Unbeknown to me, probably because I was focussing so hard on diabetes, my Doctor was at that time closely monitoring my Thyroid. My memory is vague as to the actual timescale, but sometime during the first nine months of 2004 she diagnosed me as being hypothyroid. In a way it was a relief, because it explained the tiredness that had been dogging me and the vague woolly headed feeling I had all the time. In another way I was quite upset because it came close on the heels of being told that my Cholesterol was at a dangerous level, so within a few months I was taking two Thyroxine tablets, one aspirin, one Lipitor for my cholesterol, Perindopril, an ACE inhibitor, for my blood pressure and a Quinine Sulphate tablet for cramp on top of my four injections a day. I felt rather depressed and wondered what was going to go wrong next. Although I’d suffered with various digestive issues since being 15 I had always regarded myself as being a healthy individual and had never before been on any long-term medication. Oddly, at some time after diagnosis I had stopped suffering indigestion at all.

Meantime, I had been given a promotion at work and was no longer on Reception, but had taken on more responsibilities and moved into the upstairs office, I’d also had my contract extended for a further 6 months on top of the original 9 month contract. The increase in responsibility had brought with it a pay rise that was very welcome since we were planning to visit my husband’s younger brother who lived in California at the time. He had had a tumour on his breast bone, which had been treated with radiation and he was at that time in remission. The two brothers are very close and it seemed to me that we shouldn’t keep on putting off a reunion “until we can afford it”. So we went ahead and booked a flight for the September of 2004.

I was excited, but a little worried about how I would cope with my insulin on a long haul flight and how to handle the time change. I needn’t have worried, on advice from the newsgroup I decided to split my Lantus dose on the day I travelled. It was a good decision and I never ever went back to a single dose of Lantus after that since the split seemed to suit me. I asked my nurse for a letter to “whom it may concern” explaining that I had to take my diabetic supplies on board with me and that I would be carrying needles.

When I was put on insulin shortly after diagnosis I had initially thought I was Type 1 as I explained earlier in this tale. At some point after diagnosis and when I had first been researching on the internet and had realised the difference between Type 1 and Type 2 was not defined by whether or not you were on insulin I had asked my nurse what type I was and she had said “Oh I think you’re probably type 1.5. We’re seeing more and more people who don’t fit the conventional types”. I’d then looked up Type 1.5 and had discussed it in the newsgroup, so I was fairly convinced by that time that that was what I was. It came as something of a surprise therefore that the letter described me as “A type 2 diabetic dependant on insulin”. However, the letter proved to be a bit of an asset in an unexpected way!

Security was very tight at Heathrow, as it had been ever since 9/11 and all passengers had to report for check in a good two hours before departure. There was a huge queue for the 3 operational check in counters and it seemed to take forever until we got to the desk. We hadn’t finished checking in when the computer system crashed just as I’d handed over my letter explaining that I was carrying needles. It apparently broke the ice because the airport security guard who was to accompany us for a security check in a special room was diabetic too, so we fell to chatting whilst waiting for the system to reboot. It took ages and the check in clerk was apologising profusely to us. We told him there was little he could do and we did understand since we had worked for the airline for a long while and were used to this sort of happening. By the time we got checked in we were all good friends! The check in guy said he’d marked us down as “suitable for upgrade”. We thanked him for the nice gesture.

In those days you had to take your checked baggage into the special room to be searched before proceeding through immigration and personal security into the departure hall. A long procedure, so by the time we arrived airside they were calling our flight. We quickly bought some duty frees and some of the latest best sellers from the bookshop and hurried to the gate. Various people were called to the desk there, but not us, so we thought, “oh well, no upgrade”. However as we were proceeding to board and offered our boarding passes, they were taken from us and replaced with others. On board we were delighted to discover that we had indeed been upgraded to “World Traveller Class” which meant we had larger seats and only two to a row instead of the normal three, plus an in-flight telephone and various other perks. Very nice indeed for a long flight! As icing on the cake we knew some of the more senior crew and they looked after us like royalty.

Jon met us at San Francisco airport and drove us into the city where we booked into a motel close to Fisherman’s Wharf. We’d been up extremely early that morning in the UK and we’d forgotten just how draining an 8 hour time change is so we tried (unsuccessfully) to have a nap. We ate that evening on Fisherman’s wharf and it was surprising how familiar it was even after so many years. The next day we picked up our niece, Jon’s daughter, who had come up on the train from her university and we proceeded to drive down the coast to Monterey. A strange drive, we enjoyed shrimp salads on the beach in the hot sun and explored a lighthouse in freezing mist which came from nowhere! We spent one night in Monterey, then breakfasted in Carmel where Clint Eastwood is mayor. The coastal drive was just spectacular that day and we stopped numerous times to enjoy the view. We spent a couple of nights in Cambria and visited Hearst Castle on a beautiful hot day. From there we turned inland and spent the next few days staying with Jon and his wife Sue in Fresno. We visited the beautiful state parks at Yosemite and King’s Canyon. In King’s Canyon we picnicked in the snow, shivering in our shorts and Tshirts!

We then hired a car and drove to Russian River where we were to meet up again with Jon who was attending a conference nearby. We fell in love with Russian River and the Village Inn with its’ pretty rooms, lovely view over the river and some of the best food ever! Not to mention great hosts! We enjoyed Coconut Shrimp (to die for) at the River’s End restaurant and stood on the beach at River’s End looking up in awe as a vast flight of Pelicans took off over our heads, whilst elephant seal babies played in the shallows at our feet.

Jon returned to Fresno and we spent a further two nights at the Village Inn, relaxing before driving to San Francisco where we met up with Jon, Sue, her son and her niece. We enjoyed a great Chinese meal in Chinatown (probably the worst meal of the holiday diabetically) and the following morning we took the champagne breakfast cruise around the bay before returning to the hotel to pack, return our hire car to the rental agent at the airport and catch our flight home. A wonderful holiday!

