You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Real life’ category.

For the last sixteen years, I’ve been directly involved in National Diabetes Week (NDW) in some way. Admittedly, I missed a couple because we decided the middle of July is a good time to go to New York to escape the Melbourne Winter. Two years ago I missed half of NDW because I was in Orlando at FFL – I returned just in time for Kellion! Oh, and there was the year I had a little wee lass who I couldn’t stop looking at and cuddling.

But whichever way you look at it, I’ve been involved in NDW for a while. A lot of that was spent very much on the sidelines, because the campaign was type 2 diabetes focused and I was not. Or rather, my role at work was exclusively directed towards type 1 diabetes activities, and campaigns were always about raising awareness of type 2 diabetes.

This year, for the first time, there is an element of the NDW campaign that is exclusively focused on type 1 diabetes and it was launched today. It’s all about the importance of early diagnosis of type 1 diabetes, aiming to reduce the 600-plus hospital admissions each year because the early signs of type 1 diabetes have been missed. I know so many stories of people with diabetes being told they had a virus/urinary tract infection/were run down/growing pains (in the case of kids)/needed a holiday, and sent home with a prescription for antibiotics. Their type 1 diagnosis only came after ending up, very sick, in emergency, many needing ICU attention.

The campaign highlights the 4Ts of type 1 diabetes – Thirst, Toilet, Tired, Thinner.

We leaked a sneak peek of the campaign on Saturday to let everyone know that it was coming. The leaked video, which tells the diagnosis story of 9-year-old Isabelle, has been viewed by tens of thousands of people.

The response to the video and campaign details has been overwhelmingly positive, with people sharing the video widely amongst their networks. And comments have also been encouraging, telling us that the campaign is right in its tone and focus.

Today, the campaign was officially launched in Brisbane and all materials are now available for you to see and share. Here’s the campaign poster:

What can ­YOU do?

As this is a public awareness campaign, we need to get this information out to people outside the diabetes community. Mostly, those of us affected by diabetes now know the early signs of type 1, but that’s not the case for people who don’t have type 1 or know someone living with it.

You can help by sharing the video on all your social networks. Set your shares to public and encourage your friends to watch and share.

Share the poster – both online and off. You could print off a copies and take them to your GP office, school, supermarket and anywhere else with a community notice board. Ask your church or community group, or child’s school if the poster could be shared in newsletters.

Also, I wrote this piece for Mamamia Women’s Network – again as a way of reaching an audience outside the diabetes world. Please read and share this too.

Use the following hashtags: #ItsAboutTime / #NDW2017 / #4Ts

I have probably attended close to twenty Kellion Victory Medal Award Presentations over the years. You might think that they are all the same and to a degree, you would be right. Every ceremony involves people who have lived with diabetes for 50 or more years being given a medal while their story is shared.

And every single award ceremony has been just that. But the stories are rousing, the people are inspiring and learning about managing diabetes when technology was a glass syringe is sometimes mind-blowing! It doesn’t matter how many of these award ceremonies I attend, the overwhelming feeling of hope steadies and enthuses me for another year.

This year, 56 people were awarded medals, including sixteen 60-year recipients, one 70-year recipient and one 80-year recipient.

One of today’s 50-year medal recipients was Jenny Edge. Jenny frequently comments on Diabetogenic, never afraid to tell me when she thinks I’ve missed the mark; always happy to share her story.


I always love listening to Jenny. She’s very direct, and I always appreciate her no-nonsense attitude. There is no sandwiching how she feels with a couple of innocuous comments on either side of what she really wants to say. She gets to the point and gets there quickly. I find her quite brilliant!

Jenny was diagnosed as a young child, and today she told me how she really hated needles at first. ‘I thought they were cow needles,’ she said. ‘And then my dad showed me what cow needles really looked like – we lived on a farm. Suddenly, my insulin needles didn’t seem so scary.’

Although she received a 50-year medal today, Jenny has actually lived with diabetes for 55 years, so she’s only five years from receiving her 60-year medal. I hope to be there for that one too! Congratulations, Jenny!

