T1D Looks Like Me

November is DIABETES AWARENESS MONTH (though I'm fairly sure every month is Diabetes Awareness Month...).

The current JDRF campaign for #T1DLooksLikeMe got me thinking about diabetes awareness.  I suppose to some extent there's a lot of awareness of the concept of diabetes at least.  The last few weeks alone have seen numerous TV programmes attempting to highlight some of the long term complications of diabetes and talking about what can be done to reduce the risk of developing Type 2 diabetes in the future.

The thing about living with a chronic illness like Type 1 diabetes is that it's all the things people don't see that really define what your life is like.  To borrow from Public Enemy, those who know, know; those that don't have no idea.

This is for those who don't know (yet).

Fourteen years of Type 1 diabetes in just four numbers

I've had Type 1 diabetes for just over 14 years.  I've had good days and I've had great days.  I've had bad days, and I've had terrible days, and I've had everything in between too.

As the graphic above says, I've had to inject myself with insulin almost 17,000 times (plus around 450 cannula changes since starting with an insulin pump in early 2013).  That's something that never gets any easier for me.  There's still always a sharp intake of breath and a second of silence before the needle goes in.  I still remember being told on the day I got diagnosed that I had to inject myself in the stomach multiple times a day otherwise I'd die.

I've had to test my blood glucose levels almost 31,000 times in the past 14 years (or around 6 times a day, every day).  Some of my darkest times I've had living with this were when I abandoned testing pretty much entirely for around 18 months about five years post diagnosis.  I was lost and unable to cope with the idea of living with diabetes, so I tried to ignore it.  I found out the hard way that doesn't work.

'You see a meal, I see a problem to solve'

Living with Type 1 is relentless - a non-stop series of numbers that you have to understand and act on.  Eating becomes something entirely different.  Sitting down at the table, you see a meal, I see a problem to solve.  What's my blood glucose level now?  How many grams of carbohydrate are in this?  How much insulin do I need to take?  Is it the kind of meal that means my levels will rise later on (I'm looking at you here pizza...)?  And you have that thought process every day, every time you eat.  There's little wonder that people with diabetes are more likely to develop an eating disorder compared to the rest of the population.

It's the little things that sometimes take the biggest toll.  Cutting short exercise because your blood sugar drops too low, or not even being able to start exercising in the first place.  Spending 50 quid on a glucose sensor and having it in the back of your mind every time you get changed because you don't want to knock it off.  Wishing you could take a shower without catching your cannula (or making sure you don't catch the tubing on a door handle because it's agonising when it pulls out when you least expect it).

'Shaking, sweating, dizzy and your heart pounding'

And then there's dealing with the extreme levels of blood sugar.  The lows (hypoglycaemia) that leaving you  shaking, sweating, dizzy and your heart pounding, scrambling for some fast acting glucose to get back to 'normal'.  I don't think I know what 'normal' is any more.  The other end of the spectrum is the highs (hyperglycaemia).  Feeling sick and sluggish, the insides of your eyes feel like treacle and you're left with an unquenchable thirst until you've taken insulin to bring you back down to 'normal' (there's that word again).

Finally there's the quiet voice at the back of your mind, reminding you about the potential complications of this... thing that I live with.  Compared to the general population, I'm twice as likely to have a stroke or heart attack.  I'm at risk of developing long term kidney and eye problems as well as neuropathy (loss of sensation in the feet and other extremities) which can in turn lead to potential amputation in later life.  You have to live for today, but tomorrow is never far from your mind.

I think you adapt quite quickly to living like this.  There's no alternative really - doing nothing will get you in all kinds of trouble really quickly.  One thing I've learned over the past 14 years is that you never stop learning.  Talking to other people with diabetes, going on courses, going to support groups... there's always something new to learn and your body will always throw you a curveball when you least expect it.

This is what Type 1 is to me.  A constant sea of numbers, staving off lows, fighting highs.  Being awake at 2am because I desperately need something to eat, or bleary eyed, I need insulin to combat high blood sugar.  Living with a chronic illness isn't easy - in fact it's downright exhausting sometimes.  But it hasn't kept me down yet and hopefully it won't in the future.