Sometime last year, I presented a webinar about how to be a good diabetes ally. The webinar was for a startup that would be working closely with people with diabetes. Earlier this week, someone who attended the webinar sent me this neat graphic which captured the main points of my presentation. I know that there are lots of other things that could be added, (and during my talk I covered more than what made this list), but I think that this is, perhaps, a good starting point. I’m especially pleased my point about avoiding hypo simulators made the cut!!
When I think of the diabetes allies I’ve worked with over the last 21 years in the diabetes world, I realise that their main strength is that they made point number one the foundation of their work. I find myself being drawn to the activities of those who centre people with diabetes in meaningful, not token, ways. They are the people who happily step into the shadows so that people with diabetes can be in the spotlight.
A real diabetes ally works with us. They stand with us, not speak for us, because when anyone claims to ‘be the voice of diabetes’ they are simply silencing people with diabetes. We have voices, we have words – our own words – we don’t need others to speak for us. Hand us the microphone.
Let’s talk about perimenopause, periods, and diabetes. I’ll just wait a moment while a heap of people log off right now.
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If you’re still here, hi! Shall we go on?
For the first, I don’t know, maybe 12 years I had my period, I had absolutely no regularity to it at all. I could never understand people who told me they got their period like clockwork, because for me the clock worked intermittently. It was less ‘that time of the month’ and more ‘that time of whenever’. Sometimes it came every three months. Sometimes every four and a half. It was a little surprise that showed up without warting when it felt like it, stayed for a few days, was minimally annoying (never particularly heavy and hardly any cramps at all), and then disappeared again, only to appear when it next felt like it. I spoke with my GP, and they weren’t concerned, and told me to celebrate the fact that I didn’t need to deal with period palaver each and every month.
This was all good and well until I was ready to have a baby. A regular period suggests that ovulation is happening regularly and that is kind of important if you need an egg to be fertilised. That wasn’t happening for me. Some fun fertility treatment (‘fun’, in this instance, means ‘frustrating, lots of tears, desperation and wondering why my body wasn’t doing what it was meant to do’), and I managed to get pregnant and have a baby.
And then, from six months or so after I had our daughter, my periods started happening regularly. Like clockwork. It was as though pregnancy had rebooted the reproductive bits of my body and for the last 18 years, I’ve been paying GST on period products every month.
During this time, I learnt that periods and diabetes don’t play nice. I’ve struggle to find patterns in my cycle so as to run different temp basal rates on my pump to accommodate. Anytime I’ve thought I’d nailed it and settled into a neat routine, the next month everything would go haywire. I guess I settled into another routine: a routine of no routine, where I just had to wing it at whatever time in my cycle things started to look a little sketchy. Loop certainly helped. I could see there were days each month when it was working overtime for no apparent reason, but those days didn’t correspond with the days the previous month. Or subsequent month…
And so, that brings us to present day when it’s time for another life transition or whatever euphemism you want to use to avoid using words that distract attention from hormones, uteruses, blood, and vaginas.
The pretty regular cycles have stopped. I’m not back to three or four (and a half) monthly, it’s more like six weeks or three weeks or some other weird timeframe. My period is on the most bizarre schedule now that is, quite frankly, bloody (yes, I know) annoying. And when it does deign to stop by, it either stays around longer (as in days…) or pops in for just a day or two. Or, even worse, seems to be done after a few days, only to return a day afterwards. Truly, it sucks!
I have made an appointment with my gynaecologist to check-in (it’s probably cervical screening time again) and for a check-up. I know that my experiences are in line with what heaps of other diabetes friends have experienced (yeah, we turn to each other because where else is there to go?), but I have a heap of questions to ask, and accept that there may not be answers.
And I’ve spoken with my endocrinologist. I think that I only ever think of my endo as my ‘diabetes doctor’ but really, her expertise in hormones is pretty bloody useful right now. And the fact that she does some work in a menopause clinic is hugely useful!
But here’s the thing. There are not pages and pages of information out there about diabetes and menstruation or diabetes and menopause. Or how diabetes affects your period during perimenopause. In fact, as with so many things that affect those of us dealing with periods (when they start, when they happen and when they stop), there is a dearth of information and very little research. I mean, it’s no surprise, because the patriarchy in health (as everywhere else) is all powerful. (Don’t believe me? Look at the number of resources about, and treatments for, diabetes and erectile dysfunction as compared with diabetes and menstruation or diabetes and menopause…)
Meanwhile, I just keeping trying to work it out, and speak with friends with diabetes to listen, learn and laugh as they share their stories. And watch as we start to open up more and write more and talk more in our own communities and advocate for more attention. Because that’s the story of diabetes community – we start the conversations that need to be had and that sets off a chain reaction where others get on board. So…get on board!