There’s a type of low I have.

It’s usually the middle of the night. I’m alerted to something not being quite right – this time, my iPhone beeped. This time I caught it before it became a complete white out hypo that I’ve no real memory of the next day. I switched into autopilot and started to do what I needed to do. I don’t know how it happens; it’s as though I am watching from above, telling myself what to do.

Renza, sit upright.

Renza, grab your meter.

Renza, there are no strips remaining in the canister.

Renza, get out of bed and walk to the diabetes cabinet and get new box of strips.

Renza, check blood glucose.

Renza, grab juice box from bedside table.

Renza, stab straw into juice box and drink, drink, drink.

Renza, go to kitchen.

Renza, cut slice of bread from sourdough loaf on kitchen counter.

Renza, slather bread with Nutella.

Renza, sit at kitchen table.

Renza, eat.

I was methodical, my movements slow and deliberate, almost robotic, like Hymie from Get Smart. I could almost feel my brain actually engaging with each body part, telling me what to do: walk, reach, drink, eat, chew.

I don’t know how long I sat at the kitchen table. I remember starting to focus on the pale light in the back garden and the shadowy figures the huge tree from over the back lane making. I heard Cherry the cat meow quietly at one point.

Renza, go back to bed.

I climbed back into bed, Aaron stirred. ‘Are you okay?

‘Hypo. One of those that I often don’t remember. You know – where you would be forcing me to drink pineapple juice and I’d have no memory of it…?

I stopped for a minute and realised I was cold but still needed to order my body parts to do what I wanted:

Renza, use your arms to cover your body with the doona.

I started shivering as I realized my hair and t-shirt were damp. I was tired, but couldn’t sleep. My overactive brain that had been busily directing my body, telling it what to do, wasn’t ready to shut down just yet. It was on high alert, and as often happens in that post-hypo murkiness, with the power to shut down the negativity completely deficient, all the scary thoughts started flying around. I thought about what could have happened; I thought about the times that the lows invaded everything and I couldn’t function at all, not remembering the spent juice boxes, empty wrappers, crumbs in the bed. The fear and darkness of hypoglycaemia threatened to overtake me and I knew that sleep that night would be lost forever unless I acted.

Renza…close your eyes.

Renza…don’t have another low…

Renza…get some sleep…

Max and Hymie

My A1c came back a few weeks ago in my target range. As soon as I saw the number, I said to my endo: ‘It’s because of this,’ and I gently patted my arm where my Dexcom was sitting firmly, doing its thing.

I was right. Wearing CGM fulltime has allowed me to understand better what is going on with my glucose levels and how it responds to a variety of different factors.

Puppy on my lap and CGM on my arm.

But it’s only part of the picture and the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve come to realise it. I’ve been using CGM almost fulltime for four years now, yet this A1c was ‘more’ in-range than any other in that time.

It can’t just be the device.

No, it’s when I add the low(er) carb way I’ve been eating to the equation that the improvement starts to make sense.

The most obvious thing I noticed when I started eating lower carb was that my CGM trace stayed far straighter for far more of the time.

Before I started eating this way, I’d see a lot of spikes. Sure, I’d come back into range after an hour or two, but there was a good while there that I was above range while I waited for the insulin to do its thing with the carbs I’d just ingested. Insulin isn’t perfect; its action can be unpredictable.

Eating lower carb means the spikes just don’t happen as they used to. Of course there are other contributing factors that do cause my glucose levels to head out of range, but by eliminating – or rather minimising – the one that is most responsible has resulted in a significant change.

So, what is that change? It’s all about time in range (TIR).

And that is how I now measure my glucose management. It’s not about A1c – I don’t like averages because the conceal a lot of what is going on. The A1c average might be a pretty number, but what is going on outside that number to get there?  But when I look at how much of the day is spent in range, there is less place to hide. It is starkly clear the days that I am within my upper and lower limits.

And there is a flow on effect from more time in range. When I think about how I feel on the days that I am far more in range than out, I feel better – more energised, more focused, more able to just get things done.

