Supermarkets should be available on the NHS.
How many millions of pounds does the government spend on insulin and Metformin and other stuff to bring people’s blood glucose down when the supermarkets will do it for free?
I don’t know what it is about supermarkets exactly, but of all my life experiences, a visit to one is probably the thing most guaranteed to bring my blood glucose crashing down. They outrank brisk walks, playing sport, throwing inanimate objects at the TV when Vanessa Feltz is on, driving on the M25 dispensing tips to other motorists, the school run, losing a bid on Ebay, having root canal work or wild kinky sex. Well, I’m not sure about the last one. I’m guessing it might be less stressful.
Aha, I hear you say. Supermarkets are horrid bustling, stressful places. Well. That’s true. And I know better than most. Generally, towns and cities in the UK grew around something like a river crossing, a harbour or some sort of traditional defensive topography. But Purley, languishing in the grey shadow of Croydon, seems to have grown up around a Tesco. A big one. About to get even bigger. But I digress.
Yes I concede that supermarkets can be very stressful, packed with hoardes of gluteally maximised elderly ladies who, armed only with a shopping trolley and using their physique to maximum effect, can frustrate your every attempt to negotiate any and every aisle. And they always manage to get in front of you at the till, with their piles of broiler chickens and tins of Kit-e-Kat and lavender slow-release air freshener, barely half of which is packed by the time the bill comes. To this unexpected turn of events they then react with shock and surprise that they’re actually going to have to produce a purse, which they vaguely remember having about their person somewhere. Meanwhile everyone, except them, knows right away it is languishing at the bottom of their bag alongside the pile of 10p-off vouchers painstakingly clipped from the TV Times that turn out, after several abortive swipes across the beeper thingy and a long discussion, to be out of date, for a product they didn’t buy and valid only at another supermarket anyway.
And even if you defer your shopping until 3am, the public may be almost entirely absent, but they are replaced by an army of sullen nocturnal minions – the fact that they don’t even wear badges sporting the old “Happy to help” lie is a dead giveaway – whose mission in life is to place large wire cages full of toilet rolls so tightly against any shelf that holds anything you might actually want to buy, that only those of inordinate strength or packing a sturdy set of bolt-cutters can actually get past them.
I can’t argue about the stress factor in such circumstances. But that’s not what’s doing it. You see, I avoid the nasty bustling scrum of the masses piling their trolleys high with everything from £3 jeans to computers to Pot Noodle and French lager to economy packs of roasted chicken legs in luxury honey glaze. I may live in Tescoville, but I just don’t go near the place.
One benefit it brings is that it effectively lures the hoi-polloi from miles around who would otherwise infiltrate the smaller, nicer, friendlier supermarkets. With a little judicious timing, it’s very easy to go to them when the aisles are empty and the staff have so little to do that they’ll even help you, in preference to muttering something in some eastern European language about going to talk to customer services.
Shopping is a breeze. The atmosphere is calm, there’s no rush, no queues, no obstructions and, if you’re really lucky, as I was tonight, you’ll get REO Speedwagon as the background music. Surely this must rank, in terms of blood glucose depletion, somewhere between a Swedish body massage and taking a Mediterranean cruise? Wrong.
It doesn’t seem to matter whether it’s the nicest, gentlest-paced supermarket in the world, it’s still going to wallop those blood glucose levels. It must be something they pipe through the air, in the same way they pipe the smell of fresh bread through the aircon to make you want to spend more. Someone, somewhere – probably during the Cold War – has obviously invented some biological agent that can be deployed in supermarkets to make your blood sugar plummet.
It makes sense, though. When’s the last time you heard of a diabetic falling over and having a fit in a newsagents? A butchers? A shoe shop? A hairdresser? Yep, Thought so. And where does everybody have their mega-hypos? A supermarket. You see. You may have started out on this paragraph thinking this was some sort of ridiculous conspiracy theory, but you’re not so sure now, are you?
So if supermarkets are applying some sort of secret technology that makes people’s blood glucose fall, it could revolutionise the NHS, its finances and life for diabetics. Forget diet; forget exercise. Go to the supermarket and admire all that’s on offer there. It’ll do you good.
But most of all think how happy it will make GPs and PCTs. A typical consultation might now become:
“Well, Mr Patient, I’m changing your Metformin to something new we’re trying that has been very effective in clinical trials.”
“Thank you Dr Doctor. This certainly doesn’t seem like my normal repeat prescription. Do I take it to the chemist as usual?”
“Heavens no, Mr Patient. This isn’t a prescription, it’s a shopping list. Now, be off to the supermarket… and by the way, use my loyalty card – I collect the points.”
Copyright ©2008 Terry Gault. All rights reserved.
