More Understanding From Diabetes Professionals

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I’ve enjoyed lots of perks being in the public health system. Namely, its cost me next to nothing, and I have had access to all of the services I need through my hospital outpatient clinic (podiatry, optometry, etc.). But one of the downsides to being in the public health system is that you don’t really get to see the same doctor every time. So you don’t really get to build that relationship, that trust, or that level of comfort that allows you to talk openly to that person. There’s also a long patient list, so there’s often a long time inbetween appointments.

I remember one of my endocrinologist appointments. I’m pretty sure it was in the first year of my diagnosis. I got my hba1c and other bloodwork done before I went in to see the doctor. I think the hba1c was somewhere in the high 7s if I remember correctly. I showed the doctor my book where I had written all of my blood sugar levels. I was newly diagnosed. There were lots of 10s, 12s and even 15s. There weren’t a lot of 5s 6s and 7s. And all that doctor could say to me as he was flipping through that book was that I had very poor control of my blood sugars.

No words of encouragement. No understanding. No support. I don’t even think he understood exactly what it was like to be a diabetic. Or what I was going through. And then he even had the nerve to start scaring me with words about diabetes complications if I didn’t get those numbers down.

I was so disappointed. Here I was, having conquered my first few months in a strange new land and yet all he could do was shoot me down. I was feeling disheartened and guilty as I walked out of that room. And my wonderful diabetes educator could see the look on my face, and asked me what was wrong. She did her best to give supportive comments and words of encouragement. She even offered to go in there and say something to that man, which I politely refused. She knew that I hadn’t been at it long. She knew that I was trying my hardest. And she clearly knew what it was like to be a diabetic (and she did not have diabetes herself).

If that doctor knew me better, if I was his regular patient, this probably wouldn’t of happened. But that’s the reality of the public health system. Its a revolving door of doctors catering to a long, long patient list. And that’s okay. But with a little more understanding and a little less judgement, we both could have gotten a lot more out of the appointment that day. If that doctor had taken a few more minutes to look at my background and get to know me, this probably wouldn’t have happened. If he had made me feel a little more comfortable, I probably would have been able to elaborate more openly about my diabetes. And he would have been able to give me better, more personalised support and encouragement.

This post isn’t a way of attcking diabetes professionals. Because I’ve also had many outstanding experiences with diabetes professionals who have gone above and beyond to help me. Encourage me. Support me. Make themselves available to me inbetween appointments. Understand me. Namely, my diabetes educator. But its also important to raise awareness that we don’t get the positive experiences, understanting and encouragement that we, as diabetics, deserve. Nobody should have to go through what I went through that day. And that’s the one diabetes thing I would like to see change.

I’ve written this post as a participant in Diabetes Blog Week 2015. Follow #dBlogWeek on Twitter for the latest updates from the event and participants.

I Am Obsessed With Perfect Blood Sugar Levels

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I think sometimes I can be over obsessed with the idea of perfect blood sugar levels. I am so obsessed that it takes over my thoughts and my actions.

Hyperglycemia. I absolutely HATE seeing a blood sugar level of, say, 20. It usually happens after a day of unhealthy eating. And other times its a complete suprise. It irritates me. It frustrates me. It angers me. It guilts me. It even cues scary thoughts of future diabetes complications. I’ll hastily grab my insulin pen, dial up a big dose, and jab it in. I know its too big of a dose, but I’m not thinking clearly. I just want to get my blood sugar levels back down to earth ASAP. And I’ll do anything to avoid seeing those numbers again. And more often than not, I’ll end up over bolusing just to ensure my blood sugar levels don’t peak that high. Which leads me to…

Hypos. Hypos make me feel weak. Tired. Powerless. Defeated. Seeing a hypo is disheartening, particularly on days where I feel I’ve done all the right things. Drenched in sweat, hands trembling, head spinning, I’ll reach for the jellybeans and start to shove them in my mouth. I hate them and the dry, sugary taste they leave on my tongue that will have me dying of thirst later on. Once I start to feel better, the feels of frustration and anger will begin to kick in. Screw it. I’ll get up and find the nicest, most sugary treat I can find comfort in. And before I know it, I’m right back where I started.

If there’s one thing I want to clean out, its my obsession with having perfect blood sugar levels. There’s no such thing. I don’t know of anyone who has perfect levels all the time. I need to accept that my blood sugars will rise and fall. I need to accept that some of the foods I eat will make my blood sugars spike higher than others. I need to stop testing five minutes after a meal and make drastic decisions to fix my blood sugar levels according to what I think they should be. I need to learn to be patient and wait for my blood sugar levels to come down naturally. And I need to accept that sometimes hypos happen, and I shouldn’t let them get the better of me.

Because if I don’t accept it all, I’ll be trapped in this vicious cycle forever.

I’ve written this post as a participant in Diabetes Blog Week 2015. Follow #dBlogWeek on Twitter for the latest updates from the event and participants.

Why I Keep Diabetes To Myself

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A couple of weeks ago, I poured all of my diabetes related thoughts and frustrations going through my head into a post titled ‘The Things I Don’t Tell You About My Diabetes (click here to read).‘ I think its one of the best posts on this blog to date if I may say so myself. It was so good that it was even featured on DiabetesMine‘s April Blogosphere wrap up. It’s definitely worth a read if you have a spare moment, as it ties in nicely with today’s dBlog week topic.

But I’m not cheating myself out of some original thoughts either! Keep reading…

I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age 17, so I’ve never really needed any help from my parents in managing my condition. Once I overcame my first year and things settled down, diabetes just became something that I kept to myself. I didn’t often talk about it with my family. I never complained to them about it. I just get on with the job on my own.

From time to time, Mum will ask me how my blood sugar levels are going. And that question always makes me uncomfortable. It puts me under pressure. It annoys me. I’ll always start my answer with ums and ahs and try to make my answers as vague as possible. And why? Because my blood sugar levels aren’t perfect. They never are. I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs. There will be weeks where things are smooth sailing and other weeks where my eating habits go wayside and its hard to pick myself back up.

And I feel guilty and embarassed to tell my Mum that. My parents are my rock, the two people who have always unwaveringly loved and supported me. And in a way I feel as though I am letting them down in admitting that things aren’t perfect. But I know Mum isn’t asking me to be a nag. Or to judge me. She just does it because she loves me and she cares about me. She takes an interest in me. (Or, at least that’s the job she signed up for when she decided to have me!)

But I think the real reason I keep it to myself is to avoid facing the truth. Imperfect diabetes management doesn’t become a reality until those words come out of my mouth. Until they are spoken out loud, I don’t have to face that I’m letting myself down. I don’t have to feel unhealthy. Guilty. Depressed. Worried. So long as I keep it to myself, I can stay in my perfect bubble.

Talking is healthy. And if there is one thing that has come from starting this blog, its the fact that I’m more focussed on diabetes. I’ve become even more passionate about it. And when you’re passionate about something, you want to pour your blood, sweat and tears into it. And I can’t wait to go home and share it with the people I care most about.

I’ve written this post as a participant in Diabetes Blog Week 2015. Follow #dBlogWeek on Twitter for the latest updates from the event and participants.

I Can…Better Understand My Food Choices

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If there’s one good thing that’s come from my friend Diabetes, its the fact that its made me better understand my food choices.

Growing up, my parents had junk food in the house for us to snack on. We had biscuits in the morning and potato chips, lollies, chocolate, ice cream and soft drink after school (not all in one hit!). I can still remember politely asking Mum if it was okay to open “something special,” which is what we used to call junk food. Don’t get me wrong, its not like we were an unhealthy family. We had home packed lunches during the day and home cooked meals at night. Its just that we never had any restrictions on junk food from Mum and Dad.

And ever since, I’ve had to have “something special” in the afternoons. Its become a subconscious habit that’s been impossible to break away from. Whether I was home at three, four or five o’clock, I still had to open that cupboard and grab a packet of chips. That is, until Diabetes came along.

I never used to even think about junk food, or any of the foods I was eating and its impact on my health. And yet now, diabetes has opened my mind to the food choices I make. I liken it to this particular episode of How I Met Your Mother. Everyone had their annoying habits – Lily crunched loudly, Ted over corrected people, Marshall sang about everything he was doing, Robin overused the word ‘literally’ and Barney spaced out when people spoke to him. And nobody ever noticed these habits until an outsider pointed them out, ‘shattering’ the gang’s perfect illusions of each other.

Diabetes has made me far more aware of my food choices than I ever was before. I actually read the nutrition information on the products that I buy in the supermarket. I understand the effects that carbs, fat and sugars in my food will have on my body and blood sugar levels. And after lots of experience, I have learned how to respond appropriately.

Now I only eat salad and drink water. The fridge is full of fresh fruit and veggies and there is no junk food to be found in the house. Ha! Yeah right!

But I really do think about my food choices now. I’ll still open the cupboards most afternoons and stare at the tempting goodies in there. But I’ll also think about the repercussions afterwards – like feelings of guilt and depression, being too full for dinner, and delayed blood sugar spikes by bedtime.