CGM data easily provides me with this data (and flash glucose monitoring would as well) so I can see at a glance just how much of each day is actually spent in my target range. This means that I don’t really care about what my A1c is. It may creep up a little bit, but if overall I am spending more time in range, then I’m happy.

This is just another reason that A1c measurements are flawed. It was first recommended as a way to measure diabetes management back in 1976 and a lot has happened in diabetes since then. I’m certainly not suggesting that we throw it out the window. But I am saying that with new (and some not-so-new) tools to provide even more information – more meaningful information – I certainly am not using it as the only way I to track and measure how I am going.

TIR. I’m calling it the new A1c! (And adding yet another acronym to my diabetes lexicon…)

Want more? This great piece about ‘going beyond A1C’ from diaTribe is a must read.

Saturday afternoon I was flaked out on the sofa, the Winter sun shining palely through the front window. It had been a cold day and I’d been dealing with an unpleasant and tedious head cold, so I was enjoying the comfort of the house, a dog snoozing on my feet helping to keep me warm.

I was lazily scrolling through some things that I’d missed on Twitter and I stumbled across a protracted twitter exchange that began with this tweet:

Fair point. And reading David Gilbert’s Twitter feed and skimming through his blog, his commitment to patient-led healthcare is strong. He has a lot of experience fighting for the rights of healthcare users to be true partners in the system.

I was interested in the commentary that followed after Partha Kar, an NHS clinical director, quoted the tweet suggesting that things are different in the diabetes world. You can read that thread here.

I struggled with the exchange, feeling a little discomfort when every point made by the original poster was almost dismissed with a ‘but we are doing better’ comment, which completely and utterly missed the point.

I typed a couple of quick responses, deleting all of them. My head was foggy and I was not sure that my thoughts could be condensed in 140 characters or fewer. But I was trying to say that while I actually agree that ‘patients’ do have very limited ‘power’ and are often actively excluded from processes, that isn’t the point. For me, the discomfort was stemming from someone’s personal experiences being rejected by someone who is actually not in the same position – or rather, by someone who holds a position of responsibility in the very system being questioned.

Let’s reframe it this way. There is a gender pay gap that continues in every industry. Women are significantly under-represented as Company Board Directors, as CEOs, and in politics. Health outcomes for women are worse than they are for men. As a woman, I am conscious of the imbalance; I have fought for equality for as long as I can remember; I see the discrimination; I have experienced the discrimination firsthand.

Are there initiatives in place to try to address these gaps? Yep. Is the situation improved today as compared with 100 years ago? Perhaps. Are there men who are fighting for the rights of women? Of course there are.

But does that mean that women who are affected by the imbalance should have their (our) concerns and experiences dismissed because some are ‘trying to make a difference’? Absolutely not.

It is the same in healthcare. Just because there are some dedicated people steadfastly working to support and deliver a more person-centred, inclusive approach with its foundations in true partnership doesn’t mean that the problems are not still there. And it certainly doesn’t mean that we should stop paying attention to those who speak up about the inequality.

If people are feeling excluded – especially people with 30 years of experience in health advocacy, a Twitter following and a blog – we need to believe people are being excluded.

Just as it is not the place for men – even men who might be unequivocally feminist in their words and actions – to tell women that we need not feel discrimination because there are people committed to levelling the playing field, it is not up to HCPs to question the experience of healthcare consumers when we say we have no power and no ability to influence.

For the record, I agree with David’s original tweet. How much power do healthcare consumers really have in shaping healthcare? How much opportunity is there to truly influence the way the system, activities and programs are designed? In fact, how much of the system, and how many of the activities and programs are co-designed?

If we look at diabetes, how many positions are dedicated specifically to people affected by diabetes on Boards, expert reference groups, working parties, organising committees (etc.)? Can you think of an example when the split between HCPs and people with diabetes was equal?

