Diabetogenic

Snapshot

March 18, 2015 in Devices, Pumps, Real life, technology | 2 comments

Last night, I rather smugly put this picture up on my Instagram:

Pump1

‘Look at me,’ the picture screams. ‘I am winning at diabetes!’

And then, this morning, after eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, this was how my pump screen looked:

Pump2

W.I.N.N.I.N.G.

So, riddle me this, why did I wake – after eight hours of uninterrupted sleep – feeling so completely and utterly exhausted? I wasn’t up overnight to go to the loo or let the dog out or deal with a low blood sugar. I just slept. Peacefully.

There was no explanation.

Until I looked at this:

And this:

Pump4

And this:

And then it all made sense. Except it didn’t. How had that happened? Had I sleep-walked into the kitchen, sleep-baked a pavlova and sleep-eaten it? Had I reached over in my sleep and eaten some of the jelly snakes on my bedside table?

The answer is no. All I had done in those eight hours was sleep.

Without my CGM on, I would have had that pre-bed BGL and the morning BGL as the only pieces of information. And it would have looked damn pretty. I would have spent all day thinking about how lovely and pretty and stable by BGLs had been overnight.

But with my CGM on, I know a lot more.

Which is great, except I’m not sure that I want to know. Because now I feel like I have to do something about it and quite frankly, I am still not in the headspace to be analysing glucose levels and making basal changes and being all diabetes-smart.

My CGM is on this week as a security measure. I really didn’t feel like putting it in, but I knew that I needed to. I am counting down until I can rip it out on Friday morning, which is a far cry from trying to get as many days as possible out of each sensor as a cost-saving measure.

I now know why I am not feeling particularly rested, but I feel even less rested with all this information at hand. THIS is when data is paralyising – when we just don’t have the ability – for whatever reason – to do anything with it and all it does is overwhelm us. Ever more.

Interweb Jumble #6

March 17, 2015 in Diabetes, Real life, Social media | 2 comments

Emergency!!!

I was a little excited to learn the other day that my iPhone 6 could do this:

My medical ID can be accessed from the lock screen (i.e. no password required). The details can be customised (as such, I have chosen to NOT include my weight here!) and ICE contact details can be added.

How much will paramedics and other emergency services staff use it? I’ve no idea. But it gives me another excuse to lull myself into a false sense of security believing that I don’t need to wear a medical alert bracelet. (Okay, okay; I’ll get on to that!)

How to here!

What’s the latest from MySugr?

This! Congratulations guys – so thrilled to see that you are continuing to go from strength to strength. It’s what happens when people with diabetes are creating things for people with diabetes.

My Sugr – helping diabetes suck less.

Dexcom. Like a pancake.

The new lower profile Dexcom has been launched in Australia. Which is good because the first G4 sticks out this much:

And when wearing a dress that is this tight, it’s pretty bloody unforgiving!

Doctors 2.0 tweetchat

I know that it seems pointless talking about this after it happened, but this morning I took part in a terrific tweet chat from the wonderful Denise Silber (I love that I get to refer to her as an American in Paris – ‘cause that’s what she is!) and the team at Doctors 2.0 and You. Read the transcript if you can (hashtag: #doctors20) – it was a great discussion about fostering the consumer (patient) HCP relationship using SoMe.

Munchausen by Internet

This probably warrants a blog post of its own, but in the meantime, have you been keeping an eye out on the Belle Gibson story? The short of it is that Belle, who has built a social media empire sharing her story of beating cancer using only diet and positive thinking, has not been entirely honest.

Not only does it seem that Belle is not who she says she is (she is not even the age she has said she is!), but there is mounting evidence that she never even had cancer. Add to this some questionable online fundraising activities, and you can understand why this story has captured the media’s attention.

While the whole story is reprehensible, it has left a lot of people asking why someone would fake having cancer (or any other medical condition). As it turns out, this is a thing. And it’s called Munchausen by Internet.

I first read something about Munchausen by Internet years ago in the Good Weekend. (You can find the article here.) And once I became part of the DOC, I remember a couple of times where people who have claimed to have diabetes have been exposed as fakes. (Here’s a post from Your Diabetes May Vary.)

There’s lots about Belle Gibson’s case online at the moment. Start here. And here.

Kudos to D-UK

Last week was the Diabetes UK Professional Conference in London. It was great to see so much twitter activity from the conference with a significant contingent of consumer (patient) bloggers and social media folk at the event and tweeting from some of the sessions.

