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It’s day four of the eighth annual #DBlogWeek, created by Karen from Bittersweet Diabetes. This is the sixth year I’ve taken part and it’s a great opportunity to not only write about some truly interesting topics, but also a chance to read some blogs you may not otherwise.  Here are the links to today’s posts.

 

Today’s prompt: May is Mental Health Month (in the US) so now seems like a great time to explore the emotional side of living with, or caring for someone with, diabetes. What things can make dealing with diabetes an emotional issue for you and / or your loved one, and how do you cope?

One of the things I’ve found about living with diabetes is that the way I respond to certain situations is inconsistent. Some days, I’ll look at a rollercoaster CGM trace, shrug my shoulders and think ‘That’s diabetes!’ and move on. Other times, I’ll look at a similar rollercoaster CGM trace and burst into tears, wanting to curl up in the corner under a quilt, asking ‘Why? Why? WHY?’ while someone brings me a cup of tea and Lindt orange chocolate.

There are periods when my resilience stores are high and I can manage anything thrown at me, and other days where the smallest diabetes issue sends me into a spiral of despair. The unpredictability of diabetes is matched only by my own haphazard responses.

There do seem to be some things that do get me down pretty much any time they happen. When diabetes starts to affect my family, making my health issue theirs, I get very emotional and upset. I think it is probably a combination of sadness, guilt, anger and frustration that guarantees an emotional response.

The unknown of diabetes worries and scares me. I don’t think about it most of the time – I guess that is how I cope. The fears and anxiety are neatly packaged up and hidden away, brought out only in moments of weakness – or perhaps when my resilience is low.

Earlier this month, when I was an invited speaker at the Primary Care Diabetes Society of Australia (#PCDSAus) conference, and in the same session as me was Dr Christel Hendrieckx from the Australian Centre for Behavioural Research in Diabetes. Christel was very clear that clinicians need to consider diabetes and emotional health side by side as the two are undeniably connected.

I truly think that when we break it down, we can’t separate the two. When we live with a condition that is so ever-present; that we invest so much of our time and energy into managing; that we can’t put in a box when we are feeling over it and come back to it when we feel more equipped, it’s impossible for it to not impact emotionally.

We, all too often, draw a line with the physical on one side and the emotional on the other side. That line is terribly blurred – if it’s even there at all – when it comes to diabetes.

It’s day two of the eighth annual #DBlogWeek, created by Karen from Bittersweet Diabetes. This is the sixth year I’ve taken part and it’s a great opportunity to not only write about some truly interesting topics, but also a chance to read some blogs you may not otherwise.  Make sure you check out the list for today’s posts here.

Today’s prompt: Insulin and other diabetes medications and supplies can be costly.  In the US, insurance status and age (as in Medicare eligibility) can impact both the cost and coverage.  So today, let’s discuss how cost impacts our diabetes care.  Do you have advice to share?  For those outside the US, is cost a concern?  Are there other factors such as accessibility or education that cause barriers to your diabetes care?  

Diabetes is an expensive condition with which to coexist. Every now and then, I tally my annual diabetes expenses, at which point, the reason for my frequent flyer status at the pharmacy becomes more than apparent. Between insulin, insulin pump consumables and blood glucose strips, it doesn’t take long for the costs to add up.

Then I add the fees to see diabetes-related HCPs. I choose to see all my HCPs privately, so there is a gap (out of pocket) cost for all these appointments. Fortunately, pathology is bulk-billed, so I don’t pay to have my A1c checked or for any other blood work.

Private health insurance (PHI) is a significant cost each year. We pay about $450 per month to cover the whole family for top hospital and extras cover. PHI means that every four years, the full cost of my insulin pump replacement is covered, and it also means a choice of doctors if we’re in hospital, subsidised stays at a private hospital, and we claim optical, dental and orthodontic each year, plus other things as well.

I wear CGM every day of the year, which adds about $4,000 per year to the tally.

It’s a lot of money. Without factoring in incidentals such as hypo treatments and other things that just seem to come up, my out-of-pocket expenses for diabetes (excluding health insurance) would be about $6,500 per year.

