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Two years ago today, I was at Melbourne airport, getting ready to board a plane to get to Nijmegen, via Amsterdam, for the second AGM for the HypoRESOLVE project. I have been part of the Patient Advisory Committee (PAC) since the project’s start, and am honoured to be included amongst such a terrific and passionate group of people with type 1 and type 2 diabetes to lend the lived experience perspective to the work. (Disclosure statement at the end of today’s post.)
A project this big has a lot of moving parts and there is a constant stream of work being done. Right now, one of the most exciting things that we are seeing is a survey for people with diabetes to share their experiences of how hypos impact the quality of life of people with diabetes and our loved ones.
I love that this project is looking at more than simply the clinical side of hypoglycaemia. I’d like to think that the PAC has been influential in this, however one of the things that made me so keen to get involved in the project was that, from its inception, the psychological burden was an integral part of the research. Work package 6, led by Jane Speight and Frans Pouwer, aims to provide just what the impact of hypos are on the quality of life of PWD and our families. I know that in the presentations I’ve given for this project (including at the launch meeting in May 2018), my focus has certainly been on how hypos make me feel emotionally, rather than physically. (I’ll link to pieces I wrote about these presentations at the end of the post today.)
Right now, it’s time for more than just the PWD on the PAC to have a say – to have Your SAY – by taking part in this new survey. It takes about 30 mins, although I’m seeing heaps of people saying they’re whizzing through it much quicker than that. To complete the survey, you need to:
- be 16 years of over
- be able to complete the survey in English
- have type 1 diabetes, diagnosed over six months ago
- have type 2 diabetes, and use insulin
- live with and be in a relationship with someone with diabetes.
Click below to go to the survey, and to find out more information.
The more people who provide their experiences, the more rounded and richer the research will be. Throughout the project, the PAC has repeatedly advocated for the voices of as many PWD as possible to be included (this certainly isn’t the first time a group extending beyond PAC members has been consulted), so please, if you can, take the time to do the survey.
Hypos are a tricky beast; trying to get a really good picture about how they affect our quality of life is essential in developing treatments to make them more manageable.
More about HypoRESOLVE?
This post, explaining all about the project’s launch meeting.
This post about a talk I gave at a satellite meeting at EASD which addressed the differences between how PWD define hypos and the official categories.
This post, about the difficulties of defining hypoglycaemia in ways that are meaningful for everyone.
Here’s a little video that we recorded at the kick-off meeting.
And stay tuned for the podcast!
DISCLOSURE
I have been a member of the HypoRESOLVE PAC since the project started. Until the beginning of this year, PAC members were volunteers on the project, with all flights, accommodation, meals and expenses covered from the project budget. Since the beginning of 2021, PAC members have been paid an honorarium for time worked on the project. I have not been paid to write this post, and my words here have not been approved (or read) by anyone on the project before publication.
Is it this week’s full moon? Is Mercury in retrograde? (I actually don’t know what that means.) Is it the changing seasons?
I’m not sure the reason, but the last couple of weeks seems to have been especially busy when it comes to annoying people being annoyingly stigmatising on the Twitters.
It’s tiring calling it out. I sometimes do, I sometimes don’t have the mental bandwidth to get into it.
So, for those times that I can’t be bothered doing much, but want to do something, I now have this. And I’ll be sharing and posting and responding to stigmatising tweets with nothing more than a bright red and pink image.

This blog post is dedicated to Alex who has had to deal with some fucking unbelievable stigma today, and C and Mila who are regularly fabulous in the way they brilliantly call out stigma online.
Chances are, Australians with diabetes will know who Stanley Clarke is, especially those who have many years of diabetes under their belt. Pretty much every person with diabetes who checks their glucose levels is benefiting from his legacy.
If you don’t know who he is, or his story, and don’t get Circle, let me give you a little taste of this remarkable man and his contribution to diabetes as we know it today.
I was thrilled to read a beautiful profile of Stanley in this month’s edition of Circle magazine, the quarterly magazine from Diabetes Australia. (And by way of disclosure I am employed for Diabetes Australia, and I write an article for each edition of the mag.)

Stanley and his wife Audrey’s daughter Lisa was diagnosed with diabetes in 1972, aged 5 years. As was the norm at the time, she relied upon the only option for checking glucose levels at the time: using Benedict’s solution, drops of urine and colour charts to provide highly inaccurate and misleading results. That was as good as it got!
Stanley was an electronics engineer, and he knew that there had to be a better way. In fact, he’d seen the better way – machines that were available in hospitals that checked glucose in the blood. But these machines were large, and very expensive and not considered part of routine, daily, at home care for people with diabetes. Stanley set about to change that.
