times than I like. I've had three GPs since diagnosis, two consultants and spoken to a number of diabetes specialist nurses. 

Source.

Since graduating from university, I've moved back to my hometown, meaning, once again, I'm going through the process of changing health care teams. Difference is, this time I'm a hell of a lot more apprehensive about the whole thing. 

For the last four years (because they were extremely accommodating when it came to my year abroad), I've had access to a brilliant health care team at the diabetes clinic of the hospital in my uni town. I've always been able to see the same consultant, whom I have a lot of respect for, I've been able to phone, email and drop in to see a DSN, request appointments with a dietitian when appropriate and, not that it's a service I've used, I also could have had access to a diabetes psychologist. Having seen the same consultant over these past few years, I feel extremely comfortable walking into her office, safe from any judgement over my numbers. There have been times when I've walked in, head held high because I know I've had a really good few months, and there have been times when I've broken down as soon as her door is closed as I'd found myself in a place I didn't know how to get out of.

So, yeah, changing health care teams is making me feel rather uneasy at present, purely and simply because I'm so worried I'm not going to have the same relationship with my consultant as I've had. 

That, and there's my pump funding that needs to be taken into account, as, to be quite honest, I have no idea what happens there (if anyone can shed any light on this matter, that would be awesome!) 

Some say I'm just being silly, but I don't think it's unjustified for me to want to know I'm going to get the same level of care as I have been receiving. This is my health at the end of the day, and I think it's important to build trust between the patient and HCP, in whatever capacity. I like that I've felt safe in my consultant's office, and that's something I want to have with my next consultant, DSN and GP. 

This is an anxious and uncomfortable time in terms of my diabetes health care. Here's hoping it doesn't last long.   

Healthy Diabetic.

I was at my local job centre today (yay for unemployment!) and I was going through the whole "About Me" process - qualifications, interests, skills, types of job I'm looking for - when we got to a section about health.

"Are you healthy?" The adviser asked me.

"Yes," I replied.

"Chronic conditions...no..."

"Actually," I interrupted, "I have type one diabetes."

"Oh...I just assumed that because you said you were healthy..."

"Well, I am healthy. I just have diabetes too," I explained, and not very well I might add.

And the rest of the session continued.

But the whole way home, my mind was still at that question, and how something like that is meant to be answered.

Image taken from Google Images.

As far as I'm concerned, I am healthy. I eat well, I exercise, I live my life just like the next person does. Yet I have a pancreas that refuses to produce insulin, causing me to live with this "chronic condition", this "disease".

But "chronic condition" or "disease" aren't terms you often put next to "healthy".

Most days, diabetes is nothing but background noise in my life: the humming of my pump as it delivers my bolus insulin, the beeping of my meter when I switch it on and test my blood sugar. Other days, it's centre stage, with numbers screaming for attention.

That's the thing about diabetes: it's fine - I'm fine - until it's not. And that "not" can be scary at times. It's a weird kind-of dance between seeming and looking fine, but having to deal with something pretty effing serious all the effing time. 

Yet, in spite of that fact, I've never considered it to be something that makes me unhealthy. If anything, it's made me healthier. (Ironic, I know.) I'm a lot more aware of my body. I eat better than I did pre-diabetes, and I've come a long way in terms of exercise since I nervously went to my first exercise class last October.

Yes, my body is broken, in that it doesn't produce insulin, leaving me with this disease known as type one diabetes. But, dammit, I'm healthy, and I will continue to take steps to remain as healthy as I can be. 

Play Time.

Next to exercise, I swear that play time with my littlest friend is better at bringing down my blood sugar than insulin! (Of course, I understand that this isn't really the case, but that the exercise/playing games with Doodle makes my insulin work more efficiently).

Yesterday, messing around with Doodle meant my blood sugar kind of hung out in the trenches. 

3.9mmol

...

Glucose tabs. For both me and Doodle, who is rather fond of "Auntie Vicki's Special Sweeties".

...

3.6mmol

More glucose tabs. Except the kid was in bed for this second low blood sugar, so I didn't have to share.

I know that Doodle somewhat understands diabetes, thanks to E.Hales, my best friend, for weaving it into his life as appropriate. He knows how to check my blood sugar, and he understands that sometimes sweets are sweets, and sometimes they're medicine. And he also knows that I wear an insulin pump, although he just says "it gives Auntie Vicki her medicine so she can play" (he's three years old, so things are kept very simple). 

