Diabetogenic

HIMSS TV interview – person-centred care

January 21, 2019 in Communication, Conferences, Diabetes, Healthcare team | 3 comments

Last November I spoke at the HIMSS (Healthcare Information and Management Systems Society) conference in Brisbane (and wrote about it here). I was only flying up for the day and my schedule had been diligently planned but the HIMSS team, utilising every single moment I was at the conference centre. I was in two sessions, but before that, I was to be filmed for HIMSS TV.

Best paid plans, and all that – my flight was delayed. By quite a bit. The interview would need to be rescheduled. I landed, unsure if I would make it in time for my first talk, and begged the taxi driver to do all he could to get me there on time. The man was a miracle worker, delivering me to the conference centre five minutes before my first session started, and I walked onto the stage with the sound guy’s hand halfway down my dress (the back of it, settle down), mic-ing me up as the chair was introducing the session.

As soon as the second session was done, I was whisked away for the interview. We were running through the conference centre halls (this time the sound guy was trying to retrieve the mic he’d affixed on me earlier – we’re now very good friends), to get to the interview area.

I had literally 15 minutes before I needed to get into a cab to head straight back to the airport for my flight home, but the HIMSS team was determined to get me chatting on camera. Good thing I talk so fast.

Also, good thing that I was asked to speak on a topic that I could happily blab on about for hours. While underwater. I was there to speak about person-centred care in healthcare.

I find it a little odd that the title of the interview is ‘Disrupting diabetes treatment with a person-centred approach’, because we have been talking about this for a long time. This isn’t new; it’s not disruptive. But clearly, it’s still something that we need to be talking about, because I think that there is far too much lip service and not enough action when it comes to patient-centred care.

I’d completely forgotten all about the interview until someone tagged me in a post on Twitter and LinkedIn when the interview was launched just after New Year. You can watch it by clicking on the image below. I talk very fast…I had a plane to catch.

Spark

January 17, 2019 in Diabetes, Real life | 2 comments

So, who’s jumped on the Marie Kondo bandwagon and is in the midst of a massive clean-up and subsequent drop off at the local op shop?

I was all ready to roll up my sleeves and get dirty, until the bit about books. Thirty books? What kind of person only has thirty books? That was the point I decided there was nothing about Kondo that sparked joy and that she could fuck right off.

But, after opening my diabetes cupboard at the end of last year and half the contents falling to the floor, I decided that decluttering might be a good idea.

Here are some of the things that I found in there:

Eight different diabetes spares bags in different stages of disrepair.
Three brand new Casualty Girl bags, waiting to be used.
Seventeen (I am not exaggerating) meters that I have no strips for, have dead batteries and I wouldn’t even know if I could still order strips through the NDSS. One of them I am sure was so old that if I could get it working and had the necessary strips would take twenty seconds to do a reading. No one has time for that kind of messing around in 2019.
Some brightly coloured lancets (which actually looked so pretty, and almost – almost – made me change my lancet).
And enough boring white lancets to last me and all people with diabetes in Australia until the year 2456.
Some questionable looking glucose gel that was, apparently, grapefruit flavour. (That noise you hear is me retching.)
Far too many blood glucose log books which I picked up and laughed at. Such optimism to have kept them in there.
Pump supplies for my old Animas pump.
And my Animas Vibe pump – which is the back-up to my loopable backup pump. (Back-up to the back-up. Look at me growing as a person!)
My old Deltec Cozmo pump. (At this point, I may have teared up a little. And given it a hug. Because, damn, I loved that pump. So much joy was sparked just looking at the gorgeous little thing and remembering what a nifty little pump it was.)
Three boxes of syringes (clearly bought when I found myself desperately needing syringes for some reason and walked into a pharmacy only to be told I needed to buy them in bulk, because that’s how they come via the NDSS.)
Loose strips – dozens and dozens of them. Some of them may have been used. Some of them I can’t even remember ever having seen before. Some of them look as though they are from meters that we don’t even have in Australia. Is it possible that glucose strips can just apparate from someone else’s diabetes cupboard?)
Manuals for pumps (dating back to 2001) and meters and other long forgotten diabetes devices.
Crumpled up brochures about healthy eating with diabetes that had been annotated with comments including ‘As if!’, ‘YOU eat plain yoghurt’, and ‘This cereal tastes like gravel’.
And cables and cables. And cables.
Five empty Dex transmitter cases, with the date they were started scribbled in black Sharpie across their tops.
Programs from diabetes events past, including the first Six in the City series run back in 2006!
An iBGStar meter. Wasn’t that a fun little diabetes trend for about 25 seconds?
Cartridges for pumps I’ve never used.
Lanyards from a couple of conferences.
A few empty insulin bottles that I was going to use for a craft project until I remembered that I don’t do craft projects.

