Diabetes Miracle Program Review: Diabetes Type 1 Has a Cure, and Here’s My Story

diabetes type 1 cure

This post is for everyone who is currently suffering from diabetes type 1. It’s important that you pay attention to what I am about to say, because you never know – maybe it will mark a turning point for you too. Each day, I feel compelled to share my experience and how I managed to reverse diabetes type 1. That’s the reason why am writing to thousands of those who want to listen to my testimony.

You see, diabetes type 1 is the most common form of diabetes. It’s insulin-dependent, and that makes it the most dangerous of the two. I hear people referring to it as juvenile diabetes simply because it’s more common in children and even teenagers, though one can get it regardless of their age.

Again, the reason why scientists haven’t discovered a tangible cure up to now is because this type of diabetes sets in when the body’s immune system considers insulin-producing cells as foreign materials. So it goes ahead to destroy them!

It’s not fun to inject yourself with insulin every day. And even if there were tablets to take, they wouldn’t be efficient enough to melt into the bloodstream since they would be broken down in the stomach like food. That’s the reason why those who don’t know say there’s no cure to diabetes type 1, and that one should therefore keep injecting themselves with chemicals.

Today, am introducing you to the Diabetes Miracle Program, a guide that I first read about on a website, just like you’re doing right now. I have realized that there are plenty of reviews that talk about this program. However, nearly 60% of those writing about this program have absolutely no idea as to how it works, yet they make you believe they’ve used it before and that they’ve seen results with it.

Don’t be fooled, this is just one of the few trusted Diabetes Miracle Program review you’ll find online, and here’s what you need to know:

It’s a diabetes cure program that was developed by two guys named Dr. Robert Evans and Paul Carlyle, and you could see results with it in as little as 3 weeks onwards.

Unlike a physical product that you’d order online, this is a product  that’s in form of an e-book – a step by step guide that teaches you the secrets to combating this disease.

I initially bought it because it promised to teach me all the natural ways of eliminating diabetes 1, though it’s also effective for patients struggling from type 2 diabetes.

This guide is based on scientific evidence surrounding brown adipose tissues in the body, which combines diet with a number of natural treatment methods to increase the amount of brown fat inside the body.

Latest research suggests that brown fat has a role in the way your body uses its energy, its insulin sensitivity and glucose homeostasis. Brown fat tissue serves as an anti-diabetic tissues, which is responsible for regulating blood glucose while counteracting weight gain in individuals.

The ultimate results is that diabetes will go away while still being able to control your weight if you were struggling with weight problems.

The Pros
Paul Carlyle and Dr. Robert Evans deliver their treatment in a step-by-step plan which is easy to understand and apply. All the materials you will be told to use are natural and readily available.

You noticed the word ”miracle” in the middle of its name. This is just miracle as they refer to it. I started seeing results in just over 3 weeks, and now am fine.

I didn’t use any needle, strenuous exercises, pills or finger-pricking to get to where I am today, and you’re not any different. This can happen to you if you only took the initiative.

It’s also worth mentioning that there are no side effects with this method and in the steps you’ll be told to follow.

What’s in the Package
The package comes as a 3 module PDF e-Book, with over 400 delicious diabetes recipes( Ilove them!), as well as a 7-day energy booster (in PDF form).

You must be ready to plan how you’ll ditch the needle if you want to start using this product effectively. This is something I debated on when I first got this program. It’s something you can overcome too.

Sometimes it takes a leap of faith to achieve success. If you doubt anything, you will never make it in life, regardless of the area you want to excel in. I applied the same principle when purchasing a copy of Diabetes Miracle Program. Today, I am glad that I can spend time writing a review to highlight my experience. So what are you waiting for?

EZ-Wrap: 1, Caro: Out For Revenge

I like long tubing.

I like the fact that with long tubing I can wear my pump in my socks (rainbow striped today) or clipped to my boots, or tucked inside a piece of Tubigrip around my calf. I like the fact that when I’m asleep, my pump can do it’s own thing, far away from me. If it falls on the floor, I’m not woken by a tug on my infusion set. I can roll over at least twice and the tubing just wraps round me without me actually lying on my pump, which is, let’s face it, a pretty uncomfortable way to be woken up. I like the fact that my pump, which, despite being quite happy with water, doesn’t like bubbles so much, can sit on the floor next to the bath tub and I’m barely aware that I’m wearing it while I soak away the stresses of the day.

But sometimes that long tubing is just a pain.

Like when my pump is tucked into a pocket, and no matter how well I coil it up and tuck it away, it always springs out just when it sees a door handle or knob. Or when my pump is tucked discreetly beneath a sweater and it snakes its way out, hanging nonchalantly almost to my knees when I meet a new person for the first time.

This is where the ez-wrap comes in.

diabetes - wise

The ez-wrap is a piece of plastic that slots on the back of the IR1200, creating a channel between it and the pump. You then wrap the excess tubing around the ez-wrap, sitting in the channel, tuck the pump in your pocket and go. No embarrassing hanging tubes, or sudden door-knob snags.

