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Last week, I was invited to speak as the consumer in a peer support symposium at ADS ADEA. My talk was called ‘People like me’ because more and more, I’ve come to understand that the real value for me in peer support is the combination of the masses with diabetes – as accessed through the DOC – as well as those who form a part of my ‘inner circle’, or tribe.
So, obviously, my first slide was this one:
And then, I introduced the audience to my tribe from last week:
People like me! The #DAPeoplesVoice Team (L-R) Ashley, Melinda, Renza, Frank
The peer support symposium was coordinated by the ACBRD. Last year, they produced this report for the NDSS. They brought together four speakers, each speaking about different considerations of peer support.
After I gave my personal perspective on the peer support that works best for me, Professor David Simmons from Western Sydney University spoke about the evidence. The idea (as outlined in the symposium abstract) was to ‘…identify ways in which they are in synergy and/or tension with one another’.
David began by speaking about the Peers for Progress model, highlighting its four core functions of peer support:
- Assistance in daily management
- Social and emotional support
- Linkages to clinical care and community resources
- Ongoing support, extended over time.
I can only speak for myself and my own experiences, but the peer support I have carved out for myself meets all these points. While points 2 and 4 are probably the most relevant to me, I certainly have used my peers to assist with the day-to-day grind of living with diabetes and have also found connections with clinical support through my peers.
My experience is certainly not structured or formal in any way, however, for me, it works and it works superbly. Which was another point that I made – we need to find the right sort of peer support and that may be different for different people.
Some PWD may prefer to have something that is very organised. I prefer a more ad hoc, dip-in-and-out-as-I-need-it approach, and focus my energies on what I require at specific times. I also love the online community and the support it offers because it meets many of the things I’m looking for: flexibility (there’s not a meeting on the first Monday of each month to attend and if I can’t make that, I miss out); broad reach and a variety of people (which means that I will always find someone to provide support, no matter what the issue; diversity of experiences so my own understanding of what is going on with others is constantly growing, evolving and, often, challenged; all over the world allowing me to connect with people whatever the day of day – or wherever I happen to be (speaking of which…anyone in Lisbon next week?).
Another discussion point during the symposium was to do with the need for evidence to strengthen the case for peer support, which will ensure adequate funding to run programs. I find this a slightly double edged debate, really. I understand that with limited funding, those holding the purse need to know that money is going to go to programs that are known to work. But equally, I know peer support works. People with diabetes know peer support works. Melinda Seed, clearly frustrated (as am I) at the constant need to defend the value and importance of peer support, posed an interesting question, here:
Now, I don’t doubt for one moment that HCPs get a lot of benefit from attending diabetes conferences. Of course they do – they hear from leading experts, learn about the latest research finding, network with colleagues, speak with industry about new diabetes technologies and treatments. The leave feeling inspired, have improved knowledge, feel supported by others doing what they are doing, and have new tips and tricks up their sleeves top improve their practice. They know that. We all do. And yet where is the evidence to support it?
(For the record, someone did point out on Twitter to Melinda that the difference is that conferences are privately funded and therefore do not stand up to the same scrutiny that programs seeking public funding do. Melinda responded (quite correctly) that this argument doesn’t really hold water as many attendees there attend on the ‘government dime’. It is an interesting discussion….)
I think one of the problems we might have is that we narrow the definition of peer support sometimes, and perhaps some people think that it’s too fluffy and feel-good, and just about sitting around someone’s kitchen table and chatting. But as I said in my talk, there is much more than mere ‘tea and sympathy’, (although, I’m reticent to dismiss the power of such interactions because I know that sometimes those moments do produce a lot of support from people who are otherwise feeling very isolated and alone.)
I am speaking at the World Diabetes Congress at the end of this year and will be challenging the notion that peer support is all about group meetings. It is more than the traditional ‘support group’ model. One example I gave was the Pumpless in Vienna story (yeah – I’ll tell that whenever I can!). It was through peer connections that my friend Jo found a pump. It can also be seen and found in other ways – camps, information sessions, structured education programs. Peer support can be found in a lot of places, even if that’s not the term we give to it.
