#talkt1 - Brainstorming a new model of care for T1 diabetes

Bright and early on Saturday morning I caught the train to sunny Southampton where I had been invited to attend '#talkt1', and event organised by everyone's second-favourite rabble-rousing diabetologist and all-round live wire Partha Kar. It was a real honour to have been invited and the attendees to the event were an extraordinary who's who of passionate, committed T1 specialists, consultants and paediatrics, commissioners, DSNs, plus various NHS big-wigs such as Jonathan Valabhji and Diabetes UK's CEO, Chris Askew.

The majority of the party had gathered the evening before, for some presentations, talk of Vanguards and 5 year forward and time to think and talk together. This was not some back-slapping jolly though. These amazing people had given up their weekends to take a tough look at how type 1 diabetes care is delivered in the UK and to see if they couldn't begin to rethink it. One chilling statistic from Pratik Choudhary's presentation was recounted on Saturday morning:

‘Current practice kills at least 30% more people by the age of 50 than best practice should achieve’

Saturday morning began with some patient stories. Kev Winchcombe gave a moving account of the diagnosis of his daughter, and the huge journey they have been on ever since (yes that's right, I'm using the 'J' word - deal with it). Laura (ninjabetic) spoke of her initial struggles, lack of education (100 units a day and no instruction about balancing that with carbs!) and how connecting with others on Social Media has made such a difference to her self-care. Jens Birkenheim spoke of his frustration with not being able to find the sort of care he needed - or even where to start looking - which led him to begin setting up DCareFinder, a website that allows you to search for diabetes services near where you live. It was then my turn to talk about my experiences as a lay member of the Guideline Development Group for the NICE T1 Guidelines, how I came to be involved and whether I thought they helped me as a patient.

It was interesting to hear the same themes coming out again and again in each of these patient stories. The need for education, right from the start and as an ongoing part of living with T1D. The variety of care experiences in the UK, sometimes exceptional, other times disastrous. The value of using technology, digital-connectivity and peer-interaction as tools in our daily dance with T1.

It was then time for some thoughts from the diabetes 'legends' - Professor Simon Heller and Dr Fiona Campbell who spoke about adult and paediatric care respectively. One quote from Prof Heller particularly stood out to me. He said, "We don't often tell our patients this, but there is no condition which demands more of the individual than type 1 diabetes".

There was a lot of tough talk. A genuine sense that these people felt they could do better - and wanted to make that happen.

In the afternoon the room split into 4 'teams' each given a scenario of a hospital trust/healthcare setting and pot of cash. They were then asked to see what they could come up with (in a matter of just a few hours) as a new model of care for type 1 diabetes. "If we were starting from scratch," Partha said as he introduced the game, "I think we can all be pretty sure that we wouldn't end up where we are". Us patient-types were free to roam around from table to table and stick out oar in. Giving feedback as to whether we liked the ideas being floated. After a break for lunch, there was just enough time to draw the ideas together before they were to be presented to a guest panel of 'judges', including two CCG Commissioners and Roz Davies as a patient representative.

I'm not quite sure what Partha expected to get out of this scrap-of-time-workshop, but there were a number of very interesting ideas floating around as the 4 different models were presented. It was fascinating that no one really based their idea on needing a stack more money. Most of the thoughts were priced loosely within the specified budgets, and it seemed that these may have been thoughts that people had been musing on for some time. I didn't take any notes so can't really recount them in detail, but here are a few things which caught my attention at the time.

• The idea of 'front loading' finances. Implementing additional education and support up-front with the money that you would expect to spend later on acute admissions or complications that can be avoided.
• Identifying people who are stuggling not only by HbA1c and/or admissions, but also on their level of 'diabetes distress'
• The importance of education delivered by people specifically trained in T1D
• The potential of 'community hubs', making it easier for people to access care near where they live, as often as they need it
• The importance of psychological support - as Dr Fiona Campbell put it "Psychologists will never sit idle - so much is discovered by universal screening. You don't know what you don't know"
• The potential of technology - Skype consultations, remote/digital clinics, regular data-upload and review, email and *gasp* seamless sharing of information between GP and hospital clinics
• The huge potential of peer support as part of a new model of care
• A modular education approach - Diabetes seen as a journey through life with various milestones. People have different needs/aspirations and will be ready to access education at different times - the ability to dip in and out of primary and secondary care with varying frequency
• That people are different, and that approaches need to be tailored to better support individuals

It was a really inspiring day. You got the feeling there were some real sparks flying. That if anyone could begin to stir up the current state of T1 care in the UK, then this would be a pretty good starting line-up. It will be interesting to see what comes out of it in the coming months and years. Huge thanks and much respect to Partha Kar for his energy and commitment to improving things for us pancreatically challenged lot.

If you want other perspectives on the day you can also read blogs by Partha, Roz, Laura and Kev.

Disclaimer. Very kindly, my train ticket was paid for and the lovely Kev W gave me a lift to the venue. Lunch was laid on, but all of us patient speakers gave their time for the privilege of being involved in such an amazing day.

Backwards, forwards and off at a tangent

Looking back
Well that's it 2015 - you've pretty much had your lot.

So this is the seemingly inevitable 'round up' type post and also a chance to *finally* get around to writing a post that I had wanted to publish in the weeks before Christmas concerning the latest tomfoolery that my diabetes has decided to subject me to.

In January this year I had my first glimpse of the MiniMed 640G at a Medtronic bloggers and advocates meeting. There was quite a lot more of this particular gizmo later in the year.

February saw me clocking up 25 years of living with type 1 diabetes. More by luck than judgement I still seem to have most body parts in relative working order and nothing to speak of has apparently shrivelled up and dropped off so far.

In March, was honoured to be invited to join a small group of bloggers and advocates at the Diabetes UK Professional Conference in London, spreading news of new research and information via Twitter and Facebook as the conference progressed.

One of the most dramatic changes I have made in my diabetes therapy in years occurred in April when Fruit Pastilles and I abruptly parted company.

Over the summer I had the opportunity of living with the MiniMed 640G with full-time sensor coverage for 9 or 10 weeks and posted my very first video blogs documenting my experience. It was the first time I trialled sensor-augmented pump therapy and the results - for me - were quite simply remarkable.

August saw the publication of new NICE guidelines for Type 1 Diabetes in Adults after years of work. It is something I am very proud to have been involved in as a member of the Guideline Development Group. It would be wonderful to think that the document might make a positive difference in some small way to at least one person living with type 1 in the UK.

In November, I chose to upgrade to the MM640G when my pump warranty ran out, though that decision is tinged with sadness as (not unexpectedly) my clinic were less than optimistic about my chances of securing NHS funding for sensor coverage any time soon.

December saw an invite to speak at the Royal College of Physicians in Edinburgh at their St Andrew's Day Symposium. An amazing experience and I was humbled to be invited. Even more encouraging were the invites that I have subsequently received to speak elsewhere. Looks like 2016 could be really exciting. I'll let you know if and when any of them happen.

Looking forward
It will be interesting to see what else the New Year has in store. I would dearly love to be invited to DPC16, but will have to see whether Diabetes UK would like me to be there. I feel very lucky to continue to be part bloggers and advocates groups for both Medtronic and Abbott and look forward to seeing what snazzy new gadgets they have in store over the next 12 months.

I find myself wondering whether I will be able to self-fund sensors for my new pump for a small part of the year (something I never quite managed on the Veo). I have been using Libre sensors intermittently through 2015 and they have been incredibly helpful - but my experience of living with SmartGuard was really something else. It seemed to be the missing part of the puzzle for me. If the transmitter cost was lower, or transmitter life-expectancy was higher it would be a no-brainer. We shall see.

Expect the unexpected
It seems like my diabetes has decided to go off at a bit of a tangent recently. It will be interesting to see if my new 'surprises' continue to occur during 2016.

About two or three months ago I started noticing something rather odd. Since 2010 I have spent quite a lot of time trying to get to know my diabetes rather better. I had always thought we were reasonably well acquainted, but looking back there were many things that I simply did not realise were happening, or put down to 'diabetes randomness'. To be fair, there are still quite a few of these, but a lot less than there once were. When my basal is set right generlly my corrections and doses can be expected to behave (with an odd wobble here or there) when faced with a number of tried and tested meal scenarios. So when everything seems to be pottering along OK one day and then goes haywire with identical breakfast and lunch choices the following day my brows knit and I begin to wonder what's up.

