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.




I forgot I had this.

Maybe I should think of something witty to write 😕

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 🙂 

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.


Lifting the Grey

Bittersweet Diagnosis

Being the eldest of three in my family, you could say that I appreciate being independent. However, there are times that I may be overly independent and refuse to share my burden or even talk about it (story of my life at the moment). As a result, I often feel myself slipping into a moody heap of a mess when things get a bit overwhelming in life. When I get asked if there’s anything they can do to help, unsurprisingly my answer is no. But on reflection, there are things that could be done to make a stressed day bit better. So here are some things that work for me – both diabetes and non-diabetes wise.

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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.



You Know What A Fact Is?

I was originally going to write something hopefully relevant but then I watched a politician speak and thought there is the name for my blog that I’ve been agonising over.

I spent some of my more youthful years in the Navy and a common phrase that was fading out of use as I joined was “and that’s a fact!”

The phrase was usually used as a closing statement when someone was losing an arguement and delivered as if that statement alone would turn the tide in the war of words.

In the day many a man at sea was secretly a poet at heart and why use two words when two dozen would do. So instead of responding with an appropriate “piss off” the response could often be heard

“and you know what a fact is, its a creature that swims around the bottom of the ocean collecting shark farts”

The relevance that has to this blog and I suspect others is that what I write here is more than likely fact to me but to others its just a Sharks Fart.


What is an achievement?

Two weeks ago a D-friend asked the question What is your greatest achievement since being diagnosed?

A simple enough question you would think but feeling I hadn’t achieved anything of note I replied that I had achieved nothing. This brought a response from another D-friend that in her opinion she had seen me make a marked improvement in my diet and that that was an achievement in her opinion. This got me thinking what do I consider as an achievement?

It is true my diet has improved since diagnosis but sad to say it isn’t because I know better, my knowledge now is not much better than before diabetes is just giving me the motivation to make the healthier choice. So yes I am eating better but not really an achievement for me.

My fitness level  has improved but it is no where near what it should be and once again I knew better in the first place so no real achievement there.

Weight at a glance might appear to be an achievement having lost over 20kg in the last 18 months but not only like the previous two did I know better before nearly all of that weight loss was in the first 6 months and I have lost very little in the last year. Not a great achievement in reality.

For all of these things I knew better in the first place, so for me I don’t feel a sense of achievement in starting to do something I should have always been doing. To look at it another way there was no joy in the eye of this beholder.

After all shouldn’t our achievements bring us joy? Losing weight doesn’t bring me joy because even after losing around 25kg I am still wearing the same fat guy clothes I was wearing at diagnosis.

All these thought went through my mind as I contemplated had I really achieved anything. Then something happened, I bent down and tied my shoelaces and I felt joy.

A combination of diet, exercise and weight loss had given me my achievement o_o”


Troubles are like Tribbles

Troubles are like tribbles, if you leave one unattended it gathers momentum and pretty soon it feels like you are buried  under an avalanche of them. When in fact its still just one problem.


My problem with this blog is that apart from needing a catchy title I don’t really know where to start that will actually lead somewhere, it all just seems like a ramble. Here is todays.


What concerns me about this trip is the food. What was once one of my greatest joys in life has turned into a monster that seems to be eating all my joy and life as it consumes my every waking thought.

I have spent the last 18 months learning what I can eat and how much so that I have very few problems with my bgl’s. What do I do in lands where the food is different and the quantity of carbs is unknown. On top of that I have enough trouble communicating with english let alone spanish, scouse or heaven forbid scottish.

I envisage myself going back to 11 tests a day and many an hour strolling about alot like when first diagnosed but I having let it gnaw away for so long instead of putting it in its place it is shaping as the focal point of my adventure instead of something to savor on the journey.


Maybe blogs aren’t meant to make sense. Maybe they are just they modern way for old men to ramble on to themselves and not appear crazy.



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.



This will be my first trip overseas in nearly 25 years. My first trip to a non english speaking country in nearly 30 years and my first trip with my new travelling companion diabetes.

To say I am slightly nervous would be fairly accurate.