It's the small things which leave the biggest impressions

About a month ago, I started turning a small piece of wasteland at the far end of my mum's garden into a vegetable patch.

Call me old - but I love growing things and people pay good money for a small plot of land like that - why not make the most of it!

Anyway, I was there a couple of weeks ago, digging away and plotting which vegetables would grow best in which spot, when suddenly my supernatural powers kicked in. My 'spidey senses' as a friend once described it. I felt hungry, but not in the 5pm pre-dinner way, but in that 'my sugars are dropping' way which no diabetic can mistake.

I whipped out my accu chek and tested my sugars.

Yep, 3.1 mmol, time for a break. I realised I had not packed an orange juice (*hangs head in diabetic shame*) and headed into my grandmother's apartment (they all live together, a little like the Walton's only without the funny names).

Now my grandmother is also a diabetic, but she is type 2, and although she watches what she eats and takes a tablet once a day, she would openly admit that diabetes has not really changed her life a great deal. She knows she has it, but as long as her yearly checks come back OK, she doesn't let it bother her. She doesn't test her sugars (at the doctors request), she still enjoys all the things she used to, and she doesn't have hypos or hypers.

The fact that I wear a pump and have to glug away on a carton of juice at such short notice, always seems to freak her out a bit. She doesn't really understand what a hypo is or how it feels. And I am quite happy for her not to know. I'd rather that than thinking of her shaking and panicking.

So I went to her and asked her for a cup of water with three teaspoons of sugar in it. She looked a little concerned, but tried her hardest not to let it show. She must have checked on me every 15 minutes after that, just to be sure.

But last week, I was coming to work on the garden again and Nanna was going to be out. She let me know where the key would be and she advised she would leave the garage open, so I could get to all the tools.

When I arrived, I busied myself getting all the pitchforks and shears out. But before I could make it to the garden, something caught my eye.

Because my Nanna is possibly one of the sweetest people alive, she had left in the garage, what I can only describe as a 'Diabetic's survival kit'.

There was a mars bar, parked next to a diet coke, a bag of sugar and a cup of water.

She knew that she would be out and there isn't a spare key to the house. So before going about her day and doing what she needed to. She first made sure that in the event of any wayward sugars, her grand daughter would be safe.

Something that small, has stayed with me for weeks and still makes me smile when I think about it.

Thought that might make someone smile.

I don't know how you did it

I've suffered from a touch of writer's block (or should that be blog?) for a couple of weeks now and it is isn't because I had nothing to write about. Far from it! All those with the condition, or those who know someone with the condition, will know that every day with diabetes brings some degree of challenge. Some days its 10 degrees, some days its 90, every now and then its 360! Since I last posted there have been high sugars, low sugars, ignorant comments, news articles and countless other prods which would normally provoke me to write something about them. Usually in the form of a rant.

The truth is, I have spent a lot of time recently reading other blogs. Those written by my friends, those by 'famous' (...well, kind of) diabetes bloggers and those I have stumbled across while aimlessly surfing the diabetes inter-wave. Whilst doing so, I have been stumbling across many posts about something I know nothing about. Not that I am an expert per se, but having had type 1 diabetes for 24 years, I know a thing or two about this disease.

I know what it feels like to be high. To feel my muscles screaming at me and moving as though I am trying to traverse through thick tar. To feel the unquenchable thirst, scratching at the walls of my throat.

I know what it feels like to be low, shaking, hot, confused and weak.

I know what it is like to wear a pump. To tug on the tubing occasionally, to have to run home at lunch because I ignored the 'low resevoir' warning.

I know what is is like to have days when everything goes right. The sugars are in check, my injections don't hurt, my fingers don't throb.

I know what it's like when they don't. The tears, the pain, the frustration and the fear.


But there is one thing which I have yet to experience. In truth I hope that I never will, but the fact is the possibility is there. Increased ever so slightly by the fact I have diabetes.

When I was a teenager I never gave a thought to how much my disease hurt my mother. At the time I was filled to the brim with teenage angst. Angry at the world because I wasn't taller, slimmer, more like Jennifer Aniston in the 'Rachel' era. I wasn't more popular, my teeth weren't whiter, I didn't have as much money as my friends, Brad Pitt hadn't swept me off my feet yet (I'm still waiting on that one - it will be any day now).