Dr Jen Gunter’s Menopause Manifesto is really an incredibly useful resource. It’s not diabetes specific (although, there is general information about diabetes that is excellent). Click on the image for where to purchase.
I recently was invited to run a workshop for health advocates (not just diabetes) who are affiliated with health and community organisations either as employees or volunteers. I was asked to primarily focus on safety in advocacy communities – both online and in person. All participants were women. This was interesting to me because the workshop was open to anyone who was a health advocate – not just women. I could see why, after a few short minutes in, it was women who were keen to come together for this topic and talk about it in a safe space, with other women.
I was delighted to be involved for a couple of reasons: 1. It’s important and 2. I know that when I run a workshop properly, I walk away learning a lot. And this was a topic I wanted to learn about. I set about developing a very vague program that would leave a lot of time for experience sharing and co-developing ideas that could be used by everyone in the room. I had a few discussion starters and things that I think have worked for me, so they formed the basis of the workshop, but most of the suggestions came from the day and with permission, I’m sharing some of the ideas here.
Before I do that, though, I want to highlight the overarching message was that health communities and groups are really important and really valuable. I know I frequently talk about not needing to love everyone in the diabetes community, and how critical it is to find the people you want to be around, who are supportive, who build you up, who you build up and who make you feel safe. That squad becomes sacred. Everyone else spoke of the same thing. One woman mentioned that it had taken her years to find the right people in her health community before truly understanding how peer support can be so beneficial. Many mentioned that it took time to work out exactly what they were looking for – was it friendship, solidarity, advocacy mates, opportunities to grow professionally? There are as many reasons to ‘do’ peer support as peer support models!
But even knowing that, it came as no surprise that every single one of the dozen or so women participating in the workshop had examples of where they had felt unsafe, vulnerable, targeted, or exposed in their own health communities. As stories were shared, there were frequent looks of recognition and heads nodding. Many said it was the first time they had ever spoken about these experiences. And others took time to warm up, asking several times if anyone would know what they had said – worried that they may be identified. This reminded me a little of the Ascensia Women’s Diabetes Social Media Summit I facilitated last year. I’d probably done close to a dozen of those before and each one involved a lot of social media outreach while the event was taking place. But this event was different. This one, was not quite as open. As facilitator, it’s my job to read a room, and the reading I got was that there were a group of women who wanted to share in private. And so, we did. As happened again at this recent workshop.
None of the ideas I’m sharing will identify anyone, and this post has been reviewed by the people who attended. Safety of the women is my primary concern. So, here are some ideas that may or may not be of use to folks out there:
You are not alone. Feeling unsafe in a community group can feel isolating, especially if there are cliques and groups that seem to form alliances. But there will be others you can turn to – often outside the group. I know I have turned to people outside the diabetes world at times to learn about how they have managed certain circumstances. It’s fascinating just how transferable things can be and how universal others are!
There are reasons that functions such as block and mute are available on all social media platforms. But go one further. By blocking certain accounts, you may still see people you would prefer to distance yourself from. Mute their name, their account handle and, if they are associated with any specific words, terms or hashtags, mute those too. (So, want to not see my stuff? Block #LanguageMatters and mentions of coffee, stripes, bookstores, baking and red lipstick.)
Keep records. Even of things that seem irrelevant. I have an online folder where I collate anything that has ever made me feel unsafe or helpless. It’s shared with others, so they know what’s going on.
Talk to your workplace or associated organisation. This was one of the points that I wanted to raise. As all participants were either employed by, or volunteers for, health organisations, they have access to several services to support them if they feel unsafe. Perhaps they can use the organisation’s EAP which can be a terrifically helpful resource. It’s also important that those records you keep are seen elsewhere and there is a timeline of when things happen, and they are reported in real time. I do this a lot, mostly because it helps to talk to someone. Sometimes it’s done proactively. Other times, it’s after something happens. For example, the first time I spoke about DIYAPS and a slew of HCPs made formal complaints about me daring to talk about something so dangerously off label. Or the time a diabetes educator wrote to my employer after I called them out for tone policing me. There have been the multiple times people in the low carb community have become aggressive and threatening. Or just weird. There have been times when I’ve spoken with the CEO or other senior managers about situations and as well as being great sources of advice and comfort, it also means that they have an idea of how things started and are going. Oh, and it means there are few surprises!
Walk away – for a bit or a lot. No one is obliged to continue to be involved in advocacy spaces or being part of a community if it is not working or if it is feeling unsafe.
Go incognito. My name and face have always been associated with the advocacy work I do because that is what I have chosen. But there are times that I wish I’d come up with a nifty pseudonym (Blossom?) and a cute meerkat picture. I know that probably wouldn’t have been possible considering the number of quite public facing things I do means there’s limited anonymity. But there are lots of super effective advocates who are anonymous when doing any online work, and that is absolutely an option. It doesn’t mean that you don’t need to do any media or presentations. It just means not linking the public stuff to your socials. A couple of women at the workshop do that, and I somewhat embarrassingly squealed when I realised that they were amazing anonymous campaigners I’ve learnt so much from over the years!