And I have noticed some rather odd coincidences. Well... odd in some ways, but actually quite expected from others' point of view.

All the while over the years I have been relearning my diabetes and asking questions of others, I discovered a variety of 'things' which seemed pretty common experiences for people living with type 1 diabetes that simply did not seem to happen for me, even when I looked carefully for them. Things like exercise or alcohol having an blood-glucose-lowering effect the day after the event. There are a bunch of other things too. These were things I saw being discussed on forums and social media and was always able to say, "Oh that's interesting... I don't get that at all". Except now I do. At least some times.

The exercise and alcohol ones particularly stand out to me, because they involve every T1D's second-favourite game - the ole "What shall I do now?" bedtime conundrum. Which is double the fun if you seem to have spotted a pattern. But one that only applies some of the time - Ah Diabetes! You sly old minx.

So last night, for example, I went to bed at 8.6mmol/L with 1.3u of insulin on board which *should* have been dealing with carbs I had eaten mid-late-evening. Unsure if I had the count right I had another 5 grams or so to err on the side of caution. Except that we had been out at a family event earlier in the day and I'd had rather more booze than I would normally. Not silly amounts, but *possibly* worth factoring in when living in these new 'will it..? won't it..?' times. So I also set an 80% TBR to run for 8 hours. I was fortunate to be wearing a Libre sensor for the last of its fourteen days, so I had a chance for a quick peek at 2.45am whereupon I discovered than unlike earlier over the festive break I had *not* dipped at all post-alcohol - but had risen pretty steadily into the 10s. I added another 0.8u and cancelled the TBR waking at 7.5mmol/L.

So why had I taken precautions that pushed me into double figures? Why choose 80% for the TBR? Because over the last quarter of the year I have had multiple occasions when that has been exactly the right thing to do, not only overnight, but also through to lunchtime the next day. In fact this was the situation fairly reliably when I first decided to write this post (early Autumn). It's only in more recent weeks that the edges have begun to blur again, and I am now left with uncertainty rather than An Actual Plan.

And I've had occasions over recent months where post-exercise dips a day after the event have needed exactly the same careful handling. And others, more recently, where seemingly similar exertions have needed nothing of the sort.

Not helpful.

It seems as with many things in life, the best approach to living with with type 1 diabetes can be found within the hallowed pages of Douglas Adams' trilogy in five parts:

The nearest approach the Guide makes to this matter is on page seven-thousand-and-twenty-three, which includes the words "expect the unexpected”. This advice has annoyed many Hitch-Hikers in that it is ‘A’ - glib, and ‘B’ - a contradiction in terms. In fact, the very best advice it has to offer in these situations is to be found on the cover. Where it says, in those now notoriously large and famously friendly letters, “Don’t Panic”.

The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy (part 10), Douglas Adams

Edinburgh, encouragement and a call to arms

This week I have been lucky enough to be invited to speak at the 55th St Andrew's Day Symposium, hosted by the Royal College of Physicians in Edinburgh. I was given the topic of 'apps and technology' in relation to managing a long-term condition like diabetes, but obviously - not content with that - I managed to sprinkle in a wafer-thin analogy of what living with type 1 is like, along with all sorts of stuff about the #doc and the transformative potential of online peer support communities.

I tried to cover the infuriatingly fickle nature of type 1 diabetes, mentioned a few 'old favourites' like mySugr and the Accu-Chek Expert which have helped me attempt to tame my own 'diabetes monster' and also just a few of the many other things that I know help others in different ways. Gathering data and then learning to be able to apply it to make small improvements. Not forgetting, of course, the support you can get from those facing the same battles every day, whether in terms of just keeping going when it all falls to pieces (again!), or in people sharing experiences and strategies that work for them that you can consider for your own self-management.

It seemed to go relatively well, and people were very encouraging - but the absolute stand-out for me about the whole experience were the conversations I had with some passionate diabetologists after the session had ended. I had deliberately avoided focussing too much attention on the more obvious technological advances like pumps and CGM, as I had wanted the talk to have as wide a reach as possible, and also perhaps fire the imaginations of clinicians working in other disciplines as to how they might make use of similar apps/peer support resources in their own specialism.

Speaking to those diabetes specialists afterwards was something of a call to arms. Much money is being spent on healthcare in the UK which does *not* have the ongoing quality of life benefit for individuals that sensor augmented pump therapy offers - let alone the extension of life for pump users as shown in recent research. The case was made to me that it is time the diabetes online community stopped being so darned understanding about the lack of funding for sensor-augmented pump therapy. The time for accepting defeat has passed, and as more and more data are made available from increasingly positive trials, we need to start banging the table if we are ever to move pump/CGM into the mainstream in the UK.

I got the distinct feeling that there are many clinicians who feel strongly that this is the way forward for type 1 care, but that patient voices as part of that change are crucial. Certainly the impact of patient support in Scotland's wider adoption of pump therapy in recent years sets an encouraging precedent.

Yes I *know* we go on about it all the time among ourselves (often with a resigned sigh and bit of self-funding) - but perhaps the moment has come to really start ramping up the pressure.

Disclaimer. My travel, and accommodation was paid for, but I was not paid to prepare or deliver my talk. I was also invited to attend a swanky dinner at the end of the Symposium which was lovely.

Painting the Forth Bridge

The Forth Bridge (CC licensed)

Famously, the painting of the Forth Bridge (an enormous railway bridge across the Firth of Forth in Scotland) took so long that by the time the workers finished painting this spectacularly beautiful collection of girders, steel, bricks and sweat, it needed to be started all over again. Apparently this is no longer the case and the painting has finally stopped, at least temporarily, but bear with me here as I indulge myself in a little cliched allegory.

Painting the Forth Bridge - I wonder what it would be like to be one of those people given that task.

Perhaps a young man, in his early twenties. Suddenly, unexpectedly, given this massive undertaking. A job for life. It must surely have been a daunting prospect. But perhaps there was something of a challenge about it too. Something to get stuck into. Something to work towards. And while the tools were, at first, unfamiliar and clumsy, he was determined to see the work done. To do it the best he could. To protect this beautiful structure.

And the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into years. And still it goes on. It is hard work. The schedule is punishing, but it has to be done. He pushes on. The tools are more familiar now - he's actually got pretty good at this painting lark. He has picked up some tips from others who have been painting far longer than him. He can even take some of the difficult corners in his stride, the awkward spots that he could never really manage before. Occasionally a new brush or a fresh pot of paint kindles some excitement and interest. Spurs him on. Improves his technique. And then back to the graft.

And some days... some days it is just beautiful. Way up there at the top of one of the arches, alongside friends and co-workers, with the wind gently cooling his face, as the sun beats down on his shoulders. The view stretching for miles and miles. The distant thrum of locomotives passing below. The faintest call of birdsong from the marshes. When he compares his work to others' he thinks, "You know, it's not that bad." He feels lucky. Yes there is work to be done. Yes he has to be careful to keep himself safe, but in comparison to some other working conditions he knows about - he could have done much worse.

There are scary times too. When storms lash and winds howl. This work is no place for the faint-hearted then. But even then... even then there is something to push against. Something to overcome. A battle to be fought. Something almost heroic about it. Those are not the hardest times for him.

It is the grey days he fears the most. The grey, unending, energy-sapping days. Where the fog rises up and obscures everything else.

The days when his paintbrush seems to weigh even more heavily than his heart. When the neverending nature of the task overwhelms him. No matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does. He will never finish. Stroke after pointless stroke. Hour after pointless hour. And still no nearer the end. There is no end. And if he slows down, he only gets further behind. The task goes on and on. Unrelenting. Inescapable.

He has an annual performance review with the HR department. They seem happy enough with his work, but can only talk about the rust and decay that constantly threaten the bridge. The rust... the rust... always the rust. He must not let up they say. He must keep up his workload. They come down pretty hard about Health and Safety too. Apparently, though he tries to be careful and is pretty diligent with his harness, hardhat and boots, he is not doing enough. He could slip at any moment and that would be it. They don't seem to understand the reality of what it's like up there. Sometimes you have to move from point 'a' to point 'b' and it's not always possible to be fully harnessed-up in between.