And finally, a thought on language. The word ‘patient’ was used throughout the Twitter discussion and I believe it is problematic. It’s not a word I use; I don’t refer to myself that way. The Diabetes Australia Language Positions Statement advises against the use of the word because it ‘implies the person is a passive recipient of care, rather than an active agent in his or her own self-care’.

In a discussion about people feeling they have no power, using a word that clearly diminishes the role and involvement of the central person in the healthcare equation speaks volumes. At least I think it does.

If you can, think back to when you were diagnosed with diabetes. Can you remember much of it?

I can. I can remember almost every word that the endo, diabetes educator and dietitian said to me. I can remember that, in amongst the explanations of what diabetes was all about and how it would impact on my life, there were thinly-veiled threats about what would happen if I strayed from the plan I was being given with the expectation that I would follow it. I remember the rigid ‘my-way-or-the-highway’ instructions about how life with diabetes would be.

But mostly, I remember what was missing. There was no mention about the impact of diabetes on my emotional wellbeing. No one suggested that speaking with peers – others living with diabetes – might provide me with some much need comfort or camaraderie. No one hinted that I might like to do some of my own reading and investigating to come up with my own ideas of how to best manage this chronic condition that had moved into my body, my mind, my life.

No one told me there were options or suggested that I needed to carve out my own path and then work out to navigate it best.

If only I’d had a guide to help me do that – something to give me some ideas that felt more in line with how I lived before diabetes. I wanted something that shared real-life experience about how to make diabetes fit into an already really busy life, and help me be conscious of making healthier choices, but choices that didn’t feel as though they were suffocating me.

Now I have it – albeit 19 years too late!

Adam Brown from diaTribe has written Bright Spot and Landmines which he has sub-headed ‘The Diabetes Guide I Wish Someone Had Handed Me’. 

Click on link to be taken to the first chapter.

As I read this book, I started to think about how different those early diabetes years would have been for me – the years before I found my voice, my people and an ability to work out my own way with diabetes.

I could use words such as ‘sensible’ and ‘practical’ and ‘level-headed’ to describe the advice gently doled out in Adam’s book, and they would all be accurate.

But they would be underselling the value of the book.

Adam highlights the landmines – the things we all do to take short cuts – that inevitably negatively affect our diabetes. Often we think these short cuts save us time or ‘fix’ a diabetes problem quickly, only to find that they often turn out to be time consuming and actually end up causing more problems than the original one we were trying to address.

The bright spots are suggestions on how to positively and sustainably live with diabetes. They are easy to manage, and don’t ask for a significant shift in thinking, or large financial or even time investment to make the changes.

The book is segmented into four sections: Food, Exercise, Mindset and Sleep. This makes it super easy to use as a reference book and dive into it to help target specific areas that you want to think about. I’ve read the whole book through twice now, but keep going back to the sleep section, because I realised that it is an area of my life that I really need to address now.

I honestly wish that the day I’d been diagnosed with diabetes I’d been handed this book. I wish I’d had it on my shelf all those years as a resource to refer back to in moments of burnout or no motivation, or when I needed a little push to encourage me. I wish I’d been able to tap into Adam’s wisdom on specific issues when I was struggling with being in a food rut that was affecting my glucose levels, or in a funk because my mind was not clear or focused.

I’m so glad to have it now and have already made some changes which have been very positive. It might be 19 years late to the party, but this book will be on my shelf to be pulled down very, very often.

It doesn’t matter how long you’ve had diabetes; you WILL get something out of Adam’s book. But if you or a loved one is newly diagnosed, I would recommend you stopping whatever you are doing RIGHT NOW and getting a copy. You can buy a paperback copy here, or download the PDF here, naming your own price.

If you would like to win a copy of Bright Spots and Landmines, I can hook you up! Adam generously provided me with some copies when I caught up with him recently at ADA. Just click here and tell me in 25 words or fewer why you would like to win a copy of Bright Spots and Landmines. But chop chop! You’ve only got until the end of the weekend to enter. 

Yesterday, I wrote a quick review of the language session at #2017ADA and my excitement as I anticipated the session.

