January with Jemima

Hey, guess what? I took gliclazide for about 18 months and I got beta cell failure! No way, you say! Yes, way, I say. This, above all things that have happened to me has left me astonishingly angry. It made NO difference at all how often I voiced my concerns to the various cogs of the NHS. I was not listened to. On one occasion a diabetic specialist nurse did give me some info about alternative drug regimes, but when I got to see the consultant, who could possibly prescribe such a thing, they had already made up their minds before they even spoke to me and dismissed the alternatives without really entertaining the idea, brushing my concerns aside with dire warnings of other side effects. What could be worse than killing off all your beta cells?

Yes, I am angry. Part of me has been damaged beyond repair by a treatment that plundered my remaining reserves instead of trying to nurse my pancreas back to health. Excuse me while I spit sugar-coated feathers.

So, I started taking insulin in December, which has brought my blood sugars down considerably (from about 18 to about 9). I'm still working out the details. On the other hand, insulin is a major appetite stimulator and I have put on at least half a stone since I started taking it i.e. in 6 weeks. This is also not good, as it has a further negative effect on my blood sugars. 

Having become aware of the desire to stuff my face (more than usual that is), I am going to have to be extra strict with myself concerning what I put in my mouth. No more swigging out of the wine bottle and eating the kids' maltesers, Jemima. Hmph. That's my career as a pirate over. 

I am also back at the gym, trying to manage to sustain a plank for more than 25 seconds and attempting to cycle a mile and a half in less than 6 minutes. Watch this space. I've been a handful of times, but my motivation is often a bit lacking because I'm tired or it's cold outside or I'm just a weeny bit pathetic and I get bored stupid watching the choice of TV on the monitors. There are four TV monitors set to four different, but almost indistinguishable channels. There is clearly someone at the sport's centre who loves just two types of programme: a) cooking shows and b) sell my house and/or buy a new one somewhere else shows. Sometimes there are four kitchens on the screens at the same time.YAWN! I'd listen to my music but the in-house hip-hop drowns out my MP3. 

I guess I'll try to get there early tomorrow morning, then. :o).