I'm trying to search for an earlier blog that I'd done about my diagnosis of diabetes in the 60's - but coming up with nadda in my search (using the wrong key words obviously) - so if I'm repeating myself here - sorry - blame it on a menopausal moment ....
I made friends with a gal who was diagnosed about the same time as I was – in the 60’s with Type 1 diabetes. We were comparing notes – and I remembered a few little details about how it was for me before I was diagnosed.
Memories of my Mum cooking up liver – not calf's liver like my parents ate. We kids ate the beef liver which was cheaper – which I found out much later in life really isn’t meant for human consumption unless you prepare it correctly - e.g. soak in milk. My meat looked like it could bounce like a rubber ball across the kitchen floor. They thought I had low iron due to being tired all the time. Whether this was a recommendation from our family physician – I have no idea. All I know, liver and HUGE grey iron pills (that I could not chew – they were too huge for my tiny kiddie throat). Gross. Gross. Gross.
Just the smell of it. Gross. Gross. Gross. Really GROSS!!
This grey piece of something on my plate. I can’t remember if my Mum fried up onions with it, but as claimed later on when I moved out … she didn’t really enjoy being a domestic engineer aka DE. I would have to eat it all before I could leave the table. I remember a few times crying at the table (memories of A Christmas Story - oink, oink oink), as everyone left. I had to eat it all. Chew. Chew. Swallow. Ugh. I can’t remember if it was after that I had to take the iron pill meant for a horse –my reward after consuming this …. a humbug or candy (my parents are British – they like they’re sweets).
I was hungry. ALL THE TIME. Due to my parent’s upbringing in the war time. We had enough food in the house to suffice until the next weeks shopping excursion. Not like today, where you run out of something, and you go off to the store to get more. My Mum had a budget. Plain and simple … meanwhile … I’m starving away – looking like the cat with huge eyes picture that I had hanging on my wall. I WAS HUNGRY!!!
I actually one time, nipped off to my BFF’s house a few houses down the street. Either I knew they were away or I just chanced it. I lucked in that no one was home, went through the back door, clambered up on the kitchen counter (trust me – even when you’re short – when you want something – NOTHING STOPS YOU – heaven was behind one of the cupboards I found … either cookies or something else.
All I knew, I felt VERY guilty having done that. I’d stolen food from good people. A church going little girl had done something that God would disapprove of – but my appetite was sated until the next meal came along my way.
OMG, Bed wetting (drinking of fluids was strictly enforced - I was so thirsty all the time - I'd even take a wee outside of home - in order to not get told off for drinking too much - sigh). Again – my Mum was not into DE – to be dragged out of her beauty sleep to deal with pee stained sheets. Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant time for my Mum dealing with me.
In the end – obviously something went ding in either my Mum’s brain or the GP – that I wasn’t being bad on purpose … and that’s when I was introduced to my first love … insulin ... x o x o ... and life has never looked better!
The adventure continues ......