And yet, I feel oddly fortunate, because there are few surprises – or changes – each year when it comes to my medical expenses. I know how it will all play out in the family budget each year.

I know the prices that I pay for all my diabetes expenses are pretty much set, and that means I can plan for them.

I know that every time I walk into the pharmacy to fill an insulin prescription, I will hand over $38.80 for five 10ml vials of insulin. We are never at the mercy of Big Pharma’s arbitrary price hikes. (Last week’s announcement from Lilly of a 7.8 per cent increase on the cost of Humalog – after years of substantial increases – has left me reeling and astonished at how my American friends can afford to just survive with diabetes, let alone live or thrive…)

I know that my diabetes consumables will be the same price every time I order them thanks to the NDSS. The National Diabetes Services Scheme (NDSS) is celebrating 30 years this year – that’s 30 years of subsidised diabetes supplies for all people living with diabetes.

I know how much my doctor will charge me and I know the Medicare rebate. And I know that if I was unable to afford to see my doctors at their private offices, I’d have access to the free diabetes clinic at the tertiary hospital less than 10 minutes from my home, and a bulk billing GP of my choice.

I know that if I couldn’t afford private health insurance, my ability to buy insulin, diabetes supplies or see healthcare professionals would not be affected.

I know that there is no time that I will need to ration insulin doses. I know there will be no time that I cannot afford to see a doctor. I know my pharmacy will always be able to provide me with the supplies I need to live with diabetes and drive the devices I use to manage as best I can. I know I am not really limited by maximum rebate amounts or that if I need more BGL strips, I can get them.

And I also know – and acknowledge – the privilege that allows me to afford health insurance that pays for my insulin pump, and to self-fund CGM, and to see the endocrinologist of my choice privately.

I know there are many other Australians with diabetes who are not as fortunate.

The outcomes for Indigenous Australians are worse – far worse. Poorer Australians have poorer health outcomes. People living in remote areas often struggle to access decent, timely and appropriate healthcare. Australians from CALD backgrounds may not understand a new diagnosis or the treatment being prescribed which affects how they manage their health.

Our system here in Australia is not perfect and we should be continually striving to do better. But it is certainly better than in a lot of other places. The thing about diabetes is that, as many of us wrote yesterday, we are wrangling a health condition that likes surprising us. We often feel we are fighting our own bodies. We shouldn’t need to fight to afford our care – and our health – as well.

The cards that cover my diabetes – and other health – needs. (Oh – and a credit card for all the out-of-pocket expenses…)

The other day, I walked into my local NDSS pharmacy and collected four boxes pump consumables and a couple of boxes of blood glucose strips.

I have a lovely pharmacist. She’s friendly and chatty and every time I visit, we catch up about how our kids are going and she comments on how I seem to spend a lot of time on aeroplanes and that I need to look after myself better. (She’s also my parents’ pharmacist, so I suspect that my dad asks her to say that to me.)

While we were talking, she was packaging up my supplies and came out from behind the counter to hand me a black bag. As I was paying for them, I had a really strong flashback to the days that I worked in a local pharmacy.

I was a pharmacy shop girl from when I was 15 until I was about 20. It was a convenient part-time job – a few hours on Saturdays and Sundays, and extra hours in the lead up to Xmas – and a great way to earn a little spending money.

I remembered that there was a customer who came in about once a month and that when he walked in, the pharmacist would step down from his little ‘stage’ with all the medications and bring out the customer’s order, wrapped up in a couple of paper bags. I had no idea what was inside them, and it took me a couple of years of wondering before I finally asked the pharmacist.

He has diabetes. It’s insulin and other things he needs for his diabetes,’ was the answer. ‘He doesn’t like to see the different products, so I wrap them up when I order them in for him and just pass them to him. That way, no one knows what’s in the bag.’

I knew nothing about diabetes back then. I just acknowledged what the pharmacist said with a nod of my head, and the next time I saw that customer, I handed him his package without a word.