Why wasn't it easier? Why did I have diabetes, yet every one else I knew escaped it.

It was so unfair. Everything was so unfair - for me.

But the truth is, my mother did have diabetes. And it hurt her more than any of the pain I felt. Every time I sat down to dinner and didn't test my sugars first. Every time I lay around on the sofa instead of going for a walk. Every time I ate sugary foods and just 'shoved in' another bolus. Every time I told her I didn't need her help when she asked if my sugars were OK.

Every time I pushed her away.

I have now reached the point in my life when children are on my mind. I am due to get married, am in a secure job and my health is better than ever. Things are good. But there still remains the fact that when I do decide to have children, there is an increased risk that they will develop type 1 diabetes.

Granted, there is a 1% chance of ANYONE developing type 1 diabetes, and having a mother with diabetes only increases this to 2%, according to the textbook. But you and I know the textbook isn't always the best measure to go by -I know too many diabetics with type 1 who end up with children who develop type 1 - for me to believe the chances are only 2%.

The chances are, my children will develop type one. It's not a given, but there is a chance. The fact is, only now for the first time in my life, do I even have an inc ling of how incredibly difficult it is to care for a child with diabetes. It is the hardest job there is, as far as I am concerned.

Perhaps when they are younger and you have more control over them, the biggest challenges might be squabbling over not wanting to have another shot, which eventually, thanks to your excellent arguing skills and 'I won't back down' attitude, you will win.

But what happens when they reach their teens. When they stop doing blood tests, when they stop taking insulin.

When they are admitted to hospital with more tubes protruding from their perfect body than you can count, as you see them there - struggling.

I knew what risks I was taking. I know them still.

I know that sugary food, no matter how well weighed and calculated, will still have an effect on my body. I know that rather than writing this blog, I should probably be out getting some exercise. I know grapes don't do me any favours, but I like them so I will eat them anyway and hope I got the bolus right.

How parents cope when you don't know what your child is doing, I will never be able to understand until I face the same hurdles myself. How will I cope? What will I say? Will I be able to instill a sense of responsibility into my child, so that even when they hit those turbulent days, they will still take their insulin and test their bloods, even if it just now and then.

Having to watch you child inject and accepting that they have to, because there are no two ways about it, is something I cannot yet understand. Knowing what is is like to worry constantly about anything above ten or anything below four, is something I cannot yet understand. Hoping the pump does its job, and keeps your baby safe for another day, is something I cannot yet understand.

But for the first time in my life, I am beginning to realise how unbelievably brave and dedicated you are. Not you, the children who have diabetes. But you, the parents who go up against diabetes. Who spend every day on the battle field, armed with injections as your weapon, insulin as your sheild, and scales as your steed.

You, Angela, Roxana, Sheila, Lorrie, Clare L, Claire M.

But most of all, You - my mum.

I wish that just for one minute, I could go back and say "Thanks Mum."

I know you don't want to be thanked, I know you don't need to be thanked. But it is only because you took such precious care of me, that I am now in the position that I can start a family of my own.

Thank you mum, you are the bravest person I know.

It's a little late, but I think I am starting to understand now. I understand why you got on at me to test my blood. Looked concerned when you knew I'd eaten more junk, but had no way of knowing. Why you looked hurt when I just scoffed if you asked me had I done my injection.

I hope that if I have a child, they will understand that it is because I care, just as you do. I hope that they will realise why 'now' is so important, just as you do.

I hope I will do what you did mum - it worked, even if it felt at times as though nothing was going in. Deep down - I was listening.

I love you - my diabetes shield.

