Made one of my infrequent phone calls a couple of weeks ago to sister Reggie. She commented on how relaxed I sounded on my cycling holiday in France. Of note, she said, was the fact that I hadn't mentioned my diabetes at all. Well, I've still got it. Don't mention it much, just the rare blog. I know I should be a proud advocate of Type 1 D, but it gets on my nerves. Generally I play it down.
My diabetes has been our constant companion on this trip. Al carries juice packs on our long cycles. I've been hitting the carbs & taking more insulin during the rides; something I'm experimenting with as per Ginger Vieira's book. I've actually managed my blood glucose really well this way. We stop cycling after an hour. I check my bg., have some insulin, eat a croissant!! Lol. I'm in France. Have also had 'pain chocolat' - more or less a chocolate filled croissant-ish treat. I bolus for roughly half the carbs & 'roule' on. That's ride on. Bgs have almost invariably been normal & I don't think I've gained that much weight. If I have it's more likely due to fromage, pate and grands vins blancs sec.
So why am I going on about D now? Because I've got high bg that I'm constantly bolusing down, my throat hurts, nose & eyes are streaming. Yes I've got a cold. And I'm pissed off at getting it & I know exactly who gave it to me. I didn't get away quickly enough.
Al & I took refuge from the rain in the medieval town of Loche in a bar. Ordered our drinks. Sat down. No other customers. So far so good.
Then in came a paisley panted bespectacled American tourist with her emaciated blond friend. They ordered their drinks & got their novels out. Paisley pants sat with her back to me at the next table. As she settled to her book I heard her gurgling the mucous back in her nose, followed by some soggy tissued wet nose blowing. Sneezing.
'Oh-oh,' I said to Al. 'She's at the droplet infection stage!'
'Why do you always think you're going to get it?'
'I always do. Come on, let's go.' I knocked back 100ml of wine in one gulp & we wandered off to find somewhere less toxic to eat. (Btw we had crepes & they were disgusting clot cold abominations with which we toyed. The maitre d was all effusive & wanted to know if we'd enjoyed them. 'Pas mal - not bad,' I lied.)
Anyway I'm still cross with selfish snotty paisley pants. She should have read her book in her room rather than spreading her germs. Just in case there was someone around with a chronic illness who's now going to struggle with the complications of this cold & have to do extra blood tests all night, & for the next few days, to keep her bg under control in a bid to shorten the duration of the cold & avoid subsequent chest infection. Grrhhh!
I wrote a little note in French for the pharmacist & Al cycled off into the village - St Amand-Montrond - to get me some cold & flu tabs. I've isolated
myself to avoid spreading it. Wish frickin' paisley pants had done the same.