Diabetes Wise

Statiscal Review of the Year

Number of...

Blog posts: 68

Caribbean islands visited: 9
Caribbean sunsets seen: 15
Photographs of sunsets taken: about 250
Hours stranded in Barbados waiting for delayed flight home: 36

Trips to the zoo: 2
Giraffes seen at the zoo: 11
Cuddly anteaters received as gifts: 2
Ants I would have eaten this year if I were an anteater: 10,950,000

Times my credit card got stuck in a machine: 2
Times my bank cancelled a card before its expiry, for no identifiable reason: 1
Hours spent on the telephone complaining to bank about mistake: it felt like about 200
Pounds received in compensation for bank error: 50 (woo hoo!)

Hours I've spent on the train between London and Liverpool: too many to count
Pounds I've spent on Virgin Trains this year: over 1200
Times I've complained to Virgin Trains about their atrocious service: 4
Times I've complained to Virgin Media about their atrocious service (theme, anyone?!): 2

Teeth extracted: about 200
Patients incredulous at the fact they cannot have their teeth bleached on the NHS: 3!!
Hours spent moaning about the NHS contract with colleagues: at least 50
Times I’ve stood my ground in a debate against someone more senior than me in order to defend the interests of younger dentists: 2

Times I have nearly been maimed by a cyclist who believes red lights and zebra crossings don’t apply to them: 5
Times I have witnessed a cyclist maim themselves doing same: 1
Teeth I've repaired as a result of cyclists going over their handle bars: 8
Teeth I've repaired as a result of a fight between a taxi driver and a cyclist: 2

Times I've been stuck in an elevator this year: 1
Times I’ve been stuck in a tunnel on an unmoving tube train for more than 10 minutes this year: 2
Times I’ve thought running up the escalators at Angel “for the exercise” was a good idea: 1
Times I’ve regretted running up the escalators at Angel: 1

Environmentally friendly "Bags for life" purchased at the supermarket: 12
Times I have remembered to take said bags with me to the supermarket to reuse: 0
Wine bottles in my kitchen waiting for recycling because there is never any room in the glass recycling bin in my block: at their peak, about 25
Times Ive had to insist to guests that I'm not an alcoholic: frequently!

Battles of wills with Rob over tea making in the morning: about 100
Times I’ve won said battle: about 98
Red roses received at work this year: 24
Times I’ve realised how wonderful Rob is and how much I love him: over 1000

Blood glucose tests: at least 3650
Infusion set changes: about 115
Times infusion set ripped out on a door handle: about 6
CGM sensors used: 24
Replacement pumps: 1
Times I've thought my meter was lost: 3
Times I'd really lost my meter: 0
A1c tests with results under 7%: 4 (woo hoo!)
Times I"ve said I hate diabetes: at least 12

Times I've been grateful for all the diabetes bloggers, and the community we have: countless!
Times I've smiled, laughed and been generally happy: countless!

Anikleversary

Three years ago today, I found myself in the Accident and Emergency department of Derriford Hospital in Plymouth having a plaster cast, that reached from my toes to the middle of my thigh, applied.

And I was in total shock.

The day before I'd gone to step up on to a pavement, caught my foot inside the bottom of my opposite trouser leg, missed the curb and slipped backwards. I ended up flat on my face on the pavement. I'd also ruptured my achilles tendon and broken my ankle, although I didn't know it then.

I was so embarrassed at having fallen over in a busy street that, despite several people stopping to ask if I was okay, I actually got up and hopped home, which was fortunately only a short distance away. I didn't go to A&E until the following day, a Saturday, where one of the first questions they asked me was 'Where have you been for the last 24 hours?'

The extent of my injury, and of the plaster cast, was shocking enough. But it was a week before Christmas and I was over 250 miles away from my family in a city where I still knew very few people, having moved there just five months before.

I made a good decision to call my then boss, principally to tell him that I wasn't sure that I would be in work on Monday since I didn't see how I could do dentistry in a thigh length cast. I wasn't expecting the offer to go and  stay at his house. And when I later called my parents, I wasn't expecting them to make the 500+ mile round trip rescue mission that they duly did on the Sunday. (They probably weren't expecting to find me standing on one leg at the sink, doing the washing up, when they arrived at my flat either! But you know what it's like when mum comes round and the housework isn't spot on...!)

The last three years have been an amazing rollercoaster when my right ankle is concerned. From the initial 12 weeks in plaster, to a tendon re-rupture just a couple of weeks later, through a consultant  who badly mistreated me, three weeks in hospital due to pain mismanagement that sent me into DKA, to a re-rupture in May last year just days after starting work at a new practice. The third rupture resulted in my third surgery - a tendon transfer - the healing of which was compromised by my Addison's diagnosis one month after surgery. Nothing I write here can truly do justice to the journey I've been on. I'm just truly thankful just to be able to walk after honestly believing it would never happen again. And more than that, I can climb stairs, run for a bus and work out at the gym. The only thing I'm not able to do is walk on tip toes.

I guess that is a small price to pay.

Ironically enough, something which happened almost exactly three years prior  may have played a role  in the initial tendon rupture.

On December 16th 2001, I was celebrating Christmas with my then-boyfriend. We were going to our separate families for Christmas, so had planned our own special day over the weekend. During that day, I felt progressively more and more ill until I gave up and went to bed at around 8pm. An hour or so later, unable to rouse me properly, then-boyfriend made the decision to call an ambulance. It is hard to say that it is a decision that saved my life, since the crew that attended saw my age and a half-finished bottle of wine on the dining table and made an assumption that I was drunk, although I'd had just a single glass of wine more than six hours earlier. They initially refused to take me to hospital, and only did so at then-boyfriend's insistence.

That is what saved my life.

I was suffering from encephalitis.

