Hergen
Active Member
Hello everyone! Lots of text, sorry about that in advance 
A long time ago I came to accept that I was at the (pardon the language) ****-end of the family gene pool. All the male members of my mother's side of the family had several hereditary problems, to put it friendly - among them extreme overweight and diabetes; those that didn't die from the former would surely suffer from the latter at some point. Of course, my mum decided to marry my dad, and lo and behold - his side of the family was also predisposed with diabetes (I love them both dearly, but they could've been more selective in terms of what genes to pass on).
I turned out to be 95% my mother's son, up to the red hair (it's not true that we don't have a soul - we steal a few every week to sustain ourselves, they're low-carb as well). The weight problem started showing, as with all other males in the family, at about age 10, and believe me when I tell you that my mum tried whatever she could to get it under control, being the nurse that she is and subjected to the peer-pressure of her health-oriented friends and colleagues - alas, even the most extreme measures failed. (I was hospitalized for half a year under strict diet and with at least 3 hours of cardio each day - which barely managed to stabilize my weight, causing doctors to accuse me of smuggling in food)
As such, with other hereditary signs and symptoms showing up all over the place, we pretty much knew that Type 2 would be coming at some point, and thanks to my mum's profession and the daily medical breakfast chats that would make the hairs on the neck of any sensible person stand up, I was pretty well informed about what would await me before it ever happened. All blood results always checked out okay, and despite being impossibly fat, I was in perfect health in terms of blood and organ screenings (even the blood pressure checked out fine, which was a surprise even to me), until I started developing problems earlier this year. Specifically my eyesight getting worse, being constantly sleepy and unable to concentrate. As half of the office was sick at the time, I just thought I caught some very resilient cooties and should see an optometrist. After a particularly bad spell I however remembered the symptoms, decided to get a blood glucose meter, and the dreaded number 21.2 turned up on the screen. My HBA1C turned out to be about 8.8%, so pretty much in the middle of "Stop worrying, you're fine" and "Here, have a pint of insulin on the house".
That was 2 weeks ago. Since then, I have done a lot of reading, and my grocery shopping now looks completely different. Goodbye white bread and baguettes, frozen pizza and sweet yogurts, chips and crisps. Hello organic rye bread and whole grain pasta, Salads and Eggs. I have also come across the fact that a lot of dietary advice for diabetics can be a bit esoteric ("if you eat red meat, make at least sure it has been fed only on grains from a remote Tibetan village and massaged at least twice a day"), and think I will rather look into how my body reacts to certain kinds of food myself, even if that means spending a fortune on test strips, as my GP is adamant on constant monitoring not being necessary (which seems to be the case for many here) - but I like to know how my own body works, thank you very much.
The shortsightedness that developed was gone on the third day of taking Metformin, my mood lightened up considerably, and I didn't fall asleep on the train into London anymore. I simply refuse to feel bad about having Diabetes, and I refuse to accept any kind of social stigma associated with it. I also keep a diary on food, drinks and blood sugar readings, which you can feel free to have a look at here:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1ON4fZIjOi9bPTbMpEcql-k20yz2VqUq1yKemGXES2O4/edit#gid=0
Yes, I realize that there is quite a bit of room for improvement, and I am always open for suggestions. The frozen Pizzas were relics from the freezer, and throwing away is a big no-no. All gone now. I drink rarely (the odd cider every second day and a bit more when I meet up with friends), the Metformin only caused me trouble during the first few days and now I seem to be used to it. I kinda reserve myself the right to sin every now and then (a small pack of smarties on a particularly carb-less day, soul-food on days when work has been horrible again). I try to keep it at 50-60 carbs per meal.
For the last 7 days, my average mmol reading has been about 8.7, and while still a bit high, I am quite happy with the downward curve. I'm looking forward to some feedback here, and I've got the first visit with the diabetic nurse scheduled at the end of the month. Good to be here!
