Smiabetic not diabetic

So I met up with the Diabetes doctor yesterday and it turns out I'm not diabetic, yet! The 4 day continuous needle in belly test showed that I largely stay within the 4-7.5 range with only the occasional spike up into the 8.5 (usually after dinner/tea in the evening) but crucially, it doesn't stay there very long. She was even suspicious about whether I'd changed my diet for the test, and I definitely hadn't...she thinks my sugars may go out of control when I have an infection, which strikes me as particularly cruel; just when you need more carbs, your body lets you down by using less of them when it goes diabetic and you lose weight, talk about a viscious circle. Anyway, for the present I am just to keep an eye on things and maybe check when I am losing weight or have an infection.

I saw this RTA on the way in to hospital, (see link below, it was just outside the hospital) I think the lorry driver just didn't see him (has since been arrested on suspicion of driving without due care and attention) and he didn't stand a chance, just horrible. Life is so precious, this is such a waste. This is why I hate riding my bike on the roads, it only takes one person in a car/truck to not see you and you could be in serious trouble.

http://menmedia.co.uk/manchestereveningnews/news/s/1465540_video-medical-student-26-died-when-he-was-hit-by-lorry-while-cycling-to-work-at-wythenshawe-hospital

I'm moving offices today; a bunch of railtrack guys are joining us so I have to move my stuff upstair with the commoners ;-) rather than having an office to myself. I don't mind really, since my workmate left it's been a bit lonely in the office by myself. Particularly with the year I've had being in an office by myself has given me a bit too much time to think, especially with losing my dad this time last year.

My word, you do look Queer !

I found an old 78 record belonging to my gran (In the olden days records would be played at 78 RPM rather than 45 RPM for singles and 33 RPM for albums) in my dad's record collection. I can't play it because I recently sold my record player, but I did find it on Youtube; it's from a set of funny monologues from the 1930s (originally performed on the radio or on stage in a vaudeville show) by Stanley Holloway and it has a particularly black sense of humour; it's hilarious ;-)

Dad's House

Maybe his back garden has been a bit neglected over the last few years. I think I'm going to have to have a go at doing it up before we can sell the house...there is also all his stuff as well, just boxes and boxes of stuff that I don't know what to do with. Books, photos, letters, computers, electronics, crockery. Normally, I'd put it in my loft and think about what to do with it later, but I don't have a loft, we got it converted so Oscar could have a bedroom! Help...

Dreams of Dad

Had another dream about Dad last night, Can't remember the details very well. He had been admitted to hospital but he hadn't died, he had recovered but not enough to go home so we were organising a day out for him I think; then the dream changed and we were on a weekend break somewhere, but I got lost and was trying to retrace my steps back to the holiday home we were all staying at. In the dream we (dad and me) had a long conversation but I can't remember what it was about, I think he was just saying wise dad-type things and I was was talking back thinking yeah, he was really wise ;-) In another dream a few weeks ago I met his spirit while walking along a beach, later on I met my Gran's spirit and I tried to get his spirit and my Gran's spirit to meet so they could talk to each other and move on. In yet another another dream a few weeks ago we were talking on the phone, he was still living in Caterham down south and I told him I loved him at the end of the phone call, think I woke up crying at the end of that dream.

Maybe this is to be expected? Obviously not having my Dad around anymore coupled with the swiftness of his passing has left me with an emptiness (subconsciously and consciously) that will take some time to figure out. I was talking to my sister about it and she said when someone close to you dies it leaves a gap in your soul and your soul has to grow and change shape. It's similar to what happens when you have children, you have to change to become more responsible when a child arrives to that you need to look after - when Abby first came home from the hospital after being born I remember I was so nervous, the in-laws brought a bottle of champagne and after a few sips I started to get little tipsy and I immediately started to panic thinking "oh no, I can't be tipsy while looking after a baby) . My sister's very cosmic, if you hadn't guessed. She's also lived and worked in Peru near Machu Pichu; I'm very jealous ;-). We're trying to sort out his estate at the moment but it's not easy, he was something of a hoarder so he's kept every single letter he received for the last ten years, not fun trying to sort through it all.

Anyway, in the conscious world ;-), it's two of our friends' 40th birthday this Saturday, it's music based fancy dress. I was originally going to go as one of the Beatles but R wanted to go as a duo so we're going as the White Stripes. Gutted, I wanted to be John Lennon for the night ;-) Ah well, at least the costumes will be easy. Think I'd better start working out as well...

Turn, Turn, Turn

The old man requested this Judy Collins cover of Pete Seeger's song be played at his funeral about a month ago. Ah, he was well into his sixties folk :-).

His funeral was last Wednesday and leading up to it I was dreading the whole thing. In fact when we parked up behind the hearse outside the chapel and the funeral directors got the coffin out I was really paniky and freaked out, but halfway through the service I felt sad but somehow serene. If he was there in spirit then I think he was telling me it was OK to move on, let him go, and not to be too sad. I'm going to miss him loads though, even though he was house bound in recent years he was still a big part of our lives.

Dad

My dad died peacefully on Tuesday 13th December, 4.30 PM. He was 65. It was only the week after his birthday and on his 65th birthday we all went round and he told us (my sister, my mum and I) how proud he was of all us and his four beautiful grandchildren; we talked about lots of things (including the Tibetan book of the dead, Greek legends and all sorts) and it's just such a shock that this would happen because he was really upbeat. We talked about what he would have for his Christmas meal. (He wanted trifle!) I'd just set him up with a new digital recording box for his birthday and he seemed really happy.

He went into hospital Saturday evening with breathing problems, when I rushed in to meet him at A&E (I'd been on a night out so had to get a train and R had stepped in to help him out and persuade him he needed an ambulance) he was struggling but he was also talking about the City game in the afternoon and how crap one of our strikers was. His breathing seemed to settle although he was on O2 he seemed to barely need it. R went to get him some clothes and turn his fire off and at about 11 I left him to get some sleep just before he was moved onto a ward. When I got home the hospital phoned and told me to come back straight away. Shortly after arriving on the ward he had had a massive aspiration into his lungs, and he just never regained consciousness. We kept hoping, but in the end he was just too weak to come back from this trauma. In a way I think it's what he would have wanted, he hated being in hospital, he didn't want to end up in a home, and he kept his independence to the end, which at times was a real battle for him.

My dad had Myotonic Dystrophy; it wasn't diagnosed until he was 50. it's a form of muscular dystrophy and it was complications from this that led to his death. He had had his ups and downs with depression in the last five years due to becoming more and more housebound as the illness began to restrict his mobility and limit his ability to eat. In fact this year I was giving him half my Scandishakes (he was on Ensures as well) to help him keep his weight up. We talked about tube feeds and neck operations but he was too old and stubborn, he didn't want anything like that.

His mind was so sharp, he was a clever guy, a funny guy and he loved life. I hope the ongoing genetic research can one day eliminate awful, horrible, unfair conditions like this.

Mum and dad got divorced when I was 18 but after it had all blown over they stayed good friends and for the last years she helped with his shopping every week and they'd have a good natter.

I'm going to miss him loads and I'm really sad but I think he'd rather we remembered the happy times and I think he enjoyed life; he had great friends, family. He had two great jobs. He was a genius at micro chips/silicon chips. With his jobs / holidays he got to travel the world, he visited every country in Europe and most states in America. he got to ride the pacific highway from LA to San Francisco. He lived in Manchester and London, in London he lived in Caterham in a lovely house near the south downs with fox cubs at the bottom of the garden.

Love you dad.

xxx