Diabetes

Thirteen Truths About Insulin Injectors

5 Comments

I am not one of the cool kids with an insulin pump or a Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM). If you start talking to me about basal rates, temp rates, boluses and infusion sites, I’ll probably nod my head without understanding a word of what you’ve just said. And if you tweet me your CGM graphs, you’ll likely put me to sleep because I absolutely hate maths class.

I’ve been on Multiple Daily Injections since I was diagnosed five years ago. What I do understand are words like FlexPen, Penfill and Lantus. If you start talking to me about injection sites, doses, corrections and priming, you’ve probably got my attention. And if you can relate to my thirteen truths about insulin injectors, then you’ve probably got a lot in common with me.

1. Finding a comfortable place in my jeans to stick my insulin pen without squashing it when I go to sit down.

2. Having my insulin pen fall out of my shorts pocket whenever I’m driving, and then having fumble around for it under the driver’s seat.

3. Injecting before dinner, only to realise there’s no carbs on the dinner plate.

4. Trying to pay attention to the conversation at the dinner table when all I’m really thinking about is the carbs that were on my dinner plate.

5. Trying to find a subtle moment at the dinner table to escape to the bathroom without anyone noticing.

6. Dialling up really quietly in the Men’s bathroom so the person in the next cubicle doesn’t think I’m a total weirdo. Or taking drugs.

7. Drawing dots on my stomach to keep track of my injection sites.

8. Frantically putting the cap back on my needle and the lid over my insulin pen the minute I hear someone coming towards the locker room at work.

9. Trying to figure out how much to increase my Lantus dose by after eating more food than usual today.

10. Going hypo in the middle of the night because I ate less than normal today and my Lantus dose was too much.

11. Succumbing to the urge to overcorrect a ridiculously high blood sugar reading, only to end up hypo 2 hours later.

12. Finding a corner to subtly inject because there isn’t a bathroom nearby. Or because I just can’t be bothered going into one.

13. Doing the four touch tap when I leave the house. Wallet. Keys. Phone. And Insulin Pen.

Who says that technology is the only thing that does your head in? Insulin injecting does my head in all the time!

To Disclose, Or Not to Disclose Diabetes?

Leave a Comment

Most of the people in my life know that I have diabetes. Although, I think a lot of them forget that I have diabetes because I don’t really talk about it much. I’ll bring it up from time to time, and I’ll get those “oh yeah, that’s right!” exclamations. Then there are those people who offer me way too much food to remember that I have diabetes (and shouldn’t be snacking on chocolate at 8am in the morning!). And then there’ll be those conversations where I’ll be like “how did you know that I had diabetes?” Fun fact: Italian families live to talk about people that they know.

Generally, those who know me well are aware that I have diabetes. I’m happy to talk diabetes with those people who take an interest, but I also realise that some people aren’t interested in hearing me go on about it – and that’s cool with me too! As for strangers, I don’t think it’s necessary to disclose diabetes to everyone I meet. I generally keep my diabetes disclosure on a need-to-know basis with acquaintances, or until I feel I can trust them enough.

My uncle once disclosed diabetes for me in front of one of his friends. Although I had no control over this situation, it’s reminded me of why I’m selective about disclosure ever since. I didn’t know this person very well, but I’ve always found him to be a little weird. I’ve never felt comfortable around him, and he clearly wouldn’t be able to handle that conversation very well (he didn’t). There were lots of insensitive questions and weird looks the whole time. And it made me feel stupid.

The first thing I think about before disclosing my diabetes is how it will affect me. There are a lot of stigmas out there about people with diabetes, and the last thing that I want is for people to think lesser of me. So I think you’ll understand why you’ll never hear me say “I have diabetes, but I hope you will consider me for this job.” And most of the time, I want to be treated just like everyone else. I want to have that piece of cake. I want to do what everyone else is doing. It gives me a feeling of normality. And when you have diabetes, you need as much normality as you can get.