I don’t want to sound Grinch-like, but I walked out of the session feeling less enthused than I had when I walked in. That’s not because the speakers weren’t good. They hit the mark and said all the right things.

And it’s not because I am not excited to see the ADA and AADE developing and getting ready to launch their Language Consensus Statement (it’s due out in August). I am; I am so excited!

It’s because I didn’t hear anything new, and the time has come for us to do something more with language matters. Because, #LanguageMatters.

It was six years ago that Diabetes Australia launched ‘A New Language for Diabetes’ position statement. In collaboration with the Australian Centre for Behavioural Research in Diabetes, Diabetes Australia wanted a concise, easily shareable document that could straightforwardly and succinctly explain how to communicate with and about people with diabetes. Unapologetically, it called out the words that harmed and offered replacements that were more inclusive, less judgemental, all in an attempt to use language that didn’t make us feel like we were constantly failing at life with diabetes.

Six years is a long time in diabetes. Disappointingly, there’s still a lot that’s not great about the way diabetes is discussed in the media, in healthcare settings and, unfortunately, by healthcare professionals. We haven’t reached a position of respect; we have not managed to leave all judgement at the door when speaking about diabetes; we have not even started to eliminate stigma.

When the Language Position Statement was initially launched in Australia, I saw it very much as as first and most welcome step. Was it perfect? No. It was a starting point, not the end of it all.

It was never considered as definitive document, but it certainly a great place to begin; a living resource that could evolve. As the ACBRD did more and more work in the stigma space, it became very clear that words do indeed matter, and Diabetes Australia took the evidence and continued to push the envelope and innovate in this previously unexplored space.

Perhaps that’s not actually a correct statement. Language and words had long been on the radar of people living with diabetes. Diabetes camps had stopped using words such as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ to describe glucose numbers; the debate on the word ‘diabetic’ had been going for years, and many rallied against the words used that blamed, judged and slurred people with diabetes – whether it be for developing diabetes in the first place, or how well we are managing it.

But the Language Position Statement was the first time that it was all there in one neat document, backed by evidence to support the thoughts of PWD. (Jane Speight and I gave a number of talks which started with me ranting and waving my hands around about how language and words affects those of us living with diabetes, and concluded with Jane stepping up to present the evidence. Those talks packed a punch and made it very difficult for people to ignore the issue or to keep referring to it as political correctness gone mad.)

But now, six years on, I want more. I don’t want it to just be a debate about whether or not we use the word ‘diabetic’ (although this is still an important issue). We get waylaid when that is our whole focus, and I feel that anywhere that is just now coming to the language party needs to be a step ahead of the development of a language position statement. That’s been done and has been in circulation for over half a decade. Use it, adapt it, rebrand it and make it your own, but I’m not sure there is a need to recreate the wheel and start from scratch?

Not when there is still a lot more to do.

What’s the next frontier in language and diabetes? Maybe it’s diabetes conferences.

Because, they are a mess, with many presentations still peppered with words such as ‘non-compliant, non-adherent, poor control’, or referring to participants in research as ‘subjects’, and often (and sadly) a not a great understanding of the difficulties of living with diabetes.

With a Language Positions Statement already in existence, a great (and simple!) start to remedy these shortcomings could be for conference organisers to send a copy of it to all speakers, explaining there is an expectation that slide decks and talks will be in line with the document and its recommendations. And while they’re at it, the same expectations should be in place for anyone showing in the exhibition hall at the conference, or writing about the event. Along with embargo regulations, press corps could also be sent the position statement.

We know that organisations have the capacity to be vigilant – perhaps had the ADA put effort into urging appropriate use of language at the conference instead of enforcing their archaic photo ban, they wouldn’t have been hit so hard on the socials.

It’s time for us all to expect more and to demand better. How are YOU going to do that?

Back from the ADA conference after whirlwind few days in San Diego which basically involved 19-hour days sandwiched between the first day (and 8-hour meeting) and the final day (a couple of short meetings before heading to the airport to fly home). Unsurprisingly, I slept most of the way home.

