Diabetogenic

Only the one

September 3, 2012 in Uncategorized | 11 comments

My daughter is amazing. She is smart, bright, beautiful, funny and has an incredible sense of what is right. For an almost-eight year old, she is incredibly mature and, thanks to spending a lot of time with adults and travelling the globe, she has a pretty broad view of the world.

But today, she is sad and my heart is breaking at the reason for her tears.

She wants a brother or sister. Desperately. I am not surprised at her telling me this today; she has mentioned it on numerous occasions. Often as a throw-away comment, other times as a pleading question. Perhaps the way I’ve dealt with it has been too flippant, or I haven’t paid enough attention to just how much she is affected by our family situation. ‘Oh, mummy decided that after you came along she was perfectly happy and didn’t want another baby’ or ‘You have all our attention and love – that’s pretty special, isn’t it?’ or the more truthful, but not really complete ‘It was very hard for mummy to have a healthy baby. I am so lucky to have you’. The underlying story is that my diabetes is a reason that our daughter does not have a sibling.

And to a degree, that is true. But really, diabetes is not the reason that I didn’t have another child. Well, not the only reason. After finally getting pregnant (following fertility treatment and many months of trying) I had a miscarriage. It was the saddest, darkest period in my life. I mourned the loss of the baby I wanted so, so desperately but, at ten weeks, had died. I felt my body was useless – the same body that had taken me so long to get pregnant had not been able to carry a baby. Useless, hopeless and more broken than I could imagine.

My doctors assured me, reassured me and were certain that diabetes was not the reason for my miscarriage. I had achieved an ‘in-target’ A1c prior to conceiving, I monitored my BGL diligently and adjusted insulin accordingly, I ate well, I don’t smoke: I ticked all the ‘having a healthy baby’ boxes. And still something went wrong.

Today, with the benefit of time, I know that this was just ‘one of those things’. But at the time, I had a need to ‘blame’ something or someone. So I blamed diabetes.

And I made a deal – not sure with who; maybe myself. But I decided that one healthy baby was all that I would ask for. Once I was able to conceive, grow and deliver a healthy baby I would not ask for anything further; not be greedy; not push my luck.

It took another eight months for me to get pregnant and I spent the next 38 weeks waiting for something to go wrong. The fact that I delivered a healthy, wonderful, beautiful baby girl was nothing short of a miracle to me. It still is.

When our daughter was almost two, my sister-in-law had her second child and suddenly, I had a nephew. He was (he is) beautiful and I dared to think about having another baby. I once again did all the ‘right things’ – saw my ob/gyn, had all the pre-pregnancy tests done, made sure my A1c was under 6.5%. Tick, tick, tick. And then, first month of trying, I got pregnant. My husband and I could not believe our luck. We were having another baby. For a few weeks we planned, decided to renovate our house, wondered how we would love another child as much as the one we had, dreamed of what this one would look like.

But then I miscarried again. I was sad – I went home after the D&C and hugged my daughter closely to me – but certainly not as bereft as after the first miscarriage. I once again felt that my body was broken and that I was not accepting its limitations. And I remembered the bargain I’d made. At that point, I knew that I would not try again and that I would be forever happy with our family of three.

By choice or by fate? Sometimes I feel that having only one child was not something I decided to do. My body has limitations and diabetes is one of them. Is it the reason that I have only one child? Probably not the only reason; but certainly, definitely, absolutely one of them.

So today, I explained this to my daughter. I spoke about the miscarriages in a way an almost-eight year old could understand; I told her how much her daddy and I wanted her; I explained that our family is perfect for us; I explained that she is loved . She took it in, thought about it and looked at me through teary eyes. ‘I really want a baby brother or sister,’ she said to me. ‘But more than that, I wish you didn’t have diabetes.’

My daughter is amazing.

Amazing.

Beep Beep! Driving and diabetes.

August 22, 2012 in Advocacy, Diabetes, Driving, Real life | 22 comments

Back in March of this year, Austroads and the National Transport Commission released their updated Assessing Fitness to Drive; medical standards for licensing and clinical management guidelines. This document refers to commercial and private vehicle drivers, so the information is relevant to people living with diabetes that hold (or are planning to hold) a drivers’ licence.

I live in Victoria, so our licensing body – VicRoads – requires that I complete a medical review form every two years. This is done in consultation with my doctor, and the form asks about hypos, changes in eyesight and other issues that may impact on my ability to drive safely.