I wasn’t working at the pharmacy anymore when I was diagnosed with diabetes, but it is where I picked up my first insulin prescription. I have never, ever thought to ask for my insulin to be hidden away, in fact, the only discussion I have is lying about promising that I am going straight home and don’t need a cool bag for the drugs. Pharmacists seem to worry that the hour or so the insulin is out of the fridge while I pop into a café to grab a coffee is going to send it sour.

But apparently the attitude of the customer at the pharmacy I worked at isn’t all that uncommon. Until the change in ordering from the NDSS, I used to collect my supplies from the NDSS shop downstairs at Diabetes Victoria. This was always fabulously convenient for me, considering I worked just upstairs. The products were always loaded into an opaque, black plastic bag. I remember someone saying those bags were used because a lot of people didn’t want others to know what was inside.

All mail being sent out by the diabetes organisation I worked at was sent in unbranded, plain envelopes. Apparently some people didn’t want their neighbours – or postie – knowing they were receiving mail about diabetes-related matters.

I’ve heard countless stories of people going to great lengths to hide their diabetes. I remember a case where a house was over-crowded with sharps and diabetes waste because the people in the house refused to throw out any packaging that might suggest someone living there had diabetes. They didn’t use sharps containers because they didn’t want to go to their local council for a free one because it might mean having to identify themselves as having diabetes. And they didn’t pay for a sharps container, because depositing it at a sharps collection point would also mean saying they had diabetes.

Another time, someone called me to complain because a letter sent out by the team I managed had slipped inside the plane envelope and the logo identifying the diabetes organisation was visible through the window. ‘I don’t want people knowing I have diabetes,’ I was told angrily.

This reluctance to let others know could be a matter of people simply not wanting to share their personal health with others, which is, of course, fine. But I suspect that it is more than just that. I think that in a lot of cases there is shame involved too. For every one of us who claims to be out, loud and proud about our diabetes, there are others who still want it hidden away – people who feel ashamed, and shamed, by their condition so much so that they don’t want others to know they are affected by diabetes.

I wear my diabetes very visibly and have never thought not to. I don’t feel shame about it at all. Diabetes is tough enough as it is without trying to conceal it from everyone as well. I just don’t have the headspace to think about how to hide it away.

There are lots of ways to discuss diabetes. Some people literally talk about it – in front of roomfuls of people or in the media or record little vlogs of things that they find particularly interesting. Others write about it for different media platforms. Some, you may have heard, even blog about it…!

And then others create comics about it.

Last December, I was sent a copy of Claire Murray’s first ‘Living with It’ comic and just last week, I was sent the second. I don’t actually know Claire (other than online), but I know her dad. And like all good dads, he is (quite rightly) very proud of his kid and wants to show off her brilliant work. So he kindly popped the comics in the mail for me.

There is much to love about Claire’s comics. They are very funny –  as in laugh out loud funny. I’m writing this in a local café and keep giggling as I flick through their pages. ‘Living with It’ chronicles the story of a kick-ass young woman with diabetes called Megan who just happens to have type 1 diabetes. Oh, and she’s a bona fide superhero.

A new diabetes superhero! Back cover of ‘Living with It’ #1 by Claire Murray.

Megan as a character is brilliant – the perfect mixture of snark and sass! She fights crime while managing to deal with diabetes in a most fabulous manner. I want to be friends with her so she can teach me her ways! (Plus she looks like a human, not a barbie doll, which is a nice departure from how women are usually drawn in comics.)

And you absolutely don’t need to have diabetes to get the story, which is why this is such an awesome channel for discussing diabetes. Claire hasn’t created a ‘diabetes 101’ story in a comic – this isn’t really about learning the ins and outs of diabetes. (Although the glossary at the beginning of the second comic is excellent in its straightforwardness and a perfect way to describe some of the basics of diabetes. Simple pictures, clear explanations.)

Glossary from the beginning of ‘Living with It’ #2, by Claire Murray

What Claire has done is shape a very clever and funny superhero story, and wound diabetes through it. Diabetes isn’t really the central theme – it’s just there and in the way. Kind of like diabetes in real life! She has managed to unmistakably show the disruption and irritation diabetes creates each and every day.