He ventures to ask about a new piece of painting equipment. It would make his work much easier, and much safer. He has even tried it and has seen what a difference it makes. Unfortunately 'the management' will not provide it. It is too expensive, and they are not sure they believe the promises in the brochure. The HR department are sympathetic, naturally, but the decision is out of their hands. He knows, of course, that his equipment is pretty expensive already. It's not a surprise that the newest and fanciest stuff is out of reach. But his head and his heart feel differently about it. Part of him aches for what might have been. Part of him wishes he'd never even heard of this new stuff.

And the grey days continue. He blunders on. Barely looking at what he is doing now. So tired. So tired of it all. Sometimes he looks at his brushes with loathing. He wants to throw them over the edge. Cast them into the broiling waters below. Just watch the bridge decay and fall. The rust... the rust... To surrender the bridge to the elements.

To stop.

But he can't. He WON'T stop. He pushes down the melancholy as an act of will. He knows so many people that love this old bridge. Who rely on it. Who need it. He wants it to be there for them.

So he picks up his brush one more time.

Sighs.

And carries on.

New NICE Guidelines for Type 1 Diabetes Published (at last!)

As some of you may know, over the last three years (THREE YEARS??!?) I have been working with a wonderful group of fiercely clever and passionate people as one of two 'patient representatives' on the NICE 'Guideline Development Group' which was revising and updating the NICE Guidelines for type 1 diabetes in adults. Expert consultants, eminent physicians, nurses, pharmacists, GPs, educators, editors, along with a host of other specialists including researchers and health economists who gathered and organised an almost unimaginable quantity of research data for the group to filter through and consider.

It has been a huge privilege to work with them all, not least Professor Amiel, the chair of the group, who is a complete inspiration and quite the nicest person you could meet. We have not been permitted to mention anything much connected with the discussions until publication, but at last, today, the guideline launches here: ‘Type 1 diabetes in adults: diagnosis and management'.

Hooray!

If you have been living in a cave for the last 16 years and have never heard of the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE), they are an independent body working as part of the Department of Health who publish guidance on all manner of healthcare topics which aims to set the 'gold standard' of evidence-based care, balancing clinical outcomes, patient preference and quality of life against the cold hard reality of NHS budgets (ie Yes! You can have something expensive... but only if published research shows it's reeeeeally good for most people).

As a patient, I *love* the fact that I can have a weighty, official, authoritative document that describes what has been shown to be the very best in diabetes care. It gives me something to consult to measure my own experience in clinic, and the right kind of pointy questions to ask if I think I should be getting something that isn't being offered. Plus if I think something should be available that isn't, the documentation is so comprehensive that (if I wanted to) I can dig down into the 'linking evidence to recommendations' section to unpick the reseach and discussions that underpinned the recommendations.

NICE seems to get a hard time in the press off and on (either for denying treatment, or for recommending it) and is frequently accused of bias or an almost corrupt collusion with the pharmaceutical industry. I have to say this could not be further from my experience of the guideline development process. Each meeting included a new declaration of 'conflict of interest' and anyone with a conflict, financial or otherwise, however minor, was not permitted to contribute to the discussion or was asked to leave the meeting entirely.

I am very proud to have been part of the process, and believe that this updated guideline, if fully implemented has has enormous potential to improve the lives of adults living with type 1 diabetes in the UK.

Here are a few things I'm really pleased made it into the final version:

Structured education

Offer all adults with type 1 diabetes a structured education programme of proven benefit, for example the DAFNE (dose-adjustment for normal eating) programme. Offer this programme 6–12 months after diagnosis.

If a structured education programme has not been undertaken by an adult with type 1 diabetes by 12 months after diagnosis, offer it at any time that is clinically appropriate and suitable for the person, regardless of duration of type 1 diabetes.

My feelings about the lack of structured education formed no small part of my journey toward joining this NICE committee. Carb counting, dose adjustment, correction factors, basal testing, guidance about exercise, alcohol and sick day rules. How can people be expected to make a decent go at managing their type 1 diabetes without these skills? And yet the number of people who have ever attended such a course is pitifully small. Unless I'm mis-remembering it's something like 6.5%. Let's hope that during the life of this guideline that changes significantly.

Access to test strips

Support adults with type 1 diabetes to test at least 4 times a day, and up to 10 times a day if any of the following apply:

• the desired target for blood glucose control, measured by HbA1c level (see recommendation 1.6.6), is not achieved
• the frequency of hypoglycaemic episodes increases
• there is a legal requirement to do so (such as before driving, in line with the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency [DVLA] At a glance guide to the current medical standards of fitness to drive)
• during periods of illness
• before, during and after sport
• when planning pregnancy, during pregnancy and while breastfeeding (see the NICE guideline on diabetes in pregnancy)
• if there is a need to know blood glucose levels more than 4 times a day for other reasons (for example, impaired awareness of hypoglycaemia, high-risk activities).

'Proper' testing frequencies of up to 10x a day (and making use of the results) shown to be more effective AND cost-effective. No more shocked looks permitted from non-specialist Drs or nurses suggesting a couple of times a week should be fine.

HbA1c Target

Support adults with type 1 diabetes to aim for a target HbA1c level of 48 mmol/mol (6.5%) or lower, to minimise the risk of long-term vascular complications.

Agree an individualised HbA1c target with each adult with type 1 diabetes, taking into account factors such as the person’s daily activities, aspirations, likelihood of complications, comorbidities, occupation and history of hypoglycaemia.

I've written about this before. Personally, as a patient, I am really pleased with the balance between these recommendations. Don't tell me to be happy with an A1c approaching 8% if there is real evidence that lower is better to guard against long-term complications. Don't tell people who have no problematic hypoglycaemia that their A1c is 'too low' because it's in the 6s (can't get used to the new numbers yet, sorry!). On the flip side, treat me as an individual, don't label me as a failure because you have a magic number in your head that I am working toward, but I'm not there yet.

Not exactly 'CGM for all', but...

Consider real-time continuous glucose monitoring for adults with type 1 diabetes who are willing to commit to using it at least 70% of the time and to calibrate it as needed, and who have any of the following despite optimised use of insulin therapy and conventional blood glucose monitoring:

• More than 1 episode a year of severe hypoglycaemia with no obviously preventable precipitating cause.
• Complete loss of awareness of hypoglycaemia.
• Frequent (more than 2 episodes a week) asymptomatic hypoglycaemia that is causing problems with daily activities.
• Extreme fear of hypoglycaemia.
• Hyperglycaemia (HbA1c level of 75 mmol/litre [9%] or higher) that persists despite testing at least 10 times a day (see recommendations 1.6.11 and 1.6.12). Continue real-time continuous glucose monitoring only if HbA1c can be sustained at or below 53 mmol/mol (7%) and/or there has been a fall in HbA1c of 27 mmol/mol (2.5%) or more.

'Consider' is NICEspeak for a much weaker recommendation. It should be on the table, but it's not for everyone. The evidence for effectiveness of CGM was just not compelling enough to do anything else at it's current eye-watering pricetag. To be honest I was shocked at how weak it was, given the experience of people I know who self-fund CGM. Continuous Glucose Monitoring it seems just doesn't do well enough in Randomised Controlled Trials. But at least, here, it *might* be available on the NHS to the people who really need it.

And finally
It was great to see bi-modal (mixed) insulins being given the heave-ho, unless people really wanted to use them. From now on people should be able to start off on a proper flexible MDI regimen from the outset, along with some good education and support.

It was also really heartening to see how NICE reacted to the subject of language. The editors were updating the old recommendations for clarity and new styling (for example 'adult with type 1 diabetes' rather than 'diabetic' or 'patient'). I raised the question of the word control which is a difficult term for some people. Personally I cannot 'control' my diabetes - I do not have the ability to affect all the variables. At best I can limit some, and try to react to, or work around the others. I don't control my diabetes, I manage it. Because of the timing of the discussion, it was not possible given the time-restrictions to change the terminology used in the full guideline (though discussions will be had within NICE for future versions). I was very pleased though that for the 'Information for the Public' version, the phrase 'diabetes control' has been replaced.

