Good News and Bad News
This morning it was time to see my new GP. I registered with a new surgery because, to be blunt, my last one was rubbish. I’d put up with 3 years of having to ring after 10am to order prescriptions, then the phone being engaged until 12 noon. I would spend my mornings at work, in work’s time, ringing them again and again just to order the drugs I need to manage my diabetes.
I’d had a letter to arrange a “routine appointment” with my new GP. So I did. This morning I turned up, checked in via the fancy little touchscreen in reception and waited for less than 5 minutes before he called me in.
Up to this morning, I’d only ever been told what I was doing wrong by health professionals. Sometimes a nodding approval of what I try to do, but usually just reminding me what I don’t do perfectly. This morning was different though.
My HbA1C has been 7.6 the last 2 times it’s been measured. I thought this was just about acceptable, but Dr. Parton said “That’s very good for a Type 1 diabetic”. Cool! I think this is one of the problems with diabetes: everyone assumes that Type 1 diabetes (insulin-dependant) is as easy to manage and should have the same parameters as Type 2 diabetes (non-insulin dependant, usually in middle-aged or older folks).
My blood cholesterol is als pretty low. The good Doctor asked how I was doing with the statins. I replied “I’m not on statins”. He then asked what other medication I was on besides my insulin. “None”, I explained. “So you keep the cholesterol down without statins or anything? Brilliant.” he said. I was feeling better by the minute!
So, lots of good news. My new Doctor is efficient, understanding, an expert on diabetes and a generally good guy. Not just that though: He’s also reinforced my belief that I am doing ok with my diabetes management, by just using a few encouraging and motivating words.
Things can’t all be sunshine and roses.
A few weeks ago I took an elbow in the ribs during a Wednesday night football game. It hurt when it was done, but over the last few weeks it’s hurt steadily more and more every time I’ve played. On Wednesdays after footy and on Thursday mornings, it’s been creasing me. Getting out of bed is a big job. I’m only 40 for goodness’ sake.
Dr. Parton confirmed what I already knew. I can’t keep my head in the sand any longer. No more football for a few weeks, until at least 2 weeks after it stops hurting. If I don’t rest I won’t be running in the Great Manchester 10k Run, or doing the Manchester to Blackpool bike ride this year. Both of those are in my plans for 2010 and I’m using them to help raise money for the hospice where my Mum was so well looked after, so football will have to take a back seat until I’m properly better.
Keeping fit is a must, so I’m going to ride the bike when I can but no bouncing around off-road for a while. If the ribs are ok after a week or two, I’ll get back on the treadmill too and try to complete an 8 or 9-week training plan before the 10k run. I won’t be running all the way, but I will be completing it and joining my colleagues (and anyone else who fancies joining us) in the Moon Under Water on Deansgate for a pint afterwards!
If you can join us there on May 16th, tell me I sent you!