I love the idea of kids and teens with diabetes (and grown-ups with diabetes) reading these and sharing them with their friends. The gentle, funny and captivating tales are a terrific way to explain just how and where diabetes can get in the way of real life, yet, despite the mess of out messed up beta cells, those of us living with it just get on with things.

You can read more about Claire Murray and her work at her website, Tumblr and Instagram.

(For the record, I think Claire might be a bit of a superhero, too. I believe that she is on a panel this weekend at Supanova where she will be speaking about the Women in Comics Festival.)

On Saturday, Medtronic Australia hosted their first Diabetes Advocates Day. Ten or so advocates from across Australia came together to hear about new technologies and talk about real-life application of technology in our diabetes lives.

There were some familiar faces and some newbies too which is always great to see. I, most opportunistically, used my role as facilitator for the day to get book recommendations from as part of the ice–breaker session. (Truthfully, this is always one of my favourite parts of these events, but it can also be a challenge when the people in the room are all over-sharing bloggers!)

There were a couple of standout moments throughout the day worth sharing.

Melbourne endocrinologist, Professor David O’Neal, gave a great talk on the future of diabetes technology.

David is one of those endos who after you meet and hear speak, you want to make him your endo for life. He is ridiculously tech savvy and his knowledge of diabetes technology is hard to beat. If you Google him, you’ll see that he is a regular contributor to diabetes journals and is involved in a lot of diabetes tech research.

Which is all good and well, but the real reason David is so wonderful is because he completely ‘gets’ diabetes and what technology can actually offer us. As a tech geek, it’s easy to be completely and utterly captivated by the technology, but David readily admits it has limitations.

This is really important to remember. Too often we forget that the tools we have today are not perfect, and cannot seamlessly mimic a fully functioning pancreas. Most importantly, this is not the fault of the person using the tech. David acknowledged both of these points in the opening to his talk.


I really love that David mentioned this because so often when technology doesn’t work the way it is meant to, there is an assumption that it is the fault of the user. We mustn’t have pressed the right button, at the right time, in the right order, with the right calculation.

But actually, the tools are just not smart enough to account for the daily changes and variabilities and inconsistencies that play a pivotal role in life and impact our diabetes. As David said, insulin requirements overnight can fluctuate by up to 200%. There is nothing available at the moment that is equipped to deal with that sort of variation.

Add to that, the effect of exercise, food, stress, hormones, illness or pretty much anything else, and there is no way the tech can keep up – or those of us using it can work out how to factor it all in.

This constant need to makes changes is what sets diabetes technology apart from other medical technologies which are often ‘set and forget’ for the wearer. With diabetes devices, there is no such luxury, which is why we need to remember that often, technology actually adds work to our already significant list of diabetes tasks.

Another absolute gem from the day came from blogger and advocate Melinda Seed. During a discussion about HCPs reticence to deal with PWD’s research online, was her comment (as tweeted by Georgie Peters):

This really is turning the whole ‘Dr Google’ thing on its head. Instead of fearing the internet – and PWD who use it to research and better understand our health condition, surely HCPs could engage to discuss safe ways to do that research. Being part of the solution rather than just fearing it makes a lot of sense.

And perhaps, look at it the way David O’Neal chooses to:

In a roomful of tech-heads, there was also a moment where we considered those who have no interest in using any sort of newer tech available. With the dawn of new hybrid closed-loop systems that take even more control away from the user, how do we make that leap to completely trusting the device? And is this particularly difficult for those of us who identify as control freaks when it comes to our diabetes management?

Affordability and access also came up, reminding me – and hopefully those from the company producing the devices – that this needs to be a consideration at all steps of the conversation. There is no point in developing and releasing onto market whiz-bang tech if people can’t afford to use it. (And we also must remember that as every new piece of tech is released, the divide between the haves and have-nots becomes more and more cavernous – especially when you remember ‘have-nots’ refers to not only the unaffordable tech, but also to basic needs such as insulin…)

DISCLOSURE

The Diabetes Advocates Day event was hosted by Medtronic Australia and was supported by Diabetes Australia. I am employed by Diabetes Australia as Manager of Type 1 Diabetes and Consumer Voice, and attending and facilitating the event was part of this role.

