- Messages
- 66
- Type of diabetes
- Type 1
- Treatment type
- Insulin
Hi all,
I wanted to share my diabetes story. I'll keep it as brief as I can...
I was diagnosed 27 years ago at the age of 5. I don't remember much at the time, but it was the usual story. I was lucky enough to have a really supportive family unit, and everything went smoothly up to the age of around 18 (well, apart from the usual teenage angst).
When I hit 18 I went off to university and everything changed, for the worse. Suddenly I was in charge of my diabetes and I did a really flipping bad job of it. Paramedics were called out on several occasions, I refused to tell anyone about my diabetes and naturally my HbA1c went haywire. I was running at over 100 before I knew it: beer, pizza and no insulin.
I left uni and moved in with my girlfriend (now my amazing wife). Life settled down, I got a job and slowly became a mature young man (!). So obviously my diabetes improved, right? Wrong - it carried on with its downwards spiral and I began shutting it out. I ignored appointment letters, NEVER tested my bloods, injected only when I felt REALLY bad and ate whatever the heck I wanted. But I was young. I was fairly fit. I felt OK most of the time. I certainly hadn't gone blind or lost any legs, so of course I thought everything was going well. My body got so used to running high that i didn't even notice it any more. I went five years without getting my HbA1c tested.
Then 4 years ago my son was born. Time to start thinking about the future, about being there for him as he grew up. So did I switch everything around and fix my diabetes? Hell no. I withdrew into myself and carried on pretending it didn't exist. Consciously, I pushed it to the back of my mind and focused on bottle feeding, changing nappies and playing with train tracks.
Subconsciously, though, effects were starting to be felt. I began to feel down all the time. My relationship with my wife deteriorated. I found it hard to hold down a steady job. I won't go into how I saw myself as a father. Things got worse and worse over a period of about two and a half years, but I had become an expert at hiding it. Life trudged on and the future got blacker and bleaker.
Eventually my wife sat me down and we had it out. I started counselling and was prescribed anti-depressants. I started exercising again. I did my best to have a positive mental attitude. I began to feel better. I even made an appointment to see my diabetes specialist nurse (not that I could remember her name). The look of horror on her face as she scrolled through my notes was almost comical. We talked about coming in regularly, testing my bloods and adjusting doses. I started doing these things.
Things slowly started getting better. The depression seemed to be ebbing away and I felt more positive about me, my life and my diabetes. I got to a point where I felt comfortable really knuckling down and getting my diabetes to a point I wanted it. My HbA1cs were running well into the 100s and I wanted to see if I could get down into the 70s within six months. this was a massive target for me but I thought the bigger the challenge the more I'd work at it. This decision was made around three months ago. I've been working really bloody hard since then.
I had an HbA1c test taken on Friday last week. The results came in today. I was hoping for mid- to high-70s, but was totally prepared for it to be in the 80s or 90s - any progress is good right?
But the DSN said 54.
54?
54!
54!!!!!
Now, not blowing my own trumpet here, but that's bloody brilliant. I haven't stopped smiling all morning. I've told my whole family and was even tempted to open the office window and shout at people in the street. All that hard work has paid off and I feel like a million dollars. 48 here we come!
However, I have mixed feelings about the results. Regret is definitely one of those feelings. I regret the fact that it took me 14 years to get back to where I was before I went to uni. I regret the fact that my upcoming retinal screening is probably going to be an issue, and that further complications later in life are a sad certainty.
But that's all in the past and the future. For now, I'm going to bask in the glory of 54.
I might even have pizza for dinner...
I wanted to share my diabetes story. I'll keep it as brief as I can...
I was diagnosed 27 years ago at the age of 5. I don't remember much at the time, but it was the usual story. I was lucky enough to have a really supportive family unit, and everything went smoothly up to the age of around 18 (well, apart from the usual teenage angst).
When I hit 18 I went off to university and everything changed, for the worse. Suddenly I was in charge of my diabetes and I did a really flipping bad job of it. Paramedics were called out on several occasions, I refused to tell anyone about my diabetes and naturally my HbA1c went haywire. I was running at over 100 before I knew it: beer, pizza and no insulin.
I left uni and moved in with my girlfriend (now my amazing wife). Life settled down, I got a job and slowly became a mature young man (!). So obviously my diabetes improved, right? Wrong - it carried on with its downwards spiral and I began shutting it out. I ignored appointment letters, NEVER tested my bloods, injected only when I felt REALLY bad and ate whatever the heck I wanted. But I was young. I was fairly fit. I felt OK most of the time. I certainly hadn't gone blind or lost any legs, so of course I thought everything was going well. My body got so used to running high that i didn't even notice it any more. I went five years without getting my HbA1c tested.
Then 4 years ago my son was born. Time to start thinking about the future, about being there for him as he grew up. So did I switch everything around and fix my diabetes? Hell no. I withdrew into myself and carried on pretending it didn't exist. Consciously, I pushed it to the back of my mind and focused on bottle feeding, changing nappies and playing with train tracks.
Subconsciously, though, effects were starting to be felt. I began to feel down all the time. My relationship with my wife deteriorated. I found it hard to hold down a steady job. I won't go into how I saw myself as a father. Things got worse and worse over a period of about two and a half years, but I had become an expert at hiding it. Life trudged on and the future got blacker and bleaker.
Eventually my wife sat me down and we had it out. I started counselling and was prescribed anti-depressants. I started exercising again. I did my best to have a positive mental attitude. I began to feel better. I even made an appointment to see my diabetes specialist nurse (not that I could remember her name). The look of horror on her face as she scrolled through my notes was almost comical. We talked about coming in regularly, testing my bloods and adjusting doses. I started doing these things.
Things slowly started getting better. The depression seemed to be ebbing away and I felt more positive about me, my life and my diabetes. I got to a point where I felt comfortable really knuckling down and getting my diabetes to a point I wanted it. My HbA1cs were running well into the 100s and I wanted to see if I could get down into the 70s within six months. this was a massive target for me but I thought the bigger the challenge the more I'd work at it. This decision was made around three months ago. I've been working really bloody hard since then.
I had an HbA1c test taken on Friday last week. The results came in today. I was hoping for mid- to high-70s, but was totally prepared for it to be in the 80s or 90s - any progress is good right?
But the DSN said 54.
54?
54!
54!!!!!
Now, not blowing my own trumpet here, but that's bloody brilliant. I haven't stopped smiling all morning. I've told my whole family and was even tempted to open the office window and shout at people in the street. All that hard work has paid off and I feel like a million dollars. 48 here we come!
However, I have mixed feelings about the results. Regret is definitely one of those feelings. I regret the fact that it took me 14 years to get back to where I was before I went to uni. I regret the fact that my upcoming retinal screening is probably going to be an issue, and that further complications later in life are a sad certainty.
But that's all in the past and the future. For now, I'm going to bask in the glory of 54.
I might even have pizza for dinner...