When I was growing up I watched my father struggle with his diabetes. He had massive mood swings, black outs and serious physiological problems. He also had injections using a glass syringe with a massive, blunt needle. I hated it all. I had recurrent nightmares about being dependant on a drug to survive and would sleepwalk in search of it. I also couldn’t stand the sight or touch if needles. So, when they told me I needed to have 4 injections a day I said we might have a bit of a problem.
I’ve never really been very good in the morning and diabetes meant swapping my comforting breakfast of grapefruit juice (because of the stations), black coffee with sugar, and a cigarette for the chore of a blood test, injections and pill popping before I do anything else.