Remote controlled semi-robot

I had a post ready to publish today all about a very serious issue. It is an issue which a few months ago I would probably have shrugged my shoulders at. An issue which I never really considered and never really thought too deeply about. Perhaps I have developed a bee in the bonnet because I now talk to other diabetics on a regular basis and have been given something to think about. Perhaps it is because I too have become frustrated about recently. The issue I was all ready to post about - and subsequently no doubt deal with the backlash from - was the issue of people using the blanket term 'diabetes' when talking about the disease. In doing so often attributing incorrect assumptions to one type of diabetes. Like talking about weight being a contributing risk factor for 'diabetes'. In fact weight is totally unrelated to type 1 and the frustrations which come with that and the confusing messages and poor education which then reach the public is something I have become more and more concerned with.

The problem, something happened today which took precedent over the education thing, and that is:

MY REMOTE CONTROL ARRIVED TODAY.

I know, cool right???

As much as I love having a good rant and expressing (I hope) an intelligent opinion about more serious and important aspects of diabetes, I also love the lighter side of it. The side when I can write about how girls have it better because we can hide out pumps in our over-the-shoulder boulder holders, or how I get a little kick out of putting a new skin on the pump and in doing so jazz it up a little. These little anecdotes may not change the world, and they may not educate anyone about anything, there has to be a lighter side to diabetes - whichever type. There has to be some silver lining somewhere and if you achieve a little chuckle while you are at it, then you are already winning the battle.

I usually store my pump in my bra - mainly because it means I can hide it without anyone have a clue where it is - a grasp at 'normality' I suppose. But there is one drawback: When I am sitting next to my boss at work or in the middle of a meeting, grappling around at my chest and pulling wires and pumps out of my bra is perhaps not the most professional behaviour I could be displaying. It doesn't give the best impression of me and certainly draws some stares. Many people know that I am diabetic but unless they ask, I don't tend to share the fact I am on a pump and very few are privy to the fact I store it between my knockers. As such when I do start fiddling with my bra, it looks pretty odd.

I told my DSN about this and she mentioned to me that Medtronic have a remote control ( I know - could have told me sooner!) that can be use with Medtronic pumps! You can't use the Bolus Wizard with it - which is the function when you can put in your blood sugar levels and the pump will make a dose suggestion in order to bring you back to your ideal level - but it does mean that I can give myself a bolus without even having to fondle inappropriately with my bra anymore! Whoop!

I contacted Medtronic and asked them how I could buy one. They advised a very pleased me that in fact they offer them free of charge. Thrilled at the thought of a new piece of kit to try out and the notion that there would be no more uncomfortable moments at work, I was avidly waiting its arrival. And there it was this evening, new and shiny and ready to be played with today.

It is a very simple device really, with just three buttons to mention. It has a 'B' button (Bolus) which allows you to draw up how much insulin you want, an 'S' button (Suspend) with which you can suspend the pump and an 'ACT' button, which all those who are familiar with Medtronic pumps will recognise as the button you have to press when asking the pump to perform any kind of function.

The first thing to do before you can use it is to enter the code on the back of the remote into the pump. The reason you do this is to make sure that only your remote controls only your pump. I mean, can you picture the havoc caused if every remote talked to every pump! Granted, I am the only person in my office on an insulin pump, but what if I went to lunch with my pump buddies? Or worse still - went to a pump convention?! I can just see it now, diabetics dropping like flies left right and centre because we all ate lunch together. I can just see the headlines:

"450 diabetics commit mass suicide by dosing 4500 units of insulin during pump convention!"

It may sound entertaining but in reality, it is VITAL that only your remote controls your pump. That is the purpose of the ID number on the back of the remote.

Once this is done, your remote is up and running and ready to go. All you have to do when you want to bolus any amount is hold the 'ACT' button down until it flashes and the pump 'beeps'. This means the pump is 'awake' and ready to go. All you do now is press the 'B' button for however many units you wish to deliver.

Now as a default, the 'easy bolus' function on the pump is set to 0.1 units at a time. The problem with that is that if you want say, 7 units, you would have to press the button - which in turn causes a 'beep' - 70 times!! Slightly annoying if you are mid-meeting. But luckily the easy bolus function can be adapted, meaning you can set it to increase at a rate of whatever you like. I have now adjusted mine to scroll at a rate of 0.5 units at a time. So when I press my 'B' button, it will rise at a rate of 0.5 to 1.0, 1.5 to 2.0 and so on. This means I can still have reasonably precise doses (still vastly more precise that injections) but only have to press it twice per unit of insulin I want. Once you have selected the number of units you want, you click 'ACT' again. The beeps are then replayed (just to make sure you have the right amount), and if you hit 'ACT' again, it begins to bolus. It is as easy as that.

