Tuesday, 30 November 2010

Help! I've fallen over and I can't get up!

I have this weird territorial-ness about my diabetes. I've always seen it as *my* disease, since I'm the one who has to manage it, and who has to deal with the hypos, and the highs, and the decisions, and the consequences etc, etc... I'm always looking to expand my knowledge about diabetes and ways of living with it and I love chatting to other people and swap tips and advice and I get on great with my diabetes team, and I *love* being part of the DOC.

But there's a big part of me that hates asking for help. I'm not sure why, because one thing I think we're all aware of is that diabetes is not an easy thing to live with, and sometimes we all need a little help. I think it's something I grew up with - that attitude of just getting on with it, and in a lot of ways I think it's helped, because I refuse to let this disease get me down or prevent me from doing the things I want to do. However, I think I've also inherited this sense of not wanting to ask for help along with it. The whole idea of being able to manage on your own seems to have developed in my head into meaning that if you need to ask for help then somehow you've done something wrong or failed in some way and it's your fault. And I *know* that's wrong, and one one of the biggest challenges I've had to face in with diabetes is overcoming that attitude.

Because the thing about diabetes is that sometimes it forces you to ask for help. Like on Friday when I was in the supermarket (Tesco's this time...) and my BG dropped through the floor with very little warning (stupid steroids). I shoved 20g of jelly beans down my throat, and then realised it wasn't doing anything. I decided I needed I needed juice, got confused, and about the time my vision started going and I was having zone outs, realised the I needed to ask for help. Luckily I was with my fiancé, and as soon as I found him and said "my blood sugar is really low I need juice" he very calmly but firmly took control on the situation. He led me over to the juice, got some, paid for it and then made me drink it while he scanned the rest of the shopping and kept an eye on me. He was awesome, especially considering that was the first time he'd had to deal with me like that.

I felt...odd...for most of the night, and it took me a while to realise that the oddness was that I didn't feel embarrassed. I needed help, and I asked for it, and I didn't feel that Stuart thought any less of me for it or judged me. And you know what? That felt pretty damn good.


  1. I can relate to this more than you know. I think along the same lines that you do, asking for help makes me feel like I'm failing myself. I, too, am learning to try and ask for help. It's not easy.

  2. Yep. I probably ended up in far more of a diabetic pickle last year because it took me longer than it should to call my nurse (for the first time since I was a child and my mum did it) and ask for help. I totally relate to that 'no...my diabetes...keep your paws off' But the important thing is he was there and you are ok :)