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Earlier this week, Professors Jane Speight (ACBRD) and Frans Pouwer (Southern Denmark University) published a blog post on the ACBRD site, with their wrap up of EASD, specifically, the lack of psychosocial sessions at the conference. In the piece, Jane and Frans quite rightly say:

‘Psychology is not an optional extra. If diabetes care is the seat of a three-legged stool, then it is supported by three legs: psychology/education, treatment/technology and complications screening. It seems ironic that so much funding, resource and effort is put into strengthening and promoting the treatment/technology and complications ‘legs’, while the psychology/education ‘leg’ remains short and weak.’

EASD is the largest diabetes meeting on the calendar this year. It draws a truly international audience, with healthcare professionals and researchers from all disciplines. It is possible to speak with endocrinologists, diabetes educators, allied health professionals, general practitioners, psychologists, and researchers from all spheres of the diabetes care spectrum.

And yet, it is undeniable that the conference has a true clinical focus, almost forgetting that diabetes does not only impact specific parts of the body (so, so much about the ‘diabetic foot’!) but the whole person (absolutely not enough on the ‘diabetic mind’!).

I am not for a moment saying that the scientific and clinical elements of diabetes should be removed from a diabetes conference, or that they are not important. But I am saying that by demonstrating ONLY this aspect of diabetes, the picture presented is very, very incomplete.

I have written before that this is a frustration of mine at EASD, along with the continued lack of ‘patient representation’ on the conference program. It astounds me that there are no advocates on the official program, giving the ‘lived experience’ standpoint to what is being discussed. With hours and hours of sessions focusing on complications, how valuable it would be to have a PWD who is living with complications standing up there to give a little perspective to all the science. And a psychologist to speak about how complications affect far more than the part of the body that has become…well, complicated.

I urge the organisers and program committee to step up, and find a way to fill in the gaps and start to present a far fuller and more complete picture of diabetes.

While this would involve including more focus on the behavioural side of diabetes with the relevant professionals on the program, it must also mean including PWD into the program – in a meaningful way. If it is too much of a leap to include PWD alongside HCPs in the scientific program, introduce a Living with Diabetes Stream as the IDF has done in their last four World Congresses. It can be done. It can be done well. (And I say that with full disclosure that I am leading the stream at the 2019 Congress and was deputy lead for the 2017 Congress, and spoke at the 2015 Congress in the LWD stream.)

The thing is, it would actually be very, very simple to include PWD in the EASD program because we are already there. This year in Berlin marked the seventh EASD conference I have been fortunate to attend. I have always gone because of satellite events designed specifically for PWD. Initially, these were run by Johnson & Johnson, and more recently Roche, who has taken the ‘patient engagement’ to a new level, running events with up to seventy bloggers. That’s seventy people who have a story to share about their own diabetes experiences.

And I know that many of those seventy people would want to talk about all aspects of living with diabetes, including the psychosocial impacts.

As a leading annual diabetes meeting, EASD could be better. It ticks a lot of boxes. But it could, quite easily, tick a whole lot more by being far more wholistic in its approach. Focus more on the behavioural side of diabetes. And have PWD front and centre where we belong. After all, we’re the ones all this information and research is meant to be benefitting.

DISCLOSURE

Roche Diabetes Care (Global) covered my (economy) travel and accommodation costs to attend their #DiabetesMeetup Blogger event at #EASD2018 and present at their media event the day before EASD. Roche Diabetes Care also assisted with providing me press registration to attend all areas of the EASD meeting. As always, my agreement to attend their blogger day and participate in their media event does not include any commitment from me, or expectation from them, to write about the company, the events or their products. 

With Jane Speight at EASD in Berlin.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about motivation recently; specifically, how we remain motivated living with a lifelong health condition that places so many demands upon us. It’s something I also get asked about a lot by others with diabetes – often people newly diagnosed: ‘How do you stay so motivated.’

It’s all smoke and mirrors, because the truth of the matter is that most days, my motivation to ‘do diabetes’ is very low. In fact, I think that there is a spectrum of motivation where zero is ‘What diabetes?’ and ten is ‘I log everything…EVERYTHING…ask me how many carbs I ate yesterday and what my BGL was at 3.10pm and 5.55pm. Go on…do it. Because I can tell you. Do it. Ask me. And also, yes! I can tell you why my glucose levels spiked at 10.12am three months ago on a random Tuesday. Also, look at this: it shows how my glucose levels are impacted by the phases of the moon. In other news…here’s my last fifteen years of A1cs displayed pictorially, but I can also demonstrate them using interpretative dance if you would like me to. Would you? You would, right? Let me just find my Kate Bush playlist on my iPhone…

Generally, I’m a solid 3.5. I don’t do graphs, I have a vague idea of what my CGM is telling me now-ish, and I can tell you my A1c to within about 0.5 per cent. I call this winning.