It also comes in the form of a key-ring, so I can keep it on my set of keys (probably the one place I won't lose it) meaning I have easy access and am likely to have it wherever I go.

Well let me tell you - it's been great so far. I'm sure I will get bored of using it at some point and will just use it when I am in public, but with a new 'toy' to play with I am one happy cat. It will take a little while to get confident with it, seeing as I can't actually see what I am dosing, but provided I am concentrating there should be no hiccups. That is one of the reasons I have chosen to set the scroll rate 0.5. As long as I don't decide to fiddle with it, there should be some sort of limit to what I can ask it to deliver!

Anyway, any day now I will post my 'serious' post, but for the meantime I wanted to share something a little more light hearted. And for all those Medtronic users, give 'em a call, there's a remote control waiting for you to play with!

Leaps and Bounds

Let's get one thing straight; I hate diabetes.

Most of the time I just get on with things and try not to moan about it too much, partly because if you moan too much people stop listening, and I want people to hear the truth about diabetes. It's also partly because I believe if you keep moaning, you just convince yourself of what your saying and don't have a chance to feel better about anything. So I try to save my rants for moments when it truly does get to me. But under the surface that gives off the impression that I manage it well and don't let it stop me doing what I want, there is always that grey cloud on the horizon - the one which brings a sombre mood, a feeling of defeat and a number of extra boluses (the insulin pump equivalent of an injection).

BUT - I still find something amazing about it every day. By 'it' I don't mean the actual disease, there really isn't that much you can find amazing about this disease other than realising that when you thought the disease couldn't be any more of a pain in the butt, it somehow finds a way.

What I mean by 'it', is the growing list of ways to treat it, the ways to keep complications at bay, the ways to treat those that exist and the amount of cures on the horizon. Granted, if the 'cures' were a little closer than 'on the horizon' I would be a little more enthusiastic, but 'there is a cure just down the road by the semi-detached' doesn't have quite the same ring to it does it?

That being said, even thirty years ago, diabetic patients had to use monstrous glass syringes to inject insulin with. Ones that needed to be boiled and thoroughly cleaned between sittings. Now, I wouldn't call myself lazy, but I do have a distinct aversion to washing up. I would say I'm a little allergic but Jamie would probably disagree! But in all seriousness, if I had to boil every syringe after using it, I would probably have died a long time ago through some sort of nasty infection. PLUS, I have a nasty habit of dropping/falling over/standing on (ask the cats) and losing, all manner of things. If I had to keep track of glass (or as I prefer 'easy to smash') syringes, I would probably have been forceably euthanized due to the NHS struggling under the weight of my cock-ups alone. Also, just take a look at them...

I mean come on! I think I saw something like that in that film where people pay to murder other people for fun - Hostel was it? Eurgh!

Luckily, in about the 1970s, the first US patent for plastic disposable syringes arrived. I haven't managed to find out at this point when they came to the UK, but seeing as we are about 10 years behind them in our treatment options, I would hazard a guess at somewhere in the 80s. Now these may not look much nicer...

But compared to the glass syringes they were light, small and thanks to not having to boil them, Anna is still alive (can I get a 'yay!). Be honest, all you pen and pump users who have had the condition over 10 years, how weird is it seeing this! I thought I had done a good job blocking these out of my mind, but they sort of feel familiar. Thanks for keeping me alive you little orange and white implements of torture!

Next came the 'pens' with disposable insulin filled cartridges. Granted, mine were never quite as 'sexy' looking as those shown below, but oh my what a change!