The diabetes hadn’t spoiled this trip for me at all. The cooked breakfasts and abundant shellfish salads had been perfect. Unlike the aircraft diabetic meals, which were appalling, but even they hadn’t bothered me overmuch as I had obtained salads in the airport to take on board. I had developed an irritating dry cough when staying in Fresno and still had it, but even that hadn’t spoiled things because to my delight a choice of sugar free “Diabetic” cough sweets were available in all the pharmacies. On my return home I found a letter waiting telling me that they would be discontinuing the Perindopril and replacing it with Lisinopril as a cost cutting exercise. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I mentioned my irritating cough in Chat several people pointed out that this can be a side effect of the ACE inhibitor. To back that up, as soon as I changed to Lisinopril the cough went and has not returned. Though that’s odd since Lisinopril is also an ACE.

To be continued….

I can’t now remember now how I found a list of newsgroups, because it was certainly the first time I’d heard of bulletin boards aka newsgroups, but somehow I did and a search came up with Alt.support.diabetes.uk. Of course, if it’s your first visit to a board there appear to be absolutely millions of threads to read, but far from being overwhelmed, I was excited to discover this treasure trove of information and I delved in head first.

What I found came as a surprise! Firstly they were talking about limiting carbohydrates, whereas I’d been told to ensure they were a large part of every meal. It was confusing, but I followed the links and I read the advice and it started to make a lot of sense, except…. except why would the Dietitian not know this information? Why would she advise me to eat something that was bad for me? I made another discovery too, there was another kind of insulin, not the Novomix 30, but something that you took as “basal” with a “bolus” that you took with meals. I Googled it and wondered why I’d been put on the twice a day injections. I spent a lot of time that week roaming far and wide over the ‘net checking out the things I saw referred to in threads in ASDUK (as I subsequently came to know it).

I booked an appointment with the GPs diabetic nurse and asked if I could transfer onto basal/bolus. She said she would get in touch with the DSN at the local hospital clinic who would oversee this transfer. I waited and waited for the appointment, after about 7 weeks I heard on the local radio that many diabetics in Cornwall had been “lost” in the appointments system. Lots of people were phoning in to the radio and complaining. So I thought “Hmmmm time I gave out some reminders”. I phoned the hospital and asked about my appointment. Sure enough they had lost the letter from my nurse, had I not heard the news item and the phone in show on the radio I might have waited a lot longer! I then had an appointment pretty quickly and got put onto Lantus and Novorapid. I recall the DSN saying to me “You’re on tiny amounts of insulin, if you are T2 these will increase as you go along, but if you are T1 they will stay the same”. According to my little diary I started on 10 units of Lantus, which quickly increased to 16 and then went back down to 14 and 2.2.3u of Novo with meals.

I read the newsgroup for a few weeks, then plucked up courage to make an introductory post and say a little bit about myself. I remember being welcomed by Alan and given Jennifer’s Advice (see, nothing changes! LOL!). The newsgroup was quite lively in those days and there were some interesting characters. Amongst them Old Al, Al Hardy, Beav, Ratty, Turner’s Babe, Fester, Maggie and not least Tiger Lily. I was blown away by their knowledge. Later on TerryG, Nicky and Nige (aka VBHOL) joined the group. I read a lot and said little, I felt like the new apprentice.

Tigery Lily (aka Kate) had a link in her signature about a chat room. One night I ventured in. It was mostly folks from the USA but I was welcomed and made to feel a part of the group. Kate and I struck up a friendship that endures to this day, and often spent hours PM (private messaging) each other, just chatting about this and that and getting to know each other. She was extremely helpful to me!

All the time I was putting the new knowledge into use. I quickly learned to titrate my bolus doses by reasonably accurate guesstimate and I started to grow confident in tweaking my basal doses. I was having less hypos and highs. Things started to fall into place. I went for my next Hba1c and when I walked into the Nurse’s office and heard her say “Your Hba1c is 5.4″ I let out a whoop of delight!

To be continued….

Back in June 2003 the Sure Start initiative was in its relative infancy, a Government initiative to give children under 5 “a sure start in life”. The centre was lively, with lots of young families coming to play sessions, baby clubs, the resident dentist, and many other activities. I loved working there as there was always plenty going on and I enjoyed chatting to the young mums who used the Centre. Next to the Reception was a Healthy Eating Café and I was to be very grateful for this amenity on many a morning when the mixed insulin would give me a regular hypo at 11.30 am. I’d always ask the Café Manageress if I could buy a slice of bread, but she always refused payment. In return I would give her jars of the home made chutneys I loved making but could no longer eat since they were full of sugar.

Around this time I was sent to see the dietitian and the podiatrist. The podiatrist said my feet were fine, though in retrospect I am certain I had neuropathy in my left foot. The dietitian earnestly showed me the “eatwell plate” and explained that I must eat “Starchy carbs with every meal”. I remember this interview well because it was diametrically opposed to how I had been eating as a WeightWatcher, where starchy carbohydrates had high point values, the only part that seemed to dovetail was the advice to avoid fats. She stressed that eating these starchy carbs would “keep by blood sugars level”. In addition she told me to look at packets and avoid anything with a sugar level above a certain percentage of the carbohydrates in it. I was a bit non-plussed by this since I rarely bought anything pre-packaged and always cooked from scratch. Naturally I was terrified of hypos. Not so much the ones I had which I always had signals for, but in case I got the “really bad kind” where you passed out. Nevertheless I always overtreated hypos in those days and consequently bounced from low to high and back again throughout the day. However, heeding the dietitian’s advice I assiduously ensured that every meal had a substantial starchy carb element in it.

I also took the advice to exercise seriously. In any case I was used to walking a lot, we would go on the coastal path most weekends for a 6 – 8 mile walk. Quite strenuous walking since the coastal path is quite a scramble in places, though this is more than made up for by the wonderful scenery and sea views. During the week, after work we would often walk from Penzance to Marazion and back along the cycle path which borders the beach, or on the beach if the tide was out. This is a return walk of approximately seven miles. I would often go hypo on these walks, particularly the more strenuous cliff walks, but I had no idea how to avoid it. I was reducing my insulin doses on the advice of my GPs nurse and my doses had gone down from 12 and 14u morning and evening to 5 and 11u. The hypos continued though. At about this time I started noticing that the walking boots which had been perfectly comfortable for eight years or so were pinching the toes in my left foot. The pain was so bad that I frequently limped home. I wanted to avoid the strenuous walks so I didn’t have to wear the boots, but I knew how much my husband enjoyed them. So I’d attempt the walk in a pair of sneakers, but even they “pinched”. Eventually my husband suggested I buy new boots. One weekend we went into Truro and I bought some lovely new boots, a size larger than their predecessors, I also got some really thick walking socks to pad them with. This little exercise set me back over £120. Fortunately my eyesight had improved a lot and I wasn’t having problems at work reading or working on the computer so I didn’t have to buy new glasses.