Well done to D-UK for remembering that even though the event may not be for PWD, we have an interest in what is happening there. And who better to share that information than others living with diabetes?!

Bugger off Pete Evans

It’s never nice to take delight in someone’s misfortune, but let me tell you that I have been doing A LOT of fist pumping with all the articles exposing Pete Evans and his latest ridiculous efforts to provide nutritional information for babies. Yes. Babies.

As a foodie and someone who has a ridiculously large cookbook and cooking magazine collection, I am always on the lookout for new recipe books. Because they are a good source of…recipes. The people writing these books are chefs or cooks who are good at….cooking.

But the second that someone moves from cook/chef/someone who can show me how to incorporate Nutella into another recipe, to pretend healthcare professional, they are no longer welcome on my bookshelf.

I don’t care that Evans claims to be working with a ‘nutritionist’, he is a chef. His area of expertise is mixing ingredients together, cooking them at the right temperature for the right length of time to produce something yummy.

He’s not done any meaningful study that gives him any credibility at all to provide information about nutrition. At all. So why he thinks he should be playing in this space is completely and utterly beyond me.

Recipes!

I made these. And they were delicious. I adapted the recipe slightly and half of the biscuits ended up with Nutella AND peanut butter in the filling. Which made them even better.

Driving

After I wrote this piece, I’ve had a lot of people mention to me that they have been asked to provide an eye report for no apparent reason.

This seems to be a particular issue in Victoria.

Remember – if you’ve not been asked to provide an eye report before and at no time has it been indicated on your medical report (filled in my your GP or endo) that you have diabetes-related eye problems, you are not required to (as a matter of course) submit an eye report.

Again – Nowhere in the regulations does it state that it is mandatory for people with insulin-treated diabetes to arbitrarily provide an eye report.

The best way to address it if this has happened to you is to start by calling the number of Medical Review at VicRoads and query the request.

If you are not satisfied with the response (i.e. you are still being asked to fill in the eye report and are told that the regulations call for this) call the Advocacy team at Diabetes Australia – Vic.

Cartoons

New Yorker cartoons are possibly the best things ever and the medical ones have me giggling all the time. Like this one.

Don’t blame me once you click on this and then don’t get another thing done today!

Happy St Pat’s Day!

When the kidlet was about two weeks from being born, Aaron and I went to see The Chieftains play at The Palais. For two hours of jigs and reels, the little munchkin kicked and danced around, only stopping when the music stopped.

Listen to this!

Chronic

March 16, 2015 in Diabetes, Language, Wellbeing | 1 comment

I’ve been thinking about the word chronic recently. It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot in health. Simply put (although there is nothing simple about it!), when used in relation to health conditions, it means ‘ongoing or constantly recurring’.

Diabetes fits quite nicely into the definition. It’s a bit of both – and ongoing component with a constantly recurring nature too. As far as I’m concerned, the ‘ongoing’ part of diabetes is a given.

Undeniably, it gets me down; of course I get sick of it. But to a degree, I just have to accept it. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere.

The real issue – the thing that makes it extra rough – is the ‘constantly recurring’ side of things. I am really not so good at this stuff; the things that go away and then reappear. That is the part that makes it difficult.

With diabetes, those recurring things – whether it be a round of nasty hypos or high BGLs that won’t go away and are really tough to understand or explain – are always harder for me to manage after a period of diabetes just chugging along.

Perhaps I get lulled into a false sense of security and the sudden ‘crap-ness’ throws everything into chaos. Perhaps I have this ridiculous idea that with almost seventeen years under my belt I should be better at diabetes than I am. Perhaps it’s the fact that I like routine and once I’ve settled into one, I don’t like to have to change for any reason. (Perhaps that last sentence could be condensed into two words: ‘I’m stubborn’.)

I’m not sure, but what I do know is that, in amongst the crap, I can – at least, I need to – summon up an attitude of ‘this too shall pass’. Because I know it will. It may take longer than I’d like, it may be harder to get through. But I know that it will pass.

And then, I will be left with the ongoing stuff. The life-long, never-ending, forever nature that is a chronic health condition like diabetes.

burn out and come back again.

Diary

March 13, 2015 in Awareness, Family, Real life | 2 comments

‘We had diary today,’ said the kidlet. We were all sitting at the table having dinner. This, I have come to understand, is one of the times we learn most about what the kidlet is thinking and what she is up to.