I have had periods – extended periods – where I am far closer to zero, which have not been great because that has added ‘not-doing-diabetes-guilt’ to the simple ‘not-doing-diabetes’ which basically equalled feeling crappy all around. And I’ve also been closer to ten – this, for me, was called ‘pregnancy’ – and I was borderline obsessive.

Someone recently asked me if I thought there was a secret to staying motivated. I don’t think there is, because surely, at least one oversharing blogger would have written about it by now.

But I do believe there are small factors that, when combined, do make it easier to remain, if not enthused, at least stirred to keep chugging along with diabetes.

Firstly, in range numbers beget in range numbers, and in range numbers make us want to check for more in range numbers more frequently. It’s undeniable that when we see numbers that don’t cause the response of rage, frustration, sadness, stress or anxiety, we are more inclined to check again. And again.

Technology that helps rather than hinders makes everyone feel better. Many think that it’s a given that new tech makes life easier, but unfortunately, that’s not always the truth, because often – at least to begin with – it requires more input from the user. Actually needing to do more, but not necessarily seeing results is not a recipe for remaining enthused!

Boring tasks are boring, so any way that we can eliminate them or reduce them helps. Making appointments to see our HCPs, finding time to visit a pathology centre for quarterly A1cs (and more) and keeping our diabetes supplies and meds current all take physical time as well as mental time. I have a pharmacist who is like my personal assistant when it comes to reminding me that it’s probably time to reorder insulin and NDSS products and prompts me when I need a new insulin prescription and I cannot tell you how much I love her. She sends me texts messages (totally unobtrusive) and I reply by text and then a day or two later pop in and she has everything ready for me. I can’t remember the last time I ran out of something, thanks to Mae!

But for me, if there was a silver bullet, it would be this: I am motivated because of today. Today, I have been able to do everything I have wanted to do and diabetes has not stopped me, even momentarily. And that makes me want to do it more.

I know that a large part of that is that I have the capacity, the will and the ability to do what I need to make this happen. I speak from a position of privilege, because I also know that the devices I am using – and am able to afford to use – certainly do help me with everything. They have helped to make my diabetes today doable, manageable, and as untroublesome as diabetes can be.

You can threaten me with what is going to happen in five, ten, twenty years’ time; you can tell me about all the disabling and debilitating complications that will happen if I don’t remain motivated and how they will impact on my life as a fifty, sixty and seventy year old.

But unless what you are saying is going to impact on me right here, right now, I can ignore it, and I can ignore the things that may help me reduce the risk of those things happening.

Perhaps that’s where public health messages about diabetes get it wrong. They tend to focus on longer term impacts. It’s not just teenagers who believe they are invincible. Despite a body that each and every day looks less like that of a sprightly youth, I think I am still young. I think all the things that are considered long-term issues are still years off. Being unmotivated doesn’t seem to matter when I don’t need to deal with those issues today.

But when diabetes does impact on my day now, then I notice. More hypos, more hypers, more interrupted sleep, more roller coaster numbers, more exhaustion, more feeling crappy. All of these things make day to day life more difficult. And I want to avoid them as much as I can.

I’m quite pleased with my solid 3.5. Sure, it could be better. Sure I could do more. But it’s consistent. And it’s achievable. Plus, quite frankly, everyone around me should be pleased with the absence of interpretive dance.

Click to get your own Casualty Girl bag.

#DOCDAY is now as much of the EASD program as other satellite events. While you may not see me limbering up at the start line of the EASD5K, you certainly will see me prepping for #DOCDAY!

The first #DOCDAY event was back in 2015 in Stockholm when diabetes advocate extraordinaire, Bastian Hauck, hired a small, overheated room in the back of a downtown café, with plans to house some diabetes bloggers and advocates who would be at EASD, providing us with the opportunity to share some of the things we have been up to in diabetes advocacy. The promise of coffee and cinnamon buns was more than enough to see the room fill to capacity before the event started.

