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A win

Another stunning morning in paradise.

It’s a two steps forward day today!

Great blood sugars over the last 24 hours, on two long lasting insulin (Levemir) injections only.

No mealtime injections at all!

Now to see how low I can go insulin-wise.

Insulin keeps me alive.

Yet, less is better. Insulin has many a dark side.

I count today as a win.

Come to this house

A Lillian Dawn, or SpiderLily Dawn.

…. And be one of us.

From the song ‘Welcome’ out of ‘Tommy’, written by Pete Townshend and sung so beautifully by Roger Daltrey.

Being a T1D is like walking through a market, where the vendors all loudly spruik their trinkets.

“Come to my house, we have the answer”. “No, come to this house, be one of us”.

I have sojourned with Keto and the Genics. Pitched my tent with McDougall and the Starchies. Of late, Ray Peat has been my shepherd.

Their houses all offer shelter and a story, for a while.

Then it’s deja vu: sigh, they’re trying to kill me, pack my diabetes shit, and wander on.

Science too, is in that market place. Sadly, diabetes medical science is mostly of the ‘Once upon a time’ variety. I asked my doctor: “Why did I get type 1?”. He rambled on some implausible story about the body attacking itself. Then he got the shits and snapped: “You should be glad you lived for sixty years without it”.

Pulp fiction.

He doesn’t know.

Science doesn’t know.

Come to my house of cards, we’ll sell you sackfuls of drugs, and be one of us.

Sick. Prematurely dead.

 

Fly me to the moon and back

One day the rain will stop and the sunrise will be visible again.

IMG_1563 (1)What to do!

Throughout the night my blood sugar was nicely trundling along between 5 and 6 mmol/L.

At 5am I get up, inject 2 units of rapid insulin to take care of my morning decaf with sugar and milk.

1 unit equals 20gm of carbs.

At 6.30 I have breakfast. Porridge, oats, honey, raisins with more decaf, sugar and milk. Carbs 90gm, protein 16gm, fat 4gm. No further insulin.

At 7.30 I climb on my bicycle for a 35km ride. At 12km I check da suga: bloody hell!

I keep my nerve.

At 28km I check again: bloody hell! I now have to eat, otherwise I won’t get home.

Munch a piece of dry toast on the banks of Freshwater Creek.

Arriving home: 5.6 mmol/L.

Should I have injected the 2 units with my wake up coffee?

The peak would have been even higher.

But, there is no point in eating extra food to keep up with the insulin.

What do you say?

House in the rising sun

A play on words for us oldies: a hit by the Animals in 1964. A new house being built along our beach reflecting a glorious sunrise, framed by my favourite trees: she-oaks or casuarinas.

So Long, Harry

One of my guiding lights, the Dutch theologian Harry Kuitert, died this week, aged 92. This was one of his favourite poems.

When spring arrives,
If I’m already dead,
The flowers will flower in the same way
And the trees will not be less green than last spring. Reality doesn’t need me.

It makes me enormously happy
To think that my death is of no importance whatsoever.
If I knew that I would die tomorrow
And that spring was the day after tomorrow,
I would die happy, because spring was the day after tomorrow.
If that is its time, why should it come at some other time?
I like everything to be real and to be right,
And I like it that way because that’s how it would be even if I didn’t like it.
And so, if I die now, I’ll die happy,
Because everything is real and everything is right.

You can pray in Latin over my coffin, if you like.
If you like, you can sing and dance in a circle around it. I have no preferences for when I can no longer have preferences.
What will be, when it is, is what it will be when it is.

Fernando Pessoa
7 November 1915

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