Farts versus Injections

There was a story in Wigan Today recently about a customer in a pub restaurant complaining when a woman with Type 1 diabetes injected at her table just prior to eating her meal. He claimed that she had upset his children and likened the act to the same social unpleasantness as breaking wind in public. Rather than taking the opportunity to educate his children about the unfortunate need for some people to inject in order to stay alive, instead he no doubt instilled in them the same prejudices he himself displayed.

So, are farts in restaurants more acceptable than injections? Let’s see what transpired…

Excuse me, I’m sorry, I must ask you to leave,
For our customers are shocked and distressed,
And there’s been a complaint that you made someone faint,
And the management are far from impressed!

But what did I do? I’m innocent, I say!
I was just sat here eating my meal!
I’m embarrassed and hurt by the things you assert,
Have you no care for how I might feel?

If anyone should leave, then that woman over there
Just frightened my kids by injecting!
So disgusting and crude, alarming and rude,
It is her that you should be ejecting!

So, you claim that a lady who must do that to live,
In a restaurant is far less befitting
Than to lift up one cheek and let out a slow leak
Of the gases that you were emitting?

I admit that I trumped, but it wasn’t so loud,
I don’t see what there is to discuss!
What did I do wrong? It didn’t take long,
I don’t see why you’re making a fuss!

Sir, injections are fine just before you can dine,
But a fart is a toilet-based act!
It is far from discreet and puts folk off their meat,
So in future, remember that fact!

Going Solo

There have been a lot of interesting 2nd anniversaries for me this week. On this date two years ago I was embarking on my first ever day managing my own diabetes, doing my blood checks and administering my own injections. I had been discharged on 3rd June, in the late afternoon, with instruction but no practice (on any kind of fruit) on how to use my two insulin pens. And so, on the evening of June 3rd, at exactly 19:22, I gave myself my first ever injection of novorapid - 16 units, before my evening meal. My pre-meal blood glucose was 10.0 mmol/l, a little on the high side I realise now, but back then it hadn't really sunk in what was 'good' and what was 'bad'. I had, after all, been 37 mmol/l at diagnosis and remembered several readings in the high 20s, so 10 didn't look that scary. Also less scary was the lancet I used for the BG reading - far less painful than the multi-purpose, discardable ones the nurses had used, but a little shock nonetheless.

How do I remember all this? Well, I don't need to because I recorded everything in my BG diary, something I have maintained to the current day. As a fan of history, it's interesting to look back through these diaries, to see how my levels became better tuned over time, and also to see how my insulin requirements changed over time. I started out on a regime of 16, 14, 16 novorapid before meals, and 20 lantus at night. The breakfast one and the lantus have changed most - yesterday I had 8 novorapid before breakfast and 10 lantus at bedtime. I'm glad that I received early instruction in how to adjust my insulin, as it has made life a whole lot easier. I can't imagine how people manage on mixed insulins or fixed doses. My early days on fixed doses are shown in the diary to have resulted in many more highs and lows than I experience now.

Diabetes is a difficult disease to manage. There are so many variables involved, chiefly due to the fact that blood glucose affects every single part of the body, including the brain. On the outside, people with diabetes often look very healthy, but it's hard to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it just how all-encompassing and overwhelming it can be at times - the panic of a low, or the disappointment, fear and confusion that can result from an unexpected high. I've done pretty well over the past couple of years, so I'm grateful for that, and part of knowing how you are doing is keeping those records - not only so you can spot trends or remember how things were, but also so you don't become complacent!

The Prayer of the Frightened Orange

I’ve recently been reading anecdotes about how people were taught to do their insulin injections, and it appears that a popular method in former years was to get the patient, or patient’s carer, to practice by injecting into an orange. Thankfully, it appears that this barbaric practise has all but disappeared from civilised society, and oranges assigned to hospitals no longer need fear this painful, protracted and humiliating fate at the hands of diabetic neophytes.

Recently, during a clear out of old fruit bowl cupboards at a disused hospital, a remarkable document has come to light, which gives a fascinating insight into the lonely life of a terrified orange destined for the diabetic ward. Most oranges would hope to live out their ripening days adorning colourful baskets alongside fruits of all varieties and nations, valued and admired by staff and patients alike. For those unfortunates selected for injection training however, the outlook was grim, and a dusty, juice-stained piece of old peel found in a dark corner was found to contain this poignant supplication to a higher power…

Oh Orange Father, hear my prayer,
And save me from my fate,
Deliver me from this frightening place,
Before it is too late!


For I have heard an awful word,
The humans call ‘inject’,
And terror grips my shaking pips,
If they should me select!


Oh Orange Spirit, show you care!
Don’t let them pierce me so!
For such a death I cannot bear,
(I’m sensitive, you know!)

They’re coming, Spirit, for me now,
So this must be goodbye,
Perhaps I’ll join you very soon,
In the Juicer in the Sky!