My, how the event has grown! The following year in Munich, Bastian had the brilliant idea of moving #DOCDAY to the conference centre and inviting HCPs, researchers and industry to attend. The event was still very much an opportunity for PWD to share our work, but it made sense that we weren’t simply talking to each other. The echo chamber of diabetes can be vast sometimes!

Bastian has asked me to speak at each #DOCDAY event. I’m yet to work out whether it’s because he’s desperate for presenters, or if he just wants me up there so people can giggle at my odd accent and unintentional (yet frighteningly frequent) ‘Australian-isms’, that make sense to no one other than me and the very limited number of Aussie HCPs who are in the room. (Thank you to the couple of Aussie endos who came along this year and some other folks from the Diabetes Australia family!)

There was a very strong focus this year on DIY technologies. Dr Katarina Braune – fellow looper and paediatric endocrinologist – spoke about some incredible grass roots initiatives involving sharing information and expertise about DIY systems among the diabetes community in Germany. Katarina is a force to be reckoned with – dynamic, passionate, smart (so smart!) and committed to ensuring that people who want to come on board the DIY train are supported to do so.

Dr Shane O’Donnell, postdoc research fellow from University College Dublin, spoke about a new project called OPEN which is an international collaboration of PWD, HCPs, social and computer scientists and diabetes advocacy groups. (Disclosure: I’m involved in this work.) We’re hoping to investigate and establish an evidence-base around the impact of DIY systems on PWD and the broader healthcare world.

And I spoke about the recently released Diabetes Australia DIYAPS position statement.

It’s clear that this is a hot topic amongst some advocates. But the message remains clear – this is not about converting everyone onto a DIY system. It’s about ensuring those who chose that path are supported, a point I was at pains to hammer across:

(Click for original tweet)

The great thing about DOCDAY is that it is totally informal. There is no real agenda. Bastian likes to have a couple of people lined up to kick off proceedings, and say a few words, but the floor is open to anyone who has anything relevant to share.

Mandy Marquardt, Team Novo Nordisk cycling champ, spoke about her Olympic plans and how she’s clearly not letting type 1 diabetes standing in the way of achieving her dreams.

And Amin from MedAngel spoke about the importance of knowing that our insulin is being stored correctly, and about a poster presented at EASD which showed that a lot of the time, our fridges at home are not keeping insulin within the manufacturer-recommended temperature range, which means that insulin quality and potency may be compromised. More about that here.

(Also – great time for those of us down under to think about ordering a MedAngel as the weather starting to heat up. Do yourself a favour – and give yourself some peace of mind – by knowing your insulin is not being cooked or frozen. For Australians, order here.)

Some new initiatives I heard about this year include:

Diatravellers: a brilliant idea of using social platforms to connect travellers with diabetes to interact, share information and promote activities (such as events and peer group meetings). It’s early days yet, but keep an eye on their website as more information comes to hand.

The awesome Steffi from Pep Me Up (where you can buy very cool stickers for your Libre sensor, temporary tattoos and my choice of medic alert bracelets), is working with the community to develop a new code of ethics for diabetes bloggers. Another ‘watch this space’ idea which is just getting started.

And, Weronika Kowalska spoke about ConnecT1on Campaign, her new project for the European Patients Forum Program for Young Patient Advocates which will feature type 1 diabetes advocates connecting with people from all over the world. This is an awareness raising initiative and you can follow along on Instagram.

One of my main criticisms of EASD is that there is such limited ‘patient’ involvement in the actual scientific program, which is frustrating considering that there is a huge contingent of bloggers and advocates in attendance (thanks to Roche Diabetes Care organising for us to have access all areas media passes as part of our involvement in their #DiabetesMeetUp event). This is why #DOCDAY is so important. It gives us an opportunity to take the stage and talk about initiatives and issues important to people affected by diabetes. The HCPs and researchers who attend get to hear us and speak with us. It’s such a simple idea, but one that makes perfect sense!

It’s possible Bastian was translating something I had just said…
(Click for photo source.)

After a wonderful couple of weeks of real holidays – sun in Italy, less sun in London – I headed to Berlin, saying good bye to my family as we headed in different directions. I was bound for meetings before EASD officially kicked off. And they were headed to Wales and canal boats with extended family. We could not have found ourselves in more different settings!

My first day in Berlin was dedicated to HypoRESOLVE, the Innovative Medicines Initiative (IMI) funded project looking to provide a better understanding of hypoglycaemia. I am on the Patient Advisory Committee (PAC) for this project, which kicked off back in May this year in Copenhagen.