More often than not, I love how much he knows about my diabetes. But sometimes, it breaks my heart as well. Yesterday, he asked me where my pump was so that he could be careful with it when we were playing. Him remembering made me smile and I was so proud of the fact he did. But I was also saddened by the fact that it is something he is aware of.

Most of the time, I'm okay with my diabetes. It's my "new normal", and has been for the last four and a bit years now. It's become my family's normal, my friends' normal, and now my godson's normal. 

Today, however, I'm just wishing it wasn't the case. 

The Things We Fear.

Fears are funny things. I have a lot of them. I'm scared of spiders, clowns, roller coasters and flying. I'm the worst person to watch a horror movie with - I will almost definitely scream, and I will have nightmares. I'm scared of the fact I have no life plan at present and, not that I'll openly admit it all that often, I'm scared that I won't get my (happily-)ever-after. And not in a I-need-to-settle-down-right-now way, but more a will-I-even-let-myself-settle-down-with-someone. 

But fears often change. Not all of them, but as we grow up and change as a person, our fears change too. When I was a kid, I was terrified of dogs. Looking back, I'm not sure why, but now I'm such a dog person! Sleeping in the dark used to scare me too. Heights were a no-no. And, somewhat ironically, I used to also be terrified of needles. 

When I was diagnosed with diabetes, I was sent to A&E and on arrival I was given a bed and told that a nurse would be round to insert a cannula into my arm. And I was terrified. My Mum did her best to distract me, but I could not focus my mind on anything other than the horrible nurse putting a cannula in my arm. (I should say, he wasn't actually horrible at all -- he was just the one inserting the cannula, so by default I didn't like him). Throughout my hospital stay, I had many blood tests done, my fingers were pricked every two hours, and I had to have another cannula inserted too.

After three days of being on a sliding scale of insulin, a DSN came to see me and told me that I couldn't be discharged from the hospital until I could administer my own insulin injections. If there was ever going to be something that made me get over my fear of needles, that was it. I took the insulin pen from her, I screwed the needle onto it, I pinched the skin of my right thigh, and I did my first injection. I was desperate to go home. 

After that, I can honestly say I haven't flinched at needles. The needles my insulin pen took got progressively smaller (8mm, 6mm, 5mm, 4mm), I went for my flu jab every year, I had my BCG jab earlier this year, and I moved onto an insulin pump where the cannulas I started out with were 6mm steel ones. No problem. 

So, yesterday morning, why did I completely freeze up when I had to use this?

My brain would not let me press that little button on the side to insert this cannula, a FlexLink, one where the needle comes out after. It took me about half an hour to work up the courage to do it (as well as a text to Lizzie and Shep, and some encouragement from some wonderful people on Twitter).

It's funny how our fears manifest themselves. I'd seen other people use the LinkAssist. I knew how to use it. I'd even used it on one of the soft-toy-pumps at clinic (yes, my diabetes clinic has soft-toy-pumps...very weird at first, but now I kind of like it). But holding it against my hip to "fire" into my skin...fear took over. Very weird. 

On a lighter, and much funnier, note, the tubing that came with the cannula above is 80cm long. And I am a very short, clocking in a height of 5ft1" (and a half...the half is very important!)

It's safe to say I'm very much looking forward to my delivery of 30cm tubing!

100 Happy Days: Challenge Completed!

Image taken from Google Images.

So, about fifty days ago, I wrote about the 100 Happy Days Challenge I was taking part it. Yesterday marked the 100th day for me, and looking back over all the photos has taught me a lot.

First, I drink too much coffee. And tea. Like, way too much!

I need more friends. Because browsing through my photos, it definitely looks like I only hangout with about four people and their faces just keep on reappearing. I'm kidding - they're the best, and they're in my "happy-days" for a reason.

My littlest friend makes a number of appearances (he is very cute, and melts my heart when he calls me "Auntie Vicki").

My siblings also appear a few times. Not that I'd ever openly admit it to them, I do actually quite like seeing them. 

I seem to have a love  of (obsession with?) the sun/sunny days/summer. 

And a lot of food appears amongst the photos. A lot. 

And finally there's the diabetes-related stuff. Which actually features more than I thought it would, and I'm okay with that. From ace-ing my blood sugars after a session at the gym, receiving my copy of Kerri Sparling's Balancing Diabetes (great read, by the way - I'm not sure if I've mentioned it on here yet?!) and having a blog post published on the JDRF website to receiving a letter telling me my pump had been ordered to it actually arriving at my house (I was like a kid at Christmas!). 

Diabetes can suck sometimes. Really suck. So I'm somewhat grateful that it actually featured in my "happy-days" - I'd rather it make me happy some of the time than make me miserable all the time. 