Learn the anatomy of gaslighting. It’s an artform, but it’s a predictable one. And expect to be gaslit if anyone ever takes objection to what you do – especially if the source of that objection is from a group that is used to not being challenged. Don’t believe me? I present exhibit a: #AllLivesMatter and exhibit b: #NotAllMen. The term gaslighting was coined to refer to misogynistic abuse and manipulation and it often presents that way these days. Learn how it works and you’ll be astonished at how frequently it is used to disempower women.
Be prepared for your work to be challenged; to be told you’re not good enough; to be told that you are not worthy; to be told that your work is irrelevant and insignificant; to be criticised for your successes and to be diminished. The first time that happened to me, I was crushed. Now, it’s only mildly soul-destroying. (This isn’t to say that people can’t disagree with your work. Of course, they can, and they will. And that’s perfectly fine. It’s when your work is dismissed and disparaged, and you are personally targeted that it can be especially challenging.)
Cry. This was my suggestion. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it really helps. I think it just comes from the idea of giving myself permission to not have to be confident all the time and to admit when I am feeling especially vulnerable. When there were weird emails coming to me about fundraising activities, I spent a lot of time bawling.
Be public about how you are feeling and your experiences. This is a tough one, because it can add being vulnerable onto an already vulnerable situation. But if you are able to assess if it is going to help you get through it, go ahead.
Ignore it. That sounds naïve considering some of the points I’ve shared, but we all agreed that in some instances, this does work and is the best way forward (albeit with keeping notes).
It is undeniably true that women face a lot of rubbish online and a lot of that is from men. Women who dare to be strident, vocal and stand up and are confident often get it more. We see it everywhere. But I will add that as a straight, white cis woman, I know that the lousy behaviour I’ve experienced is nothing compared to women of colour and people from the LGBTQIA+ community. I’m so grateful to people from those groups who are bravely sharing the horrible attacks they receive and absolutely feel that doing what I can to support them, listen to them and believe them is essential.
The women in the workshop are so committed in their advocacy efforts. It seems unfair that they have had periods where they’ve felt unsafe or targeted. I know how hard it is. Maybe the tips in this post might help others and if they do, great! And if you are reading this and prickling because you object to what you’re seeing, please remember that these experiences are from women who have had a tough time. That doesn’t in any way delegitimise what you have experienced. But I hope that everyone does understand and accept that in living with the patriarchy and with internalised misogyny pretty much part and parcel of everyday life, women do face an unfair share of rubbish, including in advocacy communities.
One of my favourite memes on social media is the response to people who tell the world they’re taking a break from or leaving social media groups or platforms: ‘This is not an airport. There is no need to announce departures.’ (Aussie airports at the moment are full of cancelled flights, so departure announcements seem to be few and far between, but I digress.)
And so, I didn’t announce that I was taking a little break from the online world. It wasn’t really planned. But it has coincided with a couple of weeks break from work and it’s been nice to step away a little and just be. Plus, it’s given me a lot of time to write and write and write and smash deadlines for some of the freelance work I never seem to have enough time to get done. (My submission emails inevitably start with ‘I’m so sorry for the delay in getting this to you…’) But here on Diabetogenic, I’m the editor, so delays are only holding me up and it would be weird to apologise to myself for repeatedly missing deadlines, especially when I don’t even have deadlines (mostly because I don’t set them because I know I’d never meet them) and there I go digressing again and is it any wonder I get nothing done?!
Having said that, I’ve received dozens of emails from people asking when to expect a new post, so to everyone who has messaged or wondered: ‘I’m so sorry for the delay in getting this to you…’.
But here I am back again, with a heap of great things I’ve seen recently and I want to share them here in a bit of an interweb jumble!
I’m writing
Yes, I know it’s weird to share my own writing on my own blog, but whatever! Plus,, there is nothing wrong with a bit of self-promotion. I’m back writing for diaTribe and absolutely delighted to have had these two pieces published recently.
This one is about how it’s important to tell stories of people with diabetes who choose to not run marathons or climb mountains in amongst stories of those who do.
And this one is about a new type 1 diabetes screening program for Australian children. I write about the reservations I had about having my daughter screened when she was little, but how things might be very different with research like this. The response to this article has been lovely and a lot of parents with diabetes have reached out to say that they have had similar concerns and feelings to those I articulate in the post.
Advocacy through art
I’m a huge fan of Jenna Cantamessa’s artwork, and this beautiful image and accompanying post is one of the reasons why! Click on the artwork to be taken to the TypeOneVibes Instagram account to read Jenna’s words.