The project is divided into eight work packages (WP) and it was WP 8 that convened the first meeting. I was there as part of the PAC, and also to provide the personal perspective on hypoglycaemia.

Back in May at the kick off meeting, I had given a talk called ‘The literal lows of my diabetes’, where I spoke about my own experiences of 20 years of diabetes and how hypoglycaemia had impacted on my everyday life. This was a very personal talk, where I spoke about the fear and anxieties of lows, my different hypo personalities and the terror that comes with impaired hypo awareness.

But for this new talk, I wanted to do something different. I didn’t want to highlight my own experiences, because I am but one person and it is important that the audience never feel that they have ‘done diabetes’ and understand the ‘patient view’ because they have listened to one person.

I wanted my focus to be on the disconnect between how hypoglycaemia is regarded in the clinical and research world as compared with the real-living-with-diabetes world.

So, I used the tools at hand, and the fact that there is a vocal and ready to help diabetes online community just a few clicks away and sent out this tweet:

It was apparent straight away, as the responses came flooding in, that the way hypos are described and classified in clinical and research terms is very, very different to the way those of actually experiencing lows see them.

Here is how hypos are categorised in the literature:

Straight forward, neat, tidy, pigeon-holed.

And yet, when I asked PWD how they would describe hypos, here is what they came up with:

Some of the words were repeated multiple times, others appeared only once. Some of the words are the words I use to describe my own hypos, many I had not considered. Yet every single word made sense to me.

Hypoglycaemia, in the same way as diabetes, is not neat and tidy and it cannot be pigeon holed. I hope that my talk was able to illustrate that point.

And I hope I was able to highlight that using simple words and simple categorisations only service to limit and minimise just how significant and impactful hypoglycaemia truly is for those of us affected by diabetes.

You can keep an eye on the progress of HypoRESOLVE on Twitter, and via the website.  

DISCLOSURE

The HypoRESOLVE project funded my travel from London to Berlin and provided me with one night’s accommodation. I am not receiving any payment for my involvement in the Patient Advisory Committee.   

Previous disclosures about my attendance at EASD 2018, can be found on this post.

I have spent a lot of time listening to presentations about diabetes. It’s one of the perks of the job – hearing from leading clinicians, researchers and advocates is a privilege I never take for granted.

Often, I am mesmerised as the speaker holds court, sharing details of a new study, intervention, clinical program or anything else that they are working on.

Usually, I sit there interested, listening to what is being said, live tweeting content and wondering what this means for the average diabetes punter in their day-to-day diabetes life. Occasionally I am completely and utterly blown away by something – even if it just a small comment in the overall talk – and that is what happened last Monday.

I had been asked to sit on a panel at the Roche Media event, which is a morning for health journalists. The program was jam-packed and the panel session tied together the presentations from earlier in the day. I was coming from another meeting, so unfortunately, I wasn’t there for the whole morning, but I arrived just in time to hear Professor Stephan Jacob, a diabetologist from Germany.

The theme for the whole day was ‘Connecting the Dots’, with Roche continuing to promote their development of a connected eco-system with PWD in the centre, linked with HCPs, health systems, policy makers, industry, data and more.

I have become pretty good at getting a read on the way HCP and researcher presenters regard PWD. A lot of this is in the language they use (i.e. use the word non-compliant, and it’s not looking good…). Immediately, it was clear from the way Stephan was speaking that he understood the whole self-management nature of diabetes, the burden that a chronic and demanding condition such as diabetes places on the lives of those living with it and those around us, and who is responsible for the day-to-day management of diabetes. It was also clear that he understood the barriers that we face to optimising our own care.

The moment in his talk last week that had lightbulbs going off in every direction was when he made a comment about diabetes messaging, which went something like this:

‘If someone comes into a clinician’s office and has elevated blood pressure, we take note straight away. We consider the right medication and what needs to be done, and then we usually see them again a week later, maybe less. But diabetes? When someone come in with out of range glucose levels, we may make a few tweaks; we may tell them to go for a walk after dinner; we may change some of their medications. And then we tell them to come back in three months. Three months. What does that say about urgency or seriousness? It tells that we don’t really need to do anything urgently; that it’s not important.’