There was no expectation by Diabetes Australia or Medtronic Australia that I would write about the event, and my words here and in other online spaces are mine and mine alone. For more, check out the #DAdvocatesAU hashtag on Twitter and keep an eye out for blogs by other attendees.

This is me standing next to my favourite poster drinking from an excellent coffee mug:

And this is a close up of said coffee mug:


And this is the back of same said coffee mug:


Decompressing today and grateful for this little reminder! I love homewares that give a pep talk.

More information about Bill Polonsky and the Behavioural Diabetes Institute here. And more from me about Bill Polonsky here. (And you can buy your very own version of this mug right here.)

Brutal. That’s the way I’ve been describing my week. It’s been super busy and there is no hint that will change any time soon.

But there is so much stuff out there to read. Here’s just some of it…

CGM

Oh, did you hear? CGM is now funded for children and young people under the age of 21 who meet eligibility criteria. It’s been ALL OVER the interwebs, but for the most up-to-date info, go here!

(And yes, I know, people 21 and over need CGM and need support. This isn’t over yet…!)

A psychologist who knows diabetes? Yep!

A good psychologist is worth their weight in gold. A good psychologist who understands the impact of living with diabetes on our overall wellbeing is like a unicorn – rare and magical.

So, I was delighted when someone from my office who has been a Research Fellow with the ACBRD for a number of years came to tell me that she is starting a private psychology practice. Dr Adriana Ventura’s research has focused on the psychological, social and behavioural aspects of living with type 1 and type 2 diabetes.

Adriana understands that living with diabetes (and other chronic health conditions) can be challenging. And she understands that these challenges can make it tough to take care of our health the way we would like.

Details about Adriana’s practice can be found here. (Adriana works with adults and older adolescents – 16 years and over)

Really? REALLY?

Seems that we’ve all been doing diabetes wrong. That lancet thing that we joke about never changing? This is how you use it according to the pic accompanying a BBC Radio 2 tweet.

Apparently it is really hard to do some decent research. (And if the image wasn’t enough of a deterrent, the article looks shit too, so didn’t bother reading it.)

My maths teacher was right

So, as it turns out, I do use maths every single day. Diabetes has certainly put my algebra skills to good use!

This article from The Conversation is all about how an applied mathematician developed an algortithm to help treat diabetes. As you do.

Words that over-promise

I can’t remember the number of times I’ve heard that a diabetes cure is ‘just around the corner’ or any other version of ‘five years away’.

But how do these promises affect people living with health confitions? This article from Medivisor asks just that.

March for Health

While we were celebrating the CGM announcement on Saturday, I was very mindful that my US friends were getting ready to continue their battle for fair healthcare. March for Health was held across the US on 1 April calling for affordable access to quality health care for all people. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound unreasonable to me.

Check out more at the website here.  

And this, by the way, is possibly one of my favourite promotional posters from the March.

Women’s Health Survey … Quick!!!

And while we’re talking women’s health…There are still a few days left to do the annual Jean Hailes Women’s Health Survey, which identifies gaps in current knowledge when it comes to women’s health.

Click here to do the survey.

College Diabetes Network

There are some really wonderful groups out there supporting people with diabetes, and my friend from the US, Mindy Bartleson emailed me with some really useful information about the College Diabetes Network (CDN). The Network empowers and connects young people with diabetes and their are CDN Chapters on college campuses across the US.

The Network is certainly US based, but some of the information will be relevant to those in Australia (and elsewhere). Their resources provide information about how to prepare for the transition from high school to college or university. Do have a look!

Information for students can be found here.  And information for parents can be found here.

Peanut butter cookies

I made these cookies and jeez were they delicious!

They are gluten free, which I know is important for many people. For me, I need cookies that take no more than 10 mins to mix together and then taste perfect. Honestly, they are possibly the best tasting biscuit/cookie I have ever made… and I bake a lot.