CEO of Diabetes Australia, Greg Johnson, and me talking peer support after last week’s symposium.
Disclosures
Roche Diabetes Australia has covered my travel and two night’s accommodation for my stay in Perth as I am a presenter at the Roche Educators Day (RED). There is no expectation from Roche that I will write anything about the RED, but I expect I will because it’s always such an interesting and enjoyable day!
The remainder of my time in Perth is part of my role at Diabetes Australia.
A recurring theme throughout last week’s ADS ADEA meeting in Perth was the need to manage expectations. I think, in general, we do a really lousy job of this in diabetes.
We’re told that can expect to live a ‘normal life’ after a diabetes diagnosis, when that’s not necessarily the truth.
We’re told we can expect to eat whatever they want, when really, the effort that goes into calculating medication doses depending on the nutrient value of our foods is hard and it may be easier for some to actually limit food choices to make things a little easier.
We’re told to expect a cure in five years’ time, when the truth is that a cure is not even on the distant horizon.
We’re told that we can expect new technology to significantly reduce the burden of living with diabetes, when the reality is that sometimes, it’s more – not less – work.
We’re told to expect person-centred care, when, really, our health system, is not designed to cater for the individual needs of people living with diabetes.
We’re told that emerging technology will be fully automated, smart and cure-like, but we are not told that there will still be human-input necessary and that the devices are not as smart as a functioning pancreas.
We’re told that if we keep our A1c below 7% we can avoid complications, and yet, there is no guarantee, and some of us do develop complications despite an A1c regularly hitting that magic number.
We are told that if we count carbs and dose the right amount of insulin at the right time, we can keep our glucose levels in range, often neglecting to be told that there are a lot of other factors at play.
We are told all this, and then, when these expectations are not met, we are told we’ve failed. Or we are disappointed.
Here’s the thing. The tools are actually really great. Our health system here in Australia is mostly terrific. The majority of our HCPs genuinely do want to give us the best care they can. We don’t need to oversell things as much as we do.
Our expectations are being set so realistically high, that it’s impossible to meet them.
So, THIS is what I would like to say about all the things I’ve covered above to help manage expectations:
Your life will be different after a diabetes diagnosis. But that’s okay. Your new normal is going to be different to your old normal, but hopefully, there will be very things that diabetes will prevent you from doing. Acting like a pancreas is not really normal, but you can do it!
Yeah, you can eat whatever you want. But it’s undeniable that certain foods are harder to manage after your pancreas decides to go on strike. Find what works for you – and that can change. But do be prepared for food to become something that can be a little fraught because you may find that some of your most favourite foods are a little difficult to deal with.
Researchers are brilliant and amazing and the advances in diabetes management are actually quite mind blowing, but a cure? We’re nowhere near that yet. Keep up to date with everything and try to mine through it to work out what is relevant for you. Keep getting excited about management and tech advances – but do keep it in perspective. (Also – consider the source. I promise you that the Channel 10 news or Buzzfeed is NOT going to be where you learn that diabetes has been cured forever.)
You are going to have a lot that you will want to know and work through, and possible a variety of healthcare professionals to see. As wonderful as it would be to have someone to coordinate it all for you, you’ll have to put in the leg work to find the right team, the right service and the right people. And then, once you’ve found them, it’s still up to you to direct what you need. Otherwise you might find yourself at the mercy of a system that is not really going deliver exactly what you need to get the most from it.
You may have heard that in the US there is a (hybrid-closed loop) pump/CGM combo. Some are calling it an artificial pancreas. It’s not. The tech is incredible, but it’s not fully automated. It still requires calibration and it still requires operator input. This is not me being negative, because the tech is exciting. It’s me being realistic about the level of automation
No new devices are going to completely remove the load diabetes adds to your life, or your involvement in their operation. Insulin pumps need buttons pushed; CGMs need calibration, food needs to be considered. Full automation may be the goal, but it’s a while off.
An A1c of 7% or below will indeed reduce your risk of developing diabetes-related complications and there is a lot of evidence to support that. But it doesn’t eliminate the risk. That’s the annoying and somewhat unfair reality of diabetes. Unfortunately, it’s the reality. Obviously, do what you can to manage your diabetes as well as you can. But don’t expect that a number is a guarantee of anything.