I gasped when he said this, because it is so true. There is no urgency in diabetes. People newly diagnosed with type 2 diabetes may still be told that they have just ‘a touch of sugar’, which sounds like something a recipe may suggest be sprinkled on top of a freshly baked streusel cake!

We have visits every three, six and often twelve months which may be fine if everything is ticking along nicely and we just need a tune up or to check in. But what about if it’s not?

And what happens when something does occur? When we have a hypo that sends us crashing, wind up in DKA after a day or two of elevated glucose levels, or are diagnosed with complications? We are blamed for not acting swiftly enough. But why would we?

Perhaps part of the issue is that we remain so reliant on A1c checks as a measure of how we are doing, and traditionally, we do these every 3 months. But the limitations of A1c should mean that we don’t rely on that and that alone.

I was thinking to a time where diabetes has felt truly urgent for me, and really, the only time I think it did was while I was pregnant. Sudden changes to patterns in glucose levels were addressed immediately. Instead, changes to therapy were swift and aggressive, and I understood that at that moment how I needed to be diligent about keeping an eye on things, reporting issues and expecting action. And my HCPs knew it too. I had far more regular appointments and at no point during planning for or during pregnancy was I sent away with an indecisive ‘We’ll just wait and see what happens and talk about it when you are in here at your next visit.

I also know that it was exhausting and draining and that maintaining that level of care is not sustainable in the long term. Burning out is a reality of that sort of scrutiny and constant focus.

But surely there is a middle ground in there where we all understand that while needing to live life alongside a condition and have it fit in with our daily lives, there is also no space for ambivalence or messaging that it doesn’t matter if we just trek along, happy with the status quo, for a few months.

I had a conversation with Stephan later, thanking him for his talk and telling him how that moment of his presentation really rang true. We spoke about how many people with diabetes would be feeling really unwell during periods where they were waiting for something to be done – changes to therapy made, introduction of new drugs… Were they just accepted to feel that way until they were helped to work out how to improve the situation?

Mostly, this resonated as another example of terrible messaging in diabetes; more missed opportunities to optimise care; another time that highlights how people with diabetes actual feel is ignored as we are forced to fit into a system that is not purpose-built for our condition.

Panel discussion at the Roche Diabetes Care Media event. Professor Stephan Jacob is far left. I’m the one who forgot the ‘white shirt/black jacket’ dress code. (Click for photo source.)

DISCLOSURE

Roche Diabetes Care (Global) covered my (economy) travel and accommodation costs to attend their #DiabetesMeetup Blogger event at #EASD2018 and present at their media event the day before EASD. Roche Diabetes Care also assisted with providing me press registration to attend all areas of the EASD meeting. As always, my agreement to attend their blogger day and participate in their media event does not include any commitment from me, or expectation from them, to write about the company, the events or their products. 

The European Association for the Study of Diabetes (EASD) Annual Meeting has been its usual busy self and I have lots to write. But today, let’s look at some pictures…

Actually, let’s just look at one.

So, allow me to share a little secret. I have found that coffee at conferences is hit and miss. But Lilly usually has the best coffee. This assertion is made after attending many conferences for a number of years…and drinking a lot of coffee. A. Lot. So on Tuesday morning, I made a bee line to the Lilly stand to grab what I assumed would be the first of many coffees for the day.

I marched with purpose to the stand. And suddenly stopped short. Because there in huge, huge writing, hanging high above where the coffee queue would be, was this:

I usually have a lot to say. But as I stared at this sign, I had no words. There was a lot of ‘Wait. What? Huh? Hang on…What does that say?’  And then ‘What the fuck were they thinking?’ But I had no thoughts that made any real sense. (And I couldn’t even blame jet lag for the inability to form a cohesive sentence – I’d been in Europe for two weeks already.)

Of course, I ignored the not-in-any-way-policed policy forbidding the taking of photos in the expo area and snapped a picture, posting it straight to Twitter. Because of course I did. (And to Facebook and Insta later on!) The response was swift, and as horrified as my own.

I have not been able to stop thinking about this sign. For the whole of the conference, every time I have wandered through the Exhibition Hall, I have tried to avoid the Lilly area (I found other places to get coffee), and yet I have not been able to escape it because it is so huge. No matter how much I try to avert my eyes, I keep catching it.

I did speak with someone about it eventually. I found someone at the stand and I asked them about their messaging. ‘There aren’t people with diabetes here,’ was the first (predictable) comment. I pointed out that wasn’t true. That just casting my eyes around the room at that particular moment in the vicinity of where we were standing, I could see half a dozen PWD that I knew, and I would assume there were others I did not.

