I’ve been unwell.
And so, I’ve had time to think. Mind you, I’ve found it difficult to form thoughts properly, thanks to the brain fog that is impacting my attention span and ability to think things through to a conclus…oh look! The leaves on the trees in the garden are changing. I should buy the last plums when I go to the fruit and veg shop, and bake a plum cake. That would be delici… Are mandarins in season yet? Ooh, a puppy!
Anyway, back to trying to focus on what I’ve been randomly and messily thinking about.
On my last day at ATTD in Amsterdam, I wound up with a very weird pain flare that meant I could barely move. I put two and two together, came up with the wrong answer and decided it was thanks to arthritis and spent the day before my flight desperately trying to sleep it off so I would be okay to navigate Schiphol Airport and get myself home. I did make it home, but not without wheelchair assistance at each airport, and in excruciating pain for the entire long trip home.
Turns out, it wasn’t arthritis. It also wasn’t diabetes, but that didn’t stop me from trying to connect non-existent dots.
The day before the paralysing pain flare, I woke at 3am with my Dex alarm wailing. I was low. Very low. For five hours. You know, one of those lows that just won’t quit. One of those lows that simply won’t respond to massive quantities of glucose. I ended up throwing up after force feeding myself jellybeans and guzzling juice from the minibar, which was all just lovely. (And yes – I realised I had some inhalable glucagon with me AFTER the fact … but in my low fog, forgot as I was just trying to stay alive with sugar.)
Of course, I was exhausted when I finally came back in range and felt like I’d been hit by a truck. But sure enough, I got up and had a frantic day at the conference centre, in meetings, giving talks and trying to appear functional while feeling absolutely wrecked.
The next day, when I woke up unable to move because I was in pain, I thought that perhaps it was a result of overdoing things the day before, when I should have perhaps taken the morning off to recover from the hypo and the exhaustion that came with it. But of course I didn’t. Because when have I ever taken time off for diabetes? One time I had an evening black out hypo in a park requiring paramedic attention and I was in at work at my desk by 8.30am the next day. Because why wouldn’t I be? My weird and illogical attitude is that if I was to take time off to recover every time diabetes doesn’t play nicely, I’d be taking hours off each week. No one has time for that. At least, I certainly don’t.
And how very messed up that thinking is. I realise that. And I know what I say to friends with diabetes who tell me about their particularly crappy hypos, or when diabetes is kicking their arse/ass: ‘Take the time and let your body rest,’ I’ll say. ‘You’ve just been dealt a pretty shitty blow to your body and mind. Don’t overdo it,’ I’ll remind them.
And what do they do? They don’t rest. They don’t listen to their body. They overdo it. It’s what we do.
It’s messed up and we keep doing it, even though we know better. Of course we know better: because we give good advice to others. But we then do that ridiculous thing where we think resilience is strength, where actually, resilience would be listening to what our bodies need and then doing it. We ignore symptoms and give ourselves imaginary gold stars for ‘pushing through’.
It took some weird virus that literally hampered my ability to walk for me to take time off work. Sleeping 20 hours a day was all I could manage. But you know what? I should have slept 20 hours the day after the five-hour low to recover too, but of course I didn’t.
Who am I trying to impress by soldiering on as though there’s nothing wrong? What am I trying to prove? Do I think we get extra points in some bizarre Hunger Games-like challenge? Is it that I worry what others will think of me if I say, ‘I need to stop for a bit’? Am I afraid of seeming weak? Lazy? Or am I – twenty-seven years later – trying to live up to the ‘diabetes doesn’t change anything’ line I was fed the day I was diagnosed, even though it changes everything?
I’ve been back home now for two weeks now and really just getting back to regular programming now. On Sunday I was able to stand up for long enough to bake a cake. That was a win. I also was able to walk to our local café – a five-minute walk away – but needed a lift home. Slowly, but definitely better.
I’m not pushing myself – partly because I can’t, but also because I refuse to and that is something that is very weird for me. I’m home this week instead of flying to Bangkok to speak at the IDF Congress – the first time I have ever cancelled a work trip. Usually I push through. Usually I suck it up and pretend all is fine. Because I drank the ‘diabetes-won’t-stop-me’ Kool Aid when instead, I should have recognised that there is no shame in stopping to rest. I need to be better and do better about this. And listen to the advice I would give everyone else. Permission to take time out for diabetes.
This post is dedicated to my darling friend and #dedoc° colleague Jean who also doesn’t know when to stop. Let this be a reminder to put down the Kool Aid!