There were some absolute standouts of the meeting and here they are in super quick dot points. Some I’ll write about in more detail when I’ve finished hugging my family and infusing Melbourne coffee back into my exhausted body.

PR Fail

The ADA’s PR machine needs attention after the completely misjudged way they dealt with objections to their misplaced and archaic ‘photo ban’. It became the story of the first few days of the meeting and they really will need to reconsider what they do next year. (More on this another time, but here is a good summary from Medscape.)

Innovation away from the conference

While the conference is always full of late-breaking research and an exhibition hall of diabetes technology, the satellite events are often where the real innovation is at! On Friday afternoon, I went to the Diabetes Mine DData-Exchange event and was lucky to see and hear some of the latest and most innovative tech advances happening in diabetes, including lots in the DIY/#WeAreNotWaiting world.

Mostly, the room was full of those who knew what was going on in this space, so there really were only a few people who were surprised that there are many walking around with their own DIY kits, (which always makes me chuckle, especially if it’s a HCP having their mind blown by something PWD have known about and been doing for a while…)

(A bit of a watch this space from me as I am about to embark on my own build, which is slightly terrifying. The only thing giving me any confidence is that I have these two Wonder Women to call on if (when) I am completely lost!)

Wonder Women! Dana Lewis and Melissa Lee and their magical machines.

More at #Ddata17

Life for a Child

The IDF Life for a Child update, annually held at the start of the meeting, was, in equal measure, enlightening and despairing.

In this video, hear from Life for a Child Education Director, Angie Middlehurst, who recently visited the Diabetes Association of Sri Lanka and met some young people benefitting from the Program.

If you would like to consider helping Life for a Child, it costs only $1 per day to provide full diabetes care for a child. That’s right, one dollar a day. If you can, please do donate.

 

With Life for a Child’s Education Director, Angie and Health Systems Reform Specialist, Emma.

 

Who has a meeting at 5.30am?

Anyone who believes these meetings are junkets would reconsider the first time they need to be dressed, coherent, communicative and respectable for a 5.30 session. That’s 5.30am. And on the Saturday morning of the conference, I found myself in a room with a lot of other people (also foolishly awake at that time), to listen to the latest in CGM studies.

Thankfully, the session was super interesting with a lot of very valuable information being shared. (I really would have been pissed if I got up and it was a waste of time…)

Dr Steven Edelman from TCOYD was, as always, enlightening and added a most important ‘personal touch’ as he shared some of his own experiences of CGM. And some brilliantly relevant sound bites to remind the audience that while they may be focused on the machines and the algorithms and the clinical outcomes, this is about people living with diabetes.

Trying to tweet everything Dr Steven Edelman was saying…

Diabetes Hands Foundation wake

The news about the closure of the Diabetes Hands Foundation, and the move of its forums to Beyond Type 1 was met with sadness, but also a lot of optimism. Innovators in the online community, DHF was the first online diabetes network I ever felt a part of. It spoke to me, but mostly, it was inclusive. That’s what happens when you have people like Manny Hernandez, and later Melissa Lee, at the helm, and a team around you of people like Mila, Corrina, Emily and Mike.

DHF founder, Manny Hernandez.

We farewelled the DHF at a wake in a bar on 5th Ave in San Diego on Saturday evening and the love and gratitude for DHF was overwhelming. Melissa asked us to recall DHF’s Word in Your Hand campaign as a tribute to Manny and DHF.

My word on my hand… We can always use more of this.

I’m honoured to have been a part of it.

Language

Oh yeah, there was a language session at #2017ADA and I have PLENTY to say about it. Maybe next week….

Sex, Insulin and Rock ‘n’ Roll

The team from Insulet threw an event on Sunday night way up in the sky, overlooking Petco Ballpark, home to the San Diego Padres, and we were presented with a panel of diabetes advocates prepared to talk about anything and everything. Brilliant in the way it was candid, unashamedly open and, possibly for some, confronting. Well done to the panel members who really were prepared to answer every question with personal insight and experience. This format really should be rolled-out as widely as possible to as many people as possible to help breakdown any embarrassment, or idea that there are taboo topics in diabetes.

