You've got to laugh...

As some of you may know, I am a diabetic. I have been since I was 15 when my pancreas turned on itself and stopped producing insulin. Ever since that date, I have injected insulin into my system several times a day to stay alive. Life as an insulin dependent diabetic has never been a walk in the park. There are days when it's a bit of battle. I soldier on. So far, I'm winning.

The consultant I see at the hospital, asked me a couple of months back if I'd do a video interview that will be used in a presentation to health professionals about different perspectives on hypoglycemia (low blood glucose). They had lined up interviews with diabetics, paramedics, nurses and doctors to try and gain as a wide a picture as possible. Today was my turn. They asked if I'd any stories about hypoglycemia I'd be willing to tell on camera. And so...

About 9 months ago, for some reason I was getting a higher than normal number of night time hypos. I used to wake at the faintest twitch in blood sugar levels but this had changed. I'd had several where I'd not woken and then went on to fit in my sleep.

Now if I stayed in bed, everything would be great; what safer place is there to have a fit? However, on the rare instances where this has occurred, I've not managed to stay in my bed. No, I've woken on the floor, the bedside lamp smashed and me lying there in dangerous proximity to shards of broken glass. It's a worry.

On this one night, I'd tested my blood glucose levels before getting into bed; a little higher than I'd've liked but better that than a nocturnal hypoglycemic reaction. Listening to BBC Radio 4 I'd gently slipped into a deep sleep. My next memory was feeling very cold; chilled to the bone cold. At first I thought it was a dream but gradually I started to come round. I slowly began to realise that the reason I was cold was because I was outside my flat on the communal landing. Another reason for my chill feeling being, I was absolutely naked. Furthermore, my front door was locked.

I must have started to slip into hypoglycemia, panicked, fled the flat and then in my confusion allowed the door to slam shut behind me. How long I'd been there, I don't know? I had scrapes on my back and arms where I'd fallen and scratched myself on the letterbox. What should I do? I pawed at the door for what must have been 30 minutes, still delirious from the low blood sugars. Eventually, I had enough presence of mind to shoulder barge my own front door in; thereby earning myself yet another bruise.

I had something to eat and returned to bed, stunned, shattered, bruised and bleeding. I got up when my alarm went off and made my way into work. Despite feeling terrible, I viewed going to work as normality; something to cling on to, something aspirational.

When I tell the story now, I smile and joke about it. I see the ridiculousness of it. At the time, however, it was embarrassing, humiliating and grim. But, you've got to laugh, haven't you...?

I'd be dead if it wasn't for this man...

Frederick Banting was a Canadian who, in 1921, was one of the main discoverers of insulin, which was achieved by keeping a diabetic dog alive using daily injections of canine pancreas extract. For this and his subsequent research, he won the Nobel Prize for medicine in 1923 and was knighted in 1934. His discovery has saved the lives of hundreds of thousands of people ever since, me included.

I have been diabetic since I was 15. I didn't get it because of bad diet or little exercise; I got it because my body started destroying the cells that produce insulin. This is sometimes know as Type 1 diabetes and it's an auto-immune disease.

Diabetes is one of those conditions that everyone thinks they know about but in most cases, they do not. The myths about diabetes are many:

You get diabetes because of a bad diet
You get diabetes because of lack of exercise
You can't eat sweet things if you're a diabetic
You can't drive if you're diabetic
You get ill all the time if you're diabetic
You have to eat special diabetic food if you're diabetic
Diabetes is contagious

Incidences of diabetes are increasing worldwide and especially so in the west. The cost of treating diabetics and keeping us healthy is huge but that bill becomes even bigger if we are left untreated and lose our health.

There's a rather good article on the BBC's website today that outlines the initial research on diabetes undertaken by Frederick Banting.

Only connect...

I'm fairly open and honest about my diabetes and have been ever since I was diagnosed aged 15. As a diabetic, you don't really have much of a choice about being up front about it; when you're injecting yourself to bring your blood sugars down after a meal or cramming glucose into your face because your blood sugars are plummeting between meals - people tend to notice.