The recipe can be found here. (I used smooth peanut butter as the recipe suggests, but I reckon they would taste awesome with crunchy. Also, do pop the mixture in the freezer before trying to shape the cookies. The dough is mighty-soft and sticky, and this step helps to get the dough from the bowl onto your cookie tray. AND DON’T SKIP THE SALT ON TOP!! This is what ties it all together and makes the magic happen!)

And finally……

… a little New Yorker Cartoons funny, which may not be directed at diabetes, but boy it certainly shows how I feel most days living as a diabetes tech cyborg!

Hi Lady

I was a little snappy to you the other day. But then you were rude, so how about we call it even? I wrote this just after our little encounter and I hope you take it in the spirit in which it was written. That spirit being ‘pissed off’.

I didn’t say anything when you first started making comments directed at me. We were sitting in a busy café. A small, busy café with lots of people and some kids, and a woman trying to juggle a screaming baby and drink her coffee, and quite frankly, I was paying more attention to her to see if she needed any help trying to locate whatever it was she was desperately searching for amongst her gear.

So when you made your ‘Ugh – does she have to do that?’ comment while staring at me – and then pointing, I ignored you. I didn’t say ‘Yeah, I do. I’m checking my BGL to calibrate my CGM. The buzzing on my phone (because I should have already done it) is pissing me off and probably everyone around me. So, yes, I do have to do that.’

And then when you announced to your friend – and everyone else I the café (did I mention it was a small café) that I ‘must have diabetes,’ I ignored that too, even though I didn’t really see how my medical condition was any of your business, or of any interest to the rest of the people trying to have a morning coffee and prepare for the day.

I did throw a death stare at you when you moaned about the crying baby. I know that the kid had a set of lungs on him, and I know that he was loud, but I promise you that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. And no matter how uncomfortable it was making you feel, that’s nothing to how it was making his mum feel. I didn’t say that because that was the moment that I did lean over and offer to pass the mum the dummy she was reaching for in her baby’s pram, and then we had a bit of a chat after her little one settled down.

I looked away, but was listening intently, as you complained about how you’d seen people with diabetes inject in public and that you hate the thought of me leaving blood around the café after I’d finished calibrating my CGM. In no uncertain terms you announced with misplaced authority that ‘diabetics’ (your word; not mine) should use the bathrooms provided to do whatever it is we need to do.

I tried not to listen when you shared the story of someone you knew who had all sorts of nasty diabetes complications, because you were starting to sound like a cliché and I really don’t like to hear about end-stage renal failure before I’ve had at least two cups of coffee. I wasn’t there yet. Not nearly there yet.

But then, when you started your ill-informed rant about diabetes, I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. When you started saying that I probably shouldn’t have just added sugar to my morning coffee because I am ‘diabetic’ and that if only I ate better and did some exercise I’d be cured, I decided that it was time for us to have a little chat.

Could I have been more polite? Yeah, absolutely. But then, so could you. So I’m not actually going to apologise for my manner.

You probably didn’t listen to what I said, so I’ll lay it out for you again:

Yes, I have diabetes. No amount of exercise or different eating is going to change that fact. But that’s not really the point. The point is that it’s not your concern that I have diabetes, and certainly none of your business to suggest how I could better manage my condition – especially when not asked. Diabetes cannot be cured, so you should probably strike that piece of advice off your playlist for good.

It’s not appropriate to chastise someone for doing a task that needs to be done to manage that condition. I’m pretty sure I’m right when I say that no one voluntarily jabs their finger to check their BGL because it’s fun and they’ve nothing better to do. I can also promise you that your claim that I’ve left ‘blood all over the café’ is completely groundless. I generally don’t splatter blood from my tiny finger prick test on every surface nearby.

But this is the message that I really hope got through: It’s not your place to comment, criticise, or appraise someone’s health condition. Nor is it okay to judge someone. We get enough of that – often from ourselves. Really, you should have said nothing. Nothing at all.

After I finished what I was saying, I stood up and went to the counter to pay because I wasn’t interested in hearing your reply. You’d already said more than enough. But I did leave you my card with the address this blog. I’m hoping that you typed in the URL and started to read. (Actually, I hope you’re doing it after I post this, so you can read this letter because you did, after all, inspire the content here today. Thanks for the content.)