What do you think? Will the new NICE guideline make any difference to you? Were you even aware that there was one to cover type 1 diabetes? Let me know in the comments below.

64 Days with the Medtronic 640G: Ep 3 What is SmartGuard?

Here's another little update on my time with the Medtronic MiniMed 640G. This time it's a look at what SmartGuard is and how it works. When someone first tried to explain how SmartGuard worked to me I can remember it felt bewilderingly complicated, with all sorts of levels and numbers flying around. Actually once you have got your head around it, I have found it relatively simple - so I'm trying to explain it here with a little animated diagram that tries to work through an example of how and when Smartguard is activated, and what it does.

It should be remembered, of course, that for all it's magic, SmartGuard is not supposed to replace hypo-treatment entirely. Unfortunately for all the over-enthusiastic media hype about the 'Artificial Pancreas' when the MM640G launched, we are nothing like there yet. SmartGuard is a useful step in the right direction, but a full AP it ain't. For starters, there are many situations in which stopping your basal insulin will simply not act quickly enough, or have enough impact, to head off an impending low. And there are other situations where SmartGuard might be triggered for all the right reasons, but not actually have been needed and you end up higher than you'd like because of it.

I'll cover some of those situations in more detail in another blog - but for now, let's focus on those gentle (or not so gentle) drifts below 4.0 which SmartGuard effortlessly squashes without bothering you with any irritating alarms.

When it works well, it genuinely feels like you have a little 'diabetes helper' by your side, actively looking out for you. Not something I have ever felt about any other piece of diabetes technology.

If you have any questions or comments, please do leave them below. I'd love to hear what you think.


Watch this a little larger on my YouTube channel.

6.5% A1c target - A reply to a comment that got out of hand

I've had a couple of comments on my post about the proposed new HbA1c target in the draft NICE guideline that is currently out for consultation. I was rattling in a 'quick' reply, when I thought - this is *ridiculous*. I can't even see this any more in this tiny box - so I've decided to post it here instead :)

Here are the comments:

Tamer Hassan said...
how do you achieve these numbers?

thanks

Tim said...
These numbers are impossible to reach...
Or at least give me some suggestions on how to reach these levels. Thanks.
Tim

'How to reach these numbers' is a question for your healthcare provider really. Don't just ask some random nutter on the Internet! However (and desperately trying to avoid sounding like Mr Smug of No 22 Smug Gardens, Bigheadshire) I have had a sub 6.5% HbA1c for over 3 years now, so I know that it *is* possible if only perhaps for the lucky few. Plus I've never had fewer hypos in my life with diabetes either - so it's not that I am 'paying' for A1c improvements with the hefty cost of Severe Hypoglycaemia.

I cannot really tell why some people seem to put in so much effort and get such scant rewards, and that is why I think individualised targets are SO important.

But it does seem pretty clear to me that the closer you can get to those standard-issue BG targets (5-7mmol/L waking, 4-7mmol/L pre meals and <9mmol/L by 2 hours after meals) for as many days in the week as you can manage, the closer you will get to these kind of tough, aspirational, borderline non-diabetic A1c targets. My own HbA1c has fallen by around 1.5% in recent years, and I think only around 0.5% of that is attributable to the pump - though Artoo has gone a LONG way to reduce my number of irritating low-level hypoglycaemia dips. When I look back over the changes that I have made in recent years I can see a few things that I think were important. I don't offer these as any kind of guide or advice - it's just what I did.

1. Education. Get access to proper structured education regarding diabetes management. In the UK we have DAFNE which is highly thought of, but other options are available. Things that should be included (in my opinion) are:
   
   1. carbohydrate counting, working out how to check and change insulin:carb ratios for different times of the day
   2. SMBG technique - when to test and what to do with the results *including* basal testing to PROPERLY adjust basal on an ongoing basis
   3. correction factors - when and how to correct (with insulin or fast-acting carbs) to aim bring you back into range without jumping aboard the gluco-coaster
   4. exercise and alcohol
   5. dealing with illness
   If structured education courses are not available in your country/area you can do a lot worse than buying 'Think like a pancreas' (Scheiner), 'Type 1 Diabetes' (Hanas) or 'Pumping Insulin' (Walsh/Roberts) which cover much the same ground. Though the benefit of peer support in group sessions should not be underestimated



2. Test more often AND RECORD THE RESULTS. Find some way of keeping notes daily as you go along. What you are eating, units and timing of doses (how long before... split doses...), exercise, mood, everything! Without a fairly detailed set of records I find it impossible to see what is going on. Personally I still love mySugr for this.



3. Gadgets - seek out new tech that can help you manage your diabetes more easily. It might be a 0.5u pen; a smartphone tracking app, or copy of 'Carbs and Cals'; or it might be a BG meter with a bolus wizard so that you can have properly fine-tuned ratios without having to worry about keeping the maths easy. Additionally, ask your clinic about access to Insulin Pump therapy and CGM.



4. Seek peer support - join a forum or two, join Twitter, read some blogs (thanks!) or even *crazy!* join a local group and meet face to face. Living with diabetes is tough, but it's even harder if you are battling on your own. For everyone there's a little corner of the internet that can provide support, encouragement and shared experiences.

At the end of the day we each have to find our own balance between living a life and managing our diabetes. Somewhere in the middle you'll find your perfect A1c and it won't drain all the joy out of life to reach it.

Good luck :)

6.5% - Are they mad?

I haven't really got time to write this today, but I have waited too long with too many blog posts bouncing around in my head so I'm just going to rattle this one in quickly to clear some head space.

The situation has been exacerbated in recent years because of my position as one of the patient members of the NICE Guideline Development Group (GDG) for the update to the Type 1 Diabetes in Adults Guideline. It has been an enormous privilege to be part of creating the guideline. Filtering through all the research and discussions looking for definitive, evidence-based, best-practice approaches to treating and managing type 1 diabetes has been incredibly interesting (and quite hard work!). Part of the NICE process is that members of the GDG are sworn to secrecy until the guideline is published. This is partly to promote a healthy, open dialogue within the group and also because - research being what it is - new stuff emerges all the time and blabbing about what the group thinks about a topic early on, might cause upset, especially if it changes later as new results/research are found or economic models are run.

As a consequence there are all sorts of really interesting things I have come across, or thought, or wanted to comment upon over the last 2 years which I have not been able to. Around the middle of December though, the 'consultation' version of the Guideline was published - you can read it here. The consultation document is the first glimpse the world gets of what we have been working on and it allows stakeholders to comment on the recommendations before they are finally published. So at last it feels like I can pop my head over the parapet.

One of the aspects of the consultation document that immediately prompted some comment on diabetes forums and Twitter was the recommendation regarding aiming for an HbA1c of 48mmol/mol (6.5%).

On the face of it, this sounds like madness. In a world where so many people struggle to meet the existing target of 59mmol/mol (7.5%), which fewer than 30%* of people with type 1 can manage, why on earth would you set the bar at 48mmol/mol (6.5%). Currently (and rather appropriately) achieved by just 6.5% of people with Type 1*. Why on earth would you set a target that almost 95% of people cannot reach?

Why indeed.

The section starts on page 160 and the recommendations are made on page 194.

8.1.2 Review question: In adults with type 1 diabetes, what is the optimum target HbA1c level that should be achieved to reduce the risk of complications?
...
39. Support adults with type 1 diabetes to achieve and maintain a target HbA1c level of 48mmol/mol (6.5%) or lower, to minimise the risk of long - term vascular complications.[new 2015]

Surely the patient reps on the group were up in arms at such lunacy?

Well actually no. If anything I was pushing for that very recommendation. And the real reason is the question. Questions are important. And without them, answers rarely make any sense.

I wasn't interested in knowing whether research said achieving 6.5% was easy. I was more interested in whether it was worth it. And even more importantly - how much it was worth it.

From the papers reviewed there was that familiar 'curvy' shape when complications were plotted against HbA1c values. At higher levels the line is really steep - zooming upwards with frightening menace. As HbA1c values fall down toward 8.5% things are curving off, though it is clear that even small improvements could potentially make a big difference. The argument that I was always given for the target of 7.5% was that below that level the added difficulty outweighed the more modest improvements of the levelling curve. But actually the improvements below 7.5% are far from level and when it comes to all the nasty things diabetes can throw at you - worth having if you can do so safely and with a decent quality of life.