Even before today though, there were problems with the ez-wrap. I don’t like that you can’t use it when the pump is in its holster. I’m not a case kinda girl. I hate trying to push buttons through the plastic window, and while I’m happy to fish the pump out of my bra, socks or tubigrip, taking it out of a case is just too much work. Trouble is that pump-in-holster-on-waistband is one of the times ez-wrap could be of most benefit. I doubt too that it will work with the long-awaited “Slim Clip” (which has been a prototype for, like, forever!)

Today was the big one though. The ez-wrap definitely got one over me.

At 4pm I felt pretty off. Blood sugar clocked at 16.4 (295) with no logical explanation. My infusion set was two and half days old and feeling a bit sore, so I changed that. I had plenty of insulin in the pump, so I just ran a prime and checked for air. Seemed good.

An hour later, feeling worse, not better, I tested at 20.4 (367) Eeek.

I unwrapped my tubing from the ez-wrap, and this time noticed that it was wet. A sniff confirmed that smell, that to anyone without diabetes you might describe as that of elastoplast, but to anyone with is just ‘insulin’.

The damn ez-wrap ate my tubing! Not so e-z now, huh?

Now that my blood sugar is perfectly ok again, I’m out for revenge. My ez-wrap may find it has an untimely meeting with a hammer, because I choose a door handle snag over an unnecessary high anytime!


Let’s face it, diabetes can make you scared. Often in a vague, far-off kind of way: scared of potential complications lurking in the future, scared of having, at some non-specific time in the future, a major hypoglycaemic episode.

Sometimes though diabetes makes me scared in a simple right-here, right-now kind of way. And there is nothing quite like the scare that a blood sugar that keeps on tumbling, despite every effort at intervention, can give you.

Last night was a classic example. I tested at around 10.30pm and got a 5.2 (94). I had just the very tail of a bolus on board, so I had around 15 grams of carbs, and got ready to go to sleep.

At 11pm, when slumber was persistently beckoning, I re-tested. I was surprised to see a 3.9 (70) I had another 10g of carbs and struggled to keep my eyes open a little longer so I could test again. Sometimes, when I’m that tired, I wouldn’t bother. I’ve no idea why last night I did, why I had a strong nagging feeling that I should.

I was glad I did. At 11.20pm I was 3.4 (61). This wasn’t funny anymore. I went for a full 20 grams of carb in the form of Lucozade , planning to bolus when I went shooting up. Except, I didn’t.

11.40pm and my blood sugar was 2.3 (41) This was where the fear really kicked in. I’d now had a full 45 grams of carbs in the previous hour, which would usually require 3.2 units of insulin. I knocked back more Lucozade, probably around another 20 grams, but I’ll admit by this stage, with my heart thumping in my chest, and sweat beading my brow, I wasn’t counting.

The adrenaline was certainly flowing to fuel my fear, but it wasn’t doing anything to push my blood sugar back up. At 11.55pm I hit rock bottom – almost – at 1.5 (27)

I finished off the bottle of Lucozade,  visions of me being found dead in bed by police who had broken down the door after no one had seen me for a couple of days, flashing through my head. Until…

Five past midnight and I was on the up. 2.7 (49).

Ten minutes and a couple of biscuits later 3.7 (67) My heart stopped thundering out a beat, and when I dried the sweat it didn’t reappear.

By half past midnight, two hours after I first checked my blood sugar, I was at 5.8 (104). And with what I later calculated to be around 90 grams of carbs coursing through my system, I finally fell asleep.

Of course that wasn’t the end of it. The result of these scenarios is almost always the same. Occasionally it might be a collapse that involves spontaneous awakening, or a collapse involving the administration of glucagon, or even something involving blue lights and paramedics. But far more often, these scenarios simply result in a rebound.


That is 360mg/dL.

I guess the carbs finally showed up on the scene then!

You’ve got to wonder really…

Where has the insulin that causes these lows been? They often seem to occur when there is no, or very little, active insulin on board, or perhaps after a stubborn high in which the urge to rage bolus (to steal Kerri’s term) has been resisted.

Where does the ingested carb go? Even if that was what caused the later spike, rather than the stress hormones, it still took hours!

And the big one: If I hadn’t started intervening when I did, where might I have ended up?

Not much wonder diabetes makes you scared, is it?

Nice One, Caro!

It was three hours this morning until I realised that I wasn’t wearing my pump. Three hours!

Obviously this is not a good thing.

Should I have been content in the fact that if I can forget to wear my pump, I must be pretty comfortable with it, and planned to use this anecdote to reassure people who are worried about pumping, afraid that they will always notice the pump? Would that have helped in any way as I impatiently waited for my blood sugar to come back into range and to start feeling better than awful?

Sometimes I can’t believe the things I do and, being honest, this isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten.

Surely I can’t be the only person to make such a stupid, fundamental mistake?

What Drives Hypophobia?

This is a good question, that I have been prompted to ponder by Art-Sweet’s comment to yesterday’s post, Chicken.

The funny thing is that most of the time I’m actually far more afraid of high blood sugars than of low, mindful of the potential long-term consequences of recurrent, prolonged highs. I’m on a permanent quest to keep my A1c as low as possible, so it really is just in certain situations that I become a hypophobe.