And I hope that you click on a couple of other posts and have a read about what it’s like for me to live with diabetes to give you an idea of just how wrong you seem to have the whole diabetes thing.

If you see me again in the café, feel free to come up and say hi and we can have a chat. As long as you have remembered your manners and can be respectful, I promise to be polite in return. I’ll even buy you a coffee and answer any questions you might have.

Best

A few people read this blog. I actually checked the stats just before, and was surprised to see that each day a significant number of people check in and read what I have to say.

So, given that people seem interested in what I have to write, I’ve decided I should take advantage of this. With this profile, I am going to do good for the world.   

Just so you know – because I’m all about disclosure – I’m a classically trained flute player. Also, I like to cook. And I’m quite good at air hockey. Also, I write some mindless crap a few days each week and publish it here, so that OBVIOUSLY qualifies me as MORE than suitable to give advice – any sort of advice I’d like, but specifically medical and nutrition advice. In fact, I’d argue that I am probably more qualified than most people who have gone to medical school, because they have been brainwashed by all the evidence and peer-reviewed journals they’ve been forced to study. I haven’t.

I think that it’s fair for me to advise that insulin is actually really poisonous. It’s dangerous and it’s dodgy. Doctors, of course, won’t tell you this. They want to keep you on insulin because they are in the pocket of Big Pharma, and like their holiday houses on the Peninsula, so they won’t tell you what they know.  

Really, you should all be off insulin and use air and water, and maybe some cinnamon, which is NATURAL and can be found in NATURE and is ORGANIC. Because NATURE’S NATURAL ORGANICS are health care. Medicine (such as insulin) is sick care.

Also – if you are ingesting grains, dairy, fruit, vegetables, sugar, protein, carbs, caffeine, flowers, condiments, oils, sauces and/or food (except organic kale) and drink (except organic kale juice), you should stop. Dietitians know this, but they won’t tell you that because they are in the pocket of Big Food and they want you to be sick so you’ll go to doctors who are in the pocket of Big Pharma.  

It’s the circle of life and everyone everywhere is trying to keep you sick. Okay? OKAY?????

And, finally, I’ve seen the way and realise now that vaccines are really dangerous and I wish that I’d never vaccinated my kid and will be cancelling my flu vax appointment for early next month. I’m trying to work out if I can actually somehow withdraw the vaccines I had injected into my kid last week so she doesn’t have those evil pollutants floating around her otherwise perfect self. Vaccines are full of toxins and heavy metals and evil pixies. Plus, vaccines cause frizzy hair, skin tags and bugs to fly into your mouth making you cough. Doctors know this, but won’t tell you because … well, you know why…

Also: kale. Because KALE, KALE, KALE, KALE, KALE!! (Must be organic.) 

I know. I sound like a lunatic, right?

Actually, I sound kinda like Pete Evans. To be honest, I didn’t watch Pete Evans’ interview last night. I’m not interested in seeing him being allowed to spruik his dangerous crap on a television station that employs him (poor form, Channel 7), plus he’s full of shit. Most importantly, we were watching ‘Shut Up and Sing’ in preparation for seeing the Dixie Chicks next Saturday night and needed to bring the kidlet up to speed with her political education. #TeachingMoment

But I did catch up online with some of his rubbish claims and am once again flabbergasted that people actually believe what he has to say and defend his right to say it.

If Pete Evans said ‘You know, it’s always best to eat fresh, healthy, in-season foods and as a chef, I’m going to share some recipes that will show you how to make an easy and healthy dinner’, I’d be ALL over it. I’d love that! I’d make his recipes and then Instagram the shit out of them. Because I care and share.

But that’s not what Pete Evans does. Pete Evans tells you that fluoride is bad and that babies should be fed bone broth and drink camel’s milk and that sunscreen is pointless. He blunders about in a way that is oddly (and frighteningly) similar to fools including Donald Trump and Pauline Hanson who seem to think that just because they have a public profile, they are qualified to give health advice.

And people believe their claims and then blindly follow them.