At the beginning of the year, all the kids were given diaries. Each night they are meant to fill details of the the book they are reading and the page numbers they have read for the day. I get why this is important. It allows the teachers to see just how much the kids are reading and the sorts of books on their reading lists. It teaches discipline and it provides a record.

Now, we have a reader. She is one of those kids who reads under the covers with a torch after lights out. When I call out to her and she doesn’t answer, it’s because she is most likely sitting somewhere outside, puppy at her feet with her nose in a book, so engrossed that she doesn’t hear my increasingly-annoyed voice calling her name.

For the first week, the kidlet was a little obsessive about her diary. Every night when Aaron and I went in to tell her to turn the light out, she would say she had to fill in the details. So, she would climb out of bed to find her diary and dutifully write in it.

I started to get annoyed. It was messing with our hard-worked-for bedtime routine with a kid who is the master of delay-tactics. She just had another thing added to her arsenal to delay going to sleep. And this time it was school-sanctioned!

The diligence lasted a couple of weeks. And then, it stopped. I completely forgot about it, so didn’t ask her.

So when she told us that she had ‘diary’ today, I realised that I’d not seen her filling it in much recently.

‘Do you still complete that every day? I’ve not seen it at home.’

‘Nope,’ she said. ‘I fill it in at the last minute while I’m sitting in class. I write down the books I’ve been reading and guess the number of pages. I know that I’ve been reading; I read every day. Heaps! Why do I need to write it down in a diary? That doesn’t show how good my reading is, does it?’ She said this without a hint of sheepishness.

I smothered a smile.

I knew I should tell her that she needs to do what she is asked to do by her teacher. I knew I should say to her that there is a reason for keeping the diary. I knew I should mention to her that it is something all kids are required to do and that she is no different from the other kids.

I knew that.

But I also knew how hypocritical it would be for me to tell her that. If she asked me what was being achieved by filling in the diary each day – how it would improve her reading or learning skills – I couldn’t give her an answer.

There is no way I would fill in a log book of my BGL levels just as a matter of course. If there was a reason for it – checking basal rates, trying to deal with pesky lows (or highs) – sure, I can see why.

But if the reason is just ‘its’s-what-we-get-all-people-with-diabetes-to-do-just-because-we-do’, I’s refuse. I can’t see the point.

Later on, I suggested that the kidlet have a conversation with her teacher about the diary and to talk about ways that she could use it that are meaningful to her – such as listing all the books that she finishes reading, or listing books she would like to read. She considered my ideas and said she’d think about it. (Possibly ten year-old speak for ‘If I say okay, will you stop talking about it, mum?’)

I thought about her sitting there in class just before she was to show her diary to her teacher. I thought about her frantically writing down the books and guesstimating page numbers. I wondered if she was using different coloured pens, so it looked like she had filled it in each day rather that in one hit. And I smiled. Because that’s exactly what I would do. That’s exactly what I did do.

Like mother, like daughter. And then I stopped smiling. Those teenage years are gonna be a nightmare!

Two and a half minutes

March 12, 2015 in Awareness, Diabetes, Guilt, Healthcare team, Wellbeing | 9 comments

Two and a half minutes. I reckon that’s how long it took before the tears started.

I walked into my endo’s office and we exchanged pleasantries. I’ve been seeing her for over thirteen years now and there is an easy banter that we fall into.

I sat down and said, ‘I’m going to need tissues. Where are the tissues?’ And that was all it took. No one had even said the word ‘diabetes’ yet.

‘I’ve got no idea where to start. Things have been terrible. I’m all over the place. I feel like I have dropped the ball – really dropped the ball and I don’t know what to do to get back on top of things.’ I briefly explained the burnout, the rough couple of years, the grief I still feel shrouded in at times following the miscarriage. ‘Even when I feel like I am seeing some light, I fall too easily back. My self-care gets forgotten very easily. Very quickly. I can’t seem to get over my miscarriage and there are days that I feel so weighed down by the loss.’

She listened without interrupting, letting me blurt out what I needed to, sniffling my way through grottily. And then she waited. So I filled the silence.

‘I know that I am being too tough on myself,’ (there was a tiny, barely noticeable nod from her at this point). ‘And I know I would be quick to point out to anyone else saying these things that they need to be a little kinder to themselves. But I don’t give myself the same breaks. I feel like I’m letting myself down.