Carbs and insulin are only part of the equation. How you’re feeling emotionally, illness such as colds and flus, hormones, nutrients other than just carbs, the phase of the moon (well, maybe not) … all these impact on your numbers. And they change. Don’t expect that there is an equation that will work all the time.
In life, we’re often told to expect the unexpected. But in diabetes, the unexpected is often only that way because what we have been told to expect is unrealistic. If we were told the truth, and provided with realistic expectations from diagnosis – and throughout our diabetes lives, perhaps we wouldn’t feel that we’re constantly falling behind and failing.
Here’s me and my boss talking about expectations in technology.
Disclosures
Roche Diabetes Australia has covered my travel and two night’s accommodation for my stay in Perth as I am a presenter at the Roche Educators Day (RED). There is no expectation from Roche that I will write anything about the RED, but I expect I will because it’s always such an interesting and enjoyable day!
The remainder of my time in Perth is part of my role at Diabetes Australia.
New York in the rain is quite magical. That’s probably something only tourists say, but it’s what I was thinking as I emerged from the subway, way, way downtown on a cold and wet January afternoon early this year.
I hurried along the busy business district streets to my destination – an old cosy pub, chosen by the local I was meeting because of its historical significance (which you can read about here).
I was catching up with a diabetes friend – one of the smartest people in the game – to chat about what was going on in our respective diabetes worlds.
After a while, we started talking about how exciting new tech developments will be finally coming to market in just a few short years. And then, he told me about Loop, showing me his phone and briefly explaining what it was all about.
I was enthralled. ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘So, your iPhone now drives your pump? And basal rates are adjusted automatically?… Whoa! Send me all you can about it,’ I pleaded, after he promised that it wasn’t that difficult to set up.
This was back in January. It’s now August. In the intervening months, I read through the documents and have had conversations both on and offline about Loop and what it does. I searched through my diabetes cupboard for the pump I’d need (finding my old-school Medtronic 522 hidden away).
In May, I bit the bullet and ordered one of the components required to build my rig. About ten days later, a box arrived and inside was a tiny little computer and battery – my RileyLink. I took them out of their packaging, running my fingers over them gently… and then got scared and popped them back in the box, and left the box at the back of my desk.
Hello RileyLink!
Every time I sat down to work, I’d see the box and sometimes I’d take a peek inside again. And then I’d read the documents again, each time a little more committed to get started.
In San Diego, I chatted with a few people who had taken the leap to Loop, everyone telling me that it was life changing and also promising that it wasn’t too hard to set up. I kept having conversations on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram with people from all around the world who were Looping, every one of them urging me to get on the bandwagon and offering to answer any questions I’d have.
I joined Facebook groups, continued to read over the documents, and every time I was ready to go, I freaked out about how technologically advanced it all sounded, and how technologically inept I am, and shut everything away.
Until ten days ago. Ten days ago, I did take the leap. I read through the Loop documents another time. I told myself that I could do it. And I started. Step 1….
I hit a snag a few steps in, but fortunately was meeting a Twitter friend on Wednesday to chat. He is not technologically inept. In fact, he is the complete opposite and answered all my (probably rather silly) questions and didn’t even roll his eyes once.
I went home with Loop installed on my phone and proceeded to enter all my settings into it.
I played around with the app and before I knew it, I was blousing directly from my phone (rather than from my pump):
After a couple of days of running open loop, I took the plunge and switched to closed loop. And waited and watched. The circle on the top left hand corner of the app closed and I waited for the automation to begin. And begin it did!
‘OHMYGOD,’ I squealed to Aaron, as the first basal adjustment was made. ‘LOOK AT THIS! IT’S ADJUSTING MY BASAL RATES ALL ON ITS OWN. LOOK, BABE. LOOK!!! THIS IS JUST LIKE YOUR PANCREAS…Except it’s a mobile phone, mini-computer thingy, insulin pump and Dexcom. BUT I’M JUST LIKE YOU!!!’ To his credit, Aaron nodded his head, pretended he was as excited as me, and agreed that this was EXACTLY the same as a functioning pancreas.