Some of the causes are quite simple, along Art-Sweet’s lines. Serious hypoglycaemia at work could well amount to professional suicide, for example. Travelling long distances alone is not best accomplished in a hypoglycaemic state either. But at other times, the reasons are a whole lot more complicated and difficult to explain.

I have a natural fear of night time hypoglycaemia. This is ordinarily kept in check by a combination of the fact that I trust my basal rates, that I am usually woken by hypos in my sleep before they get serious, and that if I feel I am particularly at risk I will set an alarm to wake myself at a suitable point. As someone who usually lives alone this becomes less straightforward when I’m not alone. Strange? Well, yes, but when I stay with people, who may be asleep just the other side of a wall, or even in the same room, I worry about disturbing them either through behaviour caused by actually being hypo, or with an alarm clock going off at 3am.

This, I think, brings us to the real crux of the matter.

I’m a hypophobe when I’m afraid of seeming out of control of my diabetes. This is ironic, since hypoglycaemia is recognised to occur more frequently when control is tighter. But most people don’t know that. They also don’t need to know if my blood sugars are a little high. That is easy to conceal, and hyperglycaemia causing problems that require intervention from someone else takes a good while to develop. Getting up to get juice or sugar isn’t so easy to hide, and hypoglycaemia can very rapidly become a problem requiring assistance. In a nutshell I get afraid of being hypo in situations where I am afraid that people will judge me.

This isn’t the same as being ashamed of diabetes. I’m not. I happily tell everyone and anyone, and will gladly try to educate. What I fear is people thinking that I can’t take care of it.

To be fair to myself, some of this started from a time when there was another girl with type 1 within my immediate peer group. She was someone who never tested her blood sugar or injected in public and never went low in the company of others. What everybody didn’t know was that her A1c frequently exceeded 10 and she was really anything but healthy. I, on the other hand, routinely tested my blood sugar without pausing in a conversation, wore a pump and sometimes needed juice or glucose tabs as a mater of urgency. I had A1c’s in the 6-8 range, but many people perceived me to be the less in control of the two of us. They told me so, and wouldn’t really be moved by any amount of education.

The people from this group that I would actually call good friends, were, of course, completely understanding of where I was coming from. To this day, I don’t have a problem in letting my really good, close friends, the people who understand, know what is going on, although I’d much rather not disturb them unless I have to.

But inside I have a fear of going low outside of that circle because it gives my diabetes way too much of a powerful voice, one that says “Look at me, I’m the one that is in control and she [me] can’t do anything about it.” Even when I know that isn’t the case. So yeah, sometimes I’m a hypophobe, because I just want my diabetes to go unnoticed.


I’m a chicken. A coward. Sometimes I’m a hypophobe with an appalling lack of judgement that leads me headfirst into unnecessary, avoidable highs. Last night was a prime example.

Last night, after a high protein, high-ish fat meal, I tested at 6.0 (108) at a little after two hours into a four hour extended bolus. Great!

But: I had a little under three units active on board, and a little under two units still to go in. So I chickened. I cancelled the remainder of the extended bolus. And I paid with a 14.5 (260) a little over two hours later.

Why do I do this to myself?

I generally do check my blood sugar at around 90 minutes after eating. This gives me enough time to work with the active insulin on board to get myself where I want to be. If I’m cruising towards being low in around another hour, I can use a temporary basal, or eat a small snack. If I look to be leaning towards finishing up high, I’ll take a second bolus. (N.B This works for me, but I’m not advocating that everyone should do it.)

But I always seem to come unstuck when I use combo boluses. I seem to forget that there is a reason that I use them. That whatever it is I’ve eaten is going to continue pushing my blood sugar up for hours past the normal time frame.

Or more likely, I’m just a chicken. A hypophobe…


I’m guessing that the concept of attachment is a familiar one to anyone using an insulin pump. After all, this thing, small as they now are, is physically attached to a pumper almost 24 hours a day by somewhere between 20 and 45 inches of plastic tubing. Physical attachment is one of the strangest things about beginning to pump, and seems to be one of the many worries of prospective pumpers.

But it isn’t the only kind of attachment.

No one ever mentioned to me the emotional attachment. No one ever warned me that the first time I had to pack a pump up and post it back to the company that I would find it difficult to do. A pump that was meant to be a loaner, but stayed with me for nearly six months, sharing everything that happened to me in that time; the highs and the lows, both in terms of blood sugars and life in general. There was nothing wrong with it when I had to send it back and the way I felt about it, you might have thought I’d actually had to cut a piece of my body off to send in.

On the other hand, no one suggested that if a pump went wrong I might feel betrayed by that, as if my very best friend had suddenly let me down. After all, it is a piece of technological equipment, and sadly they break down from time to time. But if my mobile phone, my ipod or even my computer, acts screwy or dies I may get a bit annoyed, especially if it is a less than convenient time, but then I get over it and get the problem sorted. If my pump goes wrong, it… well it sort of hurts.

Am I weird?

I don’t think so. Overly sentimental definitely, and overly trusting of my pump, possibly, but surely I can’t be the only person who feels this way?