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Diary of a Diabetic day 6 - a very up and down 48 hours, here and in Shipston

Tom Winnifrith
Sunday 9 April 2017

I loathe flying. The truth is that it frightens me a bit. And so I usually have a drink or two in the hope that it knocks me out on the plane. But taking this type 2 diabetes seriously, there was no alcohol for me at Bristol airport on Friday. The place was crammed, largely with fat people flying Easyjet for stag and hen parties across Europe. The rotund stags and porcine hens were already drinking heavily by noon when the Mrs and I arrived and they were also stuffing their fat faces with processed junk food, aka sugar filled suicide sandwiches. I had a coffee.

A couple of hours later we were flying into Copenhagen looking down at "The Bridge". By around five I was feeling pretty feint having only enjoyed a breakfast of raw oats. And thus I enjoyed a warm goats cheese salad and we all headed to bed. Travelling with a baby is tiring and as a diabetic it is especially hard to dodge the temptations of booze and the ever present processed food. But at the end of the day my blood sugar was just 10.3.

10.3 is nowhere near my target of 5 but given that I started Monday evening at 15.3 it is good going. I don't kid myself. This is largely down to my sugar-busting Gliclazide pills but I am also doing all the right things including switching off my computer. I write to you on Sunday morning having not turned on the wretched machine for almost 48 hours.

In a way that makes life so much better - I really am much calmer. In a way it makes it worse. Last night I tried to call my father. There was no answer. And so I called my little sister N. Again no answer but then a text message. Apparently I had missed a few emails. My father came home from hospital on Friday afternoon. On Saturday morning he was discovered in a pool of blood having had another "complication" post the operation. Back to hospital in an ambulance he went.

Missing out on all the emails I had no idea that there was talk of surgery, of another blood transfusion and of much else. But so far neither has happened and the Shipmans are apparently considering sending him home today. Little step sister F and I chatted at length and we are not so sure that this is wise. But who are we to argue?

This all came as something of a late evening bombshell just before supper. So shocked was I that I let my guard slip and had a glass of wine, a piece of bread and a tiny bit of red meat. This morning my bloods came in at 12.3 which is the worst since the morning of the 5th ( after that bad day in London). I am kicking myself. But this is a minor blip. Today we head to an isolated Swedish island. Limited wifi, no booze, even more walking and relaxing fishing.

The word from little sister N this morning is that my father is in better shape.That is good. I have not yet booked my flight out of Copenhagen next Friday. Greece or back to Shipston? I am not sure. Pro tem a healthy breakfast of oats and now it is off to "The Bridge"

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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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