Now at the time these were truly the COOLEST things in the world. When sitting down to eat, there were no longer stares from people thinking you were injecting heroin at the table (yeah, cos every heroin addict can afford dinner in a restaurant!). Granted, you still had those who stared at you because they felt you would be making their lives better if you injected in the scuzzy toilet (it ain't ever gonna happen lady with the purple rinse, so get over it!), but at least the heroin years were over. Plus not going on holiday with 147 hypodermic needles was kinda cool. I can't tell you how many Spanish cleaners gave me the filthiest looks when they came out of our rooms on holiday. I bet they are telling this story somewhere else but have quite a different take on what kind of scumbags we were!

Now, the world of diabetes has been truly revolutionised by the introduction of the insulin pump. Granted, any Americans reading this will think it's old news (they are already about 15 years ahead of the backward UK when it comes to new treatments), but for us pale skinned rain loving Brits, the insulin pump has landed. Dun dun dahhhhhhhh...

Now I do happen to be a fan of this particular one, because it happens to be the very one that I will be sporting for the next 3 and a half years. And may I add what a fine device it is. I now no longer have to inject, I have a completely tailored (I prefer customized) insulin delivery plan, and most of all, I can have a giant curry and no longer feel like I just hit myself in the face with a brick afterwards. Hoorah!

But this isn't the end of it. Not by a long shot. The one drawback for me with the insulin pump is the tubing. I have no problem wearing the pump, trusting it or relying on it, but I have got a habit of tugging on the tubing (please see earlier comment RE clumsiness - said clumsiness applies here too). It's not generally particularly painful, certainly not for me, but sometime it is a pain in the backside (or arm or leg or wherever my cannula site happens to be).

So the next thing on the horizon (when the UK hurries up), is a tubing free, wirelessly enabled pump (I bet Apple are gutted they didn't think of that!)

There is currently one on the market, the Omnipod. Don't get too excited you pasty face rain sodden Brits, it's not 'here' yet, but it is on the horizon (that damned word again!).

And to rival it by being smaller in size and detachable from the body, is the Solo pump.

This one isn't even available in the US at the moment, but soon enough hopefully this wireless, tubeless brilliant white piece of heaven will make it's way to our misty shores and will have a welcome committee of about 500,000, with yours truly at the very front waiting to trample anyone who gets in my way. I know you are all my diabetic community brothers and sisters and I love you all dearly, but there are Indian take-aways and Lindor chocolate at stake here (dribble, dribble)

There are also plans for an 'artificial pancreas', which will combine the technology of insulin pumps and CGM (continuous glucose monitoring) and will enable diabetics all over the world to take that big step closer to joining the 'normal' gang, as the artificial pancreas will be able to monitor glucose levels and respond by either administering insulin (if glucose levels are too high) or turn off the pump (if glucose levels are too low) . I have no doubt that this is still years in the future, but at least it is there. The ingenious invention in some bright sparks mind. I thank that person, because every step closer we get the more hope I have.

My point of this article I suppose, is that although we are still along way from perfect treatments or dare I say it, a cure, we without doubt must have one of the largest amounts of medical treatment options available. There are diseases out there which people still have no idea how to treat. Even with multiple sclerosis there is no known way of treating the actual disease, just the symptoms after they happen. They take steroids after each relapse in the hope it will absolve some of the damage done during the last episode. Whereas diabetes, even though still treating the symptoms, has a growing number of ways to try and stop those highs and lows before the even happen. I'm not saying we have it any better or worse than anyone else, but every day that I see there is a new treatment available out there, is a day I feel safe in the knowledge that as far as treatment is concerned, this really is the best we have ever had it. It may not be perfect, but it's a damned sight better than over sized glass torture devices and a guaranteed trip to an early grave.

I just can't wait for the day the world press announces the cure has arrived.

There will be tears in my eyes when that day arrives.

Forget diabetes - get some 'you' time.

As some of you may know, Jamie (my partner and long-suffering diabetes 'watchman' ) got engaged last year and have been planning our nuptials for a while. This weekend we decided to visit the venue where we were hoping to hold our ceremony and have all of our friends and family stay with us to enjoy our big day.

We packed up our stuff on Friday and bid the kids (cats) farewell. We hit the highway excited and keen to get on the move and headed west; Cornwall west.

