I went to the endo the other day armed with questions and issues I wanted to discuss. I’d found all random notes I’d typed on my phone and sticky notes I’d stuck around my office and cobbled together a list of things to work through.

And at the end of the appointment, there was a tick against every single one of them. (Except for the one about a new travel letter. I haven’t bothered travelling with a letter for some time now because I never needed it, but the last couple of times I’ve gone through security in the international terminal in Melbourne, I’ve been given some grief about refusing to walk through the full body scanner.)

I asked about other drugs that I could take to augment my current diabetes treatment. I know that others with type 1 have added Metformin or SGLT2s to their drug cocktail and wondered if I should be considering something else.

I asked about new drugs coming, how I will use faster insulins once they finally bloody hit our PBS shores and talked about protective measures I could take to reduce the risks of every single thing that diabetes likes to throw in our direction.

I realised half way through the appointment what I was doing and it struck me all at once why I was doing it. It was about feeling in that diabetes rut – not in terms of general ‘over it burnout’, but a treatment rut. It was about me wanting more. What else can I do? What else can I take? What else should I think about? What else? What else? What else?

Loop is continuing to do doing its thing. It keeps me and my diabetes ticking along with minimal effort and generally decent lines on my CGM.

But because I am an idiot and obviously have D-FOMO, apparently, it’s not enough. I turn into Chester, that annoying little puppy in the Warner Bros ‘Chester and Spike’ cartoons, bouncing around ideas and thoughts and different drugs and treatments.

When you co-exist with diabetes, the very definition of ‘lather, rinse, repeat’, it’s easy to get complacent. And from there, it’s just a hop, skip and a jump to being in a rut. Is it any wonder that we get bored, disinterested and downright over the whole bloody thing? Or that to try to counter that boredom, we want to try anything and everything; whatever we can to keep a little bit of interest in what we are doing. We see things new and shiny and flashy and want it – not always because we feel we need it. But just because it’s something novel.

I walked out of my endo appointment without a prescription for any new drugs. We chatted about my options and when we weighed it all up, there didn’t seem to be any real benefit. But the door is open for further discussions when I see her next.

I don’t need anything new. There is nothing I can do really to be doing better. It’s just more of the same. Every day. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. (And repeat…repeat…repeat.)