Secondly, a diabetes disclosure inevitably comes with questions. Stupid questions. Like “did you get diabetes because you ate too much sugar?” Or “you can’t eat that, right?” Or “my cousin’s-wife’s-mother has diabetes and she’s found the cinnamon cure!”  There are days where I honestly just can’t be bothered talking about diabetes, or tackling those stupid questions. So sometimes it might be best to save disclosure for a sunnier day.

Thankfully in the online world, disclosure is much easier. Everyone who I interact with in the DOC has diabetes and just “gets” it. I love not having to tackle those stupid questions. I love being able to share my weak moments and know that there will be no judgement or adverse consequences. And I love that there is a never ending source of inspiration, support and #dlove. And that’s refreshing.

Want to chat about more awesome topics like this one? Join the Oz Diabetes Online Community Tonight from 8.30pm AEST (GMT+10) for our weekly chat by following the #OzDOC hashtag on Twitter.

My Dad on the Day of My Diagnosis

Leave a Comment

Where would I be without my Dad? He was always my protection growing up. When I was four, he would sit beside my bed every night because I was scared of the dark. When I woke up sick in the middle of the night, I would run across the hallway calling out for him. And when I’m miserable and talking negatively about anything, he’ll be the first to tell me to stop talking rubbish.

Dad was the one who drove me to hospital on the day of my diagnosis five years ago. I was sitting in the car fazed, panting, nauseated and thirsty. My pulse was beating ever so rapidly, and I had no idea what was happening to me. I was sitting there, next to him, with no honest idea whether I would survive the car trip there. But I knew that I could rely on him to get me there, and get me through it.

Dad was there by my side as I was helped onto a bed in the emergency room, and almost certainly diagnosed with diabetes the minute I lay down. My fazed self had heard the word diabetes, and I was devastated. I thought that it was my fault. I was terrified at the thought of needles. And I can even remember asking Dad if they were sure that it was diabetes and not something else. Reassuringly, Dad told me that the doctors had said that I would still be able to live a normal and healthy life.

One thing me and my Dad share in common is that we have both been through life threatening conditions during our lives (admittedly his was bigger than mine). And today, we are both dependent on prescription medication for the rest of our lives because of it (mine being insulin, his being something completely different). We usually go to the Chemist to get our prescriptions filled together. While we are waiting, he usually points to things like jellybeans to remind me if I need any. It’s one of those annoying Dad things that he loves to do, even at home, but I appreciate it anyway.

Being diagnosed at the age of 17, my Dad hasn’t had the diabetes duties that many other d-parents face. But he did perform a big diabetes duty that day in helping to save my life. He got me through that day. And I am still here today, writing this story because of it.

Happy belated Fathers Day, Dad. And Happy Fathers Day to all the other Dads and d-parents in Australia for yesterday.

September Goals, Of The Diabetes Kind

1 Comment

I always tell myself that I’m going to do all of these new things. I’m going to eat healthier, exercise more, get my BGLs down, finish my book and take more time out for myself. It’s so easy to imagine the better person that I’m going to be for it, and I always get swept away at the thought of achievement and success.

If only reality were that simple. I have been absolutely terrible at sticking with goals in the past. And I always get laughed at for the things that I quickly give up or put away, such as the new book on my bedside table every week, or the bike and helmet sitting out in the shed. I doubt that I’ve kept with a single one of my goals in the past. Until now, that is.

One of my personal goals at the beginning of this year was to start a blog. And never in a million years did I imagine what would come from it. For one thing, I never thought that I’d be able to keep at it for so long. Or that I would enjoy writing it so much. Or that people would actually read it. I never thought that I would actually become interested, or dare I say passionate, about diabetes. I never would have guessed that there was a massive Diabetes Online Community out there, and that I would have friends all over the world because of it. And I never would have imagined writing an advocacy column for Insulin Nation that was noticed by Diabetes Australia and resulted in a small policy change.

Today, setting some new goals finally seems realistic. And I actually have some confidence in myself that I might achieve them, or at least give them a red hot crack.

Return to good overnight blood sugar levels

I enjoyed 2 weeks of waking up to perfect blood sugar levels, and it was honestly the best feeling in the world. I woke up with so much positive energy and enthusiasm to go about my day, and I would love to return to that.