Suffice it to say that my parents were given the horrifying news the following the day that I might not make it to Christmas.

Real People Sick on a grand scale.

But obviously you wouldn't be reading this now if I hadn't made it.

And as for how this relates to my ankle injury?

Firstly, one of the drugs that I was given intravenously was Ciprofloxacin. This is an antibiotic known, in high does, to be associated with tendonitis and tendon rupture.

Secondly, when I came out of the acute illness, I had lost sensation and motor control over the lower right hand side of my body. This may have been related to pressure on spinal nerves due to swelling caused by the illness itself. It may have been due to damage caused by repeated attempts at a lumbar puncture. This wasn't my first experience of a lumbar puncture. We'd already ascertained I have "unusual spinal anatomy". There is a possibility that spinal nerves were "twanged" in this attempt. Even my neurologist is unsure to this day.

Either way, I had to re-learn to walk. I was left with a foot-drop (inability to raise my foot). I walked with crutches for a long time and used a splint for much longer. My desire to wear something other than trainers (although I had killer Buffalo's for nights out!) probably led me to abandon splint usage long before I was really ready. And walking around with an uncorrected foot drop can lead to shortening of the achilles tendon. Which in turn increases the risk of rupture...

Six years on from my run in with encephalitis and three years on from injuring my ankle I'm just very thankful, both for being alive and for being able to walk.

I've learned the hard way not to take those things for granted.

Bruges!

I'm incredibly slow with this update, but Rob and I spent last weekend in the beautiful Belgian city of Bruges.

We'd planned the weekend to visit the Christmas markets and experience the newly opened St Pancras International and High Speed 1 rail link on the Eurostar. However, we'd timed it principally to coincide with my parents visiting Bruges as part of a short winter cruise break.

Saturday morning felt particularly early, given that my work Christmas party had ended up scheduled for the evening before. But the check in and security procedures for Eurostar are a dream for someone who has regular experience of Heathrow Airport! The new high speed line, opened along with the new St Pancras International Station on Novemebr the 14th, allows for 185mph operation over the entire route with the exception of the Channel Tunnel itself, where speeds are capped for safety reasons. It took just a little over two and half hours from check in, and a little under two hours from the train departing, to reach Brussels.

Which is faster than my regular London-Liverpool commute! Enough said.

Sadly the onward journey from Brussels was not so smooth. Some kind of staff action was causing horrendous delays and there was very little information on when and if trains to Bruges would be departing. What little information there was was provided in Flemish and French, which it fell to me to translate, since Rob does not speak French at all. I always find it surprising how much French I am able to understand, and even at a push actually speak, given how long it is since I studied it. More surprising still is how much Flemish I am accurately able to read given that I've never studied the language, but this perhaps because in written form it has strong similarities to the three languages I have studied - English, French and German.

The transfer to Bruges ended up taking as long as the London-Brussels leg, but we made it in time for a quick lunch before visiting the Snow and Ice Sculpture Festival at the Stationsplein.

 

Me, with an ice penguin

It was a cold weekend in Bruges, but after wondering around the sculptures we were keen to get back outside, where it was warmer!

We headed to our central hotel and then took a wander around the Christmas markets. It was not only cold, but also quite wet, which provided ample excuses for frequent stops to get warm and shelter. We began with waffles, drenched in Belgian chocolate sauce (absolutely divine) followed later by warming gluwein and plenty of local beers.

The only diabetes moment of the weekend came shortly before dinner when the cold, the walking and probably an overestimated bolus for the waffles caught up with me and sent my blood sugar crashing to 1.9 (35), which left me feeling a little hungover and reduced my appetite for dinner. We still had a wonderful evening though.

Sunday was a brighter day, if still very cold. We had a leisurely buffet style breakfast at our hotel and had time for some Christmas shopping before meeting my parents in the central market square. Although time was limited, we fitted in some sightseeing, a further perusal of the markets, more Gluwein and a delicious lunch of Mussels washed down by more Belgian beer!

Sadly we didn't have a lot more time before we had to hop on a train back to Brussels and the Eurostar home and my parents had to get back to their ship. I would have loved to have stayed longer, but had to work on Monday morning. The beauty of Eurostar is that it brings several European cities close enough for a very short trip like this, or even a day trip, without necessitating taking time off work. I've no doubt we'll go back soon.

Rob didn't have to work on Monday or Tuesday and I was treated to the novel experience of being greeted with a ready prepared dinner and a glass of wine as I arrived home on Monday evening. It made me wish just that little bit harder that we weren't two hundred miles apart on a daily basis.

Overall though, it made for a wonderful weekend!

Habit Forming

NaBloPoMo was habit forming.

Twice this weekend, on both Saturday and Sunday, I found myself thinking "I haven't posted yet!" And "What am I going to post about?" Even, whilst out with friends at 11 o'clock on Saturday night, "Eeek, how am I going to be able to post before midnight?"

Perhaps I'm addicted to this now. Or perhaps I'm just deeply tragic?

I'm the kind of person who forms habits slowly, but once they are there, they're hard to break.

Take the codes for new bottles of test strips. This weekend I discovered I'd gone through a whole bottle on the wrong code.

"I must put in the new code... I must put in the new code" I chanted to myself as I opened a new box of strips.

"Code 16... code 16... code 16."

Shoved the strip into the meter.

Click. Thunk.

Drop of blood on the strip.

Test complete.

Doh!

Didn't change the damn code! As soon as that strip is in the meter, I'm on autopilot to get the blood on the strip and the test done. It is such an ingrained habit, that no matter how much I try to remind myself to do it, I always forget to change the code.

Reassuringly, when I tested again after changing the code, the result was just 0.2mmol different (around 3mg/dL). But still,  perhaps it is time I got one of those 'no code' meters.

Just a thought.