Normally when I have a trip planned, diabetes is the number one priority. It is impossible for it not to be really - if I don't look after myself, things go wrong. Very wrong. I usually do at least 50% more tests, usually err on the side of caution and let myself run a little higher and usually bulk buy food like Armageddon is nigh! Remember how crazy everyone went when they thought the year 2000 meant every electrical item would fail meaning chaos would strike? Well you know how everyone started storing food underneath beds and in secret cupboards? Well that's how my bags look when I go away. Like the bag of a mad woman who is going to be living on a deserted island somewhere.

This weekend however, there was something else distracting me; The wedding. I did carry out the usual bulk-packing of medical equipment, making sure I had enough equipment to negotiate some sort of tropical disaster, and made sure I had packets of sugar stuffed in pockets and bags, but one thing was different about this weekend. It was almost as if once I hit the road I forgot I was diabetic.

It felt good.

Really good.

I must have only done about 3 or 4 blood tests all weekend! Now I'm not saying that was the 'best' decision in the world, and I certainly wouldn't go telling people to do the same. BUT, the fact that my trusty pump just carried on doing it's thing, making little clicking sounds now and then and delivering the insulin as I trust it to, meant I was able to just 'get on with things' and enjoy my weekend.

I can't be sure, but I didn't feel like at any point I went overly high or worryingly low. This can only be a guess as my blood tests would have confirmed it. But the freedom I have found with the pump is such a breath of fresh air.

Of course I didn't really feel like I wasn't diabetic, and of course I didn't ignore it all together. I did have one low on the evening we arrived after misjudging what I needed to bolus for dinner, but generally I felt just great!

That just never used to happen to me on injections. Injections meant highs lows, having to eat at certain times, waking up to inject even if I wanted a lie in and having to religiously weigh and measure every damn thing I eat.

This weekend I had a chance to just let the pump do what it is paid to do. Keep me alive.

And it did a damn fine job!

How the iPhone almost killed me.

OK, OK, I may be exaggerating just a touch, but in a round about 'what if' way it did.

I have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of my shiny new iPhone for days. As of yet, I haven't really bought into the whole iPhone crowd thing, primarily because I don't feel the need to belong to the messy-haired, NME reading, skinny jean-wearing, must-have-an-iPhone-or-you're-not-'cool' crowd. But I do have a confession; I can't help it, but I do love the feeling of slicing the sellotape away from a shiny new box containing a new phone. One which I invariably won't be able to use without being all fingers and thumbs for days (why does every mobile phone have a different space bar or punctuation button?), one which I will probably drop in a puddle days after saying I would be more careful with this one, and one which I will no doubt have to spend hours transferring numbers to, because as much as I love technology, it always gets the better of me. But, just as you get a new pair of shoes and can't stop looking at them, or get a new car and can't stop finding reasons to drive to the shop (it's five minutes away but it's dark outside - it's the safer thing to do, right?), I just have a thing about new phones.

Today at work, my insulin pump was running low on insulin (the clue is in the name - it's kind of the key feature!). I had done the rough calculations in my head to make sure I had enough to get me through the day: In other words, 1.5 units per hour x eight hours = 12 units, plus the six units I use for lunch = 18. I had 19 units left so thought I would be safe. One problem, being the human (and occasional scatter-brain) that I am, I had forgotten to calculate my morning dose for my breakfast (4.5 units). That means I was now 3 hours short of insulin. Hmmm, I know that I can take an hour off the pump safely, so I can get through until 4.30pm without worrying too much. I agreed with the wife (he's a good wife) that we would leave work at 4pm today (thank the Lord for flexi time!) so that I could top up the reservoir in the pump and harmony would be restored.

Turns out, I am more excited about getting my new iPhone than I am in making sure I have enough insulin. You know, the 'stuff' which keeps me alive and stops me going into a coma (!). I got home with all the best intentions. But not intentions of filling my pump, Nooooooo. Instead, I had intentions of getting acquainted with my lovely shiny new friend - the stuff of dreams - my iPhone.