Ask non diabetics to tell you what they know about the condition and the answer is generally something like, "You can't eat sweet things and it must be a bit of an irritation" - both of which are somewhat wide of the mark. I often wonder why people don't understand diabetes better; it's not as if it's a rare condition - most people know someone who's diabetic (even if that is their Nan).

I've read two quite wonderful blog posts in the last couple of days from Matt's I Have No Idea and from Kristian's Sex, drugs and sausage rolls. Matt's is entitled Gary Speed but discusses Matt's experience of depression and Kristian's is entitled When failure is not an option and discusses Kristian's HIV experience. They are quite wonderful because of one thing that they both have in common: honesty.

Diabetes, depression and HIV infection share a number of attributes: all are chronic conditions which need to be managed, all are misunderstood to an extent and all require honesty; honesty with oneself to effectively manage the condition and honesty with others to promote a better understanding.

I wrote here recently in a post entitled Nobody's perfect... that life scars us from our first gasp to our last rattle. This scarring (along with the experience it brings), I argued, should be valued. I have a wealth of insight and experience as a result of living with diabetes. I know that Matt and Kristian will have their own insights and experiences from living with depression and living with HIV.

Life is often described as a journey - a cliché but a useful metaphor. One of the main things we all have in common is that we are all on different journeys. Your journey may be wildly different to mine in many respects but not so different that I can't benefit from the experiences you've had on your journey.

EM Forster wrote, "Only connect" as the epigraph to Howards End, advocating a bringing together of different elements and thereby promoting a higher understanding. The first step down that road is honesty - about who we are and what we've experienced. Here, in Matt's and Kristian's blogs, you have two people talking honestly about their experiences.

Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.
- Howards End

Today is World AIDS Day. Let's live in fragments no longer.

Today's run at 18:01
Distance	4.26 km	Time	22:22
Pace	5:14 min/km	Cadence	81 spm

Nobody's perfect...

I am 49. At the age of 10 the local farmer's dog attacked me, biting my arm and chest. Aged 12, my brother split my lip by throwing an ashtray at me because I told him the score to a football match he was looking forward to watching. At 15 I found out I was diabetic and began taking insulin. Aged 17 I fell off the front of a moving land rover and dislocated my right hip. At 30 I had a fit because of low blood sugars and needed stitches in my head. Aged 34 I broke a rib in an argument and at 43 I fractured a finger in another argument. At 45 I broke my ankle in Rome during another fit caused by low blood sugars. Aged 46 I had my right wrist operated on to relieve carpel tunnel syndrome. At 47 I broke my scaphoid bone in my right wrist after I went over the handlebars of my bike and I also had some cosmetic dental work to correct a crooked and gappy smile.

Nobody's perfect but we strive to maintain ourselves after the barrel of shite life throws at us. Today I saw a man on the nudist beach with only one leg. He had a prosthetic lower right leg. He was German. I know this because I overheard him talking. Later I saw a woman on the nudist beach (again, German) who'd had a mastectomy. I take my hat off (we're I wearing one) to both these individuals. It can't be easy being that honest; with others and with yourself.

Some people think that nudism is about showing off the perfect body. I've heard comments before (usually from the prudish Brits) such as, "How can she, looking like that!" Anyone who has ever set foot onto a nudist beach will know that this is not true. The Germans seem to manage this body honesty better than most nations - perhaps a bit of a surprise, given their recent history.

Body fascism may well have reached a crude and vicious pinnacle under the Third Reich but, in my opinion, it has been honed into a much finer and subtler tool under post war western consumerism. The media has banned images of imperfection. Growing older is no longer acceptable, if growing older means growing more imperfect.

Time was when we proudly displayed our scars; like trophies - a testament to our age and experience. Nowadays, it seems there is no greater crime than reminding those around us of our mortality. Wrinkles are a heinous crime rather than proof of life's experiences.

Life scars us; from the severing of the umbilical cord onwards, we become increasingly imperfect with every day that passes. And surely, it is these imperfections that we should value and hold aloft rather than that Peter Pan perfection that the media sells us.

Tomorrow we'll look at mental and emotional scars...

Tigger like...

