Some diabetic poetry:
Ballad of the test strips
Let all joys unconfined be!
A fasting score of 5.3!
Alas, I bid my joys adieu
When I awake to 8.2.
But then I feel myself in heaven
When after lunch I’m 6.7.
My trusty lancet stabs my fingers
And while the pearl of blood still lingers
I dab it with my FreeStyle Lite
To check that my blood sugar’s right.
This way I keep my sugars low
Without risk of the odd hypo,
Or monitor a low-carb diet
If Grazer thinks that I should try it.
This way (I know) my body may shun
Neuropathic complication.
And so the cry springs to my lips:
‘Oh give T2s our testing strips!’
(To help us in this crucial mission
Do please sign Grazer’s e-petition)
Ballad of the test strips
Let all joys unconfined be!
A fasting score of 5.3!
Alas, I bid my joys adieu
When I awake to 8.2.
But then I feel myself in heaven
When after lunch I’m 6.7.
My trusty lancet stabs my fingers
And while the pearl of blood still lingers
I dab it with my FreeStyle Lite
To check that my blood sugar’s right.
This way I keep my sugars low
Without risk of the odd hypo,
Or monitor a low-carb diet
If Grazer thinks that I should try it.
This way (I know) my body may shun
Neuropathic complication.
And so the cry springs to my lips:
‘Oh give T2s our testing strips!’
(To help us in this crucial mission
Do please sign Grazer’s e-petition)
