I couldn’t see people’s facial expressions; they’d melted into ghostly apparitions (Picture: Gary Ryan)
Reaching for my phone when the alarm went off, I squinted to read the blurry screen.
I’d been having issues with my eyes for the past few days, resulting in having to hold food packets up to the light to decipher cooking instructions like a bartender trying to authenticate a banknote.
My vision had been 20/20 prior to this, so I put this change down to natural sight degradation that came from being in my late 30s. But it felt like the world had decreased its font size without telling me.
By that afternoon, everything was a haze. Venturing down staircases felt perilous as I couldn’t judge where to put my feet. I had to borrow my brother’s glasses to read anything.
Then, I couldn’t see people’s facial expressions; they’d melted into ghostly apparitions.
I’m a syringe half-full kind of person (Picture: Gary Ryan)
As the emergency GP was about to send me to the opticians to investigate, she decided to weigh me. I was less than seven stone – a three stone drop in a year.
Concerned, she tested my blood sugars, which were over 30 mmol/L – a normal fasting blood sugar is between 3.9 and 5.6 mmol/L. And 5.6 to 6.9 mmol/L is generally considered pre-diabetic.
I was rushed to hospital, and there I was diagnosed with LADA – Latent Autoimmune Diabetes in Adults. It’s sometimes referred to as Type 1.5, because it contains features of both Type 1 (where the body’s immune system has destroyed the beta cells that produce insulin) and Type 2 (where the body does not produce enough insulin or the insulin doesn’t work properly, and risk factors include, age, ethnicity, bodyweight and family history).
LADA is relatively rare among the 4.3million people in the UK living with the condition. Research has suggested that, globally, LADA merely accounts for 2 to 12% of all cases.
Honestly, I’ve found it easier just to tell people I have Type 1 diabetes.
I had an unquenchable thirst. My mouth was so dry that I felt like a camel was going to traipse out of it every time I yawned (Picture: Gary Ryan)
Not that the news was entirely a surprise. For months, I’d relentlessly battled my rotating number of GPs to obtain a diabetes test. There’s a history of it in my family – my grandfather’s leg was amputated due to Type 1.
The saga started with bleeding gums, a year before my diagnosis. The hygienist advised me to seek a diabetes test.
‘I’m never wrong!’ she portentously warned.
Still, I was assured by GPs that I was too slim and active to worry about diabetes.
Then, last November, I had an unquenchable thirst. My mouth was so dry that I felt like a camel was going to traipse out of it every time I yawned, and I couldn’t stop urinating. Add to that the intense sugar cravings – I could have inhaled Willy Wonka’s entire chocolate river in one greedy gulp and still not been sated.
It was …read more
Source:: Metro