The Administrator at Sure Start started the recruitment process to fill the maternity leave vacancy and I applied. I was very keen to get the job and very nervous of the interview because I actually hadn’t had a job interview for 33 years. It was also pretty horrible sending out application packs to people for the job I wanted so badly, receiving them back and entering the names on a database I’d created to keep track and make mail merges easier. I needn’t have been nervous, I realised that Anna the Administrator was impressed by my ability with the computer and was gunning for me, but she was very proper and insisted that everything be done by the book. I won’t say I sailed through the interview, but it was very relaxed and I felt at home with those interviewing me by that time. Anna was a really lovely person who understood about diabetes as both her husband and mother in law had Type 2 and we are still good friends now even though she left five years ago. I did however find the typing test a bit nerve racking since I really wasn’t that familiar with Microsoft Office in those days (I’d previously used Lotus Smart Suite at the hotel since it was a lot cheaper than Microsoft’s software) and the typing test involved some very intricate formatting. I got through though. Then came another shock, they wanted me for the job, but the Temp agency wanted a payment of something like £250 as an “introduction fee”. I hadn’t expected or thought of this, though it’s common practice. Eventually after some negotiation they came to a compromise and evidently I’d impressed the Chair of the Board of Trustees with my purchasing talents, saving them considerable money on stationery, so a deal was done and I had a long term temporary job for the next 9 months or so.

A couple of curious incidents happened during this period. We were invited to a champagne reception at a local hotel one Sunday lunchtime. I had my breakfast as normal and we walked down to the hotel at 1pm which was an hour after my normal lunch hour. The reception was held in the Restaurant, a lovely room with a full wall of windows overlooking Penzance Harbour and to the side St Michael’s Mount. It was to celebrate the 5^th “Birthday of the date the owners had taken over the hotel. Steven and Yvonne had become firm friends of ours in that time. We also knew many of the guests well. Waiters and Waitresses moved amongst the crowd dispensing Champagne and trays of little Hors-d’œvres all of which were mouth wateringly delicious but somewhat lacking in bulk. Hubby and I were circulating separately chatting with friends and gradually working our way from group to group. I had reached a group of people who I would describe as acquaintances, rather than friends, when I began to feel rather strange, swaying on my feet and feeling dizzy. One of the women noticed and found me a seat. Hubby was found and the next thing I knew I was being dragged up the road by a husband who was furious that he’d had to leave the fun early because I had managed to get “disgracefully drunk”. I felt completely confused and unable to explain that in fact I’d had only one full glass of Champagne and had barely sipped at a second. I was falling over my own feet and hubby was dragging me by the arm up the steep hill to our house. It wasn’t until I fell over the doorstep and into the hall that I managed to find the clarity to ask for my test kit. My BG had plummeted to 1.5 but neither I, nor hubby, had realised that I was hypo prior to that. I certainly hadn’t felt my “normal” warning, the symptoms had been quite different. This scared me. A similar incident happened in a Restaurant in town some weeks later when we had to wait over-long for the meal, way past my normal dinner time. Once again I was dragged home on foot. After the two incidents I sat hubby down and explained to him that he’d acted in the worst way possible by forcing me to walk home. I asked that in future he insist I test if I started to behave oddly and impressed upon him that if ever I passed out he was not to let me “sleep it off” but must call an ambulance immediately. We were both learning about the more unpleasant side of Diabetes.

To be continued… the first and second Hba1cs and why I decided to get a proper handle on things….

A colleague of Julian’s had travelled to Manchester the previous weekend and reported road works and the inevitable tail backs which had made the journey into a lengthy nightmare. I didn’t feel up to doing any long distance motorway driving right at that time, since I was still adjusting insulin doses which were now on their way down due to hypos. So thinking it unfair that Julian would have to do all the driving I booked us on a train on the Friday. On my way back from the station I passed a newly opened hair salon and was surprised to see a young woman standing behind reception who had done my hair in the past. I had stopped going to the salon she previously worked at since it had got very expensive. On a whim I popped in and asked when she could cut my hair. At this juncture my hair was thinner than ever and hanging in rats tails, she certainly couldn’t make it look any worse! Nadine was pleased to see me, she had just opened this salon in partnership with two colleagues and didn’t seem to resent my deserting her previously. I was lucky and she could accommodate me right away. An hour later I stepped into the sunlight with a short spiky hairdo which was a 100% improvement on how it had looked. She’d mentioned that I’d lost a lot of weight and I explained about being diagnosed diabetic. She told me that another of her clients had been diagnosed and at the same time lost a lot of hair, but she thought that it was due to the woman’s thyroid rather than diabetes. I fervently hoped there was nothing else wrong with me!

On the Friday we boarded the train, which became very hot and crowded after Plymouth and I was relieved that I wouldn’t be travelling at a time when I had to have an injection. The thought of standing in the train toilet being rattled about with a needle in my tummy wasn’t one I was very keen on! Whilst on the train the temp agency phoned and offered me a job starting the next Wednesday, at Sure Start Lescudjack which is 300 metres round the corner from our home. I was quite pleased that it was a Receptionist position, since I had found audio typing very boring.