Children with Diabetes

I was lucky enough to be invited to attend the annual CWD-ISPAD dinner on Monday night and speak with a number of healthcare professionals working to improve the lives of children living with diabetes.

Jeff Hitchcock, founder of CWD, is a personal friend now. I guess that’s what happens after you attend a Friends for Life conference and are welcomed into the family. FFL Orlando is taking palce in three weeks and my family’s time at FFL remains one of the most overwhelming and positive experiences of my life with diabetes.

I caught up with Jeff a few times throughout the conference to speak about the organisation’s work. He gave me a CWD medallion, which is now firmly wedged in my wallet as a reminder of not only my FFL experience, but also value of Children with Diabetes.

diaTribe

I could complain about my 19-hour days, but then I think about Kelly Close from diaTribe and then feel sheepish for even suggesting that I’m working hard! On the final night of the conference, diaTribe hosted three events and I attended the later two: Musings Under the Moon and Musings After Hours.

These events bring together leaders in diabetes technology and innovation and digital health and offer an opportunity to ask questions and challenge (and be challenged!) in a far less formal situation that the official ADA conference. For me, this is where I learn the most as the speakers are prompted by hosts Kelly and Adam Browne to really reflect on where we are going in diabetes innovation. My only misgiving about these events is that there are not enough people attending. That’s not to say that the spaces were not packed to the brim – they absolutely were. But I do wonder if  perhaps it’s the people who really need to hear the realities of diabetes technology are not in the room…

MedAngel

I meet Amin from MedAngel as part of my time with the European Roche Blogger Group. Amin has created an easy-to-use sensor and app to help people with diabetes ensure insulin is kept at the right temperature. More about this another day, but in the meantime (after I’ve been using my sensor for a while), you can read about it here.

Learning all about MedAngel, with Amin.

Take aways

ADA is a very large conference. There is a lot going on, there are a lot of people around and I always leave with a lot to think about. Over the next few days…weeks…I’ll start to gain some clarity about a lot of what I saw, heard and learnt. It’s always the way after a big meeting like this one.

Someone asked me if I enjoyed the meeting and I suggested that was probably the wrong word to use. It was very worthwhile. I learnt plenty. I was able to catch up with advocates in the space who continue to push boundaries and lead the way in insisting that all work in the diabetes space is ‘person-centred’. People with diabetes are expected at this conference and seeing us as just being there – rather than having to fight for our place – inspires me to keep working better and harder.

Disclosures

I attended the ADA Scientific Sessions as part of my role at Diabetes Australia who covered my expenses, except for my first two nights’ accommodation which were covered by the International Diabetes Foundation so I could participate in meetings for the World Diabetes Congress where I am Deputy Lead for the Living with Diabetes Stream. 

In my endo appointment the other day, after we’d finishing working through my pathology results, I wanted to speak about the mythical pre-bolus.

I say mythical because, seriously, the day I work out how to get the whole pre-bolus thing right is the day I see a unicorn walking up a rainbow while talking to a phoenix. I have hope this will happen one day.

My endo is one of those rare beings who understands the absolute intricacies of pumps. She knows a lot – from simple button pushing to complex things that make my brain hurt. When I started talking pre-bolusing, she brought out graphs and charts to help us work through my questions.

I mentioned that eating lower carb certainly helps avoiding post-meal spikes, but I was having trouble getting my morning coffee dose right. I know exactly the number of carbs in the milky-latte-with-one I order, but the timing of the bolus is critical to avoid a post-caffeine spike and ensuing plunge.

Plus,’ I added. ‘It depends what is going on with my glucose level as I start to drink. If I’m already dropping, which may be happening at that time of morning, and I bolus too early, I’ll end up hypoing, so I usually wait until about five minutes before I order my coffee. But if I’m above target, I need to bolus at least 15, but more like 20 minutes before ordering. If I’m steady and in range, somewhere closer to 10 is more like it. Maybe 12…’

Just drink the damn coffee!