Set some social media free time

I heart the DOC. It’s the best thing that’s come from having diabetes, ever. But I do feel that it has gotten to the point of being a little overwhelming and time consuming. I would love to get into a routine of switching off before bed. I feel a lot calmer and happier when I make time for myself, and sleep easier.

Finish my book

A year ago, I eagerly trekked into the city to grab a copy of Under the Dome by Stephen King, yet I’ve lacked all motivation to read it. I picked it up again a few weeks ago, and I’m now more than halfway through.

Be more positive

I would love to be a little more positive. I often curse, complain, sigh and let the frustrations that occur throughout the day get to me. I would love to be able to just shrug them off and see more positives.

Read more diabetes blogs and interact more in the #DOC

I kind of feel guilty that I write a diabetes blog, but don’t read as many others as I’d like. I also feel guilty for all the support I receive from the #DOC but don’t return back. I’ll often spend time crafting a response to a tweet or blog post, overthink my comment, and then end up deleting it. I need to just go with it!

Write another column for Insulin Nation

I wrote a fantastic piece for Insulin Nation in July about access to test strips in Australia. It triggered an overwhelming response and was one of my proudest advocacy moments. I’d love to come up with another story as well written as that one, and I know that they would love to have me back to write for them again.

It goes to show that you should dream big. If you believe in it, others will see it.

Like my blog? Follow me on Facebook: facebook.com/type1writes.

A Marathon of the Diabetes Kind

6 Comments

DSC01027

I hate running. I absolutely hate it. I can remember dreading sports carnival season when I was in school. Although I never stood a chance in hell of making the cut, I still had to try out and run a lap of that dreaded 800 metre track. Despite how slow I was, every year I dreamt of being able to keep up with my classmates. I would start running. I would enthusiastically try to keep up with the others. I would be able to keep running for the first 100, maybe even 200 metres. Even though I felt like I was killing myself to keep up, my classmates just seemed to effortlessly speed past me.

And I was left behind. Then I would give in to my body’s urge to slow down. I would be puffing and panting. I would be able to feel the pulse in my chest, beating ever so rapidly. I would have to walk some of the distance. And if I was extremely lucky, I’d even get to see some of my classmates overtake me on their second lap. Eventually when I was the last one left on the track, everyone would start cheering me on, more out of pity than anything else. I would start to pick up the pace as best as I could, despite my body telling me otherwise. I would cross that finish line, and collapse to the ground with exhaustion. I could never go the distance.

I feel exactly the same way about my diabetes. Diabetes is like running a marathon every day. Except that a marathon of the diabetes kind has no finish line. I can’t slow down because I’m exhausted, emotional and frustrated. I can’t pull out of the race because I know I won’t get the results I want. And I can’t stop running because I don’t like it anymore.

That finish line keeps moving a little further away the closer that I get to it. There are the obstacles of life that get in the way, and keeping that finish line in sight seems nigh on impossible sometimes. There are so many points where I just want to stop running. There are so many points where I don’t know if I can dig any deeper.

But there is one small difference between that primary school race track and the diabetes one.

In a marathon of the diabetes kind, I am lucky enough to have a whole team of people who are cheering for me. Not out of pity because I’m in last place, but because they genuinely care. My wonderful family, for one. The family who believe, perhaps more than me, in my chances of a relatively normal life. And possibly even a cure at some point down the track. My healthcare team. My diabetes educator and my endocrinologist, who I know are on my side. Who I know I can talk to honestly and without judgement. The people in my life who care enough to ask how my diabetes is going, even though the question annoys the hell out of me! And the wonderful Diabetes Online Community, who are a never ending source of support and encouragement.

Diabetes is always changing. Diabetes is always throwing obstacles onto the track, in the hopes of knocking me sideways. But so long as I have people on the sidelines to cheer me along, that finish line will always be in sight.

Photo: A feeling of achievement while running my diabetes marathon at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Sydney this July.

Like my blog? Follow me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/type1writes.