A Pretty Crappy Week, All Told

A little like buses, crappy things seem to have a habit of all coming along together. After a crappy week in so many respects, I've came home tonight feeling totally physically and emotionally exhausted. For various reasons Rob wasn't able to leave Liverpool on time and won't be with me until sometime around midnight. Feeling lonely and overwhelmed, two hours later, I haven't moved.

I'm holding a letter in my hands. I've read and re-read it, trying to make some sense of the mess of words, trying to find it saying something other than what it so clearly shouts.

Phrases like "audit meeting", biomedically difficult to justify", "no definition of measureable benefit" jump out from the page.

There are concessions. There are "ifs". There are "reviews". There are "steps". But they jumble to fog in my brain. The real message is so thinly veiled, it is the only thing to emerge easily from the mist.

This is the letter that screams that the diabetes team believe the battle for CGM approval and support is over.

They think I'll let it go now.

But I can't let it go.

I cannot let it go.

I need this device. Without it, I sleep less well at night. I go to work tired, or hungover from highs and lows and perform surgical procedures on vulnerable people. People who have a right to expect me to be fit to do what I do. People who deserve the best of me. People who have a right to good care on the National Health Service.

And denying me good care puts their care in jeopardy.

Not directly. I'd lose my registration if I were not fit to practice. But fit to practice means running high, staying out of the clutches of the low levels that wash over me without a whisper of warning. It means degloving and leaving the room in the middle of a procedure just to check I'm not dropping too low, while the patient wonders what the hell is going on. It means wondering everyday what damage I might be doing to my body, what sacrifices I might be making for the career I love.

I diffuse the worry the only way I know how: offsetting the highs with lows to drag my A1c back down to an acceptable number. I let myself hover at around the 3mmol mark for hours on end when I am not working, using test strip after test strip as I balance along an uncertain knife edge.

The NHS wants me as a dentist, but does not want to contribute to the 24 sensors per year I am asking for.

Just 24. That is all.

This is no longer just about me. There are so many others out there who could probably benefit even more than me from this technology. People who don't have the means or the energy to tackle it.

There is a message in my voice mailbox  from yesterday. It's from a representative at Medtronic UK's PR agency. I didn't return the call today, because I was afraid. I don't really want to take a public route, but Medtronic have a vested interest in getting this technology recognised. The chance to play a role is being offered to me on a plate.

I believe in this technology. On Monday morning I'm making that call.

Comments

[Rachel]

You need to do it. Absolutely, positively.

[Colleen]

It's not fair and it makes no sense but sometimes you just have to keep trying for someone to realize that you need this and will keep working for it.
So, please keep at it.

[Jillian]

I'm sorry this is happening to you. Keep fighting for it though! If it's helpful, makes your quality of life better, and keeps you in good control it should be a no brainer. I'll be thinking of you!

[Gayle]

Just wanted to say good for you!! Remember that you're right, and stay strong! It's never easy to be a trailblazer.

[Caro]

Thanks everyone for your support. It actually helped me make sure I did make the call today. We've set up time tomorrow for a longer chat. I'll let you know how it goes...