No More Bridget Jones
Cigarettes smoked: 0
Alcohol consumed: 0 units
Blood Sugar: 10.6
Really, if it had been Daphne’s Diabetic Diary instead of Bridget Jones’s they would never have made the film.
There was always a similar list of the day’s booze and fags at the top of Bridget Jones’s Diary when it was in the paper: the list somehow put me off the whole column and I never really liked it. There was something about reading about the fictional smoking and drinking of a fictional character that didn’t seem right.
But the above exciting list is mine. No cigarettes because I’ve never smoked any, ever. Which has, I may point out self-righteously, saved me a fortune! Hurrah! Where is the fortune, then? - - er, dunno.
No alcohol because I can’t drink alcohol whilst taking these Metformin tablets. These tablets, as you may remember if you read my post Not So Sweet a few days ago, are the ones to help lower my blood sugar, which should be between five and seven, and isn’t. (“Between Five and Seven What?” asks Emily, but this is one of the great mysteries of medical science and they don’t tell me. Hedgehogs per calendar month, for all I know.)
The tablets make me feel sick, so I stopped taking them for a bit and felt great, but my blood sugar was fifteen (VERY BAD INDEED). So I started taking one tablet per day, and now just feel sick for an enjoyable couple of hours, around teatime, which makes cooking rather difficult.
But my blood sugar’s still too high, hovering round nine or ten. Or eleven. Okay, it was fourteen at some point yesterday. Pah. So, as instructed at my last visit, I tried to book another appointment at the doctor’s.
The phone was continuously engaged so finally I set off and walked there – it’s about a mile and a half each way, so at least I got my Healthy Exercise. I booked an appointment for next Monday, by which time I’ll be so sweet you could make me into a gateau.
Alcohol consumed: 0 units
Blood Sugar: 10.6
Really, if it had been Daphne’s Diabetic Diary instead of Bridget Jones’s they would never have made the film.
There was always a similar list of the day’s booze and fags at the top of Bridget Jones’s Diary when it was in the paper: the list somehow put me off the whole column and I never really liked it. There was something about reading about the fictional smoking and drinking of a fictional character that didn’t seem right.
But the above exciting list is mine. No cigarettes because I’ve never smoked any, ever. Which has, I may point out self-righteously, saved me a fortune! Hurrah! Where is the fortune, then? - - er, dunno.
No alcohol because I can’t drink alcohol whilst taking these Metformin tablets. These tablets, as you may remember if you read my post Not So Sweet a few days ago, are the ones to help lower my blood sugar, which should be between five and seven, and isn’t. (“Between Five and Seven What?” asks Emily, but this is one of the great mysteries of medical science and they don’t tell me. Hedgehogs per calendar month, for all I know.)
The tablets make me feel sick, so I stopped taking them for a bit and felt great, but my blood sugar was fifteen (VERY BAD INDEED). So I started taking one tablet per day, and now just feel sick for an enjoyable couple of hours, around teatime, which makes cooking rather difficult.
But my blood sugar’s still too high, hovering round nine or ten. Or eleven. Okay, it was fourteen at some point yesterday. Pah. So, as instructed at my last visit, I tried to book another appointment at the doctor’s.
The phone was continuously engaged so finally I set off and walked there – it’s about a mile and a half each way, so at least I got my Healthy Exercise. I booked an appointment for next Monday, by which time I’ll be so sweet you could make me into a gateau.
posted by Daphne at 9:03 pm
1 Comments:
You could try Cinnamon much nicer then metformin.
Visit the link below for details of the clinical study.
http://tinyurl.com/55vm7
col
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