I heard myself going into such detail and suddenly, I realised how bloody boring I sounded. My poor endo had just endured a 10-minute monologue from me on bolus dose timing to cope with my over-priced morning coffee from the hipster coffee shop next to work. I couldn’t help wondering if this really is the best use of the time and expertise of a most excellent endocrinologist? Also, I was embarrassed at presenting this first world problem as such a pressing issue.

She showed me some graphs, and drew a few others for me to think about. We spoke about timing and strategies and things to consider before pressing the bolus button.

But then she stopped and said, ‘You know, you can think about all these things, but you can also not worry too much. Obviously it’s up to what you want to do here, but thinking about things in ‘minutes’ before your dose…you need to decide if that really necessary.’

And then it hit me. The over-analysing and over-stressing and excessive scrutiny. What for? I’d just seen an in-range A1c that suggested I’m managing just fine with what I’m doing. Was the angst of blousing twelve minutes versus 16 minutes prior to my morning caffeine jolt really worth the calculations and the strain?

We are often critical that our HCPs put unreasonable expectations on us with what they demand we do to manage our diabetes. How refreshing to have a diabetes HCP who actually suggests that we breathe and take a step back for a moment to decide if a particular undertaking is absolutely necessary, or if it is just adding unnecessary pressure to our already highly-pressured diabetes selves.

As someone who is rather passionate about the words we use when we are talking about diabetes, I was framing how I would respond in my endo appointment when I finally received my pathology results yesterday. ‘Path results are not a moral compass, Renza. They give you a snapshot of data and that is information to help you inform treatment decisions moving forward. Nothing more. Nothing less. Your value as a person is not based on the numbers on the paper.’ I repeated the words rhythmically over and over and over again.

And maybe, I almost started to believe them.

I walked into the office and sat down anxiously. With a smile, she handed me sheets of paper. ‘You’ll be happy,’ she said to me. She told me my A1c as she knew that was what I would want to know first.

I flipped through the papers, the numbers starting to blur. I heard the A1c number but the rest stopped making any sense. ‘I don’t know what I’m looking at all of a sudden!’ I said to her.

Ah,’ she said. ‘Let’s start with your kidney check because I know that always worries you.’

We went through all the other results too. I was smiling and almost bursting into tears. ‘I’m so pleased,’ I said. ‘I’m so pleased with myself.’ And it’s true. I was feeling good about myself. And then I stopped taking.

Of course I was pleased; the results were all good. The numbers were in my target range. All of the worries I’d had for the last week melted away. But along with the celebration, I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

If the numbers were not where I wanted, my response would have been disappointment and, perhaps a little shame. I would not have been pleased with myself, instead chastising my lack of effort and feeling I was not enough. Yet, the effort would have been the same regardless of the numbers on the page.

Try as I might, I cannot divorce the idea that an in-target number is somehow connected to my value as a ‘good person’, which translates to an out-of-target number means I’m not. I fight this idea all the time. I write about it, I talk about it, I genuinely thought I believed it. Does the entrenched messaging we are told over and over again by some HCPs mean we actually should assess our own value as people based on numbers (a pathology check, BGL check, CGM trace, weight, blood pressure….)? Can we simply not move beyond the judgement?

I pushed away the thoughts and tried to just breathe with the relief I was feeling.

I walked out, paid the bill and walked to my car. I decided that I wanted to share the good news with Aaron, and I sent him a text with my A1c result. He responded perfectly with a gorgeous message…and then brought me Tim Tams for dessert.

And while we were munching on those Tim Tams, I said to Aaron, ‘You know, I’m really pleased with everything here. I’m pleased with my A1c, but the thing that relieved me more than anything are these five words…’ I leaned over and pointed to the paper at the five words I was referring to:


And I breathed out. Possibly for the first time in a very, very long while.

Follow Diabetogenic on WordPress.com

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Read about Renza

This website is certified by Health On the Net Foundation. Click to verify. This site complies with the HONcode standard for trustworthy health information:
verify here.

Twitter Updates

Archives

%d bloggers like this: