Keep off the grass!

I've just added the fecking Egyptians to the list of people I fecking hate.  Why?  

First of all, I am happy to tell you that I am back into wearing cycling apparel which I can after many many years again buy from other than 'dare you wear' shops and tent manufacturers. 

Back in April I had my annual diabetic blood test.  Up to this point I had convinced myself, because I have been suffering from self delusions, that with all of the cycling I've been doing I needed lots of carbohydrates to fuel my hobby.  Garmin the little fecker would report at the end of a ride that I had  burnt up huge amounts of calories at about the rate of 800 kcals every 10 miles of stiff riding or so.  So I could eat whatever I wanted couldn't I?  

This had, somewhat since Christmas, got well out of hand.  I had started to rate my rides based on the number of slices of bread I could eat.  Saying to myself well that ride was a 'half loafer' or a 'crusty batons' worth if on a short one.  Even starting to calculate hill climbs in terms of crumpets (like, that hill was a 'three crumpeter') or Yorkshire Puddings (like doing that last 10 miles at that speed was a 'tray full').  You may even remember that some of the routes I ride are described in terms of other wheat based products (the 'pastry' for example).  I hum a tune, similar to 'Carolina on my mind' when I ride, except I'm only ever thinking about the bread at the end of it.

So a day, any day, might include scoffing a loaf of bread.  That'll be a full 800 gram family Hovis brown loaf then.  No point in doing things by half eh?   Everything would be turned into sandwiches.  Breakfast with toast and egg sandwiches and bacon banjos; a mid morning block of cheese and a full onion wrapped in the obligatory sliced stuff; soup with - guess what - for lunch etc.  It's amazing how fast a loaf of bread might accidentally disappear in these parts.  Followed later in the day perhaps by 2lbs of mashed potatoes for tea (that's dinner to you southern softies), of course turned into carbohydrate sandwiches; and, the obligatory infil's during the day of family sized packets of cheese and onion crisps between more of the sliced stuff.  

Oh how Audrey II would laugh and cackle aloud like a mad demented witch swirling around in her dungeon positively plastered with the chewed up gummy remains of the day.  In fact without telling me she somehow overhauled the old Greek baggage conveyor adding stronger belts and bearings and a double horsepower motor.  To say that the following day I would, without warning, have that sudden 😳 moment as she hit the conveyors 'ON' button followed by a rather frantic race to the toilet with my pants around my ankles praying that I had remembered to replace the empty cardboard tube.

Not really a surprise, in fact a miracle that I stayed stuck @20 stones and in April be told by the diabetic nurse (don't worry, she's OK, its her job title you know) that my HBA1C was back up to 80 and that I really should start to take the pills.  

But what about all of the cycling?  Surely that was helping?  Yes it was.  I guess without it by now I'd be having meals delivered 'ready to eat' style down a chute off the back of a Tesco's concrete mixer and using the Fire Brigade to get me in and out of bed.  OK.  I capitulated.  Metformin was prescribed.  

I'd only been taking them for 8 days before the Inverness to Glasgow bike ride in May and hell, the leg pains and cramps, both side effects, almost crippled me!  Those feckers went straight in the bin.  I go back with a pet lip and sullen eyes and tell the nurse what they did to me.  So an alternative was prescribed with a warning that I must drink plenty of water as their side effect is kidney damage if I don't.  Aw feck!

I decide there had to be another way.  My brother, similarly being Type 2, had been prescribed a blood glucose monitor post an urgent hospital visit to help him manage his blood sugars.  So I decided to do similar.  I bought a tiny machine which I think is manufactured by the same companies that produce inkjet cartridges for the PC going by the price of the replacements.  Unsurprisingly, my blood glucose was between 11 and 12 first thing in a morning (the normal range being 4 to 7),

So it begins.  Bread - gone.  Potatoes - gone.  Rice - gone.  Pasta - gone.  Waaaauugghhh!  I start to eat lean meats (chicken and fish) and absolutely shitloads of vegetables supplemented with a bit more than normal of the dairy stuff such as eggs and cheese and butter.  But also cook moreso with good oils such as the extra virgin stuff - which they have never ever heard of in Riccall apparently.  But rape seed oil is well known to the Riccall dog walkers, and is available from the local UBER drivers; who are also referred to as Mr Diddy's taxis going by the volume of it in their car boots.  And no, it's not used for cooking...  Yes, I said cooking dear boy...

I am a pin cushion.  Monday - ouch!  The reading was 12.  Tuesday - ooh!  11.  Wednesday - help! mum!  10.5.  Thursday - getting used to it....  9.9.  Friday.  Up again to 10.5!  (bad boy - caught myself out, good if you can do it, post last nights secretive cold turkey sandwich).  Saturday. 9.5 etc.  

Over the next 2 weeks I successfully weened myself off the carbohydrates and watched closely as the morning blood glucose level started to come down.  Slowly.  Gently.  But yes it was improving with each passing week.  

Now the good news is, and it was my error in the first place, that I DO NOT need to eat a lot of carbohydrates to get the energy needed to ride my bike.  No.  I need fats!  Turns out for tour cycling, which technically is classed as Zone 2 riding, the body predominantly uses fats for energy.  I can vouch for this as at no time over this summer have I been short of energy when riding my bike on this low carb diet.  Which has on a number of occasions been up to 90 miles and 3000ft of climbing per day!  