Unfortunately the phone of dreams hadn't arrived. I have no doubt that any normal non-obsessed person would probably have given up there, but I am no mere normal person. I, managed to spend about 2 hours staring at the tracker screen on the DHL website (useless, by the way) watching it say "out for delivery". After having some dinner and trying to accept (and failing at it) that my shiny new companion wasn't arriving today, I went to meet my friend for a drink. We strolled along Langstone harbour for about 45 minutes, chatting about anything and everything under the sun, enjoying the summer evening (aren't they bliss?).

We strolled back and sat down for a drink. After about another half an hour, my pump made the most disturbing sound.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

"What the hell?!"

"SHIT!" (excuse la French).

"I haven't filled the reservoir! I have to go."

It was 9.30 pm at this point. I was currently in my sixth hour of no insulin, having eaten 85 grams of carbohydrate for dinner and injected for it (or so I thought).


I raced home with Lauren in the car behind - following me to make sure I was OK (she's a good lass). I raced in doors, grabbed my testing kit (weirdly enough I never leave home without the damn thing - except for today when I forgot it) and tested my levels.

9.9mmol.

I don't know how, but after 6 hours of no insulin and having eaten a dinner which should have warranted 8.5 units of insulin (which I never received), I managed to be at a reasonably good level!

I have set the pump to release 150% the amount of insulin I normally need and have tested three times since getting home, but nevertheless have some how managed to avoid a potential nightmare! In fact, I may need to eat something before bed because my levels are dropping!

For all you diabetics out there I have one message:

IPHONES + PUMP REFILL DAY = DISASTER.

I still can't wait to open that box though. Fingers and thumbs at the ready!

Do we dare to dream?

Since as far back as I can remember there has been a promise in the air. It is a promise which could quite literally save the lives of two hundred and eighty-five million people. It's hard to imagine how many people that really is. Look at it again:

285,000,000.

That is almost 5 times the amount of people in the UK. Imagine all your friends, family, loved ones, work colleagues, celebrities you like and those you don't, political leaders and favourite authors. Imagine all of those people lived with a disease that dictated many of the decisions they make every day. Imagine those people spent every day piercing their fingers, doing injections, recording results, weighing food and calculating insulin doses. Imagine if most of them developed complications. Complications such as kidney failure, ulcerated feet leading to gangrene, blindness, heart failure or death.

Ever since I was diagnosed - or at least since I can remember - 'we' have been promised that there is a cure on the way. At first it was pancreas transplants, this fantastic new concept or replacing the damage pancreas with a shiny new(ish) fully functional one. At one point in time this was the 'cure' to diabetes. There was just one draw back; rejection. The problem with a transplant is that when the organ is replaced, the human body - amazing as it is - is very likely to reject anything you put in it which wasn't intended to be there. Granted, you might think I would prefer anti-rejection drugs over shots, calculations, complications and all the other pain in the backside things that come along with this disease, but the truth is anti-rejection drugs come with a lengthy list of health warnings. For starters, you have to find the right concoction. I looked up just a few of the anti-rejection drugs and found this lovely list of side effects:

Tremors
High Blood Pressure
Abdominal Pain
Liver toxicity
Kidney toxicity
Significant hair growth (I'm thinking women with beards)
Overgrowth of gum tissue (Yuk! Right?!)

Many of these will have to be taken several times a day. And the effects of how they make you feel and the effects they have on your body are huge.

OK, so you've reached the decision to go for it, you have sat in a numbered queue on a waiting list and finally found a pancreas donor. You have had the procedure and have gone through the above symptoms as a way of getting rid of the diabetes. The fact is there is a real chance that your new organ STILL won't accept.

Believe it or not the pancreas actually does a lot more than just produce insulin. It also produces digestive juices which your body needs. So if the pancreas rejects, which is a very real possibility, you then effectively become diabetic (again) and now have to take a bunch of pancreatic enzyme supplements so you don't struggle to digest anything you eat (watch the carb content, you're diabetic again now remember?).

OK, I think we all catch my drift here - as wonderful as it sounded initially, there are health warnings screaming at you from a mile off. I'm not convinced that putting my body through all of that will really make me live any longer. In fact I am fairly sure that my body would give up after 24 years of diabetes and then countless more on drugs and supplements, or with diabetes AND drugs supplements.