One of the biggest hurdles I’ve overcome thanks to diabetes is the junk foods that I used to eat on a daily basis. Potato chips and ice cream, that I used to eat every day, I might have about once a week. Now, I’ll do my best to satisfy the urge for an afternoon snack in ways other than junk food. Sometimes I’ll have a nice coffee or cup of tea to keep my mouth occupied. Other days I’ll have crackers and cheese with a handful of nuts.

But I’m certainly no Saint. I still nibble on chocolate most days (my biggest weakness), and I buy my lunch from the food court every Friday. I still end up overdoing it on special occasions like morning teas, eating out and on lazy days. More than I’d like to admit.

But I understand what I’m eating. I know how to react. And that’s all that really matters.

I’ve written this post as a participant in Diabetes Blog Week 2015. Follow #dBlogWeek on Twitter for the latest updates from the event and participants.

Happy 5 Years (With Diabetes)

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The first week of May holds a lot of significance for me. It marks five years since the turn of events that led to my diagnosis with type 1 diabetes, and yet I can remember it as though it happened yesterday.

I was 17 and midway through my first semester of uni. I was struggling to find my feet among uni assignments, my new job, and my 18th birthday looming a few weeks away. I had decided to skip uni for a few days to try and make some headway with my assignments. I had about three or four separate papers to write, which meant hours and hours of reading through mindless PDF scholarly journals for references. It was enough to put me to sleep.

And speaking of sleep, I was absolutely exhausted. I could not be bothered in the slightest. After many Facebook sessions, browsing breaks, heading to the kitchen for a drink and then going to the toilet, I had wasted away almost 3 days. And by Wednesday night, I had achieved next to nothing. And for the most part, I just thought I was being a lazy kid procrastinating on his uni assignments.

Enter Thursday morning and I really didn’t want to get out of bed. I felt weak and lethargic, and my mouth felt really dry. I just put it down to my inactivity over the past three days, then forced myself up and prepared a super healthy lunch to take to work. I don’t think I even lasted half an hour at work that day. I didn’t have the energy to stand on my feet that day. I knew something wasn’t right. I told Mum I had to see a doctor ASAP. And I NEVER go to the doctor.

At such short notice, I had to settle for the first doctor I could find. After explaining my symptoms, he told me it was just a virus and ordered bedrest and hot drinks for 3 days. Phew! What a relief it wasn’t anything serious…or so I thought.

I spent the next 3 days in bed, which speaks volumes for me. I NEVER stay in bed when I’m sick, but I had absolutely no energy to do anything else. With a dry mouth stripped of all its saliva, I was struggling to eat anything despite my Mum telling me to “eat something!” (Its an Italian thing!). All I really felt like were cold refreshing drinks. I was constantly craving Orange Juice on the rocks.

By bedtime on Saturday I was restless. My mouth was bone dry. I was on my third or fourth iced orange juice when my rumblings in the kitchen got Mum out of bed. “What are you doing, the doctor told you to have hot drinks!” Mum yelled. My heart rate and pulse were getting more and more rapid, and I was urinating at least once every hour. I spewed and felt slightly better. I don’t know if I would have made it til morning had I not.

By the time I woke on Sunday morning – Mother’s Day no less – I was panting. My heart rate was extremely rapid and I felt breathless. Added to the list of no saliva, extreme thirst, constant urination and lethargy. I told Mum and Dad how I felt. I knew I needed to go to hospital, but was too scared to suggest it. I had so much faith, so much trust in my parents, and I needed to hear them say it first for it to be a real possibility. We talked about going back to the doctor, but I shot it down. There was no point. I knew I couldn’t hold out that long. As soon as the h word was mentioned, I was out the door.

The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I was panting the whole time, counting down the minutes until we got there. What was wrong with me? Was I ever going to get my saliva back? Would I ever be able to eat again? Honestly, then and there, I wasn’t even sure that I would make it to the hospital conscious or even alive.

I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes as soon as I walked through the door. If the hospital emergency staff picked up on my symptoms this quick, why couldn’t Thursday’s doctor? He could have saved me a whole lot of trouble and a whole lot of pain.

But looking back now, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

After the ordeal I had been through, the relief of being able to get back to normal far outweighed coming to terms with diabetes, finger pricks and insulin injections. I don’t know if I would have embraced diabetes as well as I did had I not gone through this.

And I have a story to tell. I have memories that will last me a lifetime. I’m a stronger person because of what I’ve gone through. And, if anything, its made me even more passionate about diabetes awareness.

And the random photo? In July 2012 I climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge with type 1 diabetes. It was one of the best experiences of my life and it goes to show that diabetes hasn’t stopped me from living a normal life.