During my run this evening I thought about my visit to the diabetic clinic at the Heath Hospital (or Universtity Hospital of Wales, to give it its proper name) today, which resulted in an unexpected thumbs up regarding my blood glucose control. I say unexpected because I feel that I've not been paying enough attention to this aspect of my life recently. Also, my blood pressure is (so they tell me) very good at 126/70 - not bad for a (not quite yet but almost) 49 year old diabetic.

I have been diabetic for 34 years and I go for regular check ups at the diabetic clinic. For the past 4 years the feedback has been very good. Prior to that it wasn't bad but a bit hit and miss. Good blood glucose control is fairly central when you're diabetic; it influences everything. I think there are two very important factors which have helped me in this: I eat a very good diet (high in fibre and fresh fruit and vegetables, low in fat, salt and refined sugars) and I exercise daily (if I'm not running then I'm swimming). Five years ago, I would have thought that such a lifestyle sounded a bit fussy and little too healthy. I'd've dismissed it and lit another cigarette. How things change...

Buoyed up by my good news from the doctor, my run was a spring heeled affair that saw me bound, Tigger like, for a relatively easy 5km run. Unlike that plodding approach I sometimes experience. Adding credence, yet again, to my belief that the physical, mental and emotional are all inextricably linked. It even rained during my run, which it almost never does (I've mentioned my love of running in the rain before); clearly, somebody up there likes me.

Whilst out on the run my mind drifted to running in Istanbul and I became aware that, because of the map I published here a while ago, you have a good knowledge of my running route in Istanbul but are in the dark a little regarding my usual running route here in Cardiff Bay. So here is is...

Yay...!

Today was my last day in work until September 12th. I now have two weeks and one day off and I'm so excited about it that I won't be able to enjoy the lie-ins that I'm now allowed! So, what am I going to do with all that time...?

I have a bit of running around to do initially; things that I've put off recently such a visit to the doctor, dentist, barber etc... I need to get my bike serviced and I have a routine appointment booked at the diabetic clinic to ensure that it is fit to ride and I'm fit to ride it. I haven't forgotten that if it all becomes a bit much, I have the very tempting option of lying down very still in a darkened room - something that I've spent many a day recently aching for. And, of course, I have a week's holiday booked in Istanbul.

Istanbul has always been on my list of places to see; it's a city with a history stretching back at least 2,500 years. Colonized by Greek settlers in 685 BC, it came under Roman control in 196 AD and Roman Capital in 330 AD. After the fall of the Western Roman Empire in 476 AD it became capital of the Byzantine Empire and, following a 53 day seige by Sultan Mehmet II in 1453, it became a capital of the Ottoman Empire. Straddling the Bosphorus, it's the only city in the world to span two continents. Stripped of it's capital status in 1923 it still holds a fascination over Turkey and the rest of the world.

This is my sightseeing list so far:

• Sultanahmet Square
• Roman Hippodrome
• Column of Constantine
• Gülhane Park
• Archaeology Museum
• Istanbul Modern Art Museum
• Topkapi Palace
• Blue Mosque
• Kariye Museum
• Hagia Sofia
• Basilica Sistern
• Cağaloğlu Turkish Baths
• Haydarpasa Railway Station
• Galata Bridge
• Galata Tower
• Dolmabahçe Palace
• Bosphorus Cruise
• Theodosian Walls
• Grand Bazaar
• Suleymaniye Mosque

I'm sure that there'll be plenty of time to sit down over a coffee or beer and watch the world go by too, as well as taking time out for my daily run. If anyone has any suggestions for other things I should see whilst I'm there, drop me a line.

A running focus...

So what do I think about when I run? Well, tonight I started with counting, which is what I normally do. It's not a conscious thing but I've noticed that I count for the first 160 or so steps. I think it's a zoning out exercise that I've subconsciously developed. It's a bit like going under with the hypnotist, "3, 2, 1 and you're gone...."

That done I then moved on to thinking about work: re-running some of the conversations I'd had during the day; had I given the best response and had I given that response in the best way? I chewed this over for the first kilometer as my muscles began to warm and my breathing found its own rhythm.