The next recommendation is critical too.

40. Agree an individualised HbA1c target with each adult with type 1 diabetes, taking into account factors such as the person’s daily activities, aspirations, likelihood of complications, co-morbidities, occupation and history of hypoglycaemia. [new 2015]

So far from being a 'failure stick' to beat us with - I hope that this new recommendation (if it makes it to the published version) - becomes a source of support for anyone who has the time, skill, good fortune and technology to aim for a sub-7 A1c. And that the next one promotes a tailored programme of support, strategies and treatment options for everyone to achieve their own perfect balance between diabetes management, results and still having a life.

Mostly I hope no one gets told off again for having an HbA1c that is 'too low' by a clinic that assumes you *must* be having severe hypos all the time.

What did you make of it? Do you think it will help or hinder your efforts?

Follow up: How do you achieve these numbers?

* National Diabetes Audit 2009 - 2012

15 Checks, Diabetes Audits and Prawns

Last week saw the publication of the National Diabetes Audit (NDA) for 2012-2013. It's a bit like Ofsted for diabetes clinics and includes results for just over 70% of the places providing care for people with Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes in England and Wales. If you want to dig into the vast and weighty documents yourself, they are published online here: www.hscic.gov.uk/nda.

I got as far as skimming Report 1 'Care Processes and Treatment Targets' (check out that horrendous BG testing technique on the cover folks... right into the nerve-ending-packed softness of the fingertip! Use the sides people use the sides) before one of the stats just jumped out and hit me between the eyes.

Way less than half of all Type 1s are getting the routine healthcare checks they should.

40%. Forty. Percent.

My daughter reliably informs me that in GCSE terms that comes out as an 'E'.

The actual figure is quoted as 41.3% and it has been falling since 2010. That's almost a quarter of a million people living with type 1 diabetes who are missing even the most basic annual checks to help them keep on track.

When it comes to actively supporting people to manage their condition effectively by offering them some sort of structured education course the stats are even more eyewatering. Less that 4% of people being offered a place on a course. A measly 1% actually make it onto the courses. There's a lengthy rant right there... but that will have to wait for another day.

Diabetes UK lists 15 healthcare essentials that people with diabetes should get each year:

1. Get your HbA1c measured at least once a year
2. Have your blood pressure measured and recorded at least once a year
3. Have your blood fats (such as cholesterol) measured every year
4. Have your eyes screened for signs of retinopathy every year*
5. Have your feet checked
6. Have your kidney function monitored annually
7. Have your urine tested for protein each year
8. Have your weight checked
9. Get support if you are a smoker
10. Receive care planning to meet your individual needs
11. Attend an education course to help you understand and manage your diabetes
12. Receive care from a specialist paediatric team if you are a child or young person
13. Receive high quality care if admitted to hospital
14. Get information and specialist care if you are planning to have a baby
15. See specialist diabetes healthcare professionals to help you manage your diabetes
16. Get emotional and psychological support

* eye screening is now handled separately and bizarrely is no longer included in the NDA

The ones in bold are the checks that are covered by the NDA. Eight or nine routine measures to check that nothing nasty is lurking, and to be able to do something about it if things are going awry. These checks are not about passing or failing - they are about protecting us.

So what is going on?
Is it just people not showing up?
Is it that the appointments are not available at convenient times?
Is it that people simply do not *know* that these simple routine checks are so very important?
Is it a lack of resources?
Overstretched NHS?
Un-engaged individuals?
Are clinics not helping patients?
Or are patients not helping themselves?

My guess is that it is *all* of those things.

I wrote once before about the exponential rise in the number of appointments that were involved in my 'annual review' and the situation is much the same. Decentralised care may work well as a buzz word, but patients have ended up with 4 or 5 appointments instead of 1, which makes the whole process much more of a faff.

But here's the harsh truth.

Faff or not - if you are living with type 1 diabetes you need to do whatever you can to make sure that you get those checks.

They are not for the benefit of the doctors. They are not for the purposes of making someone's spreadsheet look snazzier. They are for YOU. We live in a world where people struggle to get access to any insulin at all - let alone the particular type and/or colour of pen that they prefer. The very least we can do is turn up for (free!) appointments designed to help us to make it through life with our feet on and our eyes working.

It absolutely appalls me that the figures are what they are. And the people most likely to suffer as a result are not the clinics or doctors, but the very people who are not getting checked.

Yes I'm sure some clinics could help with more flexible appointment times. Some employers might need to be reminded that under the DDA (or whatever it is called this week) they need to make 'reasonable adjustments' to support employees with diabetes in keeping these kind of routine healthcare appointments.

But at the end of the day we have to find ways of attending.

Prawns
Perhaps it would be easier if diabetes was a bit more like prawns.

After 25-odd years I am very glad that diabetes is often a relatively slow-moving adversary. But perhaps part of the problem with all those thousands of appointments from the patient perspective is that diabetes is not enough like prawns.

Perhaps it's not prawns for you. Maybe it's peanuts. Or yoghurt. Or fresh ravioli with ricotta.

When I was in my teens I had an absolutely delicious pub meal out while on holiday. I chose a local speciality of prawns in their shells. They were fabulous. On the way home in the car I began to feel a little uneasy. I used to suffer a little with motion-sickness so put it down to that. I still felt a bit odd and over-full at bedtime. But then... we had eaten rather a lot. I woke with a start in the early hours and knew instantly that things were not right. Not right at all. Somehow I managed to stumble, in the dark, with excruciating urgency to the tiny the bathroom where I remained until the following morning in a wretched, heaving heap.

I still struggle to look at a prawn.

The trouble is there is no such immediate come-back for a missed appointment here or there. Eating a big ole serving of 'not enough time at the moment' prawns in 'missed appointment' sauce doesn't bring me out in a sweat just thinking about it. But the results of missing those checks are potentially even more catastrophic.

80% of the NHS budget that is spent on diabetes goes on treating complications. We owe it to ourselves to do what we can to change that statistic. To beat diabetes one day at a time. To keep ourselves well.

Making sure we get all our routine healthcare checks is a tiny step in the right direction.

Hands up who thinks kids with diabetes deserve decent care and support in schools

I was diagnosed at 21, during the final year of my degree. Not perfect timing I suppose, but I recognise that I had it a whole LOT easier than the thousands of kids who are diagnosed at a very young age and who have to try to balance life with type 1 diabetes alongside the unpredictability, raging hormones, growth spurts and peer pressure of school life.

I. Cannot. Imagine. It.

So hats off to Diabetes UK for their 'Make the Grade' campaign which aims to improve the support offered to children with diabetes in schools.

If you'd like to find out a little about what they are doing and why it is so important, they have produced a nifty piece of You-Tubery here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDsUSoDtyjM

The "I can..." of insulin pumps - Diabetes Week 2014

The theme of this year's Diabetes Week is 'I can...'. Here's a guest post I was invited to write for the Diabetes UK blog.

When I was thinking about this year's theme of 'I can' I was reminded of a conversation I had with someone last week about insulin pumps. It was something that they were being encouraged to consider, but like pretty much everyone else (myself included) their initial reaction was uncertainty. Uncertainty over being connected to something 24 hours a day. Uncertainty about relying on a fragile piece of technology to keep them alive. Uncertainty about how it would make them feel and how others might view them. Uncertainty over whether it would actually improve anything at all. In short, they didn't really think it was for them.

I know those feelings well. I had them all, and many more besides. I was 'pump averse' for many years. My clinic suggested that it might help with my recurrent hypoglycaemia, but could never really articulate how that might happen. All I could see was a big bunch of (what I thought were) downsides.