At Manchester station we only had a short wait until Julian’s mother’s train arrived and we could escort her to the hotel in the centre of the city. Once there we met up with Jon and Sue and went out for a meal that evening. Naturally there was lots of news to catch up with and after we finished in the restaurant we ended up in the bar at our hotel. This bar didn’t seem to want to close! It was quite lively, but not so much that we couldn’t hear each other speak. Before we knew it, it was 1 am and we decided to call it a night. As I stood up I recognised the warning signs of a hypo. I had Lucozade tablets with me, but at this stage I was convinced that I needed huge amounts of starchy carb to follow up the sweet kick of the fast sugar. At 1 am the hotel kitchens were closed and no food was available. Hubby and I found ourselves venturing out into Piccadilly in search of sustenance. As it happened Piccadilly at 1 am was as crowded as it would be at 1pm, except that the age range was much younger! People were on their way to and from clubs and waiting for late busses and we quickly found a convenience store where I was able to purchase a couple of tubs of pasta salad (oh how I shudder at the thought now!).

Saturday dawned clear and sunny. I recall dashing out to buy a pair of high heeled shoes to wear with my new and very sveldt grey trouser suit. On returning to the hotel to meet up with the others we were somewhat taken aback when Audrey announced that Jeremy (the eldest brother) had rung to say he wouldn’t be attending as “he had something else on”. A few eyebrows were raised at that bit of news, but Audrey queened her way through it. Nothing is ever less than perfect in the family, and if it is, it’s ignored. However a pair of cousins who the brothers hadn’t seen since they were children turned up.

The ceremony was quite short and very touching with a photo of Stanley in his uniform placed on the altar. Afterwards the ashes were buried in the grounds of the Cathederal. We all felt that Stanley would have approved. We retired for lunch at the nearby Cathederal coffee shop and a lot more “catching up” took place. Audrey did a good job of posing as “the grieving widow” with fond reminiscences of the man she had divorced 30+ years earlier! In actual fact, Stanley’s second wife, from whom he was separated hadn’t come! Families!!!

The day wore on, with me vacillating between high BGs and hypos on and off all day. At one point I went to lie down whilst all of the others were having tea and cake in the hotel. I rejoined them later, to find them stuck into a bottle of Gin and a supply of tonics which had found their way into Audrey’s suitcase.

Oh the innocence of that time diabetic-wise! It was actually me who suggested that we all go off to “Little China”, one of Manchester’s attractions, and have a Chinese meal that evening. I steered clear of ordering anything Sweet and Sour, but tucked happily into vast portions of rice. I was convinced I was doing the “right thing” and eating plenty of starchy carbs! At 8 pm exactly I retired to the Ladies’ loo to give myself my 8pm injection of Novomix. The cubicles were so small that I couldn’t put my bag anywhere, assemble my pen and inject, so I ended up doing it by the washbasins. Half way through with the pen firmly embedded in my tummy a young woman walked in and glanced pointedly at my insulin pen. I blushed and explained that I wasn’t a drug addict, I was diabetic. “Yes,” she replied, “I realise that, so am I, have been since I was 3”. Well, that was it… a real life diabetic to talk to, one who injected! This tete a tete was eventually broken up when Sue came looking for me. Sent by hubby who was concerned at the length of time I’d been gone and wondering if I was OK!

Next morning we gathered for a full buffet style English breakfast in the hotel. I carefully selected all the starch I could find and eschewed the bacon and eggs… I was at war with myself. Everything I’d adhered to diet wise over the past year or so was turned upside down. Of course I hadn’t eaten many cooked breakfasts, but if I had it would have been a poached egg on toast, rather than hash browns, sauteed potatoes, baked beans etc. I can laugh now, since I’d be selecting the eggs and bacon rather than the other items and not worrying about the fat content – in fact I’d be thinking it may slow down absorption and should I split the bolus!

We bade farewell to Jon and Sue who went off to the airport and we did a recce of the city to find something to eat on our train home which, due to Sunday rail repairs, was scheduled to take 10 hours. Train buffets are not generally renowned for their gourmet excellence! After a fair bit of trecking about we found a Sainsbury’s supermarket open. I can vaguely recall selecting salads for two meals but ensuring that they included such items as potato salad and pasta salad. We returned to the hotel and escorted Audrey to the station to catch our respective trains which involved a lot of heaving suitcases onto tram systems and a fair bit of walking. We must have got there in plenty of time, because we were all sitting on a seat in the station when the dreaded hypo crept up on me yet again! Shaking and trembling I couldn’t find my “rescue kit” in the packed bags and hubby, bless him, came to the rescue, finding me Lucozade tabs and biscuits to eat. By the time he found them he practically had to put them in my mouth as I was so shaky. Throughout the whole thing I was aware that Audrey had turned her back, was studiously ignoring my plight and pretending we didn’t belong to her! It hasn’t changed since. She is the solicitious mother in law, providing I don’t do anything “embarrassing” in public, like go hypo or inject!

Our train journey was long, slow, tedious and very hot. It was flaming June after all and for once we were enjoying a lovely English summer. The saving grace was that we had managed to snag a copy of the new Harry Potter book which had only come out at midnight! I got stuck in and was entranced as always by J R Rowling’s characters. We ate our salads and snacks, we had some wine, the journey passed and round about Dawlish in Devon my 8pm injection was due. Fortunately we had 4 seats facing over a table to ourselves and I felt reasonably private enough to inject there rather than trying to stand in the toilets whilst the train rattled on. My very first public injection, with a sea view to boot! Until we entered the tunnel. Yikes, it was dark! I left the needle in until we emerged on the Teignmouth side. In fact, it’s a very scenic route round that bit of the coast!

To be continued… starting at Lescudjack and getting to grips with things.

I had to ring her on the Saturday because my BG levels had fallen very low several times in succession and I was very nervous of these “hypo things”. My insulin doses were readjusted to 12 in the morning and 14 in the evenings. I was under the impression at that time that it was terribly important to inject and eat absolutely immediately without a second’s delay. I also imagined that within a few minutes of injecting my eyesight cleared dramatically and then only slowly blurred again after an hour or so. This may have been true or it may have been wishful thinking on my part. To this day I don’t know!

On the Sunday we went for a short hike on the coastal path. It felt wonderful to be out walking in the sun again, but of course within a mile or so my BGs had fallen under 5 and I was shaking and sweating, so I treated the hypo and ate my packed lunch at 11am. Bless him, hubby also ate his to keep me company!

