I'm come back from the hospital,
They've seen the back of me.
They've poked where my injections go
And analyzed my wee.
They've read through my results book
Where I write down glucose highs,
They've pinged my knees with hammers,
Shone their torches in both eyes.
They say I'm doing wonderfully,
And pat me on the head;
Now my control is tight as tight,
There's something else instead.
Now, when my sugar plummets,
I've never had much sign
To know I'm going "hypo"
Till my reading's 1.9.*
By then I'm giggling like a drunk
And talking utter tosh;
They want my warning signals back,
But that will never wash!
My insulin's reducing,
To get my bloods to rise
That's working on the theory
That it acts as a disguise
To the craziest of symptoms
When you're hypo half the time.
But for me it's just ridiculous
Right down from the sublime.
Is this thing they're trying to cure,
So I'll know I'm going hypo
When the symptoms show for sure.
I told them when I started
Back in 1984,
They had me running round the wards
And in and out the door
To show me what a hypo was,
And how it makes you feel;
In the end they had to bring me back-
My pancreas is unreal!
So watch this space, as ever;
I'll be doing as I'm told.
I'll be a model patient,
Keep my records, good as gold.
But how can you get warnings back,
Warnings you've never had?
You'd love me, when my sugar's low,
I'm twice as flipping mad!
* this reading is in in mmol/L - for American readers that converts to the shockingly low BG reading of 34.2mg/dL, at which point most "normal" diabetics are already comatose! LOL!