I (somewhat stupidly) had a look at Pete Evans’ Facebook page today and found this:

I’m not here to debate whether any people are taking medicines they maybe don’t need to take. I’ve no qualifications in health (real or imagined) and it’s not my place.

But this sort of meme is really damaging because it lacks any sophistication at all. It suggests that if a doctor puts you on any drug, they do not have your best interests at heart.

Could our HCPs be more holistic about the way they treat us? Maybe. Do some doctors over- and unnecessarily – prescribe drugs? Possibly. Do ALL doctors do this? Absolutely not. Most doctors – the vast majority, in fact – do not prescribe drugs that people don’t need. (I’ll just let the conspiracy theorists make their ‘ALL DOCTORS ARE IN THE POCKETS OF BIG PHARMA claims for a bit…Done? Okay, let’s move on.)

And, of course, I’m not stupid, and I know that when Evans puts up a meme like this on his Facebook page, he’s not really about people like me who need insulin to stay alive.

But the problem is that not everyone realises that.

Just last week, we heard another case of a child dying after his parents took him off insulin to treat his diabetes using ‘natural methods’. I still have people telling me to try <insert ridiculous and pointless herb> to treat my diabetes. There will always be people who just need a tiny push to stop the drugs they’ve been prescribed, because meds are bad, right? And natural is good, right? No. Not right.

Evans (and his ilk) speak in generalisations and sound bites that make sense to some people. But he fails to in any way address the intricacies of health. And he certainly has no concept of the complexities of living with a chronic health condition and how the drugs we take HELP keep us well (and alive).

This could be because he is a chef and doesn’t need to. And if he stayed being a chef and shut the fuck up about health, I wouldn’t be writing this blog post. Or getting into online arguments with members of his ‘tribe’ who keep offering me unsolicited and wrong medical advice*.

*Also – note to self: You are a fool for voluntarily falling down the rabbit hole and engaging with conspiracy theorists!

I’m a sucker for a man with a beard. So when Jimmy Niggles was introduced as the second speaker at last weekend’s HealtheVoicesAU conference, I snapped to attention to hear what he had to say.


Jimmy Niggles (not his real name) started Beard Season at the wake of his 26-year-old mate, Wes, who died of melanoma. Each year, 46,000 people lose their life to melanoma making it one of the most lethal cancers globally.

Jimmy wanted to do something to encourage people to have regular skin checks, because (as is often the case) early detection of melanoma is critical to survival. The idea was for blokes to grow a beard in Winter (apparently the season for beards!) and then use their hirsuteness to start a conversation and challenge their friends and family to have a skin check.

One of the great things about this charity is that any bloke can become an ambassador. Grow a beard. Start a conversation. Encourage people to have a skin check. It’s simple, scalable and easily translatable. (And there is something on their website here about how women can get involved too.)

Jimmy is a reluctant advocate in some ways. He says he made himself an expert speaker by starting with one on one conversations, with the belief that every conversation can make a difference. That grass roots approach has grown to him (and his beard) being the face and voice of Beard Season and he has really kicked some major goals!

It was easy to draw parallels between what Jimmy is doing with Beard Season and how it could be adopted for diabetes awareness – both in terms of screening for type 2 diabetes and also complications screening. Those conversations at an individual level have so much potential, and tied together with public health campaigns and media promotions, there is an opportunity to reach lots of people.

Jimmy’s beard is there permanently for now and will be until someone offers him a cool million bucks to shave it off. He’s open to offers, so if you have a spare million under the mattress or in the freezer, he’ll put it to good use.

Want to do something to support Beard Season RIGHT NOW? Check out these beyond fabulous playing cards with some incredibly impressive beards. Be still my beating heart! Each deck of cards contains a lucky card. The idea is that you read the card, do as it says and spread the word. It’s another simple and effective way of getting the word out.

DISCLOSURE

Thanks to Janssen (the pharma arm of Johnson and Johnson) for covering my travel and accommodation costs to attend the #HealtheVoicesAU conference. There was no expectation by Janssen that I would write about the event and everything expressed here (and on Twitter Facebook and other social feeds) is mine and mine-alone! To read more, check out the conference hashtag, #HealtheVoicesAU, on the socials. 

 

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