But, I explained, that’s not the point. I know that this is a health professional conference. It is not aimed at PWD. But actually, that is irrelevant. Because the messaging and language that is used when speaking about people with diabetes should be the same as the messaging and language used when speaking to people with diabetes.

I don’t know why this is such a confusing concept to grasp. It is the same as when I hear HCPs say ‘Oh, we wouldn’t use that language/those words in front of PWD.’ Here’s an idea: Don’t use that language/those words at all!

There is a lot to be said about raising awareness of the links between diabetes and cardiovascular disease. Diabetes Australia recently had a campaign called ‘Take Diabetes 2 Heart’ doing just that by highlighting the how people with diabetes can take care of their heart health. (And I’ll remind everyone that I work for Diabetes Australia, however have not had any involvement in this project, nor have been asked to promote it.) 

But the messaging in this Lilly campaign is horrific.

I would love to know the process that occurred before this was approved. I am sure that a marketing company was contracted to do this work. Several different story board ideas would have been presented. How is it possible that as soon as this one was shown, it was not immediately shut down…with an explanation of why it is not appropriate?

I sighed as I walked away from the stand. I know that language is an issue at EASD – probably more so than at any other diabetes conference. I have come to expect that. In fact, I sent out a pre-emptive tweet the morning the conference starting, urging those speaking and writing about diabetes to be considerate in their choice of language, and linking to the Diabetes Australia Language Position Statement.

Before I sent the tweet, I hesitated, wondering if it was really necessary for me to tweet that. Clearly, it was.

This time, it was Lilly. Next time it will probably be someone else. My message to these companies is to please, please do better. Think about how this messaging would impact a person living with diabetes. Because behind those stats; behind the risk factors; behind the numbers…we are people. And we want to know how to be well; how to be healthy. Not terrified into inaction.

___________________________________

DISCLOSURE

Roche Diabetes Care (Global) covered my (economy) travel and accommodation costs to attend their #DiabetesMeetup Blogger event at #EASD2018 and present at their media event the day before EASD. Roche Diabetes Care also assisted with providing me press registration to attend all areas of the EASD meeting. As always, my agreement to attend their blogger day does not include any commitment from me, or expectation from them, to write about the company, the events or their products. 

Grumps in Australia last month. (He’s on the left.)

In a former life, I was a music teacher. It was always very clear to me that there was no one way to teach that worked for all kids, and there was a need to somehow tailor my teaching style to meet the kid standing in front of me.  

A common cry in diabetes is that no one size fits all when it comes to diabetes management or treatment plans. Surely, that same idea extends to diabetes education.

Today, Grumps is back at Diabetogenic with his next #WWGD post, (which is good because I am far too busy eating my way around Italy). He’s talking about learning styles when it comes to diabetes, and what works for him.

Take it away, Grumps. (I’ll just go back to slurping through this lemon granita…)

______________________________________

Since being diagnosed back in the dark ages, when there was no internet and my BG check was called a ‘BM test’, I have had to learn medical stuff.

I’m OK with that.

I mean really OK.

I just see my body as the vehicle that I have in order to drive my way through life, to get to the places that I want to be. As I get older this vehicle that I live in gets a bit more banged up. Bits of it get damaged or fail. Hopefully my gear stick never falls off…

I do, of course, have the luxury of age. Diagnosed at the age of twenty-five, it was easy for me to accept immediately, and I just needed to know what manual things I needed to do to compensate for the glitch in my engine management system.

Queue the learning of medical stuff. Constant learning of some quite complicated and detailed stuff.

So, this is where my issues lie. I’m no great student. I have the attention span of a…

I don’t learn well by reading, or listening so if you want me to learn that way, then keep it brief and use simple and short words.

Ah…

That’s not really how medical stuff is written, now is it?

Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about my diabetes, with most of that learning in the latter years with the advent of the internet, social media and good old You Tube. As a visual learner, these have really helped.

Now, these days I’ve had to learn more medical stuff. Different stuff. All about my foot and associated diabetes-related complications, (I know, I don’t mention it often…), and the other day I got the results sent through of my latest MRI scan, packed with medical stuff…

Errrrmm. What?

Faced with all these words and terms… (I know, it’s taken a while to get to this right?)… ‘What Would Grumpy Do?’ (#WWGD)

In a word. Pictures!