Stripped Supply
I’m always happy to promote smart women doing smart things and so let me introduce you to Ashley from Stripped Safely.
When Ashley’s boyfriend was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, she realised there was a gap in the market when it comes to mail ordering NDSS supplies. Remember the old days when we used to be able to easily place an order online and have our pump lines or BGL strips delivered straight to our front door? Well, Ashley is making that happen again. It’s a subscription service and is super easy to use. Details about how to use Stripped Supply here.
Gong
You bet I’m proud to share this! Diabetes Australia’s Heads Up on Diabetes campaign recently received an award from the Australian Patients Association. The campaign was recognised as the Best Patients’ Campaign and how wonderful that shining a spotlight on diabetes and mental in such a powerful way has been awarded.
I’ll just say that while it is truly amazing to be acknowledged in this way, the real measure for me of the success of a campaign is how the diabetes community responds and it was clear from year one of this three-year campaign that people with diabetes from across the world absolutely loved it, as evidenced by the number of times the campaign videos were shared online. Oh, and there’s something quite incredible about sitting in a conference room and seeing our work played back to us by someone from outside the organisation. Yeah – that’s happened a number of times!
The Human Trial
So much buzz in the diabetes world at the moment about the incredible documentary out of the US, The Human Trial. Until 9 September, you can stream the film for free by going to this link. You will be prompted to make a donation if you can. All funds raised go to diabetes research.
More about this documentary soon.
Advocacy through poetry 1
At the recent Australian Diabetes Congress, I had the honour and pleasure of chairing a session with an brilliant array of diabetes advocates from Australia and across the world. One of the speakers was Ash Byrne who began her presentation with an incredibly powerful poem and then went on to speak about the mental health burdens of diabetes. You can see Ash readying her poem, Invisible, at this Facebook link.
Advocacy through poetry 2
Aussie diabetes advocate and #dedoc° voice, Leon Tribe shared this poem on Twitter earlier this week which beautifully explains the power of language and communication between people with diabetes and our healthcare professionals. (You may need to click on the image to read the poem more easily.)
Stigma – diabetes and beyond
‘I have a new thing, and I didn’t want to talk about it. In part, because of stigma. Mostly, because of stigma.’
This is the start of a powerful post from Dana Lewis where she shares how the stigma that comes with diabetes has influenced how she feels about being diagnosed with another autoimmune disease. Read it here.
TEDxdoes diabetes advocacy
I’ve been a long-time fan of Grainne Flynn’s advocacy work and have shared her posts here before. Recently, she did a TED Talk about grassroots advocacy. It is all shades of brilliant and an absolute joy to watch. So… watch!
#dedoc° is busy!
There is a lot going on in the world of #dedoc°! Here’s just a taste of upcoming events that everyone can get involved in. Plus, the #dedoc° voices program will be kicking off again later this month at EASD with a cohort of new voices and alumni on the ground in Stockholm as well as following along virtually.
I’m so excited to be part of the #dedoc° symposium at EASD! Delivering a community led and focused symposium as part of the scientific program at a professional is a Big.Deal. We’re continuing to live and breathe #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs in the most impressive ways!
Disclosures
As always, I am thrilled to share things that I’ve found interesting, but disclosures are important. I’ve not been asked to share anything you see here, but figure if I find something interesting (or feel like doing same shameless self-promotion) you might too. I also figure that being transparent is important as is reminding you to consider my bias when sharing things.
I am a paid contributor to diaTribe
I am the Head of Communities & International Affairs at Diabetes Australia
On the day I was diagnosed with diabetes I was given a blood glucose meter. It was a nondescript cream colour, came in a dark blue padded bag and took 20 seconds to count down before giving me a reading, as was norm back in 1998. I can’t tell you much more about it.
In 2001, I got my first insulin pump: a Medtronic 507C. I think it was black. That’s pretty much all I remember about it.
Sometime in 2004, I upgraded to a Deltec Cozmo pump as soon as it was launched in Australia. It was a beauty – a charcoal grey, wonderfully organic design that felt sublime to hold. It was smart and cute, with a heap of features my first pump didn’t have. I loved the bolus wizard, and credit it a lot with the incredibly tight glucose management I maintained while pregnant with my daughter. That was the pump that was in the operating room with me when she was first handed to me, and it was nestled down my bra for the two years I breastfed her. She would hold onto the pump tubing in her tiny baby paws while she nestled into me for a feed. I was heartbroken when Deltec went out of business because I knew I’d need to change pump brands when the warranty was up. My old Cozmo is in a box in my diabetes supplies cupboard, too precious to throw away. To this day I think of that pump fondly and get all excited when someone else mentions how they used one, reminiscing about their love for it.