My little record diary got bloodier and smudgier as the days went by, particularly as I got shakier more regularly, and panicked often, milking my finger with desperation to get a blood droplet big enough to test and then overdoing things. In retrospect the Accuchek meter I had at the time needed what now seems like a vast reservoir of blood compared to the tiny droplet that my Optium is satisfied with. It also took a full 20 seconds to display a result, by which time I’d often have eaten the first Lucozade tab and would be shakily unwrapping the second one ready to pop it straight into my mouth.

I started work at the Solicitor’s office on the Monday. By coincidence the office was a converted house at one end of a rather beautiful row of Georgian houses near the centre of town, my husband works at an accountancy company who occupy a house at the very opposite end of the terrace, so getting a lift in the mornings wasn’t a problem. In fact it was rather delightful because we could meet at lunch time, either taking our sandwiches to the local park, where we’d sit in the sun looking at the fountains, or have a bite to eat in one of the many restaurants in town. I recall that a new Chinese restaurant had just opened, offering a “businessman’s lunch” very cheap. We thought we’d try it and indeed it was very good value, but it was an early lesson in what I could, or rather couldn’t, tolerate. The rice was naturally not tolerated well but I didn’t realise that at the time. In my mind the major culprit was the sweet and sour pork (which I love, but has become a vague memory since). This “light lunch” shot me up to 19 two hours later! Ooops!

On the second or third day, as I was beavering away typing with my little headset on, someone asked would I like a cake and if so what kind. It was someone’s birthday and it was the tradition to buy everyone a cake to eat with morning coffee. I thought it was really nice of them to include me as a temp, but turned the offer down explaining that I was diabetic. The girl asking me brightened and told me that another employee had just been diagnosed. The other employee turned out to be the secretary of the Solicitor who had handled my mother’s will. I had never liked the woman, because throughout my dealings with her she had been very superior and dismissive, treating my queries as to how things were progressing with a sort of “why are you bothering us” type of reply. I had thought this a totally insensitive and unnecessary attitude towards people who had been recently bereaved. Nevertheless, I’d not really met anyone newly diagnosed, so whilst passing her office I stopped to speak to her about it.

I should have known better! We talked for a short while about how we had felt prior to diagnosis, discussed weight loss (she was quite well-upholstered and had been told to lose it) and I explained that oral meds hadn’t helped me so I was on insulin. In my innocence I thought she’d understand that it was “necessary” for me to inject, but she said “Oh I chose to handle mine with diet and exercise”. I made a polite noise and moved on. That single word “chose” said in such a superior manner really rankled with me. As though I had “chosen” to have insulin instead of having more moral fibre like her! I can recall that at the time she was tucking into a doorstep sized wholewheat sandwich and had an apple and an orange laid out in front of her – so perhaps, in retrospect, I was the wise one, since by now I expect she is seeing ever worsening Hba1cs and progression in treatment from med to med. During the week I did copy typing at the Solicitor’s office I was reminded why I had left my first job, also at a Solicitor’s office. It was tedious to the extreme and the people working there were very very dull.

To be continued… my trip to Manchester.

I rang the surgery and asked for an appointment with the Nurse, but she was unavailable, on annual leave, so I agreed to see a Doctor instead. I actually was thinking that a Doctor would be better than a nurse at that point, so I was hoping for a lot from the appointment. On return from holiday I had once again read carefully (with the aid of a magnifier I that had belonged to my Father in law) the slim volume on Type 2 diabetes that I had bought in the chemist on first diagnosis. (I gave that little book away some years later at which point I noticed with a bit of a laugh that the print was absolutely HUGE, as well it should be for a book aimed at the newly diagnosed!) The book warned of the dangers to eyesight and other complications that could be expected by running high BGs for any length of time. I was, therefore, more than a little taken aback when the Doctor I saw said “It won’t hurt you to have high blood sugars ‘for a few weeks’. I will prescribe you another pill that you can take which will help”. My impression was that he was talking down to me and making light of a condition that the nurse had taken much more seriously. I’d certainly understood from her that the kind of BG readings I had were something to take seriously. I left feeling rather let down because by this time I was heartily sick of feeling so ill and tired, but I duly took the prescription for Metformin to be filled and started taking them along with the already prescribed Gliclazide that I’d been taking since diagnosis. Fortunately I didn’t have any of the side effects that I’ve read about since. My weight loss seemed to accelerate though, and I was now having to take in all the new clothes that I’d already taken in once before I went on holiday.

There was no noticeable affect on my BGs from this “new” tablet but I plodded on for a further week. Then the Temp agency rang me asking me to do a week’s stint at another Solicitor’s office in the town a week on the Monday. I said yes, because by this time I needed the money. I was no longer self-employed and money from my former business was running out, I was still waiting to be paid for the few days I had worked for the agency. I was conscious of the fact that I was no longer paying self employed National Insurance contributions, nor was I paying “employed” contributions and I was very worried and concerned that the missing contributions would affect my state Pension, since I had already had to pay some missing back contributions and still did not have enough for a full pension at retirement age unless I could continue paying contributions at that time.

I realised that it would be difficult for me to get up early, do a full day in an office, stay alert and be able to see the computer screen, so I was anxious to get sorted out and get my BGs down. I felt let down by the Doctor who hadn’t seemed that interested or concerned. I felt as though I had been sidelined. I did recall how anxious the nurse had seemed and how keen she had been to put me on insulin, so I rang the surgery again and was able to get an appointment to see her early the following Monday morning.

By comparison to the Doctor, the nurse looked worried and asked me how I felt now about going onto insulin. I said that I regretted not cancelling the holiday and going onto insulin earlier. I told her about the kidney pains and other symptoms I was experiencing, particularly the eyesight problems and how these were what upset me most. She was very kind and understanding. She gave me my first injection, explaining the technique of actually using the pen, rolling it back and forth to mix the insulin, then flicking it to remove air bubbles, how to pinch the skin and inject at right angles. Fortunately I have never been afraid of needles. During my 18 year flying career I had been used to having vaccinations on average every three months to protect against various exotic diseases such as Typhoid, Yellow Fever and Smallpox, therefore the needle on the insulin pen held no fear since it was so tiny. One I mentioned my further weight loss she also said I could drop the tablets. I have never taken a single oral diabetic medication since.