Wouldn't you?

100 Happy Days.

You may have seen on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram that people are taking part in the #100happydays photo challenge. The premise is simple: you take a photo a day for 100 days of something that makes you happy. I have been taking part in this challenge on Instagram and I have loved it, and it's surprised me how many diabetes-related things have cropped up in my photos. Today marks day 50 for me, so here's a look at what diabetes things I've photographed so far!

My blood sugars post-gym: 8.5 pre gym, 6.9 after and 5.6 before lunch - never have they been so good!

A new bag for my diabetes supplies.

Batman and blogging - a relaxing evening!

It's so rare for me to get a 5.5mmol on my meter that I took a picture of this one!

Retinal screening appeared fine - always good to hear!

Happy Wednesday!

Four Years.

Dear Diabetes, 

I hate you. 

And hate is a strong word. 

But I think it's applicable to you. 

I'm never going to wake up in the morning and think "Yay! Time to check my blood sugar!" or look forward to shooting insulin.
 

But if there's one thing I've learnt this year, it's that I don't have to like you. 

Not ever. 

I do, however, have to know how to live with you in spite of the hatred I have for you. 

I think it's one of the biggest hurdles a person with diabetes has to overcome, and this year, I think I've done it. 

Because I can say I hate you, yet I'm still happy and healthy with you around. 

Bet that's a real kick in the beta cells.

"There's only us, there's only this, forget regret, or life is yours to miss"

Like hell am I missing out.

  

Hba1c Blues.

I tell myself time and time again not to get worked up about my hba1c. But when I feel like I've really tried with my diabetes management, to then have a result higher than the previous, well, it's disheartening to say the least.

Don't get me wrong, it's by no means a "bad" (for lack of a better word) number. I'm just gutted that it's not an improvement, as I feel like I've made a real effort to keep my diabetes on track. 

Image taken from Google Images.

For me, getting myhba1c checked regularly is important. I have one as part of my annual review, although I tend to get a few more done throughout the year via my DSN.

 

As much as I hate going to get the blood drawn and sometimes worry about what the result is going to be, it's a number that really helps to keep me on track with my diabetes management. It tells me where I'm currently at on the "diabetes map" and helps me make decisions to get to where I want to be. 

 

Right now, I'm not where I want to be. But I wouldn't know that if I hadn't had my 'A1c done. 

 

I spent yesterday wallowing over the result. 

 

Today, I'm taking action. 

 

Happy Monday!

Mind, a mental health charity, has dubbed today "Happy Monday".

So, although now nearing the end of today, Happy Monday! 

Monday: the start of a new week. Every Sunday, I rip the top page off my to-do list pad (thank you, godson!) and I have a clean sheet in front of me ready to fill up with all the things I need to do. I can start again. 

That's what I'm doing today. Last week was a rough week. Lots of stresses. As a result, my blood sugars weren't great. I cried. And I seldom cry! And, as much as it pains me to say it, I binged. Then felt incredibly guilty about it. And I got drunk. Again, a rarity for me. And now I'm ill.

Yeah, it wasn't a good week for me. (Didn't have a hangover after getting drunk though. That was a plus.)

But today's a Monday, and how I coped last week doesn't have to be how I cope this week. And it won't be.

I need better coping mechanisms.

I'm in my final weeks of the uni semester now, and I need to be focused. 

So, no alcohol until I go to the LCS (Language and Communication Studies, if you were wondering) graduate dinner at the end of term. Not even on my diabetes anniversary. 

Healthier diet - recently I've seriously upped the amount of cake/chocolate/sweet things I eat. That needs to go back down. I have more stable blood sugars not eating the sweet stuff (obviously) and I need that in these final few weeks.

More gym when I'm stressed. I went Saturday after my pig-out Friday night and I felt so much better after. My head felt clearer.  

Emotional well being is hard to manage at the best of times. Throw diabetes into that mix though, and I personally feel it's even harder, because my emotions have such an affect on my blood sugars. I also feel there is a lot of guilt that comes with diabetes which leaves me feeling burnt out and throwing pity parties for myself. Yet, in spite of this, emotional well being and mental health alongside diabetes is so overlooked by health care professionals. But that's a whole other blog post!

New week. Moving on. Starting over. 

Happy Monday!

[Although not a blog post that centres on mental health, it does somewhat address my emotional well being and how that has an impact on my diabetes management and vice-versa. For more information on diabetes and mental health, feel free to visit www.hedgiepricksdiabetes.org.uk or talk to your health care professional.]