I admit to being more than a little fascinated and obsessed with watching what Loop is doing and the accuracy of its predictions.
This morning’s waking Dex number. And the Loop app showing me how we got there…
I’m only a few very short days in and already, I can see that this is giving me a whole lot more insight into my diabetes. I had a very minor car accident the other morning and seeing the adrenalin spike, and how Loop managed to deal with it, was amazing. I would have rage bolused the spike which would have inevitably resulted in a low. Instead, I resisted the urge to bolus and allowed an increased basal adjustment to bring me back into range slowly and safely.
Obviously, as with everything to do with diabetes, Loop isn’t for everyone. But for me – firmly in a diabetes rut and living in pump limbo – this has been just what I’ve needed to get me re-engaged.
My clever mate David (who is running Open APS) 3D printed me a case for my RileyLink. In pink, to match my pump.
Wait! What is Loop? If you are interested in reading about Loop and how to get up and running, all the info is here.
Not this:
(Source unknown)
Or this:
(Source unknown)
Also, not this:
(Click for source)
And not this either:
(Click for source)
There’s lots happening, but I can’t look away from my Loop app at the moment because I’m so damn excited and obsessed! (I’ll be writing something about it sometime this week.)
But if I wasn’t doing that, I’d be (re)reading these things…
Why it costs so much to see a specialist
I’ve always paid to see my endos privately. In fact, I generally ‘go private’ for all my healthcare needs – I can’t remember the last time I was bulk-billed for a medical consultation.
It does cost a lot, and I am grateful I can afford it, but the excessive costs often discourage people from seeking the right care they need. Of course, we do have excellent public health in Australia. My choice for seeing HCPs privately include wanting continuity of care, and not being subject to frequently very long waiting periods.
This piece in The Conversation looks at why specialist care is so expensive. And what can be done to reduce costs.
Lookiee! A diabetes Wookiee!
For those who participate in OzDOC (and other DOC activities) you may have come across David Burren. I met David last week to talk all things tech (actually, I just fired questions at him about Loop and he patiently answered them without rolling his eyes even once). He’s started a diabetes blog all about diabetes and technology and, thankfully, it is in language that even I can understand.
Check out David’s Bionic Wookiee blog here.
Statues are like tumo(u)rs.
With all the nonsense going on in America at the moment, this piece from McSweeney’s most adequately explains why the ridiculous idea that statues commemorating less than favourable moments in history need to remain. Here’s my favourite part:
I view this tumor as an important symbol of your body’s history and heritage. Removing the tumor would be yet another example of misguided medical correctness in today’s liberal America. I protest this surgery and refuse to whitewash your rich medical history. The tumor must be kept prominently displayed inside your body.
Do better, America. We all know you can.
More on what’s on the inside
Mel Seed’s blog about normalising mental healthcare in diabetes follows on from DX2Melbourne and is well worth a read. Read it here.
Diabetes is just…
This…
Faster insulin coming to Aus
A couple of weeks ago, I shared on my socials the exciting news that ultra-fast insulin, FIASP, had received TGA registration. No actual ‘launch’ date info as yet, although next week is the ADS ADEA Annual Scientific Meeting, so we may hear more then.
And in news that we already know…
Apparently, CGM is not just for abdomens anymore… File under ‘No Shit Sherlock’.
Swear-y
My blog emails keep getting blocked by the profanity filter at my husband’s work. Every now and then, he forwards me the message he’s received which states that the email was not delivered due to ‘offensive language’. #SwearyWife
This Twitter account definitely wouldn’t make it through, but it’s one of the best things I’ve seen on the interwebs for a while. I’d like to print THIS up poster size and put it on the wall of my office/wear it on a t-shirt, but perhaps that’s not appropriate.
D-parents and sharing the scary parts of their child’s diabetes online
I’ve linked to Moira McCarthy’s writing before because I think that she gets it right every single time she writes about the role of parents in their child’s diabetes.
This piece asks parents to consider if sharing their child’s scary and dramatic diabetes stories online is doing more harm than good. (I rather clumsily explored a similar issue last year in this post.)