I left the surgery clutching my very first pre-filled Novomix 30 pen, with a prescription for five more pens along with a box of needles, more test strips and another tub of the confusing Ketostix. I had instructions to take another injection that evening and record my pre-bed and morning tests which I would relay to the nurse when she phoned me the following morning. I also left the surgery thinking I was now a “Type 1” diabetic!

I started off on 10u Novomix twice a day at 8 am and 8pm and gradually increased it to 14u twice a day over the week, at which point I was ecstatic to report an FBG of 5.2. My eyes had cleared somewhat, I had a little more energy and felt very optimistic that I could “live with this diabetes thing”. It wasn’t going to beat me! It was going to fit right in with my life and I would carry on having fun and enjoying life.

Of course things are never that simple…. to be continued….

We had a pleasant crossing on the Ferry to Roscoff in Brittany. A journey of approximately six hours. The Ferries on that route are usually quite luxurious and have a nice Restaurant, as well as various self service cafes and we normally spend a good part of the journey in the Restaurant indulging in the splendiferous hors’ d’oevre buffet followed by a main course served by a waiter, and then an equally sumptuous dessert buffet. I was very good on that occasion and settled for cheese instead of a plate full of the tempting puddings and pastries. Of course I scoffed the delicious French bread, helping myself to more to eat with the cheese – ‘cos I simply didn’t know that white bread is as bad for BGs as one of the puddings would have been! A mistake I would continue to make throughout the holiday!

We stayed overnight in Roscoff and set out early the next day, with the sun shining down on us, to drive to the village near Nantes where we’d booked a hotel for that night, before arriving at the Gite on the Monday. I can recall that during the journey I was plagued by cramps in my legs and feet, and sat most of the way cradling my left arm which was throbbing with the pins and needles all day. I pushed these symptoms to the back of my mind as much as I could and concentrated on being happy. By the time we arrived at the hotel it was raining and dull, but the hotel was a very nice example of a small French hotel, belonging to the Logis consortium which is a member run association of small private hotels. One of the criteria for being a member is that a good “table” should be part of the hotel and so normally one can enjoy an excellent dinner in house without having to go out in search of local restaurants. We were also impressed with the rooms we had been allocated and inspected both carefully before deciding that we’d leave the slightly more spacious one with the better view for our friends. We then set off for Nantes airport to collect our friends, a drive of about 45 minutes. The greetings were muted. Our friends had been to a dinner dance the previous evening, had a very late night, followed by an extremely early morning and were very jaded by the time they arrived. The mood wasn’t helped by the teeming rain. Not an auspicious start to the holiday. The scenery on the drive back to the hotel wasn’t inspiring seen through the rain, but it hardly mattered since our friends had both nodded off! Back at the hotel we got them checked in and arranged to meet in the Restaurant for dinner. I can’t remember what the dinner was, but it was less than spectacular.

The following morning we met up for breakfast and I produced the “diabetic” jam and marmalade I had brought from the UK. Our friend the T2 also used this, though I think had I not produced it he would have consumed the ordinary stuff. Of course these days I wouldn’t touch such products, but I knew no better, nor did I think twice about tucking into the croissants (though I did avoid the Danish pastries and “Pain au Chocolat” on offer). The first day we drove to Saumur and visited a sparkling wine producer, buying several bottles there for later consumption. We stopped at a Supermarket and stocked up for the next few days before driving to the Gite.

The exterior of the Gite was very pretty, in fact quite picturesque, with lovely bright windowboxes on the sills and pots of Geraniums arranged outside. It was situated across the courtyard from the owner’s home and we had use of a section of their garden with a trestle table, benches and some sun beds. The inside, however, was dark, gloomy and, as it transpired on closer inspection, none too clean. We asked if our friends minded if we took the upstairs bedroom since it had an en-suite and I was visiting the toilet many times a night. They took the downstairs room with a bathroom down the corridor. We were all quite tired, particularly our friends since they said they hadn’t slept well the night before in the hotel, possibly because they were over-tired. I seem to remember we self-catered with pate and fresh baguettes that night. Whatever, I am now equally certain that the food on that holiday did me no good at all, since I was happy to eat all the bread, potatoes and other starchy foods that I hadn’t a clue about, whilst choosing cheese (with more bread) instead of the desserts I did know were no good for me.

I won’t describe the whole holiday, which actually is now pretty much of a blur. However there were several factors which combined to ensure that the holiday was memorable, but quite the opposite of a success. The hot water failed the first full day we were in the Gite. The owner did get a plumber, but he needed a part and so we had no way of having a hot shower that day, nor the following morning. In fact hot water was never available at all in our en-suite for the whole week, so we ended up sharing the downstairs shower, which had copious black mould on the tile grout due to lack of cleaning over a long period. The oven was so full of grease that it smoked horribly when in use so we were unable to use it. Not that we wanted to do much catering, but the grill was integral and there was no toaster. The house was permanently full of flies. We discovered later that this was due to the barn next door which housed hundreds of caged rabbits. Some of who’s ancestors had kindly donated their skins to make the patchwork fur cushions in the gite! Floors were an inch thick with dust under the beds/sideboards etc etc. It wasn’t nice at all. I can now muster a laugh at the day we left when the owners invited us into their house for coffee, and it soon became patently obvious that they were only ensuring that we didn’t depart without paying for the cleaning. The cleaner arrived whilst we were there, got out of her Mercedes and clip clopped across the courtyard in stilettos! We later complained to Brittany Ferries, the Gite was duly inspected, pronounced unfit for their programme and removed from their brochure, in addition we were given a full refund, however, that didn’t come until later. Of course, the booking was in my name and had I not been so addled with high BGs our first action on arrival should have been to phone the Brittany Ferries representative and remove ourselves to a hotel until alternative accommodation had been offered. I later discovered that Hubby was so worried about me (whilst trying not to show it) that it didn’t occur to him either.