I threw out a heap of things, straightened up the rest and closed the cupboard door. I sat down on the bed and looked at my diabetes cupboard. I realised that trying to apply the Marie Kondo approach to cleaning up diabetes supplies has one major flaw. Going through all the things in there sparked a lot of emotions, but joy was not one of them. In fact, joy is not really ever an emotion that I would associate with diabetes. Frustration, anger, sadness, ambivalence, tedium, fear? They’re sparking all over the place. But joy? Not so much.

Thought about changing lancets. But the idea didn’t spark joy.

How to lose weight

January 15, 2019 in Awareness, Diabetes, Food, Guilt, Health, Real life | 2 comments

Welcome to January when suddenly the only thing that I seem to see on social media feeds, giant billboards around the city, and TV advertisements is details of weight loss programs. Because, of course, that’s what we should all be aspiring to, right? If we were happy to see the back of 2018 after a hard year, losing a few kilos will obviously set us on the track to eternal happiness in 2019.

Right?

Of course not.

Nevertheless, wellness gurus, celebrity chefs, local gyms, celebrity trainers, everyone who drinks green juice and has an Instagram account come into their own when January ticks over, heralding the birth of a new year and, while the fireworks are still bright in the sky, urging us to start a new (and completely unsustainable) diet, detox, and/or exercise plan to lose weight.

Under the guise of pressing us to be the best person we possibly can, they remind us that we have been slobs for all of December and need to shed weight because that will make us happy. Oh, and buy this teatox/12 week program/juice cleanse/lemon fast for a small monthly fee of $39. That’s not much, right? And what value can you put on your happiness, right? Lose weight; be happy. The equation is simple.

Except, it’s not. And when the emotional burden of diabetes is added to this – when there is something else that we are made to feel we need to fix – the start of the year suddenly doesn’t feel full of shiny and bright and new promise. It feels like we are about to fail. Yet again

I like the idea of stopping and hitting the reset button (oh – did you read yesterday’s post?) and if weight loss is your goal, then that’s fine. But we need to stop equating happiness and perfect health with a number on the scales. We need to stop being made to feel guilty because we may have eaten a little more than usual over the holiday period. And we need to stop being made to feel that we should be seeking redemption for our sins of enjoying the holiday period. We need to stop being sold the idea that the road to happiness and health is signposted by losing kilos

Because the reality is that all these messages actually add mental weight. And no one needs that shit in January. Or any time of the year.

But, I have found some ways to shed that weight.

You could start by getting of social media completely. But that’s as laughable to me as suggesting I should be running 5Ks a day and consuming only kale and kombucha. It is, however, worth acknowledging social media – actually, any media – is a fucking nightmare at this time of year, maybe even more so than at other times. But, there are some bright lights out there that, instead of suggesting that we are full of faults and problem areas that need fixing, encourage us to just damn well like (or even love!) who we are. Here are just some things you may want to check out:

Nina Mills is a Melbourne-based dietitian who just gets it. Her blog, Twitter and Insta feeds are well worth following for their no-nonsense approach to eating and anti-diet messaging. She nourishes the SoMe soul with delicious recipes and sensible ideas, and a healthy dose of self-deprecating humour too (her food fails posts are hilariously honest!). It is no secret that I have had very few positive experiences with dietitians – both personally and professionally – in my 20 years with diabetes, but had I met someone like Nina years ago, I would have a very different story to tell.

You can follow Nina at Feel Good Eating on Insta.