Read her piece at ASweetLife here.
4Ts on Diabetes Mine…
Last month, during National Diabetes Week, in an endeavour to get our 4Ts message out as widely as possible, the good folks at Diabetes Mine allowed me to write a little about our campaign. You can read that here.
Living and loving someone with diabetes
As much as I think I am the most delightful and easy-to-live-with person in all the world, I have to admit that diabetes can and does impact on all relationships… and makes me perhaps not the most delightful and easy-to-live-with person. Aaron and I chalked up 23 years together yesterday. Diabetes has been part of the equation for over 19 of those years.
Diabetes advocates Nicole Johnson and Lorraine Stiehl have written a new book which has been called a practical guide to loving a person with diabetes. I’ve ordered a copy and will be leaving relevant pages open for my loved ones to read.
You can get a copy of What To Do When Your Partner Has Diabetes: A Survival Guide from Amazon.
Meme-y and true
There are a lot of diabetes memes out there, but sometimes I see one that just hits the mark so perfectly. Such as this from a TuDiabetes community member:
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the tech rut and pump limbo in which I seem to have found myself. Since then a couple of things have happened to start to move me from a sense of complete and utter inertia about the state of play in diabetes technology in Australia right now.
Firstly, I actually made steps to start Looping. I’ve had all I need sitting here ready to go, but it was only last weekend that I actually started working through the steps to get things going. More on this in coming weeks if I can get it all sorted out and actually understand what the fuck I’m doing.
And the second thing was when Aaron from Medical Specialties Australasia reached out to me with the exciting news that the Cellnovo pump system is coming to Australia. Very, very soon. We arranged to meet at a café so we could chat and he could show me the pump. (For the record, MSA was the Australian distributor of the Deltec Cozmo pump many moons ago.)
According to Aaron, the pump has TGA approval and is listed on schedule 5 of the prosthesis list, meaning those with private health insurance should be covered. Consumables are in the process of being listed on the NDSS and costs will be comparable to currently listed insulin pump consumables.
The Cellnovo ‘kit’ includes two pumps and a nifty looking touchscreen handset which drives the pump and doubles as a glucose meter. The pump is small and is stuck directly to the skin via a Velcro patch. (It’s not a patch pump as there is a small tube that runs from the cannula to the cartridge.)
The cartridge holds a max of 150 units of insulin, so this is not the pump for people who are on really large doses. But, if you’re like me, it’s way, way more than enough for the three days the cartridge lasts.
The ‘consumables’ combine the ‘cap’ for for the pump as well as the cannula/infusion set and cartridge.
Other features that may be of interest: it’s waterproof. It has a built in activity tracker, which for those who are interested in doing activity (i.e. not me), then this may be a super useful little tool; it’s rechargeable, so no need to carry around a spare battery. (You swap over the pumps every three days, charging one while wearing the other.)
I’ve not used the pump, so I can’t really talk about what it feels like or how easy the handset is to use, but I did play with it a bit the other day and it appeared super easy.
I can talk about the fact that there is about to be another pump on the Australian market, and considering the sad state of affairs at present, I see this as a really positive move. I have always been an advocate for choice. People with diabetes should be offered a smorgasbord of diabetes management options and then be able to customise the devices, drugs and plan that works best for us at that moment. It’s not a static arrangement (because, diabetes isn’t a static health condition) and we should be able to change as we need.
With the current situation, we don’t have a smorgasbord. Instead, we have a very limited set menu that seems to be getting smaller and smaller, and while that may be great for the big players in the market, it is crappy for people with diabetes.
Cellnovo introduces another option that may just be the right choice for some people, and that’s terrific.
WANT MORE?
For more information about Cellnovo click here.
In Australia, the Cellnovo pump is being distributed by Medical Specialties Australia. For details, click here.
DISCLOSURES
None! Although Aaron did buy me a coffee … And when there are pumps available in Australia, I may do a trial. As always, I’m writing in my own thoughts in my own (probably swear-y) words.
