For those of you who heard Steve Allen go on about my blood sugar level,let me tell you that the idea of taking drugs is beyond the pale.
I have taken myself in hand and cut out every bit of sugar I can find.
All raw food till I can stabilise my body.
An egg here a bit of mackeral there.
Lots of water and loads of proper suppliments.
The whole sugar thing started with my father and ended with my medical last week.
I went to see a perfectly respectable allopathic doctor, so respectable I had to take out a second mortgage.
The results came through and mostly I am very well but for my sugar which hit the ceiling.
I had to admit to eating a huge fry up before going in for all my tests, so I shouldn’t have been surprised at the result.
The response though, from orthodox medicine is always the same.
I refused, point blank.
I called my acupuncturist who talked me down and gave me my first treatment to get me back on track.
I called my homeopath who reminded me that diabetes is a stress related illness and given that I am still learning a knew craft, at the ripe old age of 148 , its not surprisng that I am a little stressed out.
My darling little roomie Di, has a diabetic sister.
Di took me under her wing.
Gave me a little gadget that shoots a needle into my finger end, releases some of my life fluid, then she showed me how to put one tiny droplet on a stick, bung it into the said gadget and read the amount of glucose in my system.
It was high, then it wasn’t.
It was low, then it wasn’t.
Today it is perfectly normal and I am delighted that in such a short time I have regulated my own body without the need to panic, take drugs or become a victim.
Had I listened to the doctor, Steve Allen or the diabetic nurse who frightened the life out of me, I would now be necking something that is out of my control and totally alien to my philosophy.
I do take this condition seriously which is why I want to keep it under my control not hand it over to anybody else.
I do not blame my father for my genetic dispostion, nor do I feel the need to harangue myself for eating totally inappropriate foods.
What I do feel is a trembling elation at the speed with which the body repairs itself.
This morning I took myself , out in the rain, for a 20 minute run.
I have been unable to really go for it since insulting my ankle, back in December, but I have apologised to my soft tissue for being so offensive and off I went.
The air smelled of wood smoke and damp grass.
I ran past the little yellow primroses.
I ran past the yellow celandine, which always make an appearane at this time of year, some braved the elements, others preferred to stay shut.
I ran past the white aconite, who hung their heads and refused to open their little faces to the rain.
I slid under the gate, the style was just too slippery, and I worked my way through my field, round the farm, up the hill and into the warm kitchen, my bum was still damp from the wet grass, so I walked around till it dried, that’s my bum not the turf.
I then tackled all my admin, watched Tottenham lose ( pooh! ) ran a lavender bath and cleared 139 emails.
There’s nothing like a shock to the system to get the system back on track.
I don’t normally write on a Sunday but the white clematis, on the cottage wall, is so lush, and the day has been so positive I just felt the need to share it with you.
For those of you who want to know the symptoms of high blood sugar here goes:
For me it was tiredness, irritabilty, waking at 4.00am, itchy ankles and horrible skin.
I’m told by Di that symptoms vary person to person and sometimes they don’t even present themselves.
So for my proper doctors I say thank you for detecting it, but to myself I say WELL DONE for dealing with it.
Sugar and spice and all things nice now have to be regulated, a small price to pay at my age.
Talk to me you bloggers you, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard from a lot of you.
Thank you for being there
have a good week.