A long time ago I came to accept that I was at the (pardon the language) ****-end of the family gene pool. All the male members of my mother's side of the family had several hereditary problems, to put it friendly - among them extreme overweight and diabetes; those that didn't die from the former would surely suffer from the latter at some point. Of course, my mum decided to marry my dad, and lo and behold - his side of the family was also predisposed with diabetes (I love them both dearly, but they could've been more selective in terms of what genes to pass on).
I turned out to be 95% my mother's son, up to the red hair (it's not true that we don't have a soul - we steal a few every week to sustain ourselves, they're low-carb as well). The weight problem started showing, as with all other males in the family, at about age 10, and believe me when I tell you that my mum tried whatever she could to get it under control, being the nurse that she is and subjected to the peer-pressure of her health-oriented friends and colleagues - alas, even the most extreme measures failed. (I was hospitalized for half a year under strict diet and with at least 3 hours of cardio each day - which barely managed to stabilize my weight, causing doctors to accuse me of smuggling in food)
As such, with other hereditary signs and symptoms showing up all over the place, we pretty much knew that Type 2 would be coming at some point, and thanks to my mum's profession and the daily medical breakfast chats that would make the hairs on the neck of any sensible person stand up, I was pretty well informed about what would await me before it ever happened. All blood results always checked out okay, and despite being impossibly fat, I was in perfect health in terms of blood and organ screenings (even the blood pressure checked out fine, which was a surprise even to me), until I started developing problems earlier this year. Specifically my eyesight getting worse, being constantly sleepy and unable to concentrate. As half of the office was sick at the time, I just thought I caught some very resilient cooties and should see an optometrist. After a particularly bad spell I however remembered the symptoms, decided to get a blood glucose meter, and the dreaded number 21.2 turned up on the screen. My HBA1C turned out to be about 8.8%, so pretty much in the middle of "Stop worrying, you're fine" and "Here, have a pint of insulin on the house".
That was 2 weeks ago. Since then, I have done a lot of reading, and my grocery shopping now looks completely different. Goodbye white bread and baguettes, frozen pizza and sweet yogurts, chips and crisps. Hello organic rye bread and whole grain pasta, Salads and Eggs. I have also come across the fact that a lot of dietary advice for diabetics can be a bit esoteric ("if you eat red meat, make at least sure it has been fed only on grains from a remote Tibetan village and massaged at least twice a day"), and think I will rather look into how my body reacts to certain kinds of food myself, even if that means spending a fortune on test strips, as my GP is adamant on constant monitoring not being necessary (which seems to be the case for many here) - but I like to know how my own body works, thank you very much.
The shortsightedness that developed was gone on the third day of taking Metformin, my mood lightened up considerably, and I didn't fall asleep on the train into London anymore. I simply refuse to feel bad about having Diabetes, and I refuse to accept any kind of social stigma associated with it. I also keep a diary on food, drinks and blood sugar readings, which you can feel free to have a look at here:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1ON4fZIjOi9bPTbMpEcql-k20yz2VqUq1yKemGXES2O4/edit#gid=0
Yes, I realize that there is quite a bit of room for improvement, and I am always open for suggestions. The frozen Pizzas were relics from the freezer, and throwing away is a big no-no. All gone now. I drink rarely (the odd cider every second day and a bit more when I meet up with friends), the Metformin only caused me trouble during the first few days and now I seem to be used to it. I kinda reserve myself the right to sin every now and then (a small pack of smarties on a particularly carb-less day, soul-food on days when work has been horrible again). I try to keep it at 50-60 carbs per meal.
For the last 7 days, my average mmol reading has been about 8.7, and while still a bit high, I am quite happy with the downward curve. I'm looking forward to some feedback here, and I've got the first visit with the diabetic nurse scheduled at the end of the month. Good to be here!
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( and your red hair ! ) 
And yeah, I'm trying to get a grip on it - getting my first groceries together took me hours, checking into the carbs of every little thing (and being shocked more than once). I'm just happy that whole wheat semolina pasta seems to work very well for me, as I am a major pasta fan. Worst offenders seem to be Pizza and white bread, which let my blood sugar skyrocket.
It was only the Tesco Sushi box, but it was soooo bloody tasty. *sigh* Ah well.