In the end, for me, it was reading the experiences of pump users online that convinced me to give it a go. The day to day nitty gritty of how it helped them. Now I'm not saying that insulin pumps are for everyone. Some people wouldn't want to touch one with a barge pole, others do just fine on Multiple Daily Injections and are completely happy as they are. But if it is something you are considering, here are a few 'I can's that an insulin pump has given me to add to your thinking:

If I want to go to bed at 5.0mmol/L, I can.
Ahhhhh basal! I have been through quite a few basal insulins in my 25 years of pancreas-impersonation. In the old days we were always advised to have a snack before bed. Why? Well because in all likelihood your basal-du-jour was going to be a bit over-enthusiastic in the early hours and could well plunge you into an overnight hypo. It was many years before I discovered 'basal testing' (systematically adjusting your basal insulin by fasting tests so that it just holds you steady) but try as I might, even with fancy schmancy analogues I could only ever get my basal 'near enough' on MDI. A bit too much here, not quite enough there... make up the differences with meal doses and guesswork. With a pump, the flexibility of multiple basal patterns which can be tweaked and changed with almost infinite precision mean that I can adjust things so that I am actually starting from a level playing field. To my mind, basal is the bedrock of my BG levels. If my basal is out, even by just a little bit, my meal doses and corrections just do not play fair. So I no longer have to worry about stocking up on carbs before bed, because my basal insulin should hold me level and when I need less insulin overnight I get less. Where I need more just before breakfast, I get more.

If I want to give a really accurate dose, I can.
My doses on MDI were often a bit 'ballpark' to be honest. I have always counted carbs and altered my doses based on what I am eating, but I usually rounded up or rounded down to make things easy. Plus I would use insulin:carbohydrate ratios that meant I didn't have to get a calculator out all the time. The Accu-chek Expert was a great tool on MDI for tweaking doses, but I was still using a 'whole unit' pen so there was a degree of rounding even then. Now I can bolus in decimal places. And those tiny tweaks of insulin here or there do seem to make a difference. True enough my carb estimates are still often done by eye, but at least one part of the puzzle is now being calculated and delivered precisely.

If I want to stop here for lunch, I can.
This was the biggest surprise for me. Rediscovering spontaneity. I began pumping with an fairly entrenched anxiety about being hooked up to something 24/7. I know almost no one who has not had that when considering an insulin pump. Many people say that within a few weeks (days for some people) they become completely at one with their new robot pancreas and never give it a second thought. I can't say that it was quite so quick for me, but certainly in less than six months I had stopped noticing being attached at all and my emerging 'unthought' behaviours (like automatically hooking it to a t-shirt when getting changed) meant I never really gave Artoo another thought. If you are newly on an insulin pump and it still feels a bit of a nuisance or 'in the way' hang in there. Where was I? Oh yes... Spontaneity. So I was well prepared to dislike being attached, but I really hadn't expected that attachment would turn out to be such a bonus. Out on a wander on holiday... get a bit distracted and it takes rather longer than anticipated... Oh this pub looks nice, shall we stop for lunch? What would have always previously been "No we can't, I didn't bring my pens with me" has simply become "Yes!". Wherever we are now I always have my 'kit' with me, and while I used to like the idea of being able to leave all this stuff on a table and just walk around 'like a normal person', personally I have come to realise that I feel much more 'normal' if I can eat whatever I fancy whenever I want to, without having to remember to bring a case full of gubbins with me everywhere.

If I want to have 20 boluses/corrections/snacks in a day, I can.
Well strictly speaking I always could have, of course. But in reality I never did. There is something so easy and effortless about push-button dosing that I am far more likely to add in a fraction of a unit here or there during a day when I recognise that I probably wouldn't have bothered to get a pen out, airshot, dial up and inject. This has increased freedom around snacks too. Where I previously found them just to be too much of a hassle on MDI, almost always resulting is a BG wobble in one direction or other (depending on whether I had bothered to bolus or not) I've had much more success with the effortless mini-doses a pump offers. It's easier, so I bother to do it.

If I want to run a marathon (or just vacuum the stairs), I can.
Again, this was something I more or less tamed with MDI, but the additional options available on a pump, like the ability to set a 'temporary basal rate' for several hours, have added considerable 'polish' to many of those day-to-day conundrums of physical activity. I am far less likely to see my BG levels dip below my target range when exercising these days and I'm buying far less Lucozade!


Just a few things of the top of my head. I'm sure most people on pumps could write their own list. Of course diabetes is still annoying and frustrating quite a lot of the time. A pump is not a magic bullet and it still involves a fair bit of faffing about. But for me having a pump has made a tighter set of BG levels more possible, with less effort and far, far fewer nasty lows.

If you are struggling with wrestling your diabetes into some sort of submission and have been offered a pump as a possible way forward I'd suggest giving it a go.

If I can do it... You can.

Diabetes Speed Dating Clinic Type Thing

Some months ago I found myself looking back over the past few years.

If you've read our blog before (congratulations on your uncommon stick-ability) you may remember that we began writing about my diabetes as a family as a result of an unusually nasty hypo. One which made me question whether I was quite as competent at managing my diabetes as I liked to think I was. Posts from others in the household have dwindled rather, and you've ended up stuck with me. Sorry about that. But I look back over the past few years and realise that I have been on a full-on misty-eyed X-Factor-Strictly-Voice-finallist 'journey'.

I was reminded about this yesterday while reading a blog post by The Grumpy Pumper about his own story of venturing into the Diabetes Online Community (DOC). I have had similar conversations with Dave (@SowerBee) previously too.

It seems to go something like this...

1. Get diagnosed
2. Learn to muddle along in your own way, with varying degrees of success
3. Never, or almost never, meet or speak to another actual real-life person with diabetes
4. Feel slightly isolated and faintly dissatisfied with how you are doing but don't know what to do about it
5. Lose a bit of faith in suggestions made by various healthcare professionals/clinics/consultants/registrars/DSNs (what do *they* know - they don't live with this day-to-day, harrumph etc)
6. Carry on for 5/10/15/20 years
7. *Something* happens
8. Look for support online and/or meet other PWD face-to-face (eg on DAFNE)
9. Lightbulb moments ensue
10. Engage, share, try new strategies, feel empowered
11. Understanding and management of condition is transformed

Now here's the thing.

This is a pattern I see repeating, time and time again in the experiences of others just as it did with me.

But there are still so many people at point 5 or 6. People for whom the standard structure of clinic appointments just isn't quite working, but who either don't realise that 'peer support' like the DOC exists, or who would run a mile from the very idea of it, believing that it is 'not for them'. I know the second group well. I was a fully paid-up member for all the years that deep-down in my heart I knew I was struggling a little, but made myself believe that 'this was as good as could be expected' and 'nothing works'. Of the 300,000 people living with Type 1 in the UK how many are connected with others? 3,000? 10,000? That still leaves the vast majority 'soldiering on' on their own with only an Annual Review for company.

So what can we do for them?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that peer support could fully replace 'proper' consultations with qualified and well-trained healthcare professionals. I am aware that dark, weird and scary corners of the internet exist, where all sorts of odd ideas are bandied about as fact (though these are hard to maintain in well-populated, mixed groups and in my experience the DOC doesn't stand for nonsense). But I'm also aware that there is nothing quite like hearing experiences of someone in your position, who does live with the same condition as you every day. Who faces the same struggles and has tried strategies that you might consider.

I've also spotted another phenomenon. If you attend a 'meet up' of forum posters, bloggers, tweeters or others who live with diabetes you will not be able to get them to shut up. In fact, you will struggle to get a word in edgeways. Questions will be asked, approaches and strategies compared, support offered, understanding and empathy for the sheer relentlessness of it all given freely.

I'm also aware that every day, up and down the land, dozens of people sit side-by-side with other people with diabetes in stony silence.

And this strikes me as odd. Or at the very least a massive missed opportunity.

I've been meaning to write this post for months, but kept putting it off because I could never quite get my head around the details. To be honest I couldn't even work out a proper title for the post (this you will have noticed). But the time has come to just 'put it out there' to see if some brave Consultant or Clinical Lead can do something with it. Someone like Partha perhaps?

Here it is: Wouldn't it be great if there was a way to harness all those wasted minutes in the waiting rooms at diabetes clinics. If there was some way of facilitating peer discussion and support while we are all sat there waiting for our number to come up. At the very least it might prompt some actual questions to ask in the appointment itself, rather than everyone just sullenly descending into smile-grunt-nod territory.

Something a bit like speed-dating. Sit opposite a person or two for 5 minutes, ask them how they are getting on. How long they have had diabetes. Is there anything they particularly struggle with. Do they have the same problem I do with this or that? What do they do about it? Ring a bell, everyone moves around... 'You'll never guess what that last bloke said...' 'Really? Oh I get that too...'