Body Posi Betes is run by my mate Georgie, who thankfully has returned from Paris and made Melbourne feel right again. The diabetes thread that weaves its way through her posts is life-affirming, as is the complete and utter refusal to subscribe to any sort of diet culture. She is sassy, sweary and fucking fabulous.

Start with Body Posi Betes on Insta.

Claire Christian is one of my kid’s favourite writers and her Insta stories are full of great ideas and strong feminist messages. She is a high school teacher as well, and if you have teenagers, (especially teenage daughters), check her out. (I have no issue with swearing…obviously…but if you do, you may find some of her posts a little confronting. But if you can push through that, she is just such a great role model for young girls, and 45 year old women too!)

Follow Claire on Insta here.

Watch Dumplin’ on Netflix. And then watch it again! It is so, so gorgeous. It’s completely PG, and totally appropriate for kids. Plus, Dolly!

It’s not hard to love Jameela Jamil, and her amazing #IWeigh campaign continues to remind women that we are so, so much more than a number on the scales. She tore strips through celebrity weight loss products at the end of last year with a hilarious video of her spruiking a (fake) detox program. Her posts are brilliant, she is brazenly feminist, and calls out any bullshit she sees.

Her Insta is here. And here’s what I wrote about the #IWeigh campaign last year.

Obviously, there are so many other great thing to check out, and if you have any suggestions, please share them in the comments. This is a great time to curate what and who we follow by removing anything that makes us feel that we have faults or need fixing. Because we don’t. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be better or to find ways to make ourselves feel happier and healthier. But shaming or guilting us into it, or focusing purely on how we look is not the way to happiness. That just weighs us down.

Ice cream is not a reason for guilt. Tastes good, though…

Reset

January 14, 2019 in Diabetes, Reblog | 1 comment

Well, hello! And happy New Year.

How has 2019 started for you? Have you bundled into the year following on from last year, or have you managed to stop for a bit and found yourself in the blissful state of not knowing what day of the week it is? I was like that until yesterday when I had to accept it was Sunday, the day before Monday…and Monday meant back to the grind.

After three weeks off, I’m back at work. Those three weeks were truly delightful – late nights, lazy mornings, limited plans, and topped off with a few days on the coast at a very quiet seaside town. There was bright sunshine – and I have Dexcom tan lines to prove it. The sun has warmed me through to my bones and recharged me.

Once again, I’ve not made a single resolution – because I’d have broken them all already – and trying to not look too far ahead into the year because the calendar is already looking slightly scary. I’m trying to preserve the relaxed, breezy feeling that has cocooned me. And not think about airports.

But I have been thinking about my word for the year. I still like the idea of this. I’m not sure exactly how successful I’ve been the last couple of years with my choice of words and what they were meant to represent, but I do like, if nothing more, that they helped me shape some of my plans for each of those years.

This year, I have decided that my word is reset. I feel that one of the things I do badly is get too caught up in what is going on, finding it difficult to see the wood for the trees. It’s easy to do – something happens and we become too invested in our own viewpoint that we actually lose overall perspective. Other times I get caught up and end up just being on autopilot, not really thinking about what I am doing. When these things happen, I need to stop, snap out of it. And reset.

So this year, that’s what I am going to try to do anytime that I find myself in the midst of something. Or when I feel that I am just coasting and not making any meaningful decisions.

I think I need to do that a little with my diabetes. I have settled into a comfortable, but not especially proactive routine with how I am managing my diabetes. It’s resulted in me being a little less engaged than I would like to be, and that leads to me starting to feel guilty. That bloody diabetes guilt is really hard to shake, but the best way I’ve found to keep it at bay is to think a little more about what I am doing.

There are no grand gestures or plans in this. It’s just about trying to be a little more meaningful and concentrated in my actions. And this intention feels good.

So, here’s to a happy 2019 to you all. Please feel free to remind me any time that I am getting a little ranty and ragey that I need to snap out of it. And reset. I would really appreciate that!

Leonard Thompson – 97 years later

January 11, 2019 in Uncategorized | 1 comment

I wrote this post 2 years ago to commemorate an important date in diabetes history: the administration of the first insulin injection. Today, it’s 97 years since Leonard Thompson was given this life saving drug; the drug that keeps me and millions of others around the world alive each day.

And yet, 97 years later, insulin is not accessible to everyone who needs it and people continue to die because they cannot afford the same drug that those of us in Australia can easily and affordable find at any local pharmacy.

So today, as I remember Leonard and the significance of this date and reshare this (slightly edited) post, I’ll be making a donation to Life for a Child. Because no one – no one – should die because they cannot access a drug that has been around for 97 years.

___________________________

On 11 January in 1922, a 14-year-old boy in Toronto was given the first insulin injection to treat diabetes. His name was Leonard Thompson, and he lived for another 13 years, before dying of pneumonia when he was 27 years old.

Before he was given insulin for the first time, Leonard was on the only treatment available at the time for those diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. He was on a starvation diet, and he was close to death, drifting in and out of a coma because of diabetes-related ketoacidosis.

There are dates each year that trigger reminder lessons in the discovery of insulin. On those days, I say a silent thank you to Banting and Best for their work, grateful to them for my life and I peek into my refrigerator at the vials of insulin within easy reach for when they are needed.

But I also feel a great sense of sadness and frustration, because today, ninety-seven years after Leonard Thompson was given his first insulin injection, this miracle drug is still inaccessible to so many people with diabetes. And people are dying, suffering in the way that Leonard was before he was given the drug for the first time.

Yes, I said ‘suffering’. And I don’t use that word. I don’t suffer from diabetes – I live with it. But make no mistake, someone who cannot access insulin and is dying from diabetic ketoacidosis is suffering. They are in pain; their body is in distress. They are dying.

The playing field is so un-level and that is simply not fair. So if you are able to – if you are one of the fortunate ones with insulin in your fridge, please do consider donating to those who are not.

Around Valentine’s Day each year, Spare a Rose suggests sending 11 instead of 12 roses. The AUD$6 saved provides insulin for a month to child with diabetes through the IDF’s Life for a Child program.

Insulin for Life Global needs donations to fund transport costs for delivering insulin to those most in need. AUD$12.50 will cover the cost of sending two weeks’ worth of insulin.

It’s been a year

December 21, 2018 in Awareness, Diabetes, DOC, Family, Food, Peer support, Real life, Social media, Wellbeing | 5 comments

Well, it’s been a year. It’s always the same. Come December, and as Mariah is blaring in every store I walk into, I start to feel exhaustion. But it’s not all bad news. Holidays loom ahead. Sunny weather means more time outdoors. And long, warm nights out with friends and family seem like the perfect way to spend my time away from work. Oh, and perhaps most excitedly, my mother is going to make her famous zippoli – my favourite Italian Xmas food.

The happiest time of the year is when mum serves up zippoli. What a time to celebrate being from an Italian family!

The diabetes world remains comfortingly – and frustratingly – static at times. There are constants that shape each year, but there are also changes. Some are positive, some lead me to wonder just who is making decisions that impact on PWD and why do they seem so far removed from the realities of living with this condition?

I’m ready to draw a line under 2018 – a bold, thick, solid line – farewelling the year with the knowledge that there will always be some things about diabetes I know to be true.

Diabetes is hard. The relentlessness of it doesn’t really subside. As much as we have tools to try to make things easier, it permeates, something I realised back in July when the wind was knocked out of me as diabetes unleashed itself into every part of me, taking hold and trying to pull me under.

There is no silver bullet. Loop does seem magical to me, but my diabetes is still there. It is just here in a different way – a new normal.

The inequalities of diabetes continue to be an important theme throughout our community and we can’t turn our backs to the fact that access to the most basic of diabetes medications and treatments remains out of reach to many. There is no one way to advocate for change, and I commend everyone working at the front line to improve the situation.

Which brings me to the point where I remind everyone that it is absolutely not too late to make a donation – however small or large – to Life for a Child. Saving the life of a young person at Xmas time seems like an absolute no-brainer to me.

Peer support remains a cornerstone of my diabetes management toolkit. Of course the shape of that support changes – I’ve met some incredible new people this year and been involved in some remarkable projects. At the same time, there have been some important collaborations with diabetes friends I’ve known for some time. It’s those diabetes friends that continue to help me make sense of my own diabetes, make me realise that my village is global, and know that wherever I turn, someone will have my back. I can’t explain just how reassuring that is.

Despite feeling that there have been times that the community has been splintered and a little disjointed, I still believe that the diabetes community is something positive. I also know that it can take time to find your tribe in there, and accept that not everyone has to be best buddies. But when you do find those people who you just click with (and that doesn’t mean agreeing on everything, by the way) you do everything you can to hold on to them, because that’s where the magic of working with peers happens.

While co-design seems to have become a bit of a buzz phrase, there are some examples of it that just make diabetes activities and projects so much better! This year, I’ve had some incredible opportunities to work on projects with a vast array of stakeholders and what can be achieved is incredible.

Sometimes, (a lot of the time?) we need humour in diabetes. And sweary birds. Finding Effin’ Birds earlier this year was a source of such joy and happiness, especially as I realised that (unintentionally) the clever folk behind it have made it all about living with diabetes. I cannot tell you how many moments I have come across one of their pics on my social media feeds and it has perfectly nailed my diabetes mood.

We can’t be afraid to have conversations that can be considered difficult. This was the foundation of the Australian Diabetes Social Media Summit this year, but it went far beyond that. Women, diabetes and sexual health remains an issue that needs a lot more attention. And we need to keep talking about mental health and diabetes.

Language matters. Whatever people believe, the way we speak – and think – about diabetes has far reaching effects. It affects everything from the treatment we receive, the public’s perception of diabetes, where fundraising dollars are allocated and how governments fund diabetes.

And so, I think it is fitting that I round out the year and this post with one of the things I am so proud and honoured to have been involved in. It is one of the best examples of co-design; it involves diabetes peers, it acknowledges that diabetes can be a difficult monster to live with, and it holds people with diabetes up. Oh – and it reminds us that absolutely, completely, utterly, #LanguageMatters.

I’m taking a little break from Diabetogenic to do … well… to do nothing. That’s what I have ahead of me for the next three or so weeks. No plane travel, no speaking engagements, no media, no dealing with the diabetes things that get me down. Except, of course, my own diabetes thing. But I asked Santa for a pleasant few weeks of diabetes being kind to me. I’m sure that’s what I’ll be getting under the tree. As long has he can work out how to wrap it.

I hope that everyone has a lovely festive season. I do know for many it is a really difficult time of the year. Thank you to everyone for reading and sharing and commenting. I’ll be back some time in January. Ready to go again, and to rant and rave, celebrate, and shamelessly talk about what’s going on in my diabetes world. I hope to see you then.

Research Wednesday #2

December 19, 2018 in Awareness, Diabetes, Research, Social media, technology | 2 comments

It’s Research Wednesday again. Still not a thing, although Jane Speight from the @ACBRD disagreed with me after I said that last time, so maybe it is a thing?

Anyway, here are a few research studies you may be interested in getting involved in. Remember, participating in research is a great way to help contribute to and shape diabetes care, as well as provide insights that only those of us living with (or around) diabetes truly can. Please do consider getting involved if you can.

Women Loopers in Australia – we need you!

The Australian Centre for Behavioural Research in Diabetes is currently recruiting women for a research project on DIYAPS.

This one has been open for a while and for some reason lots of blokes have participated, but we need some women to get involved. Women are a truly significant part of the DIY world. I know that when I want information about DIYAPS, the first person I look to is Dana Lewis. And for Loop specific info, Katie DiSimone. I also know that there are a lot of women loopers in Australia. And we need you!

So – if you are female, living in Australia, aged 18 years or over, have had type 1 diabetes for at least a year, and using Loop, OpenAPS or AndroidAPS , please consider getting involved. This study involves a phone interview which will take 45 to 60 minutes, and you’ll be asked about your looping views and experiences.

CLICK HERE TO CONTACT THE PROJECT MANAGER FOR FURTHER INFORMATION

(Disclosure: I’m involved in this study.)

Loopers everywhere – we need you!

The OPEN project is a collaboration of international patient innovators, clinicians, social and computer scientists and advocacy organisation investigating DIYAPS. The first piece of work from this consortium is called DIWHY (get it?) which is looking to provide a better understanding of the reasons that people with diabetes decide to take the DIYAPS road, as well as examine barriers and motivators to building and using these systems.

You can participate in DIWHY by taking the online survey which is open to adults with diabetes as well as parents/carers of children with diabetes. The survey is available in English and German.

CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT MORE AND DO THE SURVEY

(Disclosure: I’m involved in this one too…)

Social media and diabetes care

Jacqueline, from the University of Hamburg, is currently looking for people to complete an online survey to help with her Masters thesis. She is looking at the importance and use of social media in diabetes.

The survey is anonymous and will take you about ten minutes to complete.

CLICK HERE TO TAKE THE SURVEY

Still open – new mums with diabetes

Women with type 1, type 2 or gestational diabetes who are either pregnant or have been pregnant in the last year are still needed for a survey from the NHMRC Clinical Trials Centre at Sydney Medical School (from the University of Sydney).

This is a twenty minute survey and the aim of the research is to better understand the glucose monitoring preferences and experiences of women with diabetes during (or planning for) pregnancy.

CLICK HERE TO TAKE THE SURVEY

Ugh

December 17, 2018 in Diabetes, DOC, Social media | 3 comments

I really couldn’t find a better title for this post. Other ideas were a bit sweary, so I’m going with this, because that is the sound I seem to be making with increasing frequency when I look at online encounters.

I probably should acknowledge that it’s mid-December. I’m tired and a little grouchy and so is everyone else. I am ready for a holiday and to be away from the daily grind. I need quiet, and some downtime, and a break from the crap that a lot of the time I’d barely notice, but now seems amplified and awful. I know I’m not the only one.

But even with that caveat, this year, more than any other, I have found myself needing to deliberately and consciously switch off from the diabetes online world.

Two occasions stand out for me. The first was back over the Easter period when Dexcom UK and Ireland dared to suggest people with diabetes post a selfie with an Easter egg. That sent the low-carb community into a frenzy because obviously daring to take a photo with an Easter egg (which, incidentally, no one said had to be made of chocolate), was the same as committing some sort of crime against humanity. The fact that each photo was attracting a £10donation to Life for a Child was completely lost in the carb-deprived anger.

And the second was during ADA when some in the community once again jumped on the outrage bandwagon for, as it turned out, no good reason.

These have not been isolated incidents, and the latest explosion happened on the Diabetes Australia Facebook page just the other day. (So, by way of disclosure, I work for Diabetes Australia, but I don’t have anything to do with the daily running of any of our social platforms, In fact, I don’t even have the passwords to most of them.)

What happened? Well, last week one of the team shared an article from Diabetes Daily about Xmas gifting for friends and family with diabetes. I read the article. It wasn’t the first or only piece I’d read recently about diabetes-related giving, but this was the one that was shared.

Anyway, apparently this article is hugely insulting and offensive. Yeah, I know. I had trouble joining the dots too, but some people really, really took offense to the idea that a gift with a diabetes focus should even be considered.

The comments after the article were quite nasty, including horrid remarks to and about the author. This is completely and utterly uncalled for. The writer is a person – a person with diabetes as it turns out. One of our own. Yet the comments about, and to, her were awful.

If I’m honest, I don’t really want a pair of ‘diabetic socks’, in exactly the same way, I don’t want the gift of a Michael Bublé Xmas album. But you don’t see me ranting and raving and yelling at the staff in JB HiFi because, apparently, they think that’s what a woman in her forties wants for Xmas.

You know what? If you don’t like the idea of giving or receiving a diabetes-themed gift (or Michael Bublé), don’t do it. Melinda Seed wrote a great piece last year about why she thinks it’s a bad idea and offered some suggestions that, quite frankly, I’d be happy to find under the tree on Xmas morning. Her piece is not aggressive, it’s not mean spirited. It’s her well-considered viewpoint on why she wouldn’t really appreciate being given a ‘diabetic cookbook’. (Oh, and she managed to get the words weird-arse and diarrhoea in one sentence, which made me laugh out loud. Probably more than Mel intended.)

This sort of commentary is great because it provides a different perspective, once again showing that we don’t all have to agree to get along. But when the response is aggression and nastiness and rudeness, all that does is divide the community.

I feel that there has been quite a bit of that this year. I do know that it’s always been there to a degree. But this year? This year it seems to have been taken up a level. Maybe I’m just tuned into it more. Maybe I’m just over it more. Maybe my resilience around this kind of stuff just isn’t what it used to be.

So, for the sake of my sanity, the ‘block’ function has had more of a run this year than ever before. And, I’ve discovered and made a lot of use of the mute button. Not seeing negativity or aggression, or people who seem to just want to complain, constantly coming up in my stream is refreshing.

But the best thing I do when I see something that isn’t necessarily aligned with my diabetes philosophy? I scroll on by. That’s the only action necessary. Scroll on by.

Revisited: Silly season survival

December 14, 2018 in Diabetes, Family, Food, Real life | 2 comments

I wrote this piece a couple of years ago about how to get through festive season feasting, but it absolutely still rings true. So I thought I’d share it again with a few tweaks. And remind everyone (including myself) that food doesn’t have a moral compass point, and that we can and should enjoy whatever we choose eat during the holiday period without guilt or regret.

________________________________

You may not have noticed, but the festive season is upon us. (Actually, according to Woolies, the festive season has been upon us since the first week of September which was when I first saw mince pies on their shelves. As Louden Wainwright III says ‘It’s a season, it’s a marathon….’)

Anyway, it’s the festive season and with it comes lots of messaging about eating with diabetes during this time of the year. Now, I’d like to leave my diabetes behind whilst eating during the holidays, but I’ve come to learn that diabetes is a shit and doesn’t work that way. Because, diabetes IS for Christmas….and every other bloody day of the year as well. Happy holidays!

I saw an article this morning about how to keep your eating and drinking in check during Xmas and other parties, and by the time I finished reading, I was weeping uncontrollably and wanted to curl up in the foetal position in the corner and not emerge until February. I also wanted a drink, but it was 6.45am and I was feeling the judge-y eyes of the writer staring at me and the Moscow Mule I was about to make for breakfast.

All articles about diabetes and festive-season-eating demand limiting everything – alcohol, food, happiness. Quite frankly, limiting alcohol at family gatherings is not an option for many people, which seems to be lost in this particular article’s horrific and laughable suggestion of taking your own water to water down drinks. (I lost the will to live at that suggestion.)

Obviously, a blow-out is best avoided, but that is wise even if you don’t have diabetes. There is nothing worse than feeling as though you literally cannot move from the sofa – mostly because it means you could be stuck sitting next to a distant relative who wants to tell you, in detail, about their recent adventure in passing kidney stones, or (worse) about their neighbour who died from diabetes-related complications. Diabetes: it’s the gift that keeps on giving.

So, here are some of the things I’ll be doing to survive the next few weeks.

Acknowledge that this time of year is about food and that is okay. This is definitely the case for my family, and I am already counting down the days until I gorge myself on my mother’s freshly made zippoli.

Throw any thoughts of guilt out the window (along with suggestions of BYO H2O).

Make a game out of my CGM by seeing if I can spell out any swear words in the ‘ain’t no mountain high enough/valley low enough’ trace.

Remember that even though I have diabetes, I have every right to enjoy whatever I feel like eating. Or don’t feel like eating. The low(er) carb thing may or may not stick over the festive period. Obviously, my mother’s zippoli are carb- and fat-laden parcels of perfection, so the low(er) carb thing can fuck right off once they are set down in front of me, but I probably will still avoid other carb-y things because dealing with high glucose levels or inadvertently overdosing on insulin does not a festive occasion make.

Seriously, give me a huge bowl of cherries for dessert and I am a happy chicken. (The non-watered-down alcohol has probably helped get me to that state, but cherries also make me undeniably happy.)

Brush up on my responses to ’Should you be eating that?’, which (thankfully) I probably won’t need to use anyway. Funny how I only ever needed to hit someone once over the head with a spoon after they asked me that…

Find red and green Sharpies and write ‘My Diabetes; My Rules’ in festive script on the inside of my hand to remind me to do whatever works for me. And to shove in the face of anyone who does actually ask ‘Should you be eating that?’