I start to experiment.  Eat a little bread and overnight - zoom!  Up she goes.  I've totally kept off the rice and pasta but pleased to see that a little potato does not have a big impact on my blood sugar.  Sigh.  Good.  There is a God after all!

Now the neighbours have noticed and they've been chatting in the street.  Look at Wayne they say to each other, hasn't he lost weight?  And in fact some have complimented me on the fact.  That was nice.  

Now I don't have a set of scales at home as I could not find any in the shops that went high enough.  I didn't want to get some of those internet connected ones as I'm sure that all I'd get is a shocked Siri shouting 'gerrof you fat bastard!' out of the TV speakers downstairs.  Nonetheless, I was starting to cut new holes in my leather belts.  Trousers that once were a rather breathy fit now needed hoops installing in their waist bands and a set of jaunty braces attached to hold them up (carnie music just wafted between my ears whilst writing this...)

So some good stuff to note so far.

• I've taken at least 4 inches off my waist.
• I'm down into 2XL T-shirts courtesy of TESCOs dare you wear clothing dept.
  
• I feel like I'm slopping about inside my other old clothes.  
• That cut on my thumb that never really healed has now gone.
• That hard skin come scar tissue on my right leg which regularly broke open has almost gone.
• Fingernails are no longer as soft as they once were.
• Nasty intermittent spots on the top of my head are no more so I'm back on the shower gel.
• That annoying jock itch what had me scratching my nads, with my hands down my pants more often than Brad ever might, has gone.
• No more sleep paralysis which was brought on if I ever ate any brassicas (I often found the elastic and the wire supports a bit chewey...)
• I can safely eat cabbage, cauliflower, spinach and broccoli again which if ever eaten before would guarantee a sleep paralysis event that night.
• The pain in my right hip which has niggled me for the last 2 years has disappeared.
• Ive been able to wear my old wardrobe items which includes a pair of tight C&A shorts (oompf!) and bell bottom trousers (LOL!).

And finally I think back to the day on the 2022 JOGLE ride where we all laughed at how both Mark and David could fit comfortably into my cycling jacket at the same time.  That shouldn't have been funny.  Perhaps a warning of days to come if I didn't sort myself out.  

At the last blood test my HBA1C was back down to 47.  Hooray!  I'm a bit faster on the bike.  I've more to say about that later.  I have some muscle definition returning although I don't ever expect to find a 6 pack anywhere other than in my refrigerator.  

Sugar in our diets is bad.  Complex carbs in wheat based stuff which for me was the source of the sugars and glucose in my blood are VERY BAD.

Now beung a Yorkshireman I don't like spending money.  I'm upset about the price of the test strips for the glucose monitor.  So I raise a request for a call with the drug pusher who rung me last week.  

Well Wayne, she says, isn't your blood looking good!  😊👏

I told her what I'd done and that she could cancel the repeat prescription for the kidney damaging pills.  She agreed albeit with a bit of a let's wait and see tone in her smiling voice in that I think she has no belief that I will keep to a low carb diet.  Now there is something about us Tyssens.  If we are determined to do something - we will do it.  

I say, can you please prescribe for me a blood glucose monitor and a regular supply of test strips so that I can manage my blood sugar please.  Oooh no, she says.  I can't do that!  

Yes you bloody can!  But Mr Tyssen, only if you are on a medication such as Insulin or Gliclazide can we prescribe the test strips says the drug pusher.  I could give you a blood glucose monitor right now she says but its pretty damn useless without them!

Have you heard yourself, I snort.  You're telling me that the computer says NO are you?  That some bloody square headed German SS come NHS pharmaceutical rep drug pushing consultant who used to work on TESCOs dispensing chemist customer service team has produced a diabetic flow chart which hits a dead end for me does it?  Even though it is the least cost option for the NHS (90 quid per month for the kidney killing tablets vs 10 quid for the test strips).  AND that as a result I am less likely to need any NHS services because of poor circulation problems that will potentially damage my repaired retinas or cause leg and foot ulcers including nerve damage that may result ultimately in the need for amputations, heart surgery or may even result in blindness as I get older?!  Do you hear what you are saying to me?!?!

Well I did lay it on a bit.  Firm yet polite and yes of course I know that she can only follow the rules however ridiculous they may be.  But at least she offered to raise the issue with the head drug pusher, a Doctor who should not have been given a rattle as a child, and would let me know what he says.

I've won!  I've beaten the NHS!  She rang me back this week and told me that yes he has agreed to prescribe the blood glucose monitor and the monthly supply of test strips!  Singularly, getting a blood glucose monitor has been one of the best decisions ever of late for managing my health. 

So why do I hate the Egyptians?  They're the damn fecking farmers who were the first to domesticate wild grasses in the fertile crescent so that they could feed their enslaved masses some 10,000 years ago.  Grass that today is the wheat that makes our daily bread, and pastry, and Yorkshire puddings, and all the bloody stuff that I love to eat.  Yes, I know human beings are omnivores but our diet for many millennia before this was a mix of meat and fish and root stuff not unlike the carrots and potatoes we still eat today; and the other stuff that grew just under the ground or in the trees.  

It never ever included grass!  

Chew for now.