A bit of Googling, a bit of fiddling and it all starts to make sense to me.

I sent it to my podiatry team. They liked it and are considering adopting it as an idea for explaining foot issue to the people that are living with them.

I have learnt over time that this is the best way for me to understand all of this medical stuff, which means that I can do what I need to keep this vintage vehicle on the road.

Maybe a person’s learning style should be assessed and understood at diagnosis in order to ensure that all of the information that we need to absorb is given to us in the way we need it to be?

Our diabetes may vary. So does the way we learn.

Live Long and Bolus!

Grumps

You can get more from The Grumpy Pumper by checking out his blog here. And following him on Twitter here

So, I’m here:

And I’m spending my time doing this:

And sometimes this:

Oh, and eating these:

And lunching on things like this:

And cleaning plates like this:

I’m also doing a lot of this:

So you might expect there would be a lot of this:

But there’s not.

Because along for the trip is Loop, and as soon as we start our days, I hit the workout glucose target (which is set to 7.0mmol/l instead of 5.0mmol/l) and that has been pretty much taking care of things.

I have these in my bag (because: back up plan) and have needed a couple of them now and then.

But really, diabetes has been pretty boring. Which is great. Because Rome is anything but boring, and not having to deal with constant lows means that I get to just keep doing this sort of thing:

I am having a family holiday for a couple of weeks before heading to EASD in Berlin, so I may be a little quiet around here until I get to the conference. Our days are long and lazy and I am trying to not open my computer all that much. (I’m also really bad at being on holidays (the 1am teleconference last night is a good example of that!), but I really am going to try my best to take some real time away. 

The first day of ADC was a hectic one for me. After the busy and generally well-received DIYAPS session, I had a break for lunch and then headed back to the same room as earlier in the day to co-chair a session on co-design.

I quite loved that the idea of this session was included in the program. And even more in love with watching the room fill up as Congress attendees filed in and took their seats. The session was the brainchild of Dr Kirstie Bell, who among other things, is a huge advocate for involving PWD in the program at ADC. She absolutely slayed it with this one!

The planning for the session involved a number of people, including PWD, HCPs and researchers and the aim was to highlight examples of co-design in diabetes and healthcare to help attendees understand that this wasn’t something to be afraid of. I think that sometimes there is an idea that it is just too hard to include everyone because it will mean a lot of coordination and fingers in the pie. But we wanted to show that could be managed effectively.

Another objective was to try to explain the principles of co-design. In this case, it was to underline (and probably italicise and bold) that co-design does not mean showing a finished product to someone and asking for ‘feedback’, with a further point being made that asking for feedback shouldn’t be the aim as that is done when things are already completed. Instead ask for ‘feed in’ the whole way along the process.

If the idea of co-design had a slogan, surely it would be #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs, meaning that the ‘us’ in that phrase need to be the ones driving initiatives – and definitely not being left out. Unfortunately it does seem that in diabetes, often the ‘us’ (i.e. people actually affected by diabetes) are not included in design, instead having others make decisions about what they thinkwe need and want.

And that’s why I made a really important point – something that I frequently speak about. And that’s the reminder that when it comes to the idea of co-design, if there is no opportunity for all stakeholders engaged to influence – ESPECIALLY in the case of diabetes, PWD – then it is not true co-design.

Too often, we see examples of services, activities and programs that don’t provide PWD that opportunity to influence. When that is the case, what we have is pure tokenism. And in my mind, tokenism is even worse than not consulting at all, because it gives the illusion of co-design without the reality of it. Too frequently I hear of organisations and services saying ‘Oh – we have these policies in place’ when truthfully, they are worth little more than the paper on which they are written because PWD do not actually have real power to effect any influence.

In my experience working in diabetes organisations, one of the things that I have come to understand as being critical is support from leadership. The role I started in 17 years ago at Diabetes Victoria could have been considered tokenism (one person ‘doing type 1 diabetes’) three days per week, without any budget only grew because then-CEO, Greg Johnson, had an attitude of ‘if we’re talking about diabetes programs services and activities there better be people with diabetes in the room talking about it with us.’ For a while, the director I reported to, Dr Ralph Audhem, a GP from Melbourne, was committed to establishing a national type 1 diabetes program that was fully staffed by people affected by people affected by diabetes.

Both were willing to grow the program through resourcing (both staff and funding), but most importantly, by listening to people with diabetes – and not just those from within the organisation – and including them in every single step of the way.