‘I don’t know where to begin. I didn’t get my blood work done before coming here. I just didn’t have it in me. I don’t want to see any results. But I am so angry at myself for not having it done and for not keeping on top of my complications screenings – I have never, ever been behind on this before. I’m even scared to have my BP taken because I am terrified that it is going to be high. And then I’m catastrophising that into equalling kidney problems, and eye problems. Even though I know my eyes are fine. That is one thing that I am up to date with. But I am anxious about my kidneys. I don’t know why.

‘I wrote about this yesterday on my blog. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to see you. And I really like you! But I don’t want to be here and having to think about my diabetes – and how little I’ve been thinking about my diabetes.’

The words dribbled out of me, sentences running into each other. Until I stopped. I wiped my eyes with a tissue and took a deep breath. We spent a while not talking about diabetes – instead discussing other things. We chatted about our trip to New York, the kidlet, my work. My tears had dried, the scrunched up, soggy tissue deposited into my bag.

‘Okay. Jump up on the bench and I’ll just check your BP,’ she then said. And I did. And it was fine. In fact it was better than fine. I asked her to repeat the numbers to me and a lump formed again at the back of my throat, and tears pricked my eyes, but I wiped them away. They’re just numbers. I know they’re just numbers. But they were not scary numbers. They were numbers that gave me a little confidence to find out more.

‘I suppose I should get weighed,’ I said. ‘Actually, do I need to?’

‘No. Not unless you want to.’ This led to a discussion about being weighed and how fraught that is. I decided that I wasn’t really ready to get on the scales. There was nothing I needed to know or do about my weight and it would make no difference to anything.

‘I need an A1c. And a coeliac screening too,’ I said.

‘We’ll run all the usual things and take it from there,’ she said.

When I walked out of her consultation room, I felt relieved. The insurmountable ‘I need to get back on track properly’ that had been my mantra in the lead up to the appointment had subsided and was replaced with a gentle list of a few things that I could do in the short term. I had some goals, I have some plans. I have another appointment in four weeks.

I drove home and walked into the house. ‘How was your appointment?’ asked Aaron. He knew how anxious I had been feeling about it. ‘It was good. My BP is awesome. I’m going back in four weeks.’ I changed the subject. That was all I needed for today. I didn’t want to speak about it anymore.

Manners with Renza

March 11, 2015 in Awareness, cupcakes, Stigma, Wellbeing | 4 comments

I like to think that I am not one of those parents who is always banging on about how perfect their little precious is. My kid, love her as we do, can be a little devil. She is wonderful and gorgeous and clever and kind. But she is not perfect.

However, one of the things that I am incredibly proud of – and brag about like one of those parents – is her good manners. Aaron and I have had a no tolerance policy since before she could speak about the importance of saying please and thank you. She knows to say excuse me (as in: ‘Excuse me, can I please pat your dog?’ – the words she has possibly uttered more than any others in her ten short years) and she knows how to behave in a café, (as in: don’t speak to mummy until she is at least half way through her first coffee).

She doesn’t get it right one hundred per cent of the time, but she is pulled up every time she forgets.

The thing that amazes me is how frequently she is commended on being polite, just because she has said please or thank you. Surely this is simply something that people just do, but I am assured by many that hearing a young child using her manners is not a given.

I probably shouldn’t be surprised by this. Each day on my Facebook feed, there are articles such as ‘Things not to say to a pregnant woman’ or ‘Five questions to never ask someone in a wheelchair’. Apparently, people still need to be reminded to never ask a woman if she is pregnant. (Here’s an easy rule for that one: Do you see a baby coming out of the woman’s vagina? No? Is there a surgical team performing a C-section removing a baby from the woman’s uterus? No? Then do not ask. You’re welcome.)

There are about a trillion blog posts about the frustrating things that we get asked about living with diabetes.

We need these things to be written, because people seem to have bad manners. That is what it all comes down to.

We can say this is ignorance and that people need to be reminded that there are some issues that are a little sensitive. But I don’t think that is the case.

I think it is just bad manners.

I would never begrudge anyone for not understanding what life with diabetes is about. Unless they are living with it themselves, why would they know?

But asking inappropriate questions or saying silly things is not excused by a lack of understanding. It is explained by a lack of manners though.

Asking someone ‘should you be eating that?’ is just plain rude. And thinking that sharing the story of someone you know who has died a painful, horrific death because of diabetes is not a bonding exercise. It is scary and nasty. Just don’t do it.