Right, next the cell research phase arrived. Stem cell research has dominated the headlines in the last few years and has given many people with diseases (not just diabetes) a ray of hope. Embryonic stem cells have the unique ability to become any other kind of cell, from skin cells to brain cells. Unlike adult stem cells which are hard to locate and identify, embryonic stem cells have the potential to also become insulin-producing cells; those which were destroyed in people with type one diabetes. The idea of stem cells is that you will be able to 'top up' or replace cells which are no longer able to produce insulin.

Pancreatic islet cells on the other hand are taken from a corpse, 'cleaned' and injected into the Liver. They too should begin to produce insulin and may be the answer to diabetes.

However, as with a full pancreas transplant, this kind of transplant still requires a concoction of anti-rejection drugs, which can still leave you open to serious illnesses and diseases. Added to this, the procedure itself is very invasive.

I think you can see that I'm not a scientist and my explanations are brief and broad. The truth is, all the scientific stuff can baffle me and I live with diabetes, I don't study it for a living. But I never intended this blog to be about science, or even about fact. It was always supposed to be about experience. And my experience was that I went to a conference a couple of years back and asked the question, "When will there be a cure?". The specialist proceeded to tell us that in America they had already tried this on 6 willing participants. With one, the jury was still out but it seemed to be working. On another, the procedure hadn't worked at all. With two, the procedure worked but ceased to work after a few months. There was one story I can't remember, but the one that stuck in my mind the most was the last, the final participant died.

Granted, the developments since then have been phenomenal and as far as I know people aren't dying left right and centre, but that story has stuck with me. Out of six people who thought they'd been handed a winning lottery ticket, one ended up without a life.

The jury is still out on this for me. Although stem cell and pancreatic islet cell transplantation apparently goes on all the time, and indeed you can go abroad and pay to have the procedure yourself, there are warnings all over the place about having it done overseas where research and clinical tests are not as rigorous as here in the UK.

In total it costs the NHS £9 Billion per year to treat diabetes, which is ten per cent of the NHS budget. If this procedure was fool proof or at least had a great chance that the host of the disease was prepared to take a risk for, would it not mean the NHS would be saving money left right and centre within the space of a few years? Imagine the good that money could do; better cancer treatments, better maternity care, newer hospitals, better pay for NHS staff, less disease (stem cell research is also key for other highly expensive to treat diseases). I would have thought (again, just my opinion) that even if it cost £20,000 per person to carry out the procedure, they would be very keen to spend that on all those who have worse control, use up more resources (sorry to sound cold, but it is a reality) and are more likely to develop the condition, and then work there way down the list of those needed the cure. I don't know that for a fact, but it seems like common sense to me.

Anyway...

The latest in the way of promises comes from a report I read on the Discovery News channel. Apparently scientists have been able to cultivate tissue that has grown into a new pancreas in pigs. This was then injected with the stem cells which in turned began to produce enough insulin! I know, amazing huh?!

I was amazed when I read this and for the first time in a while felt a little glimmer of hope spark inside me. But I had to step back and remind myself that it can take years to get medicines and procedures through the clinical trial stages. I was once told the longest a drug had taken from testing to the chemist shelves was 18 years, with new drugs taking anything between 10 and 15 years to get through all the clinical stages. As wonderful as it is that new treatments are always coming out of the woodwork, in the last 15 years I certainly haven't seen or heard much other than 'this is currently undergoing rigorous testing'.

As much as I would love to be able to get my hopes up about this, I have to constantly remind myself - as a person whose life could quite literally be saved by this - to remember that if any highly regarded and promising new procedures fail any of the 3 testing stages, they are then back to the drawing board. Some say (and I would agree) that animal testing is now almost obsolete due to the fact that even with apes one drug can kill them but not harm us and vice versa, but the fact remains at the moment this is the type of trial that these new promises have to make it through. And if anything goes wrong, it's curtains.

I truly hope and will keep everything crossed that this is at least in one stage of testing, but the article sounded a little as though this was still in the experimental stages. It was just a good enough piece of news to reach the headlines of one publication.

I guess we'll find out when I update this post.

I just hope there are still laptops in 18 years....