Since then, there have been a couple more pumps and countless blood and continuous glucose meters. I have limited memories of any of them. Oh, except for maybe the pink MDT paradigm I rebooted when I started DIY looping and still use today. But my fondness for that particular device is mostly because it’s pink. There was the iBGStar – a fun little gimmick because it attached directly to the charging point at the bottom of an iPhone. Remember? It was around for all of about 15 minutes because the next gen iPhone used different chargers and iBGStars were relegated to the DTech museum.
Really, there has only been one piece of kit that stands there next to that Deltec Cozmo. And it’s this (slightly blurred) baby you see on my arm. My Fenix.
I have been using this same transmitter pretty much continuously since June 2018. It’s a rechargeable Dexcom G5 and has worked like a dream. Other than a few months where I was gifted some Dexcom G6 products, I’ve exclusively had this Fenix attached to my arm. It has worked like a dream and has saved me a fortune. How much?
The retail cost for Dexcom transmitters here in Australia is $540 (now available fully subsidised on the NDSS for people with type 1 diabetes). For the last four years, I’ve forked out exactly zero dollars. Had I been purchasing a new transmitter every 3 months, I would have paid $8,640. That’s a lot more than zero dollars. In fact, it’s about the price of a second-hand 2012 Fiat 500.
Where did I get this remarkable piece of kit? From a bloke called Simon who lives in rural Victoria and has been an absolute marvel in the way he has been providing affordable CGM kit for people with diabetes not just in Australia, but around the world, so they can use what they need at an affordable price. He re-batteries transmitters and forwards them on; answers questions about loopable pumps so that people can reap the rewards of DIYAPS. He is at the end of the phone or Facebook messenger to answer questions. He has also found a way to extend the use of G6 transmitters, with the Anubis.
My Fenix is one of the simplest, least fussy DTech devices I’ve used. It works the same way as any Dexcom transmitter, except that after about three months, instead of being thrown in the bin, it gets plugged into the wall for an hour to recharge. Simon created a super simple reset tool to override the factory-set cut-off timer built into Dexcom transmitters, so the ‘Transmitter expiring’ warning was just a reminder to reset it next senor change.
I’ve done this for over four years.
At diabetes conferences, after spying the slightly odd-looking device on my upper-arm, Dexcom reps have stopped me as I’ve been rushing by to ask about it. Most want to know if it’s ‘one of those rechargeable ones’ – they all knew about the mythical Fenix! – and were always interested to know just how it worked. I had dinner one night with a senior engineer from Dexcom who asked me dozens of questions and was delighted to hear about it. I only had one question: I wanted to know that if a bloke in Victoria’s High Country could make this happen and make this life saving tech cheaper for people with diabetes, why couldn’t a multi-million-dollar tech company do the same? I didn’t get an answer to my question.
My Fenix is retiring because I’ve worked my way through my G5 sensor tash. Even though Dexcom G6 was launched into the Australian market over 12 months ago, I have happily continued to use the earlier generation with sensors either purchased or gifted from friends overseas who have been forced to upgrade. I haven’t minded that the sensors have been out of date (sometimes by years!) because it was never an issue. Plus, it meant that I could continue to use my Fenix.
The ingenuity and generosity of people in the diabetes community will never stop to amaze me. I reckon Simon could charge a fortune for his inventions, but he doesn’t. He covers his own costs, (but only sometimes; he donates a lot to people who can’t afford to pay). He is another example of a remarkable person in our remarkable community trying to make diabetes a little less burdensome. And my Fenix has meant four years of that.
When I talk about the diabetes kit I wear each and every day, I am at great pains to point out just how important it is that it does a lot more than just simply work. It needs to be simple, accurate, and not cause more stress. Skin in the game is literal and figurative when I stand up and speak about this, including how we literally and figuratively get attached to the devices that we love. I’d keep using my Fenix forever if that was the only CGM technology available to me because not once did it cause me any stress. It just made my life simpler; it reduced my diabetes burden, saved me money, and helped me hate diabetes a tiny bit less. My Fenix rose for the last time a couple of weeks ago, and now retired, lying in the same box as my Cozmo – reminders of how great DTech can be.
A new diabetes bag arrived in the mail yesterday and isn’t it an absolute joy and delight?
I have so many of these bags from Monica at Casualty Girl, but when I saw this new colour way, I knew this rainbow design was was being added to the collection as soon as I saw it on Monica’s Instagram. As my guitar-collecting husband keeps telling me, the right number of guitars is ‘one more’. Guess the same can be said for these pouches!
You can get your own bag just like this (or one of the many other designs) from the Casualty Girl e-store. She also sells gorgeous clothing, phone cases and other things to inject (yeah, I know) a little bit of fun – and colour – into diabetes. Which is always a good thing.
(I purchased my own bag because supporting diabetes artists and creators is good for the soul.)
(And no, I didn’t buy it just to style this photo, but it was literally the first thing I did as I took it out of its packaging and I’m not mad about it.)
