Hate and Love aka Sir, the dog ate my homework

Oh, no, no, no!
Blogger was down and in "read only" mode yesterday just as I managed to get the sprog to sleep and onto the laptop.

I am not as lively of mind as I was last year taking on this week-long challenge and am really tired this evening. Tomorrow morning is our Circle-D families with Diabetes support meeting and I need to get to Castle Park by ten so I am going to attempt the ten things I hate and today's topic in the one post.

Hope that's OK with you guys!

I try not to think of hating diabetes but, in all honesty, I do. It's a bastard.

So, here we go:

Ten Things I Hate About You Diabetes

1) You are a thief. You stole so much from me. I was so full of hope when, against the odds, I found out I was pregnant, so late in life (well, at 39 anyway!). You stole my chance to be hopeful, to believe that doing "the right thing" by my child would be any kind of talisman against the worst that life can throw at us. You stole any chance of a carefree life for my little family.

2) You are a cheat. I hate that you have rules but you don't even pay by them yourself. Dealing with you is a full-on mixture of art and science.

3) You are a bully. You have forced me into sobbing submission many times, mostly through lack of sleep but sometimes when I allow that window in my brain to open (it is normally sealed shut) and the big picture of complications and my baby's whole life being dominated by you hits me like a wet kipper across the face.

4) You are anti-social. You make it difficult to forget anything but you at times. Whatever we are doing and wherever we go BG must be tested, insulin must be given, carbs must be counted and I must stand like a creepy carb and insulin-wielding vulture on the sidelines ready to swoop on my child at any moment.

5) You are an attention-seeking creep. I can't even finish a blog post without having to stop, save and go upstairs to test my boy's BG. Back in a mo .... just time to test Frank. 8.7, and breathe ...

6) You are sadistic. My little baby's little fingers are like leather and are totally pock-marked by all the many finger pricks every day. His bottom is covered with red dots from injections and now pump sites. This will never end. His skin will always suffer. He will endure daily pain to stay alive.

7) You make it complicated. I cannot just take my boy to the beach. Throw in a towel, shove in a drink and a sandwich and drive carefree and laughing to spend the day running around and picking sand out of our food. Oooooh, no. We have to carry so much bloody stuff: diabetes kit, extra insulin and syringes, juice boxes and various glucose tabs and snacks for possible lows, phone for emergencies etc etc etc.

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I did finish this post.

I was witty and it took me two hours.

My laptop is playing up but I went for it.

And then I lost the rest of it.

Swore in a most unladylike fashion and stomped off to bed.

At the end I did the things I love.

They were mostly you guys.

Over and over, you guys.

Also the fact that diabetes has made it abundantly clear who my friends are. Some have disappeared entirely, such as the one who regaled me with tales, loudly and just outside the library, of her wonderful sex life with her new partner whilst managing to ignore my child in the buggy and to avoid even asking after him. He had been diagnosed only six months before. Un-flipping-believable!

I should also let you all know that I am going to bow out of the rest of the Blog Week this year.

I am only managing to get Frank to bed at half nine and with Andrew away I am the only one here with the responsibility for the testing at night and all day.

I'm weary.

I need to sleep and conserve my energy for all the absolutely fascinating discussions about whales and farts that fill my days!

Forgive me.

I am still reading what everyone else is writing and will comment.

It is such an amazing and intense week and I shall leap in again next year.

Lots of love to you all.