Now, I don’t want to be all negative Nancy. No; I’m all about solutions! If you have a friend or loved one with diabetes and want to make conversation about their diabetes, here are some ideas to demonstrate your exceptionally good manners and show how much you understand:

Replace ‘Should you be eating that cupcake?’ with ‘Oh, there’s a Nutella cupcake over there. Can I get you one?’

Replace ‘Does giving yourself a needle hurt?’ with ‘Oh, there’s a Nutella cupcake over there. Can I get you one?’

Replace ‘I once knew someone who died because of diabetes. It was terrible. Are you scared that will happen to you?’ with ‘Oh, there’s a Nutella cupcake over there. Can I get you one?’

Replace ‘I could never give myself a needle.’ with ‘Oh, there’s a Nutella cupcake over there. Can I get you one?’

Replace ‘Did you eat too much sugar as a kid? Is that why you have diabetes?’ with ‘Oh, there’s a Nutella cupcake over there. Can I get you one?’

Replace ‘I saw on A Current Affair last week that if you drink a kale smoothie for breakfast every day, you could cure your diabetes. Have you tried that?’ with ‘Oh, there’s a Nutella cupcake over there. Can I get you one?’

Replace ‘Cinnamon. Cinnamon cures diabetes. Did you know that?’ with …. Actually, this is acceptable as long as you accompany the question with a cinnamon-infused baked good.

There you go. Not too hard at all. And that ends today’s lesson of Manners with Renza.

A tough week

March 10, 2015 in #dblogcheck, Diabetes, Healthcare team, Mental health, Real life, Wellbeing | 21 comments

Cookies!

I’ve just had a wonderful long weekend where pretty much every moment we were home, the oven was on with cakes, biscuits and pies filling the house with beautiful smells.

I spent the time out of the house doing the things that build me up – playing in the park and soaking up the sun, visiting bookshops, going to galleries, drinking coffee. We added artwork to our SHAG collection and I added a couple of new bracelets to my Kate Spade arsenal. I danced to Taylor Swift in the kitchen with my girl and watched Better Call Saul with my boy. Family dropped in, cups of tea were drunk, neighbours were visited. I took a Twitter break. We chased the moon. International Women’s Day was marked.

It was a good weekend – a great weekend.

Now showing on the wall in our living room.

And yet.

I start the week with a ball in the pit of my stomach and am incredibly distracted. I have an appointment tomorrow with my endo. And I am terrified.

It’s been too long since I last saw her. And if truth be told, I really don’t want to see her. I don’t want to sit there and discuss diabetes – my diabetes – and talk about how I have really dropped the ball. (Understatement.)

I don’t want to talk about the burnout that has overwhelmed me for so long and even though I feel myself emerging – there are glimpses of brightness – I don’t want to admit just how much it has affected my diabetes self-care.

I don’t want to discuss complications screenings. I don’t want to talk about them. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to face things.

I don’t want to sit in her office and cry, which I know is exactly what I will do the moment I sit down and she asks me how I have been in her incredibly non-judgemental, beautiful, concerned and caring way.

New jangly bracelets.

Throughout the last few days, in the middle of all the lovely stuff, I have paused and taken stock and thought of my upcoming appointment. I have thought about how it will play out. I have considered how, after the tears and admissions of feelings of guilt, I will leave feeling stronger and more determined – I always do after seeing my endo. But I am still scared and anxious about it all. I know that the truth of what has been going on scares me and the possibility of what has been going wrong. All of this terrifies me beyond belief.

I needed the long weekend to build me up and help with my resilience stores and I feel that it certainly did that. My support network is strong and I have people around me who are so gentle in the way the support and encourage me to live well with diabetes.

So with this in mind, I am focusing on getting through the next couple of days. And what happens after my appointment.

An expensive trip to Readings

A full biscuit tin, an armful of noisy bangles, a library of new books and a gorgeous new Josh Agle artwork on the wall are all helping and keeping me grounded. All things I need as I face a tough week.

It’s #DBlogCheck day. Read about it here and go and give some love to – and leave a comment on – some of the diabetes blogs out there that help make up this wonderful community.

Stop rocking the boat

March 6, 2015 in Social media | 4 comments

I’ve seen a couple of examples recently of some pretty nasty Twitter activity. I don’t know why people feel the need to be anything other than supportive and encouraging of those sharing their personal experiences of living with diabetes and trying to connect in a positive way.

And I certainly don’t know why anyone would want to attack another person because of the way they are choosing to manage their condition – a condition that just plain sucks most of the time. This isn’t about us all agreeing and having the same ideas. Cookie-cutter diabetes is just not a thing. (Now I want a cookie.)