He worked to develop a smaller, portable, battery-operated blood glucose machine and in two weeks had a prototype that he was ready to show his daughter’s paediatric endocrinologist. The endocrinologist, diabetes legend, Martin Silink, was impressed and ordered 30 and then an additional 200 machines to be given to children at the hospital. Apparently, within six months, every child with diabetes at the hospital had a home glucose meter, and monitoring blood glucose levels was part of their routine, changing their diabetes management forever.
Clarke machines were ordered and sent to all corners of the globe as people with diabetes everywhere were keen to be able to access this new technology which improved outcomes and reduced diabetes burden.
The machines were sold for what it cost Stanley to make them. He wasn’t interested in making a profit – only in that the machines were available and accessible to people with diabetes.
I read the beautifully written tribute to Stanley in Circle, getting a bit teary at some of the beautiful stories of people who had benefited from this new technology. And my reading was also tinged with a sense of familiarity. I didn’t have diabetes when his home blood glucose meters became common, but I certainly did benefit from it.
Even more so, I have benefitted from the ingenuity of people directly affected by diabetes. The #WeAreNotWaiting movement is built on the shoulders of people like Stanley and it continues to push boundaries and seek solutions for diabetes problems that we know matter. We know they are problems because we live with the consequences of them every minute of every day. We celebrate when the solutions are presented to us because we know what a difference they will make.
I remember hearing Dana Lewis speak about her work that meant she could actually hear her CGM alarm at a volume that woke her up at night, and understanding why that was something so critical.
I remember hearing about Nightscout for the first time, and how one of the benefits of remote monitoring meant that parents felt more confident allowing their kids to have sleepovers at friends’ houses, and understood just why that made all the difference to kids with diabetes.
I remember hearing someone tell me all about using DIYAPS, and I understood not only why it was a vast improvement on commercial diabetes therapies, but it made me determined to build a system for myself. And how glad I am that I did!
I find it unbelievable, and more than a little tragic, that at the same time that there is this incredible user-led innovation happening, there is also pushback. The opposition takes many forms, but it seems to come back to the same thing, and that is the discomfort of many working in healthcare and their reluctance to trust what people directly affected by diabetes are capable of.
I wrote in this piece a few years ago about the predictable way that many HCPs recoil from new therapies. There are reasons thrown around for that: no money to fund it; no evidence to support it; safety concerns.
But money doesn’t seem to be the driving factor propelling the innovators forward (a nod to Simon Lewinson who has been providing re-batteried CGM transmitters to people in Australia meaning that for them, that therapy is actually affordable). Safety is always the primary concern for those of us using these technologies, and to suggest otherwise is an insult. And the evidence is there, perhaps just not in expensive RCTs, which need to stop being considered as the be all, end all.
Stanley Clarke changed the way that day-to-day diabetes was managed and so have others since then. And all I can think of is that we are so, so fortunate to have innovators like that whose only motivation it seems is to improve a life lived with diabetes. What a truly remarkable goal to have.
If I’m asked about the burden of diabetes stigma, a complex tree diagram starts to form in my head. There are branches sticking out at weird angles with arrows and overlapping segments and odd clusters…and I suddenly become burdened just thinking about diabetes burden!
I’ve written before many times about just how heavy diabetes can be – a dense weight that comes from the never-ending need to ‘do diabetes’ and the never-ending attempts to make sense of it all. And I’ve commented on the emotional weight that we feel when diabetes becomes overwhelming and distressing, and the burden of burnout. And I’ve also written a lot about the relentless stream of diabetes admin – and why having a personal assistant to manage my diabetes would be just so damn useful to alleviate the burden of appointment making, prescription filling, consumables stocktaking and complications screening
Burden takes on many forms. And it means different things to different people. If there is a burden spectrum, we would see people plotted all along the line. And we would move around as well. I know that there have been times I’ve feel far more burdened by diabetes, and I know that I feel so much less burdened since I’ve been using Loop because the tasks that added to that daily burden have diminished considerably. Diabetes makes a lot more sense a lot more of the time without me needing to work it out. Of course, the weight is less.
But on top of the daily tasks and the feelings of being overwhelmed, there is still more that can contribute to burden. One of those things is stigma – the way others make us feel about diabetes – about our diabetes – can add significant burden.
Yesterday, I tweeted this:
If you want to see an incredibly diverse and interesting discussion about how stigma has impacted people with diabetes, and parents of kids with diabetes, click on the tweet above and read the replies. I asked the same question on my Facebook page and the stories there were equally harrowing. People’s experiences are heartbreaking. It becomes clear why people drop out of healthcare, are terrified to see HCPs, or try to hide their diabetes from others when you understand how they have been treated.
The weight of that burden is heavy. The judgement and blame and shame can weigh us down. The emotional weight of stigma can be paralysing.
