rochari
Well-Known Member
Grant, what a nightmare and I can associate with what you describe. My dad would have run a mile but my mother could do enough for both of them! Until I left home in my teens dad left the room when I took the insulin kit out, he hated needles. He did National Service too, was a big strapping lorry driver and not to be messed with but a size 16 or 20 had him out the door, pronto.
The hospital made a major mistake with me in my late teenage years regarding a new insulin I was put on (can't remember its name, but they had to find an alternative because my 'old' insulin was being discontinued). It was hypos all the way, which didn't stop despite daily reductions in dosage. I kept contacting them but they said it was just taking time to adjust! I was single, just moved to the city and transferred to a diabetic clinic there, plus I lived alone. The bad ones happened in the evenings and I usually always fitted. I got used to leaving the flat door unlocked and most times I managed to get into the hallway and my neighbours, bless them, would find me there and call an ambulance. My face bounced off the wall one night and I needed stitches along my forehead. The next morning my GP was horrified when I told him what had been happening and I was sent to the clinic there and then, with a stern letter from him in my hands. Everything was re-checked and it was found I’d been double-dosed.
I could deal with hypos no matter how severe in my younger days but after that incident, I became completely phobic about them and that fear has never left me.
Bill