Thank the Xmas angels that Brunetti in Carlton is open on Xmas morning, meaning that we can make the ten-minute dash there, drink coffee and eat pastries before the onslaught of family, food and festivities.

Make a donation to Life for a Child because not everyone gets to decide if they will use extra insulin to cover the second slice of passionfruit pav.

This blog is not about giving advice, but I am going to give some now as I believe this is possibly one of the best ways to survive until the end of the year:

Don’t read any articles telling you to eat nothing but cardboard or watered-down grog. Or suggesting you take your own plate of crudités to parties. I don’t care that it’s a French word, it just means carrot sticks. And having spent the festive season in France, I can tell you no one was serving carrot sticks for the family Xmas dinner. Plus, if I’d taken my own, I probably would have been mocked in French, and not been allowed to drink any of the delicious non-watered-down red wine or bûche de Noël for dessert.

Aussie festive season = mango season

Basic instincts

December 13, 2018 in Diabetes, Real life | 2 comments

I always thought that the whole concept of maternal instinct was a load of bollocks. People kept telling me that once I was a mother I would understand it, but I didn’t believe it, especially after our twenty week scan. I was absolutely positive our little kidlet was a boy, so much so that I had refused to even consider girls’ names. ‘Oscar Harry,’ I would say when anyone asked. ‘We’re sorted. That’s what he’ll be named.’ When the sonographer told me that she was 99.9 percent sure that the baby half way through gestating was a girl my first response was ‘She’s going to get teased at school with a name like Oscar.’

As it turns out, maternal instinct is a thing, something I worked out pretty damn quickly when I learnt how to decipher between a ‘this-is-just-me-being-a-baby-and-not-having-words-yet-but-can-I-please-have-some-cuddles’ cry and a ‘this-is-something-serious-mum-please-take-action’ cry.

The way I see it, maternal instinct is just another name for intuition. And that is something we all have. What we do with it though – and just how tuned in we are to our own instinct – is completely individual.

Some of us have a finely-tuned ear, able to pick up whatever our intuition is telling us, never second guessing it and simply accepting and acting accordingly.

Others hear it, ignore it, try to convince ourselves of something more convenient. Because sometimes it’s just easier to believe what we want about a situation or a person than to try to work out what doesn’t feel quite right.

That intuition can be a life saver. But it doesn’t work in isolation.

I wrote a few weeks ago about how my resilience level contributes to how well I respond to situations around me. And it seems that there is a very distinct connection between how resilient I feel and just how much I pay attention to what my instinct is gently whispering. Or yelling.

When my resilience levels are high, I listen to any and all messages of intuition and trust what I am hearing unreservedly. If it is telling me something, I believe it and act accordingly. When not feeling resilient, there is other noise in there. And that results in me either not recognising what my instinct is telling me, or I just outright ignore it.

My diabetes intuition has been put through its paces over the years. It’s what tells me that a pump line needs changing, even though it feels fine. It knows when to calibrate according to Dexcom instructions, rather than the more lackadaisical approach I take most days. It alerts me to an off CGM reading, suggesting I double check with a glucose reading.

When I pay attention, it pays dividends. Clean and new pump line in and glucose levels continue along their merry way, as compared with a site that is producing numbers that can only be because insulin absorption is not happening properly – even if I don’t want to believe it. A well-calibrated Dex equals numbers I know I can implicitly trust rather than double guessing every number I see. Double checked CGM number – even if it is smack bang in line with what my glucose meter tells me – gives me the confidence that Loop can and should continue to hum along quietly and do its thing.

It’s not rocket science. It’s just paying attention to what my intuition is telling me, instead of trying to explain (or rather, excuse) things away with pretty much anything else I can think of. Because, you know, if it walks, swims and quacks…well, you know the rest.

I know there have been times when I’ve certainly almost deliberately ignored my intuition, instead convincing myself that something, or someone isn’t necessarily what appears before me. Sometimes, it takes a while – often far too long – to realise that I should have listened to my intuition in the first place just believed and accepted what it was saying. It can be easy to get swept up – especially when I am not feeling resilient enough to see what is right there in front of me.

And then I wonder how the ~~fuck~~ duck I missed it in the first place.