Because I’ve had few changes in my diabetes that have affected my driving, filling in and returning this form is a pretty straight-forward matter. As long as the completed form is returned to VicRoads by the due date, I’m given a ‘conditional licence’ and I’m good to drive for another two years.

So I was expecting that the new Assessing Fitness to Drive guidelines would not really need much consideration. The guidelines cover some important things about diabetes and driving. There’s information about hypoglycaemia and impaired hypo awareness and a rather confusing flowchart to explain the processes to getting a conditional licence.

But then, in the section titled Medical Standards for Licensing we come to section 3.3.2 Satisfactory control of diabetes which states:

When assessing whether the criteria for a conditional license are met, ‘satisfactory control’ of diabetes will generally be defined as a glycated haemoglobin (HbA1c) of less than 9.0% measured within the preceding three months, as against a general goal of less than 7.0% in people with diabetes.

Whoa! What? Does this mean that if for any reason an individual’s HbA1c is above 9%, their treating doctor may refuse to complete the review? Well, apparently yes. I have been contacted by several people with diabetes who have had their licence suspended because their treating doctor refused to fill in the review based only on their above 9.0% HbA1c.

Where is the evidence suggesting that an elevated A1c will negatively impact on driving ability? I have searched and simply cannot find anything. Some people may experience blurry vision with elevated BGLs, but that is usually short-term, and ‘fixes itself’ once BGLs lower.

I can find a lot of journal articles about the danger of driving for those experiencing impaired hypo awareness. But nothing, nada, not a thing about driving with an A1c of 9.0%.

I’d like to know where that magic number came from. How is 9.0% deemed unsatisfactory control of diabetes, but not 8.8%? It appears to be an arbitrary number value that is having considerable impact on people with diabetes holding a drivers’ licence.

Disappointingly, there was no consultation in the development of these guidelines. Yes, the diabetes chapter of the guidelines were reviewed by the Australian Diabetes Society Driving and Diabetes Working Party. There was absolutely no engagement with any Diabetes Australia body across Australia. Which meant that there was no one considering the consumer side of things. All input has come from clinicians who, at times, have little understanding of ‘real life’.

Diabetes Australia is seeking clarification of these guidelines and I’ll keep you posted with what I find out. But in the meantime, if you have been unable to get your licence renewed because of these new guidelines, let your local Diabetes Australia office know.

Have you been affected by the new Assessing Fitness to Drive regulations? I would be interested to hear from anyone who has.

August 16, 2012 in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Today I’m writing over at Diabetes Vic’s blog where I look at pump therapy in Australia.

Why we need to be more like the US

August 10, 2012 in Advocacy, Awareness, Diabetes | 9 comments

Last week, I sat glued to my Twitter stream watching the tweets from two separate events that had a strong diabetes consumer (or, if you prefer, patient) presence. Firstly, there was the Roche Diabetes Summit (#RDS12) which brought together 34 diabetes bloggers from across the USA. You can read some terrific reports about the summit here and here.

Immediately following the Roche Summit was the American Association of Diabetes Educators (#AADE12) Conference. Once again, the Twittersphere was full of commentary about the different sessions, blogs were written and Facebook pages provided reviews and photos from the conference. I learnt a lot about what was going on, what new things were catching the attention of members of the diabetes online community (DOC) and I noted things that I want to speak with my endo about next time we meet.

Coming up later this month is the Australia Diabetes Educators Association/Australian Diabetes Society conference. I’m going which is pleasing on a number of levels, not the least of which is that it is on the Gold Coast which will mean some slightly warmer weather. The main reason I’m excited though, is because I will be able to ‘report back’.

How many consumer advocates will be attending the Australian conference next week? I’m guessing not too many.

You may ask why it’s important to have people with diabetes at these events. It’s a valid question. I mean, the events are for health professionals to do some professional development, some networking and find out the latest in the diabetes world. The sessions are not designed for consumers, really.

And that’s all relevant and true. But how does the information presented at these conferences then get filtered through to people living with diabetes? How do we find out about the latest and greatest, the new research, the new studies? In all honesty, how many of us have health professionals who relay this information back to us?

My endo is one of the few that actually does. We speak about conferences she’s attended and new things presented. In fact, part of my screening (read: interviewing) process when I look for health professionals is to ask what conferences they’ve attended recently and what they’ve found interesting. It gives me an idea of how up-to-date their knowledge base is. But more importantly, it gives great insight into how well they then pass on that information.

So, let me ask again: Why is it important to have people with diabetes at these events? It’s critical, because it means that the information gets passed on to us – the people living with it. Which better informs us. Which helps us make decisions about our care to improve outcomes.

There needs to be a shift in Australia. People with diabetes need to be part of the planning of conferences. If we are (or diabetes is) ‘the problem’ then we need to be part of – actually, leading – the road to the solution. I wrote about this last year, but as each year passes, and as I see more and more evidence of consumer involvement in other countries, I wonder why we seem to be so behind the times.

We need to be there in numbers and we need to be recognised as a way to get messages out. It’s a revolution in terms of the place of consumers. But our rightful place is front and centre at information sessions talking about the condition with which we live. And the time is now.

So, with this in mind and knowing that I’ll be at the ADEA conference later in the month, what is it that you want me to report back? Have a read of the program and in the comments section below let me know if there is anything you want more information about. And I’ll try to get to the sessions, tweet and blog about it.

Gadget Girl

July 30, 2012 in Uncategorized | 12 comments

I’m an excited little chicken this week! You see, I’ve been playing with a new diabetes gadget. It’s actually an iDiabetesGadget. Yes, my iPhone has become an iBloodGlucoseMeter and I couldn’t be iHappier.

Many of you will have already heard about the iBGStar. This nifty little device was launched in the US earlier in the year and social media exploded with reviews, raves and excitement.

The meter is tiny – about the size of my pinky finger, to be exact. And it weighs next-to-nothing. It plugs into the bottom of an iPhone, and using the app (available now, free from the App Store) works as a BG meter. Or, use it without your phone and it works as a stand-alone teeny-tiny meter (and then downloads the results to the app the next time you connect the meter to your phone).

The pinky-sized iBGStar on a pink background.

I am all for new gadgets. I believe that they inject (urgh!) a level of interest and increased focus in diabetes and that can only be good. This week, I’ve been checking my BGLs far more that I had been leading up to getting the iBGStar and have even managed to iron-out some post-meal highs.

And of course, there’s been lots of interest in the device from others with diabetes. There were oohs and aahs aplenty when I walked around the office showing off my new toy. It’s always amusing to hear grown people shouting ‘Get out!’ or ‘No way’ when shown something new!

What I wasn’t prepared for was the response from complete strangers. ‘That looks pretty high-tech’, a waiter in a cafe said as I stabbed my finger and checked my BGL. ‘Oh-it’s-a-BGL-meter-it’s-brand-new-I-think-this-is-the-first-one-in-the-country-I-have-an-app-on-my-iPhone-isn’t-it-brilliant-isn’t-it-isn’t-it?? His eyes kind of glazed over, but he smiled indulgently and said ‘That’s great’.

It wasn’t the first time. I’ve been stopped a couple of times in cafes (I spend a lot of time drinking coffee). One guy said ‘I want one! Where can I get one?’ He doesn’t have diabetes; he just thought it was cool.

The hype is one thing, but I’m pleased to say the device delivers on accuracy. I’ve done several side-by-side comparisons and the comparisons are good.

OK – so, clearly I love this meter and I’ve been telling anyone who cares to listen – and many who really don’t. But there’s something I love even more than the meter itself. And that is the way the meter is being promoted.

For the first time that I am aware, a new meter is being distributed to people with diabetes who are active on social media as part of its marketing strategy. I think that’s really smart Why? Well, because we like to talk. And tweet. And blog.

We are a little behind the times in Australia when it comes to using consumers (PWD or patients – whatever you prefer) to do some PR. I am not saying we sell our souls to do the work of the marketing divisions of device companies. We’re not doing that at all.

I have always been a little confused at why consumers are the last people to get their hands on a device rather than the first. I have never chosen a BGL meter or insulin pump based purely on advice from a HCP. Of course I want to hear their opinions. But really, I want to speak with people who are holding these things every day. The people who are wearing them. The people who are making decisions on how much insulin to inject into their bodies.

Surely it makes sense to have consumers involved in marketing strategies for new devices? Actually, surely it makes sense to have consumers involved in the development stage for new devices.

So – it’s after lunch and I’m going to check my BGL. On my phone. How freaking gadget girl is that?!?!

Gadget girl!

DISCLAIMER: The iBGStar is distributed in Australia by Sanofi. The folks at Sanofi sent me a meter and strips for free. There was no expectation that I would like it, love it or write about it here. (Although they knew how excited I was about the device appearing in Australia because I’ve been tweeting about it since the US launch.)

The iBGStar will be launched here in Australia in the next couple of months – official word is in the Springtime.

Fighting in A&E

July 17, 2012 in Awareness, Diabetes, Healthcare team | 10 comments

This is the tale of the time I took myself of to Accident and Emergency (A&E). This is not a decision I take lightly as there are a million things I’d rather do. Like saw off my own leg, puncture an eardrum or attend a meeting of an anti-vax conspiracy club. But I’m writing about it because it was a crap experience all around and I’m interested to hear how others have dealt with similar situations.

So, here is the good thing about having type 1 diabetes. I walk into a heaving A&E waiting room. There is blood (the guy in the corner holding his head), guts (a woman near the front throwing up hers), tears (the old woman with her daughter) and silence (most of the other people). I tell the triage nurse the situation which sounded something like I have type 1 diabetes, I have been vomiting for the last three hours, I have ketones of 4.8 and my last BGL was 12.8mmol/l. The triage nurse takes one look at me and opens the door to let me in. Like it’s 1991 and I have a gold medallion to the Underground nightclub. Straight into the VIP room!

Unfortunately, this VIP room is lit with unflattering lighting and instead of comfy lounges I lie on a trolley. I am seen by a couple of brilliant nurses who put in an IV line and ask sensible questions and say sensible things like ‘Of course you can check your own BGL. Would you mind telling us what it is when you do it?’ I have two new BFFs and I want to take them out for ice cream – perhaps I’ll wait until the ketones have cleared, though. I tell them that, according to my sick day protocol, I have upped the basal rate on my pump and have given myself a correction bolus which is already working as my BGL is now down to a stellar 7.6mmol/l. Brilliant BFF nurse #1 says ‘Well, obviously your protocol is working. Are you happy to check again when the doctor comes in and let him/her know how things are going?’

Emergency doctor comes in after a mere 25 minutes (seriously VIP) and starts asking me what’s going on. I repeat the story, report that I’ve just checked my BGL again and I’m down to 6.9mmol/l and he starts by asking the usual questions about diabetes starting with ‘How’s your diabetes’. I never know how to answer that question. ‘Um, good thanks. How’s your father?’

The next thing he says is ‘We are going to need to disconnect your pump’ to which I respond, ‘That’s not going to happen’. He looks surprised and repeats a little louder what he said. This time I answer with ‘Not an option. Come up with another idea’. Now, I know that I am a nightmare patient. I know that at this point in time the doctor was wishing that I was actually unconscious. But I also knew that my pump was working (see: BGL dropping at sensible rate for proof). I also know that I was polite. Assertive; but polite.

It was then I summoned the immortal words of one of the presenters from a Type 1 in the City event and said ‘I would like to see the endocrinology registrar. Now. Please.’ Trump card! It’s kind of like lawyer-ing up!

The endocrinology registrar has much more of an idea until this question came out ‘What’s your blood sugar usually?’ Huh? Usually when? At what time? When I’ve done what? When I’m feeling how?

How is that a question? There is no answer. My blood sugar is usually variable. That’s called diabetes.

What happened next was me refusing to disconnect my pump (again) followed by a demand (from me) that the registrar contact my endocrinologist, which she really didn’t want to do. I held my ground and promised that I would disconnect my pump if recommended by my endo.

Five minutes later, the registrar returned to my room, muttered that the pump could stay connected and then she left. I didn’t see her again. I fell back against the pillow, exhausted, emotional and, despite getting my own way, I felt defeated.

I am sometimes accused of making diabetes look easy. It’s not. And when something like this happens, it reminds me just how difficult it is. The outcome of my visit was rehydration, blood tests to check all sorts of levels, monitoring of ketones (which were gone in about three hours) and then I was sent home. Mind you – I did tell the endocrine registrar (much to her astonishment) that I was leaving at 6.30pm, so she only had until then to get me sorted. (The reason for this was that I had to emcee a diabetes information session at the hospital’s conference centre.)

So, apart from five hours in A&E, not too much of an inconvenience.

But the aftermath hit me like a lead balloon. Firstly, I rather arrogantly was upset that I had found myself in that position. Gastro leading to ketones and dehydration is not the most unusual thing in the world, so I’m not sure why I should think I’m above it all. I’m not.

The second thing that upset me is this, (and again, I hope this doesn’t make me sound arrogant). If I have to battle so much at a relatively easy visit to A&E – if I have to pull every trick to ensure that I get what I want the way I want it, how do people who don’t have the same understanding of the system manage? The people who don’t know the tricks. Surely being heard is a basic right in circumstances like these.

I need someone to explain to me how it is possible that it’s OK that every minute of every day I am the one who makes all my own diabetes decisions and yet the minute I walk through the doors of a hospital I am not equipped to do so.

Do you have any experiences in A&E that leave you feeling a little cold? How have you dealt with them?

A night out with the #OzDOC crowd

July 13, 2012 in Uncategorized | 5 comments

It’s a cold, drizzly night in Melbourne and smart people are curled up at home watching re-runs of Offspring.

But not me. Instead, along with another nine people I’m heading to a restaurant in Carlton to celebrate – #OzDOC style.

In the car, are my colleagues Kim and Kelly and some guy called Simon who we met in person the day before, but prior to that, we’d only ever conversed with on Twitter. And that was pretty much the case with the other people who would be meeting us at the restaurant.

(This is the point where my parents look at me in horror and wonder when I stopped becoming risk-averse. Getting together with people you’ve met online? Surely that’s dangerous.)

The occasion? Well, there wasn’t really one, so we created one. Simon from Adelaide was here on his way back from America. Obviously this is not the most direct route to get to Melbourne from the City of Churches, but then, as we learnt, Simon doesn’t do things the easy way.

I’m not going to tell you Simon’s story – it’s not mine to tell. But you should look it up. Google #Simonpalooza and let yourself be guided to blogs, vlogs, YouTube and Twitter to let the story unfold. I will give you the dot point version:

Simon starts using Twitter
Simon is introduced to the DOC (diabetes online community)
Simon gets lots of support from said DOC
Simon gets on a plane and flies to meet people
Something huge happened in Kansas City and then again in NYC

I can boil it down even further. The DOC is amazing.

So last night, we invited some Melbourne DOC members to get together, hear Simon’s story and just hang out. Ten mostly-strangers (NOT mostly-strange) in a restaurant with nothing more than faulty beta cells in common. Coulda been awkward. But it wasn’t. It was inspiring.

There was not a lull in conversation at any time. Diabetes was but one topic of conversation. Others included camels, Shapelle Corby and a debate about whether sugar-coated ibuprofen does in fact make a good hypo treatment. Apparently, it works in Venice.

Today, I am still feeling warm and fuzzy from last night’s gathering. I feel that I have a new group of BFFs and can’t wait to hang out with them more. And I want you to join us! Our next ‘get together’ is happening on Twitter in a couple of weeks. Stay tuned for more details.

If you’re afraid of Twitter, please don’t be. Kerri Sparling over at Six Until Me did a great post about Finding Diabetes on Twitter. Have a read – it’s a great overview of the DOC and Twitter and will help you get started.

Our new hashtag will be #OzDOC. If you’re already on Twitter, keep an eye out and use it. And if you’re new to it all, I look forward to meeting you.

It’s my National Diabetes Week, too

July 9, 2012 in Diabetes, Real life | 8 comments

It’s National Diabetes Week here in Australia. It’s an important week for diabetes awareness, and any time diabetes is front and centre in the media’s mind, I’m happy. The campaign this year is calling for the federal government to fund a national type 2 diabetes prevention campaign. This is incredibly important – in around 60 per cent of cases, type 2 diabetes CAN be prevented and targeted campaigns which address those at high risk will make a difference.

And yet, I do struggle with this week. As a person who is living with diabetes, the ship has sailed for me – as it has for the 1 million plus people registered on the NDSS. And for people with type 1 diabetes, there is no chance of prevention. There is nothing that we could have done to stop our pancreases taking a very, very long smoko and basically walking off the job for good.

The frustration felt by people with type 1 diabetes is clear – and I am actually quite proud to be part of the movement that is so loud and proud about not only our condition but also, why we have it. We will and do snap at people who say the wrong things about type 1 diabetes and we strive to make sure that our condition is correctly and accurately reported.

There should be no shame or guilt associated with diabetes. Full stop. It doesn’t matter what type of diabetes we have, the most important thing to remember is that we are living with a chronic health condition that impacts on our lives. Sometimes more significantly than at other times. And if it can be prevented – as is often the case with type 2 diabetes, we should be doing all we can to support initiatives to do just that. The ‘diabetes wars’ of ‘mine is worse than yours’ helps no one. The finger pointing from within the broader diabetes community doesn’t do anyone any good.

So, this week I do call on you to participate in the type 2 prevention campaign. Go to the website and ‘vote’. Have a read of the materials and understand what it is that it’s trying to do.

And at the same time, make sure that people remember those of us who are already living with this condition. Remind them that we too need support and education. We need funding for research and we need programs that help us live well with diabetes.

Follow #NDW12 on Twitter to keep up to date with what’s going on during National Diabetes Week.

Walking for the kids

July 6, 2012 in Diabetes, Exercise | 1 comment

I have an aversion to exercise. I know that this aversion is not healthy. I know all about how being physically active is an important part of diabetes management. I. Know.

But for me, it’s more ‘just don’t do it’ rather than ‘just do it’.

I do walk a little. But usually it’s accidental. I have no idea about exercise fads – I loved the idea of boot camp until I realised that it wasn’t about actual boots.

Anyway. Each year, the diabetes organisation where I work participates in Run Melbourne – a fun run (now there are two words that don’t belong in the same sentence) that raises money for charities.

Last year, I took part in the 5 km walk. Apparently, this was considered newsworthy enough to make my local paper.

I’d like to say that participating in last year’s event started me on a path to regular and meaningful exercise, but I’d be lying. Instead, the new blue runners I bought for the event have sat in the back of my cupboard waiting for their second wearing.

That day has come! I will be walking again on 15 July.

The reason? Because I’m raising much needed funds for camps for kids with diabetes. You can read about the camps here. Lucky for me, I get to see and hear first-hand what the kids get out of going to camp. They have a great time, meet others who are experiencing similar things thanks to diabetes and offer peer support that extends well beyond the few days at camp. The kids’ parents report that their children return with more confidence about managing diabetes.

If you could spare a few dollars to donate to this program, that would be terrific. In Victoria, we offer places for about 250 kids to attend camp each year. But at least that number again are turned away. We would love to be running more camps and offering more children and teens the opportunity to experience ‘independence through adventure’.

You can make a donation here. Thank you! And the kids who get to go to camp will thank you, too!

Here I am at the starting line of last year’s Run Melbourne. That’s terror you can see in my face.

Slightly fewer than 100 things

July 4, 2012 in Diabetes, Real life | 1 comment

I was trying to think of something to write about and was getting a big, blank nothing. Not. A. Thing.

So, I do what all clever writers do when we get the good ol’ block. I turned to Twitter. Currently trending is the following hashtag: #100thingsaboutme

Now, I’m not committed enough to write 100 things about me. Hell, I don’t even think there are 100 things about me that I’d want to share! But here are a few things:

I have watched the West Wing series about 5 times. I love it. It’s my favourite drama of all time. The acting, the humour, the rapid-fire dialogue. Love. It.
Collecting collective nouns is one of my favourite nerd behaviours (of which I have many). Some of my favourites includean exaltation of larks, a rhumba of rattlesnakes and a prickle of porcupines. But the most beautiful and my overall favourite – a blessing of unicorns (very apt for the DOC).
I am terrified of birds. Seriously. This has arisen from more incidents than I care to share where birds have flown directly at me, terrifying me, drawing blood and making me scream like a baby. In public. They are evil, evil creatures and I believe that there is a conspiracy in the avian world to hurt me. And hurt me good.
Despite the last sentence, I am a total and complete word-nerd. Today, I’ve used the words cacophony, whimsical, serendipitous and exaltation in casual conversation. And I swoon when people like Stephen Fry speak because the way they use words is beautiful, clever, structured and sexy.
Coffee. I love it.
On my iPod right now – Keith Jarrett, the Koln Concert.
I’m reading Finn Family Moomintroll to my daughter, which makes me feel warm and safe. I remember the first time my mum read it to me.
Ideal Saturday night in – good book, good wine, good food. I’m old and boring in real life.
I want to move to New York City for a couple of years.
I believe that most people are good and honest. I need to believe that to feel that the world will be OK.
When I was in year 12, I missed most of my religion classes because I was either sitting in the laundrette near school pretending I was a Beat poet or at a nearby park playing on the swings with my best friend.
I’m starting to feel old. I’m 38 and as I get older I feel less and less connected with younger people. I have no idea what 20 year olds like or want anymore. I don’t think they understand me either.
Family is more important to me each and every day. And that family includes my wonderful close friends as well as my real family.
My sister is one of the smartest, funniest, most beautiful people I’ve ever known. I hope she knows that I feel that way, but I don’t think she does.
I have diabetes. It’s not the most important thing about me. It’s only one of the #100thingsaboutme you should know.