Perhaps, my most favourite example of co-design recently is the Mytonomy diabetes language matters video. Deb Greenwood in overseeing the development of the video consulted with all stakeholders, firstly to help write the script that would be used. It was honed and finetuned by repeatedly asking people to feed into what others were saying. Instead of using actors to deliver the message, Deb engaged PWD, healthcare professionals and researchers. The result is something that not only hits the mark when it comes to its messaging, but it feels wonderfully authentic and real. No wonder people have been sharing it far and wide.

I was thrilled to be able to show it as part of the introduction to the co-design symposium at ADC, and then Jane Speight shared it again the following day during her ADEA Plenary talk. (I would really encourage ANYONE involved in putting together a diabetes conference or event to find a way to fit this three minute video into the agenda! It resonates with all involved in diabetes.)

The other speakers in the symposium all shared their own examples of where the principles of co-design had been applied with great success. Melinda Seed spoke about the Type 1 Network and how that grew from a gap of providing support and information for young adults with diabetes; Frank Sita shared his experiences of being on the Perth Diabetes Care Young Adults with Diabetes Committee and Melinda Morrison provided an overview of stakeholder involvement and engagement in the NDSS Diabetes and Pregnancy priority area.

These real-life examples provided attendees with an understanding of how they too could incorporate the idea and principles of co-design in their own work – which is exactly what we hoped to achieve when designing (co-designing!!!) the session. And it seems that just maybe, we got through to some people. I’ll finish this post with this tweet from credentialled diabetes educator and midwife, Belinda Moore:

The hydrangeas on our front veranda are starting to shoot. Only three weeks ago, they were bare, and considering my almost perfect record of killing plants, I wondered if I’d pruned them into oblivion a few months ago. ‘Are these dead or just dormant?’ I asked, every time I walked out the front door, or stood there with the key in my hand waiting to go inside. I was almost ready to bring in the big guns (mum and mum-in-law) for advice and rescue.

Turns out they were just doing their cold-weather thing and waiting for some warmth, and now, every single day, there is more bright green foliage unfurling. In just a couple of months they’ll be weighed down by white pom pom flowers.

Over the back fence, the branches on the neighbours’ tree – the tree that heralds the seasons with such grandeur – are covered in cottony white blossom.

Because it’s spring. Finally. It’s really spring.

And I’m ready for it, and for the clutter and sludge that inevitably infiltrates my mind in the cooler months to have a good spring clean!

Diabetes takes up a lot of my headspace. Although, as I explained to friend across the seas the other day, it’s not my diabetes that is doing that. My diabetes is boring. I love my boring diabetes.

But ‘the world of diabetes’ is overwhelming me at the moment. It’s not the first time I’ve felt this way. It happens sporadically. Sometimes it’s because there is just so much going on, other times it’s because I just feel over it all. And then there are the times that my own diabetes combined with ‘work diabetes combined with ‘miscellaneous diabetes’ just gets too much.

And that’s where I’m at. I think that months holed up inside in front of the fire allow too much time to be overtaken by the minutiae of the diabetes world, and I start to take everything on board too much. So it builds up. And up and up, until I am where I am now.

I think perhaps this is my own version of SADS, but instead of seasonal affective depression I have ‘seasonally affected diabetes’. It happens each year – I can chart it alongside a weather, sunlight and heat chart.

So, I know there is light at the end of the tunnel. Melbourne is getting warmer. There are blue skies – the sorts of skies that greet me when I wake up in the morning, hang around all day and melt into beautiful sunsets in the evenings. And there is sunshine.

And with it comes some clarity to sort through the sludge, sweeping out some of the things taking up too much mental space, discarding what I should have let go of months ago.

I’m kickstarting ridding the discontent of winter by heading to warmer climes next week, initially for a holiday and then a conference. I’m hoping that in the two weeks before the conference starts will be spent outside, wandering cobblestone streets, enjoying lighter fare (and gelati) and basking in sunshine- real sunshine that will dance on my skin and penetrate all the way through to my bones.

By the time I get back home, Melbourne will be in full spring glory – the jacarandas will have started to flower, the blossoms on the tree over the fence will have scattered to the ground and given way to a covering of green leaves, dappling sunlight across the garden.

And hopefully, I’ll be lighter and clearer and spring-cleaned, with nothing more than my own (boring) diabetes.

My favourite local serving up my first iced latte of the season!

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