Diversity of opinions is one of the reasons I actually love social media. I really do like to consider things from different perspectives and hear how and why people do things the way they do. Reading about new ideas and perspectives are a great and productive way to consider what I am doing with my diabetes management and decide if perhaps there is something else I could be doing, or something I could be doing differently.

But I would never think that just because someone is doing something different to me they are doing it wrong. And I would never, ever attack someone for what they believe. Slight disclaimer – anti-vaxxers and people spreading false information about health conditions. (Sarah Wilson – I’ve been spending a lot of time really loving myself and I still have autoimmune shit going on. Please explain.)

So, I’m going to just gently park this here.

Be nice. Really. Be nice. And remember that this journey called diabetes that we are on is not all smooth sailing. And making waves by being nasty to people is not helping anyone.

I should add that these sorts of incidents are isolated. For the most part, Twitter is full of people who support and encourage and lift each other up. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Friday funkiness comes from the legendary Tower of Power. A couple of years ago, we arrived in San Francisco and two hours later, we were at the Alameda County Fair listening to these guys on stage. No better way to get over jet lag!

It’s the Friday before a long weekend and this chicken is looking forward to three days of nothing! I’ll be back on Tuesday for #DBlogCheck day.

A new symptom

March 5, 2015 in Diabetes, Hypo, Lows, Real life | 2 comments

I am on a 7am flight to Adelaide for a day-long meeting. This is just plain rude and given that I’m on about 5 hours sleep (self-inflicted), I am coffee-d up to my eyeballs just so I can stay awake.

So, on the flight, sitting in seat 15B, I have had a little snooze, (maintaining my ‘only ever been awake for take off twice’ record by being sound asleep as we taxied and took off), and am now staring, zombie-like, at my iPad trying to make sense of the words I am typing. (Good luck to the nosey woman in seat 15C who is totally not surreptitiously reading what I am typing.)

And I’m yawning. A lot.

Recently, I have noticed a new hypo symptom. When low – having dropped slowly, I get very yawn-y. It happens completely out of the blue – a sudden onset of lazy, gaping oscitancy.

The first time this happened, I was with friends and all of a sudden, it started. I couldn’t stop yawning. One after another after another. I kept apologising, saying that the last few late nights must be catching up with me.

Shortly after, I checked my BGL and I was low – not staggeringly so, but low nonetheless. As soon as I treated and my BGLs rose, the yawning stopped and I felt fine.

It happened a few more times before I put two and two together. Sudden yawns = slowly decreasing BGLs.

When it happens, there are absolutely no other symptoms. The shaky, sweaty adrenaline rush hypos that come from either a rapid drop, or waking up suddenly overnight are completely absent. Instead, it’s a listless, snail-like feeling of sluggishness and a realisation that I am yawning. A lot.

This new low symptom is manageable and now that I have worked it out, I can use it quite effectively. As soon as I notice the yawns have started, I treat.

As someone who at times has impaired hypo awareness – love it when a BGL check shows a 2.5mmol/l and I am feeling perfectly fine – I’ll take any symptoms at all. And for me those hypos that sneak up on me are particularly symptom-less. So this is quite a welcome new development.

Of course, on days like today – when my day started on an early morning flight after a night of minimal sleep – it gets confusing. I’m yet to work out how to differentiate if a yawn is a hint I’m low. Or a silent scream for coffee.

A present from Annie

March 3, 2015 in DOC, Food, Nutella, Wellbeing | 4 comments

You know how I’m always saying that I feel very fortunate to have an online community that is so wonderful? And how the DOC gives me so much? And that I get support, love and reassurance? And all that stuff about how I feel connected and part of a global community? I’m always banging on about how I have information about real life with diabetes available and I learn so, so much. All the time. And how lucky I’ve been to meet people from every corner of the world and hear about their experiences.

It’s all true. All of it. And then, it gets taken up a notch with this.

I get sent parcels in the post:

All the way from the other side of the world:

Inside, a handwritten note:

IMG_2760-0

And scrunchy pink wrapping:

IMG_2761-0

Underneath was the most wonderful surprise:

Most, most wonderful!

And then…

IMG_2848-0

Dinner was served.

A huge thank you to the beautiful and wonderful Annie who I met because my effed pancreas and her gorgeous daughter’s pancreas are both good for nothing slobs. If I have to live with diabetes, knowing people like this make it a hell of a lot better.