Some notice would be appreciated, my dearly departed pancreas
So, today I have eaten… prawns (not very nice, defrosted overnight but still manky), half an avocado, some black pepper. Some lettuce, with two boiled eggs, crappy iceberg lettuce, black pepper (see the trend?), seven anchovies. And a small skinny cappuccino – calories dependent on whether you have the will to scroll down the Costa pdf, which is clearly just the one prepared for print, judging by the crop marks. Would it kill them to put a dropdown menu on the site? https://www.costa.co.uk/nutrition/Costa-ANI-data-July-2018.pdf
Oh, and I also chugged a can of Full-Fat Coke, four digestive biscuits and three dextrose tablets, because my rotted pancreas did not let me know in advance that I would be running low, so despite eating low-carb, fresh, well, mostly fresh ‘cos most of it has gone out of date, food, I have no choice but to scarf down a bunch of ‘crap’ or carbs as they are otherwise known, to get my blood levels high enough to function as a Basic Bitch. Or to drive. Or to walk the dog. Or, lordy lord, earn a living.
You see I’ve read the pamphlets. Exercise – 30 minutes in the pool this morning. Oh and then six hours of gardening. Then a dog walk. Tick! Eat low carb, watch the sodium, watch the fats. Tick!
For a cadaverous organ, Type 1 Diabetic Pancreas is quixotic. It didn’t get the memo that I was doing the exact same thing today as I did yesterday, and most of the days before that. Instead it changed the agenda at the last minute then watched as I shuffled my papers, brow sweating. I am the Cookie Monster.
Oh, and the shower is busted. Welcome to Hypolandia.
Dead Pancreas is an asshole.