It’s very late in Australia and I’m hypo. And I’m angry, so there’s a trifecta that suggests the last thing I should be doing is publishing words. Especially when it’s a post about something I’ve written about a heap of times before.
And yet, I’m going to write about it AGAIN because for some reason people down the back have not yet got the message that diabetes is not an amusement park ride for their entertainment, and the devices we use to, you know, keep us alive, are not trinkets to play with for kicks.
In this article, the writer referred to wearing a Libre for two weeks as ‘an experiment’. Cheers for that. People with diabetes wear these devices because they keep us alive, give us data that is essential for accurately dosing the drugs that keep us alive, and alert us to glucose levels that can plummet or skyrocket, two things that we try to avoid. So we can stay alive for longer. It’s less of an experiment and more an act of survival.
Using this tech to prove to yourself that a high GI piece of fruit or a bottle of Coke makes your glucose levels go high is not an experiment. It is basic science that anyone with year 8 biology, or access to an iPhone and IFL Science could figure out.
But okay, call it ‘biohacking’ and knock yourself out as you believe that this little investigation is contributing to scientific discourse.
Look, we can just think this sort of stuff is a bit of mindless, meaningless faff, and it would probably be good for my blood pressure if I could do that. But honestly, I think it is far more problematic.
In this latest article we have gems like this one: ‘However, my daily graph unfolds like a polygraph test: reaching as high as 7.9mmol/L after I’d had dinner.’
Sure, let’s present the food decisions people with diabetes make as lie detector tests. We already are made to feel guilty for looking sideways at a piece of cake, so cheers for adding to that.
And while we’re here, let’s demonise food and food groups, because the thing we want now is for able bodied people to start judging people with diabetes for eating half a banana, or a chocolate croissant. (Two examples given in the article that resulted in glucose spikes. Because of course they did and many people with diabetes could explain why.)
I really don’t know why people without diabetes keep doing this. I don’t understand what they are trying to achieve. Every single time an article like this gets published, it annoys and infuriates people with diabetes. And nothing new is shared. There is literally nothing in this article that we don’t already know or hasn’t been written by the latest non-PWD who decided to whack a Libre on their bicep. There is no illuminating factoid that suggest wearing a diabetes device is a good idea of people without diabetes. There is nothing that makes me think that people with diabetes will be better off because of this article.
And, by the way, if you think that non-PWD wearing diabetes devices will bring prices down, that’s not going to happen. Ketone strips have not magically come down in price because every keto bro worth their bone broth keeps a stash in the bathroom cupboard. In fact, the only effect that this increase in demand has caused for folks with diabetes is that it has become more difficult find ketone strips on the pharmacy shelf.
And if you are doing it for some biohacking experiment, just stop it. Please. It’s highly likely that in your excitement to share that the chocolate bar you ate in the afternoon spiked your glucose, the flow on effect will be stigma, blame and judgement hurled at people with diabetes. I get that probably wasn’t the intention, but because the writer lacks the nuances to communicate about diabetes, it is likely it will be the outcome.
But, if you insist on wearing one, please at least do people with diabetes the courtesy of not writing about it and publishing it in a daily newspaper for clicks. Or perhaps if you do hit publish, and call that article ‘I wore a glucose tracker for two weeks – it’s bad news for my favourite breakfast’ you could acknowledge the good fortune you have of being able to draw a line through ‘wear a diabetes device’ after 14 days and know you don’t have to do that every day for the rest of your life which is what we have do to.
This year’s eye screening appointment had aspects that were comfortingly familiar, and anxiously new. And I’ve come home with a very different feeling to the way I usual feel.
I’ve been going to the same private eye clinic for twenty years. I usually see the same orthoptist and always see the same ophthalmologist. This year, I saw a (new for me) orthoptist who opened with the clanger ‘Do you check your glucose levels?’ (I wasn’t aware it was a choice…) and followed up with ‘What is your glucose level usually?’. (This is not a question.) The rest of that appointment was comfortingly familiar – no changes in what I can read on the eye chart, excellent eye pressure and no vision changes. She put in drops and sent me to the next waiting room to wait to see my dreamy ophthalmologist.
And he is dreamy. I adore him. I mean, I hate seeing him and I tell him that each year. Then he laughs and thinks I’m neurotic, because I am neurotic, and that is how pretty much each and every year’s appointment starts. Comfortingly familiar.
This year was no different. He always asks how I am, how my family is, how work is going, what’s going on with my diabetes and other friendly chatter to settle me in and get an idea of what is going on in my world. He asked if I’d had much of a chance to travel and how I was dealing with COVID times, or, as I now think of it, normal life. Comfortingly familiar.
As was the way he shone the Very.Bright.Light in my eyes, made reassuring ‘hmmm’ noises and told me that there was absolutely no hint of any diabetes-related eye stuff going on in my eyes and that was truly great after twenty-four years of diabetes. I always do appreciate the way that he is such a great cheerleader for diabetes longevity and acknowledges what a slog it can be. Comfortingly familiar.
‘So,’ he said. ‘It’s all great news again from a diabetes perspective.However…’
Huh? ‘However…’? We don’t do ‘However…’. We do me standing up and promising to return the following year. Not ‘However…’ Yet, here we were. The anxiously new part.
‘…However, I can see really early age-related macular degeneration in one eye. Really early. There’s nothing to worry about at all.’ He looked at me. ‘You don’t need to worry.’
And then I laughed, and he laughed because the idea of me not worrying is hilarious, and I had already jumped beyond worried and landed somewhere near stressed, anxious and ready to burst into tears. (I at least managed to wait until I got home for the last part.)
I had questions and he patiently answered all of them. We spoke about family history. Apparently if a parent has AMD, their kids have a 50% chance of developing it. (Looking at this as a positive because it means that my sister might be right. Happy to take this one for the team, Toots!) He then spoke to me about things to do at this stage that help. The first is to not smoke. I’ve never been a smoker, so that’s an easy one. Then he asked, ‘Do you eat well?’ My heart sank. Another food-related thing? Turns out that eating leafy greens is protective which is fine because I love vegetables and it’s mandated in the hipster suburb where we live to eat three serves of kale a day. And finally, keeping up with regular appointments. Annual visits are still final.
‘So, Renza, It’s not diabetes. This is because of your age. After all, you’re 50 next year.’
‘Settle down!’ I said and suggested he dial things back a little. ‘I’m not even 49 yet.’ He looked at my chart again and needlessly pointed out that regardless of my current age, I am still turning 50 next year. (I’ll just point out that this was also comfortingly familiar because he frequently mentions that I am getting older.)
I sighed. And got into the car with my dad and told him my news, opening with the comfortingly familiar and then moving onto the anxiously new. We went for a coffee, and I tried to focus on the positives. And then I got home and had a little cry.
Because here’s the thing. I expect things to break. I’ve been told that things are going to break thanks to diabetes since the day I was diagnosed. And so, whenever something doesn’t break, it comes as a huge surprise. I’ve been holding my breath all week in anticipation of today’s appointment. I know that this is just a tiny hairline crack at this point, but it still has triggered a lot of stuff in my head right now. Sure, this may not be a catastrophe and sure, there is enough rational thinking to know that it’s early, I’m linked in with great healthcare professionals, and we know what to look for. But still. It’s another thing. Another worry. Another concern. Another part of my body not working completely properly, or at least indicating that it’s not going to work properly in the future.
And so, I’m home now with a very different feeling to the way I usually feel after my annual eye screening. I’m already turning to the community to see who I can find there who might have some advice and understanding. I’m involved in a European ad board which relates to AMD and DME, so know that there is a whole network there who I can talk to. And I’m writing here to see if anyone out there has an experience to share. Because that’s what I do. Turn to community. I have the HCP stuff sorted. Now I’m looking for my people in the real world…
Waiting with diabetes (after dilating drops are in.)
If you’re in the northern hemisphere right now, you’re possibly all caught up in the sunshine, splashing around at the beach or spending time off work just taking time out. If you’re from the southern hemisphere, you’re either smart and have taken a holiday to Europe because EVERYONE.IS.IN.EUROPE.RIGHT.NOW, or under fifteen quilts in front of a roaring fire, counting down the days until it gets warmer. Sadly, I’m in the latter group.
I get it. Things slip by either way.
But! You only have a few days left to make sure you don’t miss out on applying for a #dedoc° voices scholarship. Wherever you are, a scholarship means you have something to look forward to in a couple of months’ time and the absolute thrill of either virtually or in-person attending a global diabetes conference or two. That’s right – TWO! EASD (European diabetes conference) and ISPAD (paediatric diabetes conference) are the next international conferences on the diabetes conference calendar. Both will be hybrid, with the in-person locations being Stockholm and Abu Dhabi respectively.
We’re well over two years into the #dedoc° voices program now, and the awesome thing about it is that it’s not just about the few days of the conference where you get to learn from incredible researchers and clinicians, while waving the lived experience flag and being surrounded by others with diabetes. I mean, that is all pretty great. But being a #dedoc° voice goes way beyond that! Once you receive a scholarship you are part of a network of remarkable diabetes advocates from across the world, and this network is the most supportive, encouraging, brilliant group of people, always ready to help. Every single week, I see people reaching out for support and advice and the responses are swift and many. I’ve not seen a single example of anything other than support, and have watched advocates truly flourish as they have worked with others, developed mentoring relationships and been supported to do brilliant things.
Unless you’re part of the program, you wouldn’t know this. And here’s the deal: anyone can become part of it. The #dedoc° voices program is open to people from across the world and everyone is in with an equal chance. You just need to spend some time completing an application. It is a competitive process, and places are limited. The people who get accepted are the ones who have taken some time with their application and really been able to demonstrate just how they are going to #PayItForward to their diabetes community if successful. No one is a shoe in; having a high follower count on socials means nothing if your application is sub-par. We take people who are new to the diabetes advocacy space, and are looking for a hand carving out their space, as well as seasoned advocates who are keen to work with others and become part of a global network, outside their own country.
So, get on it! Click on the image below, fill in the form and join us! You get to work on your advocacy while giving back to the community, all while wearing the #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs badge. How amazing is that?!
More on #diabetogenic about the #dedoc° voices program:
There are days working in diabetes advocacy that are pretty special and today is one of those days.
Because from today, all Australians with type 1 diabetes are eligible for subsidised CGM products. That means, all 130,000 Aussies with type 1 can access affordable CGM and Flash GM in the same way as all other diabetes supplies.
It’s July 1 and kick off is today, so there are likely to be some hiccoughs. And it’s going to take some time for everyone involved – from those of us with diabetes, our HCPs and pharmacies, plus anyone else – to become fluent in it all.
All the information is on the NDSS website, and I know it seems that there is heaps of detail (there is), but it’s worth taking the time to work out which group you are in and understand the process that will be required for you to access subsidised CGM.
I know that there are some people who are a little (a lot) annoyed that one of the regulations that has been put in place. Some people who are new to the NDSS CGM scheme won’t need to see a HCP before being eligible to access subsidised supplies. The rules to be in that group are as follow:
Must be already using CGM or Flash GM
Must have ordered CGM or Flash products from the supplier between 1 January 2022 and 1 June 2022
If this is you, there is an easy form to fill in, requiring just a few details including the product you intend to use so that the NDSS can validate that you have indeed ordered within the required timeframe. If you’ve ordered outside that timeframe, you’ll need to have your eligibility form completed by a HCP.
These rules will mean that some people with diabetes who have been using CGM for some time, but have not placed an order with a supplier between 1 Jan and 1 June, will not be fast-tracked, and will need to wait until they next see their HCP to fill in the required form (or have their HCP fill it in online before their next appointment).
I’m in that situation. Despite having used CGM for over 10 years (long before most diabetes HCPs even knew what CGM was!), I will still need to see a HCP to have my form filled in. I’ve been using expired G5 sensors or G6 sensors donated or purchased from pharmacies or others with diabetes for the last couple of years. I did place an order recently to take advantage of a super cheap offer that had been made to lure users, but that was after 1 June.
While frustrating (and I know a lot of people who have found themselves in the same situation), I do understand why it’s necessary. I have heard of dozens and dozens of people who have never used CGM or Flash, who jumped in to get the super cheap introductory offer AMSL were offering for Dexcom G6, and others who ordered a free Libre sensor.
Sure, we can argue that people with diabetes are able to work out how to use tech without HCP instruction, and that probably the case for most people. But there are some people who might find it difficult and that might mean they are not able to get the best out of the device. There is no point using any sort of diabetes technology if it’s not being used properly and I say that as someone who used a pump for the first three years without decent training and education and, because there were so few pumpers around at the time, no peer learning opportunities back then. I was self-funding in 2001 when I started, paying around $300 a month and getting absolutely nothing of value out of it. What a waste of money.
The NDSS is a taxpayer funded initiative and I guess, as a taxpayer, it’s reasonable to want to know that those accessing it are benefiting from it as much as possible.
If we can look beyond the initial teething issues that are inevitable and step back to look at the big picture, Australia’s entry into the #CGMForAll people with type 1 diabetes is incredible and stands up when compared with what is available elsewhere in the world.
There criteria is pretty broad meaning that absolutely no one with type 1 diabetes should miss out. And while initial forms need to be completed by a HCP for many, there isn’t an assessment process that becomes a barrier to access. I have friends with diabetes in other parts of the world where in writing there appears to be #CGMforAll, but the reality is that HCPs wield a lot of power before that becomes a reality. The hoop jumping here in Australia is relatively minor (even with the matter mentioned earlier in this post).
I certainly think that within a few months everyone who wants to access CGM through the NDSS will have been able to. And in a couple of years’ time, subsidised CGM access will just be part of what we get here in Australia, and will be expected. I suspect, however, that the ten plus years of advocacy I’ve been involved in won’t be forgotten. This win has been hard fought. But jeez was it worth it!
DISCLOSURE
I work for Diabetes Australia who administers the NDSS on behalf of the Australian Government. I do not work in the NDSS team. My access to the NDSS CGM initiative is the same as for every other person with type 1 diabetes in Australia – I’ll be seeing my endocrinologist at the end of July to get her to complete the relevant form so I can access subsidised product.
Diabetogenic 