Psyched Out

I’m not very good at this blogging thingy, nor am I comfortable with the subject matter but I’m writing this in the hopes it makes at least one person more at ease if they are ever in the same situation.


I went to visit my Care Coordinator and Palliative Nurse with my wife yesterday and what I expected to be just a run of the mill update turned into an emotional roller coater ride from hell.

I grew up in an environment where emotions were seen as a weakness and talking to anyone about your feelings was something never done. So you can imagine my concern when my wife opens up with the line “my daughter and I are worried about his state of mind.”

What followed next was 30 minutes of torture, firstly as my wife ran through what seemed a never ending list of my faults and then the questions started.

  • How did I feel?
  • What are my current fears?
  • What are my fears for the future?

My wife and I had made a pledge when this all started to be honest, I was regretting that now. As I tried to hold myself together I answered each question but each answer just seemed to open the way for more questions but a common thread seemed to be emerging. They wanted me to see psychiatrist, hell these guys were just the warm up act.

The doctors theory is that my current situation has led me to suffer from anxiety and stress which in turn is causing not just my sleep and appetite issues but also some of the pain and discomfort issues I’ve been having. So I left having agreed to see a psychiatrist.

Just having agreed to the next step seems to have lifted a weight of my shoulders. Before I would sleep 8 to 10 hours overnight and then another 4 to 5 hours during the day I now find if I nap more than an hour my overnight sleep is very disjointed.

I’m a 54 year old male who is quite old fashioned in some respects who doesn’t like talking about his feelings and what I’m trying to say is stress affects different people in different ways. Seeking treatment as you would for any other health issue should not come with any stigmas towards you by others but especially by yourself.

Not everyone needs councelling but for those that do it can be a powerful weapon in our health care arsenal.


The flip side

I recently spent a couple of days in hospital.

My second day was spent on a ward and in the bed next to me was deposited a man in his 60’s with diabetes, which type I’m not sure. Anyone who has spent time in hospital will tell you it’s pretty boring and no matter what tv leads you to believe those flimsy curtains are not soundproof ūüėĮ

To cut a long story short a Diabetic Educator was called and proceeded to talk to him. Every question she asked was answered with diversion, when asked what meter he used she received a 15min history of every meter he had ever owned and the people who had given him the meters.

Let’s just say that was one of the better things I heard that day from a man who was assured he had his diabetes under perfect control even though he never saw a HCP more than once unless they told him what he wanted to hear.

Whilst we spend time telling stories of our bad experiences with HCP’S sometimes it’s good to see the other side of the coin.

I wonder what stories my HCP’s tell about me?

Holiday Blue’s

About 6 months ago I went to Europe for a friend’s wedding. ¬†Being my first time not just travelling overseas but also travelling with diabetes I put a lot of pre trip preparation into how best to travel with diabetes.

On my trip I ate healthy and walked up to 25km a day so my bgls were well within range and I was feeling good both physically and mentally.  I was very happy.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the blues that descended on my return home.

I completely stopped testing, I wasn’t taking my metformin or exercising. Carbs were my best friend, I’d put on 10kg but didn’t care and when my HBA1C came back at 5.7 I used that to fool myself that nothing was wrong.

I was in my first real D funk.

So how did I get out of it? I haven’t it’s a long slog but things are improving. I started seeing my exercise physiologist twice a week and slowly but surely I’ve gone back on my meds, started testing my bgls and even eating right.

I still slip up on the odd occasion but overall things are on the up but it makes me wary about my next overseas trip.


All the Greys


Recently a lovely Lady wrote Lifting the Grey and it caused me to move some dust in attic.

I pretty much see most things in Black & White, its comfortable and doesn’t leave room for confusion or misunderstanding. So a blog about the interaction of family and diabetes peeked my interest as family doesn’t fit into my nice B&W world, they just unleash all the greys.

I am the 3rd of 4 children but having spent a decent amount of my childhood in institutions independence was more a necessity than a personality trait.

“Nobody does something for nothing”

You can imagine the effect my diabetes has had on this and how difficult it must be to be part of my family.

I sometimes get asked how my bloods are but after a year of “fine” they have backed off and only really ask now if they can see something isn’t right.

Information is power”¬†¬†

The carb counting still happens though it is very rare for someone to prepare a meal for me, usually “I will make dinner tonight” turns into “I couldn’t be bothered now, go and get takeaway”.

“You can only rely on yourself”

The little things would be lovely. A cup of tea I didn’t have to ask for is near on heaven these days but my daughter bless her little heart makes¬†a great effort at¬†interest in sports and those conversations make me laugh and do indeed brighten my day.

Cuddles are a weird thing, I was never one for them. “Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer” was definitely not a motto to live by in my childhood.

My daughter on the other hand is a cuddler so after 20 years of her wearing me down I’ve come to enjoy them for what they are and find them quite therapeutic. I highly recommend a couple a day ūüôā¬†

I guess that sums up family, most of it grey. In the end we hide our struggles from them¬†so we aren’t a burden but we also take joy when they share even a moment of our pain or step in to lighten our load because a burden shared is not a burden.¬†

More greys, more confusion, more love.


Good for the Goose?

I hate slaving over words and them losing then into the ether. So here it goes again.

I got my HBa1C back last week and I was so happy, all I could think of was that I wanted to share it with #OzDoC.

After doing so it then struck me, how do other T2’s who have trouble with their numbers feel when they see good results? Does it give them hope or depression?

How do T1’s feel when they see good results? I wouldn’t even know where to start as I know so little about T1 but I do know I see some figures they seem happy with and they scare me.¬†

Is it the fact that we share a name that causes some disquiet between the groups or is it the numbers? Am I adding to the disquiet by posting my results? Should my joy be tempered by others discomfort?

I don’t know the answer though I do know I would rather be T2 than T1 as I feel comfortable in my knowing what I can and can’t do and the thought of the unknown unsettles me. I have seen T1’s say they wouldn’t like to be T2, for, I assume pretty much the same reasons.

I read an article recently that T2’s should learn more about being a T1 as it helps us prepare for our future and T1’s should learn more about being a T2 as it helps them with their present.

Whilst I don’t believe my future is set, knowledge helps us not only manage our own conditions better but makes us more aware of what others go through.

With knowledge comes understanding.

With understanding comes compassion.

With compassion comes acceptance.

I think I need some more knowledge.




My idea of a good holiday is jumping in my pathfinder and driving. I enjoy the randomness of it all and I love see local australians in local settings. I was planning on travelling to Winton Qld via Broken Hill and Camerons Corners.

Travelling by car as a T2 isn’t overly complicated. Take your bgl meter and medication, some almonds and lollies for emergencies, plenty of water and make sure your food is what is safe for you and you’re pretty much good to go.

Then my mate rang and said “I’m getting married, in Scotland”. Dates were set and flights were booked.

Now the uncertainty begins.