Watch me first. Read me second…
Ohhh another stuuuuupid video!
Apparently you quite liked watching me running around getting drunk and being a general idiot (bar lunges, anyone?) so I thought I’d capture a bit more of my ridiculous existence.
Being that it’s summer and given all the extra things we have to consider when venturing on holiday, I thought a packing video might be of use. Or at the very least, of mild bemusement (I’ll happily take that). Admittedly I made life difficult for myself by leaving EVERY SINGLE THING until the day before I flew, but there’s no fun in playing it safe now is there? Not that I really think you can call failing to register with a new GP living on the edge…
As ever, those elusive numbers we’re aiming for on that tiny, seemingly unsuspecting meter that we live and die by are anywhere between 4 and 9. So I started the day a little high but a sneaky, albeit pathetic run, a steer clear of the stodge and some headless chicken style running around a gigantic city soon saw to that. Also, I feel the need to tell you I did eat in the evening. I just
forgot to record it/ was knacked/ate it in about three seconds flat. I don’t want you worrying about me now Mum.
There’s a fair bit less diabetes chat in this one than the last, but that kind of relevant in that it’s quite reflective of how we lot lacking a functioning pancreas exist day to day. Diabetes is just there, lingering like a bad smell and stubbornly changing its behaviour every second of the damn day. Whether you’re running around like a loon or sat on your arse from dawn to dusk – it couldn’t care less, it ain’t going anywhere. Busy, quiet, happy, sad, stressed, calm, bored, tired… you still need to test, to keep it in check and make sure things are ticking along. Moreover, running around like a loon is likely to give me very different readings then when I’m sat on my arse (which I am also fond of. If ONLY I was more organised), so unfortunately you just can’t switch off. Hair cuts and nail appointments and frantic packing have to fit in around the blood tests and the injecting on a grotty London kerb. The professional, personal and social lives we lead can absolutely continue, but they need to make some room. Don’t try and escape it, but equally refuse to give into it, and we should all just about hang onto our limbs, vision and kidney function. Which, you know, is preferable.
Practically, the biggest fear I always have about going away is running out of medicines/strips/insulin on the other side of the world – a justifiable concern! So I generally wayyyy overcompensate with the supplies I take (note the trusty BLOODY cereal bars being packed among the needles). When I wrote about my exploits galavanting around Australia I gushed excessively to you lot about my beloved Frio – an genius little invention that keeps your insulin cool in hot climates. So so so handy for travel abroad. I didn’t feel the need to get one this time because I knew we were staying in a serviced hotel with a fridge in our room rather than hoofing up the coast in 40 degree heat ticking off as many cities as possible in a ridiculously tiny amount of days while sharing dorms and sleeping on overnight coaches (phew), but I definitely recommend the investment if you’re worried about your insulin degrading while you’re working on your tan.
Bon Voyage Lovely People xxx