Apples with worms...

When I was first diagnosed I overheard the specialist chatting to my mother about diabetes.

"Think of your son as an apple," he said, "all rosy on the outside, but with a worm on the inside." My prepubescent mind interpreted that to mean that my lifespan would not stretch much beyond 40 years old.

A few years later I read a novel featuring an old gent married to a young bride, living in an apartment in Florida, and running his "empire" using computers. (His bride falls in love with an architect worried about the apartment block being built on sand. His fear turns into reality as the entire structure is washed into the sea during a hurricane - carrying the old fellow and his computers to heaven, but leaving the bride free to marry our young hero.)

I was inspired by the concept of using computers in such a way, and the lifestyle seemed well suited to person destined to be as infirm as I obviously was going to be. Back in the early seventies PCs did not exist as they do now, and Jobs and Wozniak hadn't yet started to mess with diodes and the like.

I have found that one of the very real challenges with diabetes is that it can go so wrong so quickly. Wake up one morning and everything is just dandy. Catch a bug of some sort before lunch and by dinner your blood glucose is off the chart. This makes working as an employee (with the inflexibility that such a life demands) very challenging.

Sitting behind a PC screen, handling queries by email or through a forum, allows so much more flexibility. And when the BG starts down its own road, and I get the light nudge that indicates it is a tad on the low side, I can easily back off and relax awhile.

I don't know about you, and how you know that things are not quite the way God intended, but my low blood glucose events start with a light sensation that I am not quite all here: A slight sense of disassociation. A great time for some orange juice if the kids have not yet finished my private stash.

That will build slowly (depending on insulin levels, of course) into a full blown sense of paranoia. By this time I know that I am in trouble, but just cannot seem to find the will to do something about it. I'll usually start to dither - unable to make up my mind about what to do. Confronted with two solutions (OJ or some chocolate, for example) I will struggle to make up my mind which to choose.

I was at West Quay Mall in Southampton a few weeks back, with exactly this problem. I got the nudge at a coffee shop with a vast array of chocolate cakes and goodies neatly stacked in front of me. Which one to choose? That coconut thingie looks good, but maybe not enough sugar? And that fruity explosion looks fine as well, but maybe too much sugar. Don't want to overload because I will feel really crappy later. And so it went...

By now I know enough to ask for help, so I surprised the woman in the queue in front of me.

"I am diabetic, and I have the beginning of a diabetic medical emergency," I said, "and I need some cake but I am medically incapable of making a decision. Would you please choose any one for me? It doesn't matter which one, but please just choose one."

A startled look followed by "OK. Which one would you like?!"

Exactly the same happened when I appealed to the attendant behind the counter.

By now the paranoia was starting, and the impatience. Finally got somebody to select one.

I don't know about you, and your experience of the disease, but the worst part for me is the hour or so after a severe low blood glucose incident. I think we all experience it in a different way, but the immense waves of suicidal depression that wash over me as I get back to normal are hugely debilitating. Not only can I not work, but I sense my entire life's futility like a dark shadow hovering in the background ready to take me with it.

By now I can recognise the feeling, but I wonder what it must feel like to a diabetic newbie who has no idea where it is coming from.