When I was 38 and working every daylight hour and more to pay a mortgage on my first house, as well as feed and educate a young family, I got ill, something I could (pardon the pun) ill afford to do.
My weight was fluctuating, almost weekly. I was always thirsty, all the time and had taken to carrying a bottle of water around with me, long before it became a fashion accessory.
So I was visiting our family doctor, not for myself, but for my four year old daughter who needed a check up and a prescription for her asthma. While I was there, I mentioned my fluctuating weight and thirstiness to the doctor and he handed me a plastic cup and a litmus strip and asked for a urine sample. “You could pee on the strip, too,” he told me.
I did as he asked and he looked at the strip and frowned. I found out later the strip tested my urine for ketogenesis, a condition that, along with the other symptoms, might indicate some liver disorder and raise alarm bells and suspicions. He asked me to wait, a moment, in the reception area, while he made a quick call. Two minutes later he asked me to go home, pack a small bag and then go to the local hospital where I would undergo some tests.
If my urine had set off alarms, his urgency raised me to DefCon One. So I asked him to explain himself and he told me, ‘I think you have diabetes and I want to make sure.” So would I be in hospital, overnight? I asked. “No,”he said, “this will take a week.”
And why the urgency, I asked, is this life threatening or something? I asked, surprised by his haste and a little bit put out by the inconvenience it might cause me. “Yes, it is,” he told me, “particularly because of your age. It is very rare of someone of your age to manifest diabetes like this. You’re not overweight, even if your weight has been fluctuating and you’re fit enough.”
Later that week, when the first test results indicated I had type 1 or insulin dependent diabetes. There is a 7 in 100,000 chance of late onslaught type 1 diabetes in adults between the ages of 30 and 50.
This was discovered after a battery of tests that included blood and more urine tests and a liver biopsy. The rest of ther week was spent in nutrition training and gym sessions where I was put through a diabetes boot camp and the message was drilled home: no sugars or fats, lots of fibre and complex carbohydrates and planty of regular exercise. They gave me an orange and a hypodermic syringe full of water so I could practice injecting. Then they taught me to inject myself.
By the end of that week in hospital, my sugar levels were back to normal and so began a life of daily self medication. And this is where it gets really weird. It took another six years for the diagnosis of my haemochromatosis and the discovery that this had caused my diabetes.
Now, it appears, my diabetes can not be classed as type 1 or type 2, but a class of diabetes that can only be associated with haemochromatosis, somewhere between the two but because of my original diagnosis, I’ve had to maintain my administration of insulin.
So why, you might ask, was it not diagnosed the first time, the haemochromatosis not noticed and diagnosed, saving me a measure of future grief? Well, haemochromatosis symptoms often don’t manifest themselves until people are in their middle years or, at least, over 40.
But you got diabetes when you were 38 and that set off alarm bells? Yes, that’s true but many tests were done, particularly a liver biopsy, that showed no abnormalities in my liver function. What wasn’t done, though, because of the liver biopsy results, was a ferritin test. These days, this has changed and anyone manifesting diabetes, over 30 years of age, will automatically be given a ferritin test.
At the time, I thought, hey’ of all the long term conditions I could develop, diabetes isn’t the worst. Apart from the incovenience of constantly testing the sugar level in your blood and injecting yourself with insulin, a properly controlled diabetic lifestyle can be quite healthy, if you eat good and exercise, regularly.
Although, sometimes, even those can be inconvenient but, well, that’s a story for another blog.