The weather turned nice and we planned walks. I recall one day we hiked a 15 mile circuit through farms, woods and on the river bank. I must have dived into the undergrowth a hundred times to relieve myself and I was grateful that hubby was carrying 3 litres of water in his back pack. At the end I was exhausted and my walking boots felt like lumps of concrete on my emaciated legs. The following day I developed severe kidney pains whilst out walking and had to return to the gite and lay down. My husband was beside himself with worry, but our friends, convinced by the husband’s lack of symptoms either at diagnosis or since, quite plainly felt that I was kicking up a fuss about nothing. Whilst we were there my eyesight deteriorated so badly that I couldn’t read. I burst into tears at breakfast because I couldn’t read the label on a yoghourt to find the sugar content. My friend snapped at me that all I had to do was buy a pair of reading glasses in Boots. After the kidney pain I was reluctant to attempt any strenuous walking so we persuaded our friends that gentle strolls round the picturesque chateaux was a better idea. I don’t think they thought so! The lowest BG I managed during that time was 24.

It came as something of a relief to bid our friends goodbye at the airport. The holiday had put a severe strain on our friendship and in retrospect it would have been much better had we have cancelled it and if I had been sensible and got my diabetes sorted out before even contemplating going away, but I had so badly not wanted to “let everyone down”. In fact the state I was in spoiled it for everyone. Months later, I received an apology because my friend said he had underestimated the state I was in and thought I was just exaggerating and looking for attention. Fortunately our friendship has survived.

Looking back it’s amazing that I wasn’t more worried about my health and I now realise how very foolish I was, but I was ignorant with regard to diabetes at that time, and I had been lulled into a false sense of complacency by the three T2 friends who had reassured me that it was “nothing very serious, nothing to worry about and ‘everything would be fine’ once the Gliclazide started to work”.

We did have one last night, staying at Ploumen’ach in northern Brittany, on the beautiful rose granite coast. I felt much more relaxed that evening and fell in love with that part of the coast. We have since spent a blissful 5 day walking holiday in nearby Tregastel.

To be continued with my experience on starting insulin….

On the Monday I visited the nurse again and she looked at my results. She seemed worried and asked had I been eating sweeties or chocolate. I explained that I understood sufficient to avoid that sort of thing, or indeed anything sugary. Indeed after attending WeightWatchers for 12 months that sort of thing didn’t feature in my diet at all. I was eating “healthily” with lots of fresh vegetables and very limited amounts of starchy carbohydrate since anything starchy was high in “points”. Not that I understood the importance of Carbohydrates in BG control at that time and didn’t bother to mention that bit to her. Eventually she told me to keep taking the tablets and come back in a week’s time, since she felt it may be necessary for me to start on insulin. She also gave me a prescription for Ketostix, having shown me one and explained how to use them. She told me that if a certain section turned to a certain colour I was to ring her immediately. She told me that if my BGs did not drop drastically within a week then I would have to see her and she would put me on insulin. At this point I felt I ought to point out that I was booked to go on holiday a week on the Friday and I had been really looking forward to it. She looked very dubious at this news and said she felt I should cancel the holiday. I replied that I really wanted to avoid that course of action, since we were holidaying with friends, we had booked a gite in the Loire Valley and they were flying to Nantes whilst we were taking the car over on the cross channel ferry and picking them up to drive to our destination near Azay-le-Rideau. So she sent me on my way with a caution not to forget to ring her if I saw any Ketones.

All I could think of at this point was that I wanted to avoid having to go onto insulin since the nurse had made it plain that if I did, I would definitely need to cancel the holiday. I desperately didn’t want to do that, because, apart from the fact that we’d been looking forward to it so much, our friends would be without transport and we had all paid for the gite and they had paid for their air fares. Whilst we could claim on our holiday insurance for the ferry crossing and our share of the gite it was likely that they would lose what they had paid, or would have to go and hire a car. In addition we’d been firm Francophiles for years and had conceived the idea of introducing our friends to France, it’s food and wines, a year previously, so it was a long awaited holiday. We were all four keen walkers and had been looking forward to long hikes and even longer lingering lunches in the sun by the Loire. In addition we’d had an idyllic holiday in the Loire 19 years previously and were excited at the thought of showing our friends the beautiful Chateaux and attending the very romantic son-et-lumiere display at Azay-le-Rideau in the grounds of the perfectly beautiful Chateau there. Curiously this was the only reason I didn’t want to go onto insulin – the idea of actually injecting insulin didn’t bother me!

Over the next week I managed to get one reading as low as 15 (I had felt so tired I could barely eat). This was the reading I told the nurse about at my next appointment having conveniently “forgotten” to take my little diary to the appointment! I assiduously used the Ketostix and to be honest I found them extremely hard to read. I’d stare at them so long that they’d turn deep red but the instructions said that they had to be read within x number of seconds. I hadn’t a clue, though it did seem that I was showing some ketones, but not to the level where the nurse had warned me to ring her. Meanwhile the pins and needles were plagueing me constantly in my left arm and leg. Funnily enough not at all in my right side.

During the week I spoke to the friends who we were holidaying with and warned them that we may have to cancel last minute, but assured them that I would do all I could to avoid it. To be fair, they said it really didn’t matter and they just wanted me to be OK. The husband of the couple is a T2 and he assured me that the tablets would work “eventually” and that diabetes wasn’t really a problem. He simply took his tablets and ignored it. I would be OK. I wasn’t to worry. However, he did say privately to my husband that he had never seen BG levels anything like mine. His diabetes had been brought on by steriods which he had taken for another condition and as he was on a private medical plan he had been monitored closely by his consultant so it was picked up very quickly. I also spoke to another couple of friends who were T2 and they were just as reassuring. It made no dent in their lives and they carried on “as normal”. I was duly reassured and continued to look forward to the holiday. By the day before we “set sail” I felt as though I’d been holding my breath for two weeks and though I didn’t feel significantly better – in fact no better at all – I was reassured that things were going to be under control “soon”. I was just jubliant that we were actually going on the holiday as planned.

to be continued…..