Over the weekend, there was a story in a Queensland newspaper suggesting that there is currently a bad batch of insulin in the fridges doing the rounds, causing erratic glucose levels in people with diabetes. The article was a little confusing because some people were saying they’d noticed high levels they couldn’t get down no matter how much insulin they were using, while others were saying they were having nasty hypos out of the blue.
There has been no TGA announcement about it, but I do know that a few people are concerned – enough to have contacted the media.
This post isn’t really about a dodgy batch of insulin – although if you are concerned, perhaps have a chat with your pharmacist, or contact your doctor and get a new prescription filled.
But the article was the catalyst for this post because when I read the article I started to wonder about insulin storage and wondering if that could be contributing to stories of ‘bad insulin’.
I have a very easy insulin storage system. Unopened insulin sits in the fridge until it’s needed. As soon as a vial is opened, it’s popped into my diabetes spares bag and stays in there, refilling my pump as required. My spares bag is always in my handbag and the insulin vial is probably in there for 10 – 14 days.
I can confidently say that I’ve never had a vial of insulin ‘go bad’ on me and stop working. As far as I know, my insulin is just fine! But I couldn’t tell you if my insulin is being stored at optimal temperatures. To be honest, I’ve always had a pretty lackadaisical approach to inulin storage and suspect that’s because I’ve never had an issue, plus refrigeration is never a problem where I live. But for some people, that’s not the case.
Enter MedAngel. This is Amin:
Amin is pretty awesome. I met him last year at the Roche #DiabetesMeetup and then caught up with him again this year at a couple of diabetes conferences. He’s lovely and smart and is the brains behind MedAngel. He has seen firsthand what happens when insulin isn’t stored properly and problems occur.
The idea behind MedAngel is wonderfully simple: it’s a small, wireless sensor and a mobile app. The sensor is placed alongside insulin (or other medications) and measures the temperature, transmitting to the app which alerts if temperatures are too high or too low for your meds.
When I saw Amin in San Diego at ADA, he gave me my very own MedAngel sensor and, over coffee, showed me how to use it, watching me set up the app. (As I said, he’s smart and sensed my frightful lack of tech abilities.)
I now have a MedAngel sensor in my diabetes spares bag. So far, it’s not once alerted, but we’re in the middle of winter still here, so it will be interesting to see what happens once the weather warms up or when I am travelling to warmer temperatures.
I also popped the sensor in the fridge for a few days. I don’t keep insulin in the butter compartment– I actually keep butter in there (weird, I know), instead it’s always in a small, rectangular box on the bottom shelf of the fridge. Also in the box are paper prescriptions waiting to be filled (so I always know where they are), Glucagon and a couple of long acting insulin pens (usually out of date…) in case of pump failure.
I was pleased that my fridge consistently kept my insulin at a suitable temperature and am now completely confidence that it is safe in there.
However, as it turns out, my fridge is actually not ‘all fine’ for storing insulin. I left the sensor on the top shelf of my fridge in the ‘quick cool’ zone for a day and was getting alerts that it was too cold there for my insulin. The variability in the temperature of my fridge would be concerning if I moved my insulin around, which I have done in the past.
Speaking with Amin, I did start to think about the supply chain and what it takes for insulin to actually get from where it’s made to my fridge. There are a lot of opportunities for there to be issues with temperatures, and even if I’m confident that I have it right once it’s delivered to me, I can’t be confident that it has been kept at the right temperature in all the stages it takes to get to me.
I think there really is an application for MedAngel sensors to be packed in with every single vial of insulin from when it leaves the manufacturing plant and travel along with it all the way to deliver to the person with diabetes from the pharmacy.
Amin gave me with a MedAngel sensor without expectation I’d write about it. I’m writing because I think it’s a useful device. And I also love supporting PWD designing things that make sense for others PWD.
At #DX2Melbourne last week, we had a live webcast in an attempt to include people not invited to be part of the event to hear from some of the bloggers and contribute to the discussion. The hour-long webcast was about diabetes and mental health.
