The Silent Killer

I haven't posted in a while because I've been a little ill and very down. I managed to get a bug which required rocket blaster antibiotics. These killed off all my good bacteria and gave me the worst dose of thrush I have had in a lot time. On top of that I was feeling so completely wiped out that I could just lie down and sleep for England - not something you can do with small children in the house.

I was having moments where my whole face felt grey and my eyes saggy. These feelings would come on quite quickly and leave me feeling like death warmed up. I suddenly realised that they were happening shortly after I had a sugary snack, like chocolate or jaffa cakes. Uh oh. I know what that means.

When I was pregnant I had diabetes. It runs in my family and I've always known I was likely to get it eventually. The thing about gestational diabetes is that it goes away, usually, once the children are born and you feel about 1000% better instantly. This full blown diabetes won't go away though, and I know I will never feel better again.

I still have my testing kit from 6 years ago, so I checked my blood sugar. The Clinistix are 5 years out of date, but they still gave a high reading. Three days in a row I got a reading above 6, when it should be more like 4. Today I went to the doctor and had a reading done on a modern blood sugar monitor. It seems my ancient Clinistix are reading low rather than high. That's double shit. They need to do some more tests but the writing is on the wall as far as I can see.

I can't tell you how depressed I am about this. I feel like I have been handed a death sentence. I know, it's just silly and you can live 40 years with diabetes, but I don't want to be ill for 40 years. I want to be healthy for 40 years. I already know how shit I'm going to feel as the disease gets worse. I've had it before, but this time there will be no release from the endless cycle of hyper and hypo and the irrational mood swings from sleepy to violent.

I suppose I should be grateful that I live in a modern world where insulin is abundantly available and my condition easily monitored, but right now I feel like suicide is almost preferable. My dreams of long treks in remote places become even more pipe dreams than they were before. Even a day trip away from home will shortly need to be planned around access to insulin. Weekends away and holidays become a major undertaking, which need to include a fridge. Camping is only feasible with a really good cool-box. A broken insulin vial can stuff up a trip before you can say "You can't take that syringe on the plane".

Long term I'm looking at poor circulation in hands and feet, numerous infections, retinal damage and possible blindness, and lastly internal organ damage leading to heart attacks and finally death at an age much younger than I'd intended to make it to.

Let's face it: I'm fucked. What's more, I'm totally pissed off about it too.

Chicken and egg

A week's holiday is good for the soul. Already I have lost 4lb, just by not being at work. That's pretty good. I've been worried lately about the swelling around my ankles. I retain water down there. It's something that started back in December when I damaged my leg and had to sit still for a couple of weeks. Since then I have had a build up of water regularly in my legs.

I thought this oedema was because I was fat but my recent miraculous overnight weight losses make me wonder how much of my 'fat' is actually water? Which came first? It's a chicken and egg scenario (if you'll excuse the references to food). Am I 'fat' because I retain water, or do I retain water because I'm fat? And anyway, why did it suddenly start to happen when I couldn't get about, but not stop happening once I was moving again. That's highly unfair, I think.

Better give up work, then

It appears to be working! The 'take a rest' diet is having amazing benefits. I did the only day's work of the week yesterday, then went and climbed a wall a few times (nothing too energetic) and guess what? I am back down to 13st 2lb. Obviously the only way forward is to stop work altogether and regain my former beauty. The additional bonus of not working will be that I will no longer be able to afford to eat, so slimness is guaranteed.

Fantastic!

Weekend Recovery Programme

The week has rolled by in an agony of sleeplessness. I have not been sleeping well, and the climbing made me dog-tired for the next day too. Then I ate pizza, chips, and the kids chocolate bars for their lunch boxes. it hasn't been a good week.

I'm ashamed about the uncontrolled scoffing. Do I have an excuse? No, I was tired and I thought the sugar rush would help me get through the next few hours. Did it? Well, to a small extent. It made me feel better for a few minutes and helped me concentrate, but overall the calorie intake vastly exceeded the calorie requirement. I knew this, even as I was eating the last two slices of pizza and feeling somewhat overfull.

This is where the brick-wall lies. I know what is making me fat (eating when tired), and I know it even when I'm doing it. This isn't something that sneaks up on me. I look it full in the face and eat the muffin anyway. I also know that the sugar rush never keeps me going for as long as I need it to. I basically work too damn hard and don't get enough rest, and then I eat to compensate.

So, I haven't been to the gym. I haven't been swimming. I haven't walked the dog. I stayed in bed all Sunday afternoon. I'm not going to work today, or possibly tomorrow either. To be fair there are 2 inches of snow out there, so staying at home is hardly an act of rebellion. I just wish that three days rest would make up for six years overeating.

I wish!