Carbs, schmarbs

Woman Thinking

I’ve been in a right funk today. Feeling tired and sorry for myself. However, I did download a diet tracker, although it counts calories not carbs. Carb counters seem to be a bit thin on the ground app-wise, or they’re too US Centric.

The app has decided I need to hit 1600 calories a day, which sounds about right, as I’m a chubby and 2,000 a day won’t get the weight off adequately. I managed it OK, by the skin of ma teeth. I’m on Day 4 of being off the full-fat coke, which probably accounts for some of the tiredness.

I’m using an Accu-Chek Mobile to monitor my glucose levels, but sparingly as the damn lancets and strip cassettes really add up financially. I’m hoping when I see my diabetes doc for the first time tomorrow that they’ll give me a ‘scrip for them. Apparently, some NHS trusts are refusing presciption test strips for type 2 sufferers. I guess because we’re ‘self-inflicted’.

Fucking nice eh? I got to the age of 46 with no major illnesses and go almost a decade between visits to the doctor, I didn’t breed either.. so the amount of cash I’ve saved this stupid government adds up pretty well. Anyway, whatever. If they don’t I’ll just not monitor more than I can afford.

Low points of the day – Feeling miserable, lethargic and a bit sick this morning.

High points – Getting on the treadmill and realising how much vaping has improved my overall health. I can last a lot longer on there and I do not breath heavy at the same point I used to by a country mile.

Also, my after meal glucose test showed a drop of four points.

Go me!

Racking up the chronics

Girl with steam coming out of her ears

I was diagnosed with diabetes four days ago. I’ll be honest, I’m a chubby, so I don’t expect any sympathy.. but two years ago I was ‘metabolically healthy’. I had good to low blood pressure, average cholesteral and average blood sugar. So what went wrong?

Well weight is obviously a factor, but I wonder how much stress is. I’ve been under an insane amount of stress with close family illness over the last couple of years, with my mum almost completely dependent on me, and many other problems with dad that I don’t want to talk about here. All while working my nuts off for the business.

What are the other chronics then?

Last year I was told I had osteopenia (a potential precursor to osteoporosis) and arthritis. The weird thing is my doctor never actually told me which type of arthritis. My symptoms suggest osteo, but she told me my blood has markers for “inflammatory disease”, which suggests rheumatoid.

In a nutshell, I seem to be falling apart at the seams. I’m probably clincally depressed as well.

In a word.

Fucksticks.

What are the odds?

Irritated

About two plus years ago, I lost my wedding ring. It wasn’t a particularly expensive or fancy ring, but I loved it. It was titanium ( I loathe gold) and just the right size and weight for my hand. My husband, who I’d been with for over 16 years before we even go married, put it on my finger, so it meant a lot. A hell of a lot.

When I got back from braving the weather to drive mum about today, hubby came up to me and said “a lady brought this ring to the door, she found it in the mud outside the house. I was pretty sure it was yours”

Only, I was wearing mine. Not the original ring, but an exact same ring that I bought to replace my original when it was lost.

The ring that was in the mud though, was also mine. It was my original wedding ring. It must have fallen off outside the house all that time ago, and been trodden into the ground by us, my parents, and the multitude of dog walkers that walk the public footpath outside mum’s house. All this rain and mud must have pushed it back up to the surface again.

It’s back on my hand, safe and sound. I will *never* lose it again.

Syrup, Custard or Pudding?

This tumblr is most likely going to work in reverse.. starting with recent events and trying to make some sense out the shit that’s happened over the last couple of years.
I feel a bit sad this week, as dad has to have his fluid given to him now as “custard” consistency, which means we can no longer give him a drink gently with a beaker and spout. Now it has to be spooned into his mouth.

It’s pointless to moan about the indignity of it all, as dad doesn’t really have a sense of that any more. All we can do is be nice to him, reassure him, talk to him and try and make him comfortable.

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