One of the themes that is recurring when it comes to stigma discussions is the idea that we are not doing enough to look after ourselves. That could be in reference to developing long-term complications, or it could be an in-the-moment situation that someone thinks we should be better prepared for. I remember someone once criticising me for not having any jellybeans on me when I was having a hypo. I’d had three hypos already that day, and had worked through my stash. I wasn’t wilfully neglecting my diabetes by being caught short. But that was the assumption.
Another theme is that diabetes is a character or personality flaw, brought on by not caring enough about out health. How tiring it is to have that being said when we are also trying to simply manage to live with diabetes. Weight stigma and diabetes stigma go hand in hand for many, with assumptions made left, right and centre.
Being diagnosed with diabetes creates burden. Living with diabetes brings daily burden. Worrying about how diabetes might impact our futures crafts more burden. And stigma adds even more. It’s exhausting, hurtful and just downright unnecessary.
More musings about diabetes and stigma
Stigma & diabetes-related complications.
Owning my own contributions to diabetes-related stigma in people with type 2 diabetes.
How insisting on defining diabetes when it doesn’t matter adds to stigma.
During a recent briefing call for a grant assessment committee I’ve been invited to join, I got a little sassy. My role is that of ‘consumer advisor’ – that is, someone who can lend their lived experience knowledge to assess the real-life application of the grant proposals, and the research methods outlined.
So far; so normal. I’ve sat on a number of similar committees over the last decade or so. The committees I really enjoy working on are when I am not the only non-HCP present. I love it when there are a number of people there for their real-life experience.
Today, I think I may have been the only non-HCP on this call, but there may be others involved who simply couldn’t be there at the nominated time.
The call today was pretty stock standard – timelines were explained, the IT system we’ll be using was described and the roles and responsibilities of the different people on the committee were clarified. And that’s where things diverted from what I’m used to.
As a consumer advisor, I am able to provide feedback about the different applications – just as all the HCP committee members do. There are primary and secondary spokespeople for the committee (both HCPs), and during the meetings to decide the outcomes of grant applications, they will provide most of the comments. After that, all others on the committee offer anything further. And then it’s time for the committee to score each assessment.
Everyone except the consumer advisors that is. My role will be to provide a ‘consumer perspective’, but I don’t get to provide a score. The scoring is what determines the success (or otherwise) of a funding application.
I sat through this meeting, listening carefully to the process being outlined, wanting confirmation that I had read the information accurately. Was the role of consumer advisor limited to just being able to make a comment?
When it was time for questions, I politely asked if I had understood correctly.
Unfortunately, I had.
I was given an explanation that this the process, set out by the governing department believes that consumer engagement and involvement in the assessment process is crucial and very important to the process, and that consumer comments are invited, but our vote is not.
There was a pause. A long pause. And then a longer pause. Thankfully, this was not a zoom call – it was an old school teleconference – so the others on the call couldn’t see the thunderous expression that had settled on my face. The pause still hadn’t ended.
So, I jumped in.
‘That sounds like the definition of tokenism, doesn’t it? We are there to provide comment and put forward our thoughts, but we cannot actually contribute to the part of the process that actually determines outcomes.’ I knew the next words that would be coming out of my mouth. ‘We have no real ability to influence. I find it difficult to understand how this can be considered meaningful engagement if we have no authority in the scoring process. That’s not how engagement works, it’s just…’ (Window dressing. That’s what I wanted to say.) ‘…it’s just a tick the box exercise.’
That was when the patronising comments came from others on the call. I should say that I don’t think they intended them to be patronising. But they were.
‘Oh, can I just say that I have been involved in similar processes and we always were happy to listen to the consumer advice consider it in our scores.’
‘The consumer feedback is important and has been very useful in the past.’
‘The consumer advisors are able to provide comments and they do. That’s really valuable feedback for us to consider.’
I said nothing. Because I honestly couldn’t care less how much I was listened to. And I know that what I – and others in the same role as me – have to say is valuable. It doesn’t matter which way it is spun, without a vote, I am not an equal member on that committee. That is the actual and perceived reality of the way it is structured
And more frustrating is that in the minds of many, there would be the perception that consumers had been effectively consulted. The lived experience is represented, they can add that to their report (because, undoubtedly there is a KPI that says consumers must be consulted) and all is okay. That tick the box exercise of inviting consumers onto the committee would be considered enough.
It’s not. In fact, it’s more problematic that not inviting us in the first place. I have said this before, and I keep saying it: without the ability to influence, without the means to be part of decision-making processes, strategic planning, governance structures, then all that is happening is tokenism. It is window dressing. And that is not good enough.