With delusions of Jenny Brockie and Tony Jones, I facilitated the discussion – which was actually quite difficult as there were thirteen of us sitting in a row meaning we couldn’t all see anyone other than who was sitting directly next to us without leaning dangerously forward. Also, I kept nearly falling off my stool, which suggests that I am the most ungraceful creature to have ever been positioned in front of a camera.
I’d put together some questions and discussion points to guide the discussion, but was very open to any tangent the group wanted to take to really navigate and explore the topic of diabetes and emotional wellbeing.
As the discussion flowed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Another talk about how diabetes affects us emotionally; another talk about not getting the support from psychologists and counsellors that we need; another talk about how usually it’s not even recommended that we may need to speak with someone about the mental health aspect of living with a chronic health condition; another talk from well-connected diabetes advocates saying that there is more to diabetes than simply being told our A1c, or any other number for that matter.
Amongst all the chatter, I asked myself how many times I’d participated in talks, how many talks I’d given, how many tweet chats I’d tweeted in, how many blog posts I’d written that were about the emotional side of diabetes. And then today, on my TimeHop app came this tweet, from an OzDOC tweet chat about mental health, held exactly 12 months ago today:
I’m not saying this because I think we’ve ‘done’ this topic and should leave it alone now. Not at all. I’m just suggesting that we’ve been having the same discussions about this really important topic for a long time, and yet diabetes care still seems to have this imaginary, yet somehow real, line down the middle, with the physical aspects of diabetes to one side, and the emotional aspects on the other as if the two are not fundamentally connected.
I knew that there would be some people listening in who would be hearing all of this for the first time. It would be the first time that although they had probably worked out that there was something missing from their diabetes care, they weren’t sure what it was. Or, they may have known they needed to speak to a psychologist or a counsellor, but didn’t know who to ask about it…and anyway, they may have thought, surely if this was something that lots of people with diabetes feel, someone would have mentioned it by now, right? Right???
Nineteen years I’ve had diabetes. And for at least seventeen of them, I’ve understood and known the importance of checking in on how the emotional impact of diabetes is contributing to how I am managing my diabetes. Or how I am not managing my diabetes (see above tweet….).
The idea that we can separate our mental health and emotional wellbeing from our diabetes is ridiculous. A condition that permeates every aspect of our life, moves in, makes itself a home and lords over us with terrifying threats of what lies ahead, impacts on our abilities to manage the day-to-day physical things we need to do.
Those watching the webcast at home could submit questions for the panel. A couple of diabetes healthcare professionals were watching and one asked a question that, as I read it, made my heart sink. He said that he sees people with diabetes who he believes would benefit from seeing a psychologist, but he is concerned that they will be offended if he suggests it. He asked the panel for ideas on how to broach the subject without causing offense.
Why did my heart sink? Because the question showed that there is still so much stigma associated with seeing a mental health professional, that other HCPs – on the ball, sensitive ones who know and understand the intersection between diabetes and mental health – feel worried that they might upset someone with diabetes if they suggest referring to a psychologist.
Until we normalise psychological support – until at diagnosis when we’re introduced to our new diabetes HCP best friends and psych support is part of that team – the stigma will continue. I’m not suggesting that everyone will need or want to see a psychologist. But putting it on the list, alongside a dietitian and a diabetes educator and an eye specialist will at least people understand that, if needed, there will be someone there to help with that particular piece of diabetes. (And to be perfectly honest, I really do wish I’d seen a psychologist at diagnosis rather than the dietitian who has scarred me for life with her ridiculously large rubber-mould portions of carbohydrate she insisted I eat at every meal!)
I don’t feel as though I am a failure because I have needed to consult a mental health professional in the past. I don’t think that it suggests that I can’t cope or that I can’t manage diabetes. I see it as important a part of my diabetes management as anything (and anyone) else. A lot of the time, I don’t feel as though I need to see someone. But other times, I do. And that is fine.
DISCLOSURES
Abbott Diabetes Care covered all my costs to attend #Dx2Melbourne, and provided all attendees with two FreeStyle Libre sensors and, if requested, a scanner. There was no expectation from Abbott that I would write about the event or any of their products, and everything I do write about it is my opinion, in my own words, and in no way reflects those of Abbott – or anyone else, for that matter.
Diabetogenic 