Of course there would have to be some sort of 'opt out' for people who simply can't face the idea. But I'd love it if we could break the unwritten rule in diabetes clinic waiting rooms that 'thou shalt not say anything to anyone'. For people to be actively encouraged to compare experiences and support each other. So that each clinic appointment would combine the very best of both D-meetups and HCP input.

If that was on offer - would you join in?

Why I decided to stop being ‘a diabetic’ - Guest post for DiabetesUK

Words are powerful things.

I had a very interesting conversation with the very lovely Lesley Jordan of INPUT in October last year which made me focus on something I had been mulling over for some time.

It’s odd, because I’ve seen it discussed online and in social media before, often with a level of passion and sometimes outrage that has made me think, ‘Why are you letting yourself get so wound up about that?’

I think it began to make more sense to me when I considered the subject in the light of the way I think about my own diabetes, rather than the words or terms other people might use in conversation or in the media. I think to get too stressed or riled up about what other people say is counterproductive, but I have come to see that it is very important for me to choose my words carefully for the little voice in my head.

I know, I know. Many of you are rolling your eyes, and someone almost certainly just said ‘Oh good GRIEF!’. But bear with me here...

Living with a long term condition like diabetes is hard work. There will be days when you might just breeze along quite happily, barely giving it a second thought, but there will almost certainly be other times when it is a lonely, grim and gruelling marathon – and everything is up hill. It is well established that diabetes and depression often go hand in hand and it is important that we protect ourselves and our sometimes fragile senses of self-esteem. One of the most successful ways of doing this seems to be ‘cognitive behaviour therapy’ (CBT) and an important CBT technique is to adjust your inner voice to help you see situations more clearly and more positively.

I think in words. Conversations with myself. In all the countless interactions I have every day with my diabetes I hear my inner voice commenting on what I am doing. If I am not careful, the background to my every day can become a relentless tide of negativity and judgement.

“I have to test my blood...”
“My control is *terrible* at the moment, my BGs have been really bad...”
“Well I really messed up that carb count there. I should have weighed it, I bet I go hypo later...”

And all of this spills over into any conversations I have with other people too.

So I have been trying to make tiny changes to the language I use with myself and with others when I talk about my diabetes. These seem so tiny and insignificant that it is hard to believe that they could matter at all, but we have a rich and subtle language and every word we choose conveys complex messages to those around us and to our own subconscious.

So now I am no longer saying I am ‘a diabetic’ – a label which defines me, instead I am a ‘person with diabetes’ – person first, diabetes second.

I am trying not to think about ‘good’ or ‘bad’ blood glucose or HbA1c results. Instead I think of them as being ‘in range’ or a ‘work in progress’.

If you ‘test’ your blood glucose then you can pass or fail that test, so it is better to ‘check’ or ‘measure’ your blood glucose. Check your blood glucose level to give you information about what to do next. Check, respond, move on.

Don’t try to ‘control’ your diabetes, ‘manage’ it instead – there are often factors that affect your blood glucose levels that are outside of your direct control (an unexpected liver dump or some other diabetes randomness), but you can use your skills and knowledge to manage those changing circumstances as best you can.

Even terms like ‘should do’ or ‘should have’ can imply some sort of personal failure if something doesn’t quite go to plan. ‘Can do’ and ‘will do’ are more positive alternatives.

There are also changes you can make in the way you think about food, and talk about it with other people. ‘I can’t eat that’ implies that I am being prevented from doing something and that I’m not in control of the decision. ‘I am not going to eat that, because reducing my carb intake makes my diabetes easier to manage’ or even simply ‘I don’t eat that’ puts me back in control – I am making a choice at that moment and I know why I am making it. Next time I can choose again, perhaps differently, but it is always my choice.

As I say, these changes are tiny. It is hard to believe that they would have any effect at all, but little by little they are helping me engage with my diabetes in a more positive way.

What helps you stay positive?

The consistency conundrum

Christmas is an interesting time of year to play at being your own pancreas.

The main Christmas Day meal itself is usually *ahem* relatively easy (especially since I adopt the traditional standpoint of 'no carbs count' for Christmas and birthdays). As meals go, it is big... it is rich... and it will probably involve a pudding the size of a bowling ball... But it is basically just a roast dinner and it is only one day - and you can't expect perfection all the time right?

However, on an alarming number of occasions either side of the 'big day' I find myself faced with my own particular food nemesis - a creaking table full of buffet nibbles. Each little carb-laden, high-fat morsel smiling sweetly up at me daring me to have a go. A festive tipple or two to blur my judgement and weaken my self control and you can see that these meals fall firmly into the 'high risk' category.

Which is quite an odd way to look at food really... But I've been doing it so long that I hardly realise I am doing it.

Over the years it has seemed logical to me that consistency in terms of food intake is likely to be a good strategy for Blood Glucose results. It makes sense surely? Eating similar quantities of similar foods should allow me to try out a number of dose and timing variations until I find one that works. Then I can eat that same meal any time, and get perfect results. Tried. Tested. Predictable. Easy! Other meals are much harder to calculate (read: wildly guess) and almost come with an inbuilt expectation of BG chaos. If you are going to enjoy these... you do so knowing that levels are likely to be less than perfect.

Except that it doesn't actually work like that. At least not for me, or perhaps just not all the time. And when it doesn't work like that... When an 'old faithful' lets you down catastrophically, while in the same week a 'wild stab-in-the-dark' guessfest comes out not too bad, you begin to wonder why you are bothering to make those careful choices in the first place.

When it comes to playing the BG boardgame (not so much Snakes and Ladders as Spikes and Hypos perhaps?), my diabetes, like some cantankerous elderly maiden aunt who hit the sherry early on is a big ole cheat. Not averse to completely changing the rules when it suits, or simply behaving in a completely baffling way. Even *if* I were to eat exactly the same items of food, in exactly the same quantities every single day. Even then, I still could not expect 'perfect' BG levels (whatever that means) to last for long. The consistency conundrum is simply that carbs, doses and timings are only a small part of the picture. There are a lot of other factors in play that can combine (or conflict) to significantly alter the outcomes for the most self-disciplined diet.

Douglas Adams summed up living with type 1 diabetes pretty well:

“The nearest approach the Guide makes to this matter is on page seven-thousand-and-twenty-three, which includes the words “expect the unexpected.” This advice has annoyed many Hitch-Hikers in that it is ‘A’ - glib, and ‘B’ - a contradiction in terms. In fact, the very best advice it has to offer in these situations is to be found on the cover. Where it says, in those now notoriously large and famously friendly letters, 'DON’T PANIC'.”
Douglas Adams, The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

In my heart I know that trying to reduce the number of variables involved in juggling my BGs is the 'percentage approach'. After a few days of winging it I usually have had enough misses for the illusion of SWAG invincibility to have worn off.

So I'm reeling my choices back in again, and aiming to lose some of the wilder swings I've seen over the past week or two. It will always be a balancing act. Along the line between complete dietary freedom at one end and monk-like self control at the other there is a place where each person with Type 1 Diabetes will feel comfortable, both with the food they are enjoying, the effort they are putting in and the results they are seeing.

Good luck in finding your own balance.

Type 1 Diabetes - a 30 second guide for busy journalists and scriptwriters

Too busy even for the introduction? Click here!

OK. Enough really is enough.

Over the past 24 hours I have seen a *lot* of comment about a piece published in a major online newspaper site yesterday. It is a site that often seems to struggle to get the basics of diabetes the right way around - and it is not the only media resource to struggle, not only that, but TV and movie scriptwriters usually get it just as wrong too. I guess it's understandable... before diagnosis I knew *nothing* about T1 Diabetes either. But if you are going to write about it, it would mean an awful lot to all the people living with the condition if you could just spare 30 seconds to get your head around the basics first.

The story concerned a woman who was forced to leave a popular high street fast food outlet because staff mistook her insulin injections for drug abuse. Thankfully it was rapidly corrected by the site in question following a slew of complaints from PWD. The following snippets have been quoted elsewhere from the original version:

"Sarah P, 36, ordered a Big Mac from the fast-food chain last Friday and used her EpiPen to inject herself with insulin to increase her blood sugar level before tucking into her meal."

