All you need is cash (and gullibility!)

Money can’t buy you everything, but there are always charlatans around ready and willing to persuade you otherwise. Unfortunately, there is not as yet a cure for diabetes – progress is being made on a number of fronts, but a method of expunging the disease is still some years away. It is, of course, possible for many people to manage the disease successfully using a combination of the right diet and keeping active, but should they waver then the effects of the disease will return. Others may not have this option, as their insulin production may be inadequate or non-existent.

People live in hope though, and many are convinced enough by elaborate claims to part with their hard earned cash, thinking that they have discovered something that the whole of conventional medicine has either failed, or refused to recognise. Pseudo-science and unreliable, manipulated or even fictional evidence may be used to back up the claims. I don’t think the claims in my poem are any more ludicrous than the idea that energised water or lettuce can cure it…!

I met a man who, thrice a week
Ate seven pickled eggs…
Another man I came across
Smeared treacle on his legs!
And yet another squeezed the leaves
Of Himalayan plants,
Then quite obscurely poured the juice
Into his underpants!

When asked what led them to perform
These strange and worrying acts,
They paused, and with a knowing wink
Apprised me of the facts:

It’s well known on the world wide web
That, for a pound or two,
Enlightened gurus will divulge
A means to cure you!
But, as we are all different,
With wealth and needs diverse,
A tailored cure must be devised
That suits your tastes (and purse!)

‘For me, eggs steeped in vinegar –
As long as it is pure –
Will neutralise sugar in my blood,
And thus provide the cure!’

‘An egg cure wasn’t right for me,
But treacle smeared just so
Will draw the glucose from my blood,
And keep my levels low!’

‘And you?’ I asked the man in pants,
‘Your cure’s the strangest yet!’
‘Indeed! My pants, the guru claimed,
Must be forever wet!
But not just any liquid goo
Would fix my pancreas,
But only that extruded from
Expensive mountain grass!’

And with these words I took my leave
And slowly backed away,
For I was sure there is no cure
However much you pay!

Treacle Pud!

When I was in hospital after being diagnosed as a Type 1 diabetic I was very pleasantly surprised to discover that very little in the way of food was actually forbidden. As soon as I began treatment with insulin my appetite returned with a vengeance! Over the previous two years as my diabetes had probably been developing, I had been losing weight at the rate of 1-2 pounds a month, finishing off with a further 17 pounds in the three days prior to my admission! So, I went from 11st 5lbs (159 pounds) to 8st 4lbs (116 pounds), a radical weight loss. Now that I was receiving adequate supplies of insulin, I wanted to eat, eat and eat! I had to fill out menu sheets for my three meals a day, and because it was a hospital each food choice was marked with a letter to say whether it was suitable for people with particular conditions – in my case ‘D’ for diabetes. There was virtually nothing that was excluded…except treacle pudding! Quite understandably, of course, since it contains sugar in one of its purest forms and likely to cause a big spike in blood glucose levels.

I don’t want to live out my life being denied this heavenly nectar, so I think I will set aside a Treacle Pud Day, maybe once a year, and treat myself…!

Diabetes can be so capricious,
In fact, I’d say even malicious!
So there’s no Treacle Pud,
Even though it’s so good,
And undoubtedly very nutritious!

Now my menus are poorer by far
Since omitting my syrupy star…
Diabetes is to blame,
Custard’s not quite the same
On onions plucked from a jar!

But perhaps once a year (at the least!)
I’ll indulge in a treacly feast!
It’ll be so delicious
And fulfil all my wishes –
So take that! You Blood Sugar Beast!