Some good friends were attending WeightWatchers so I decided to go with them. At first I lost steadily, a pound here, half a pound there, sometimes nothing. I was happy though, because the weight was coming off gradually and by Spring 2003 I was down by just over a stone. Then, quite quickly I started to drop weight faster and without any seeming effort or denial on my part. Each week I’d lose at least 2lbs and then it increased to 3lbs. I was drinking a lot of water, but the WW leader said that drinking lots of water helped weight loss so at first I didn’t think much of it. I did notice, but pushed it to the back of my mind, that my urine smelled odd – I’d have described it as “wheaty” rather than sweet smelling. I also increasingly noticed fatigue. I could sleep 8 – 10 hours, get up and feel exhausted an hour later. At the time I was self employed, working from home, so in effect I was my own boss and how much or how little I did wasn’t crucial. I was doing less and less each day. I was getting quite a bit of stick from husband for falling asleep on the sofa every night and I was mortified when I actually fell asleep after dinner one night when we were entertaining. Friends and hubby blamed wine – obviously I’d had too much, but really, I hadn’t, I’d been swilling mineral water for England and sipping at the wine.

Some friends came to stay and my girlfriend and I went clothes shopping whilst the husbands went off for a pint. I hadn’t seen this girlfriend for a few months and when we were in the fitting room she commented on how much weight I’d lost. I was thrilled, until she said “But really you don’t look right, it looks as though you’ve lost all your muscle”. I certainly wasn’t thrilled about that remark! I still didn’t see it though. However, as the days wore on I began to see it and I began to see how I looked sort of “hollow”. At the same time my hair which was in a shoulder length bob at the time began to look very scrawny and thin. I took to tying it back all the time so people wouldn’t notice and I put it down to my age. Doesn’t everyone’s hair get thinner as they get older? There were other things I was starting to notice. I kept tripping up the stairs and kerbs in the street. I was on the way to a meeting with our Financial Advisor and I tripped over a kerb, sprawling full length on the dirty pavement and ripping the knees out of a brand new pair of trousers. Trousers I was very proud of because they were size 10 and I’d even had to take them in! I had no time to go home and change. I felt ashamed. I also commented to my husband that I had pins and needles in my left arm and leg but I put it down to sleeping so heavily on that side. I was, however, concerned that the pins and needles stayed with me longer each day.

A while earlier I had decided that I was being lazy and not enjoying what I was doing for a living, so I decided that it would be better for me to get a job where I’d be forced to get up each day and attend a place of work and that this would motivate me. So I applied to several temp agencies and finally got sent to a Solicitor’s office to do copy typing for 3 days on one week. On the last of those days it was the WeightWatcher’s meeting at 5.30. By this time I was helping the “Leader” to weigh people. During a lull I mentioned to her that I was drinking lots of water and it was really working in the weight loss department, look at the 4lbs I’d lost that week! She looked at me in a worried fashion and said “Really Patti, I’ve been concerned at the way you’re losing weight and drinking fluids, I think you ought to visit the Dr. A man at one of my other classes was like that and it transpired he was diabetic”. All of a sudden a light went on in my head! Yes, I’d heard of the symptoms of diabetes and I certainly had them. I realised at that point that I’d been actively ignoring symptoms and staying away from the Drs because at the very back of my mind I had thought I had “something really terrible” wrong with me. All of a sudden the possibility that it was diabetes felt so much less threatening. After all a good friend of ours had diabetes and he just took some pills and otherwise carried on as normal. He even ate sweets – not that I was a great sweet eater.

The following morning I had to get up to go to the Dentist. I could barely raise my head off the pillow, but I dragged myself up, got showered and dressed and walked the mile into town to the dentist. It took me close to half an hour. A walk I’d normally have allowed 15 minutes for. After seeing the dentist and getting a lecture on the state of my gums, I dragged myself round the corner to the Dr’s surgery via the Co-op where I bought a bottle of chilled mineral water. I told the Receptionist that I needed to see the Dr and she started saying something like “a week on Thursday”. When I explained that I was drinking water for England, couldn’t stop peeing and had lost 4lbs in a week she looked faintly alarmed and asked could I come back at 2 pm to see the nurse. I said yes. I walked home via the Co-op where I bought another bottle of water to drink on my way home having already drunk the one I’d bought on the way to the Drs. I got home and fell onto the bed, setting the alarm for 1.15 pm.

The nurse did a finger prick test and said “I think you certainly have diabetes, but we need to confirm it”. I didn’t know until later that my BG tested “Hi” on the meter, meaning it was over 33. She took some blood from my arm and said “It’s quite urgent that we get this to the hospital”. I said I didn’t mind taking it, it wasn’t that far out of my way on my walk home. She asked me to come back the following day. Off I went, yet again via the Co-op, where I purchased two bottles of water. It took me nearly 45 minutes to walk home this time, as the hospital put another half mile onto the walk and by the time I got home I had finished both bottles of water. At home there was an answerphone message from the Temp Agency asking me to work at the same Solicitor’s the following day. Like a fool I rang them and agreed, but the next morning my husband was able to give me a lift into town, so the walk wasn’t an issue. Looking back I must have been mad.

In my lunch break I went back to the surgery to see the nurse. She confirmed I was diabetic, gave me a prescription for some pills (Gliclazide) and a handful of leaflets on diabetes and one on diet. I was given a meter and some strips and told how to use them. I can’t recall exactly what I was supposed to do with the results! She advised me to avoid anything sugary and that was it. Six years down the line I have a vague recollection of something being wrong with the prescription and that the Chemist wouldn’t accept it, I had to return to the surgery to get something sorted (a Dr’s signature maybe) and then rushing back to the chemist to put the prescription in which resulted in me missing my lunch. Probably just as well really!

I spent the weekend sleeping and each test I took was in the high 20s. The pills didn’t seem to make a lot of difference. I had bought a slim book on diabetes whilst in the chemist, a sort of “diabetes for dummies” book, so I was beginning to understand a bit more about the condition. I wasn’t frightfully upset by the diagnosis, in fact I was very very relieved that it was a condition that could be controlled and that I wasn’t, as I had feared, riddled with Cancer or anything worse!

To be continued….