Type 1 diabetes accounts for ten to 15 per cent of all people with the condition and if they do not inject enough insulin through the day it can lead to a state called hypoglycemia."

I've marked the obvious errors in italics. Inaccuracies that might cause fatalities elsewhere if someone decided to be a 'have-a-go First Aid hero' are marked in bold. I am given to believe the full article contained many more.

I realise that journalists are busy people, so I've put together this 30-second guide to Type 1 Diabetes. That's a full five seconds per bullet point and five seconds to rest at the end.

1. Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune condition unrelated to diet or lifestyle and while commonly diagnosed before the age of 18 can occur at any age of life.

2. Successful management of Type 1 involves avoiding both hypo- (rhymes with LOW) or hyperglycemia (HIGH blood glucose)

3. Insulin drives blood glucose levels down.

4. Carbohydrates (especially sweet/sugary/non-fatty foods) push blood glucose levels up.

5. Almost all 'emergency' situations the public will encounter are likely to involve LOW blood glucose, treated by a sugary drink, glucose tablets, fruit pastilles or jelly babies. Administering insulin under these circumstances is potentially fatal.

So there you go. Not too hard was it? Feel free to pop off and have a celebratory tallskinnycappufrappuwhatnot.

It's all about the balancing act to keep the little green ball in the diagram above centred between the two bars of nastiness. Too much insulin and blood glucose can fall to a level where the brain cannot function properly leading to confusion and sometimes convulsions or unconsciousness. The remedy is simply to raise blood glucose levels with something sweet. Preferably liquid. Hypoglycemia, low blood glucose (if you still don't get it, think hypo-allergenic) is usually swiftly treated by the person themselves, but if you come across a Type 1 behaving very oddly or aggressively, not making sense, slurred speech and sweating profusely - the chances are all they need is a few swigs of Lucozade and in 10 minutes they'll be as right as rain.

Hyperglycemia, high blood glucose (still struggling? think hyper-active) is usually caused by either too much food or not enough insulin. It is annoying, but does not usually present any immediate danger - apart from the fact that the T1 in question is likely to be a bit grumpier and thirstier than normal. Long term though, over several years, it can cause all sorts of nasties... blindness, amptuation, stroke, kidney failure, neuropathy and a host of other 'diabetic complications'.

Of course there's quite a bit more to it than that, and before anyone chips in, yes of course I realise that there are some very urgent medical situations that involve high blood glucose levels leading to DKA, but let's just get the basics in place first and then work from there eh?

If you are hungry for more detail you could always download the Diabetes UK "Reporting on Diabetes: A Guide for Journalists"

Diabetes Week - Artificial Pancreas Project

It's Diabetes Week in the UK this week and after my rather forlorn post about the apparent disappearance of C8 medisensors non-invasive CGM last week I was pleased to read this little update on the Artificial Pancreas Project (APP) from Diabetes UK today.

It's still reasonably early days, and to my mind we are still quite a way off a 'real' management solution, but step by step people are cautiously being allowed to hand over the reins overnight to an automated system in their own home rather than under strict lab conditions with technicians standing by the bedside clutching Lucozade and NovoPens.

For those of you who have *no* idea what I am going on about, the Artificial Pancreas Project is seeking to 'close the loop' between two clever bits of diabetes kit. A Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM) that can measure glucose levels and an insulin pump that can provide varying doses of insulin. In fact most people who happen to see my pump tend to assume that we are there already, and assume that a pump will just somehow 'know' how much insulin is needed and provide it automatically. Sadly it's not quite that easy, and while an insulin pump is a brilliant therapy option it does still require a fair amount of effort, guesswork and to be honest more than a little luck in balancing all of the hundreds of variables involved in day-to-day BG tomfoolery.

Part of the problem with the APP of course is that the technologies involved are improving, but still rather less than perfect. Continuous Glucose Monitors make an estimate of blood glucose levels based on glucose concentration in interstitial fluid (the stuff sloshing around between cells in tissue). This tends to lag a bit behind actual BG values, and those lucky enough to have access to CGM will know that what you are really getting is 'trend' information rather than the accuracy* of blood-based fingersticks. CGM manuals/marketing are usually pretty clear that any doses/corrections made should be done after confirming results with a fingerstick test. But the closed loop system needs to use this very same stream of trend information in order to make dosing decisions.

Currently the human trials of the APP are showing relatively promising results for looking after things overnight. To know that you had a smart system carefully tweaking your levels while you slumbered would be fantastic, but of course a full Artificial Pancreas would have to go much further and tackle the thorny issue of mealtimes. Personally I think we are a looooong way off that. For one thing current 'rapid' analogue insulins are hopelessly inadequate for the task. They take far too long to get going (1 hour for corrections to start taking effect anyone?) and act over far too long a time period to give a bunch of electronics, however smart, the ability to take over entirely.

What I would hope for instead is a commercially viable 'smart pump' which combines much of the effort and user knowledge/experience that currently goes into effective pump use, but with automated AP trickery to take the edges off the errors and irritations of daily pancreas impersonation. A system whereby you would bolus for meals, set TBRs for activity and generally do the basics, but the pump would be constantly monitoring how things were going and have the ability to tweak things and make corrections to keep things on a more even keel.

Now that really would be something.




* It should be noted, of course, that fingerstick BG tests in themselves are not particularly accurate and only really serve as a general guide as to what is going on.

That 'biohub' thinghy...

I don't think this caused quite such a stir over here as it did with people living with type 1 diabetes in the states, but if you'd like to know a bit more about the spongey thing that might make insulin on demand in realtime and the hoo hah it caused you should probably read this post:

http://typicaltype1.com/2013/03/11/the-biohub-brouhaha-of-2013-an-animated-retrospective/

It will make you smile.

5-10 years eh? Sounds quite familiar.

The Einstein Principle

Pick your cliché...

"I had it coming"... "Pride comes before a fall"... "Sod's Law"... "I brought it on myself"...

So hands up who thinks they know what has happened just as I posted something about how well things have been going recently. Right. So that's pretty everyone with diabetes reading this, every parent of a child with D, or anyone who lives with someone 'pancreatically challenged' then. Thought so. OK you can put your hands down now. Don't want your arms getting tired.

Yup. As you would all expect, immediately after I allowed myself a little glimmer of diabetic self-satisfaction the other day, things have well and truly gone 'off the rails'. In no small part self inflicted (a family birthday celebration with not quite enough self-control on my part). Partly stupidity - I forgot to press the final 'confirm' to administer a lunchtime bolus, cue stratospheric BG mid afternoon. A suspected big fat tubing bubble overnight (I know!). And also partly a little basal-tweaking needed as my half marathon training has started to kick in. What was looking to be a pretty decent set of figures for the month are suddenly looking decidedly ropey.

It's like that moment when [insert the name of your favourite sports star or team here] has put in all the hard work throughout the [season/game] and looks on course for glorious victory only to throw it all away with an errant putt on the 18th green, a missed double 16, by spinning out on the corner, conceding a sloppy goal in the 89th minute, or double-faulting the set away with a catastrophic loss of concentration.

It hasn't helped that I had a letter today from the fine folks at the mobile eye screening service today to say that they had spotted some 'background changes' in my eyes again. They said that once before a few years back, but I have to confess I far prefer the letters since then where they had been saying, "Nope, nothing to see here matey". No treatment needed, just another 12 month check. But not ideal news in a week where on-target readings have been a bit thin on the ground.

And of course (crassly stupid mistakes aside) those days when the wind is behind me and my pancreas-impersonating-guesses all come together with effortless perfection rarely 'feel' that different to the days when every reading seems determined to skip over that ever-so narrow target range that we all try to aim for. Days when meter and pump are constantly warbling warnings of imminent doom for being too high or too low. This is particularly the case when, like now, my basal profile needs a little tweaking. Tried and tested approaches, ratios and meal choices lose all reliability. Corrections and doses either seem to disappear entirely or hit home like a sledgehammer. And all the time I'm trying to just do the 'normal' things that I know work.

Albert Einstein is often quoted as having said that:

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Well I don't know about insanity, but that's a pretty darned good description of living with type 1 diabetes.