I then moved on to thinking about a hospital appointment I'd attended during the afternoon today. As a diabetic, I have regular check ups and today's was my 6 monthly visit to the ophthalmologist. This appointment always generates some anxiety in me as I have a fear of losing my sight (Who wouldn't?) and a loathing of their laser treatment. I've only had laser treatment once before and, I swear, you can smell burning flesh after they've zapped your rods and cones!

I get a little nervous days in advance of this appointment. The appointment begins with eye drops to dilate the pupils. These drops are the modern synthetic equivalent of belladonna. Belladonna was used cosmetically in the Middle Ages to dilate women's pupils so that they looked more doe-eyed and lovelorn - hence belladonna meaning beautiful lady. Today, its equivalent is used to dilate diabetic patients' pupils so that it's easier to inspect the retina at the back of the eye for damage. Thankfully, on inspection, my retinas are stable and laser treatment was not required today. A sense of relief bordering on air-punching celebration began to permeate every stride and any fatigue seemed banished as I settled into the run.

One of the side effects of these eye drops is an inability to focus and a hypersensitivity to bright light. Today was a beautifully sunny day and this evening saw the brilliant sunshine throw long shadows in my wake. Consequently, I spent most of the first 3km of my run wincing and squinting as my vision was reduced to that of a small burrowing mammal.

But as the run progressed, mole became owl, my vision re-adjusted and my thoughts turned to food. By the 4km point in my run my thoughts had segued solely into food and what dinner preparations I needed to make.

And so, the bridge was constructed and I'd crossed it:

•  Pearl Barley
• Carrots
• Fine Beans
• Courgettes
• Peas
• Asparagus
• Tomatoes
• Red Onion
• Chickpeas
• Sunflower Seeds
• Feta Cheese
• Spinach
• Boiled Eggs
• Olive Oil
• Bread
• Seasoning

Cook what you need to cook of the above ingredients. Combine with those that you don't need to cook. Serve.

Nothing but an orthotic wearing, high arched, under pronator...

...I'm also a 48 year old, Welsh, gay diabetic. Oh, and I like to run.

There, that's that out of the way. So why am I telling you this? Well, I  always find it difficult knowing when to drop information about myself into conversations and whenever I do, it always sounds like a small explosion. I guess I'd rather get it all out the way at the beginning. So, now you know...

On Saturday I bought myself a new pair of trainers for running. My old ones had started making a funny slapping noise with every step and after 18 months wear it was time I changed them. It's always difficult buying new trainers: whilst I was ready to trade in the old ones, my feet were still best friends with them. I'd done some research on the internet and made a note of some pairs (suitable for a high arched, under pronator) I'd like to try on. That done, one pair stood out from the rest: the flagship cushioning shoe in the Asics collection, the Gel-Nimbus 12.

As soon as I got home I went for a 5km run. Whilst you're actually running, it's hard to know whether a new pair of trainers are good because during the run you scrutinise every step: is that twinge because of the new trainers, are my legs just heavy today, what's that slight ache in the small of my back...? And on it goes. Nothing conclusive during the run.

After the run I noticed that my slight back ache had not subsided. And then I realised; I'd forgotten to insert my orthotics. I've worn inserts in my trainers ever since I broke my ankle 3½ years ago; I get a bad back if I don't use them. How did I forget to insert the orthotics? Duh!

On Sunday I went for another run. Only 3km this time. Just long enough to test drive the new trainers - with orthotic inserts this time! The run was fairly comfortable and I tried to forget I was wearing new trainers and just enjoy it. This I managed to do, despite the sweltering heat at the end of a beautiful day but after the run as the evening wore on... how my poor legs ached. With every trip to refill my wine glass my simian gait grew more pronounced!

I was dreading tonight's run. My calf muscles have been tight in work all day and the thought of my run this evening only drew a foreboding gloom that I'd bought the wrong trainers and all this would be confirmed by tonight's agonising 5km. However, tonight's run was nothing but pleasurable. Yes, my calf muscles are still a little tight, yes, my back still aches slightly and yes, the shoes still feel a bit "new" but they seem to be bedding in.

Whilst they're not quite best friends yet, my feet are well on their way to getting to know my new trainers.