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Hell

So yeah. Last night marked the 4th time that I have 'visited' my minds interpretation of hell. I'd remembered to take my brain meds this time so it's the first time I've dreamt of it whilst being fully medicated. The usual selection of flayed humans were present. Sheer faced, black cliffs vanishing into the hazy air before being able to see their summit. All bathed in a suffocating purple light. Lovely stuff.

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Bin men: Redux

Bin men. If you're gonna be so fucking prissy about what you will and won't take away to your stinking landfill site, at least have the decency to leave the bin outside of where you took it from. Not HALF A MILE DOWN THR STREET YOU FUCKING CUNTS.

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Today I am mostly fixing vintage chairs.

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Diabetes

Saturday October 4th, 1989. I was lay upstairs watching Bob’s Full House and drifting in and out of consciousness. My mum had phoned for a GP to make a house call to see if I was okay. The doctor arrived and checked my blood sugar; the reading was off the chart and the next thing I know, I’m being rushed into hospital. The first couple of hours were spent by the doctors trying to hook me up to various drips. I was so dehydrated that they were unable to find the vein. I didn’t sleep much that first night. One drip in the back of each hand and one in each wrist very kindly saw to that. The following morning the medical team started to explain what had happened and what was wrong with me. This would continue over the next week and I started to realise that my life had probably forever changed completely. I improved quickly in hospital and was discharged as a newly diagnosed Type 1 diabetic after eight days. A day after my 9th birthday.

What is diabetes anyway?? Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune condition where for whatever reason, the body attacks insulin producing cells in the pancreas. Insulin is a hormone produced by the pancreas and is used to transport glucose around the body to where it is needed. Due to my inability to produce insulin, the amount of sugar in my blood will continue to rise to dangerous levels - eventually resulting in coma followed by death.

In order to combat this I have to inject my insulin. When I was first diagnosed, this involved an actual hypodermic needle, vials of insulin and two injections a day; one at breakfast and one before my evening meal. This is something which is no second nature to me now but as a nine year old was a pretty horrific ordeal. Everything about it was so serious. It took me around 18 months for me to pluck up the courage to finally inject myself rather than rely on my parents to manage that aspect of my illness. Along with this I had to learn about how food works on the body. Anything with carbohydrate or sugar in would raise my blood sugar. Crisps, biscuits and sweets were all a very big no no. Luckily, the management of diabetes has evolved for the better during the intervening 27 years and whilst I now inject whenever I eat (a nightmare for most people, but what’s another injection for me at the end of the day?) I now have a lot more freedom in what I can eat as I adjust my dose of insulin based on how much food I’ve eaten. There has also been huge improvements, in my opinion, in diabetes specialists being far more aware of the psychological impact that living with a chronic illness can cause. Which I guess is why I’m writing this post. Having now been diabetic for 27 years I am starting to see the onset of long term problems associated with the disease. When I was younger I couldn’t be bothered with worrying about ‘long term problems’. They were long term and not happening at that exact moment. My last eye test showed that there are minor changes in my retina. High blood sugar damages the blood vessels and can lead to blindness if left unmanaged. My kidneys are starting to 'leak’ protein which is an early warning of diabetic nephropathy. A condition which can lead to kidney failure and a need for dialysis. And finally I’ve lost some of the sensation in my big toe. All the pictures I saw of these 'long term problems’, black toes and amputation are now suddenly not quite so long term. My New Years resolution was to make an actual proper concerted effort to get this disease back under proper control. The problems I’m now having aren’t reversible, but can be significantly slowed down or halted with good control of blood sugar. I have spent the last 6 weeks attempting to do this with no avail. I am now absolutely at the end of my tether with everything. The high readings mean that I am now chronically fatigued. Getting through a single day at work is an absolutely monumental effort. I suffer with clinical depression anyway, but the struggle to control everything has worn my mood lower than it has ever been. I’d ended up completely isolating myself from everything and everybody in an effort to control my diabetes. All that mattered was getting my next reading to be where I wanted it to be. As things went on I became more angry at the disease and more stubborn in my willingness to ask for or accept help from anyone other han myself. As mentioned my mental well being stooped to a new low. So low that a couple of weeks ago I was googling how much insulin you’d have to inject to kill yourself. Although I did find an answer, it wasn’t easy to come by and spending so much time 'researching’ such a thing was a pretty sobering experience. As a result I’m still here to tell the tale. I’ve had an appointment with a diabetic consultant today who was very sympathetic to what I’m going through and has referred me for an insulin pump and a refresher course on counting carbohydrates. I’m hoping both things will help. Things still aren’t perfect but having the appointment today seems to have restored some of my resolve. I feel that if I can iron out the problems that I’m having now then things will be okay afterwards. Hopefully no more thoughts of insulin suicide and diabetic comas.

I really don’t know how to end this post. I’ve just been hammering away on the keyboard in the hope that writing it down would feel cathartic. I don’t know if it’s done that so I’ll just leave the post here….

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Latest drawing.

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Bin men

These bunch of fucks have irritated me for fucking years, but last night took the biscuit. First off, I have been troubled for some time about the small fortune these idiots receive in way of remuneration. Especially when there are seemingly so many regulations regarding what they can and can't take. A situation which has been worsened by the advent of 'recycling'. Our local council recently moved to 3 weekly refuse collections; A scheme which in itself, is a joke. They provided is with a small 'caddy' in which to sling food waste, which is then supposed to be decanted into a large brown wheelie bin. A bin which the council is yet to supply, so we're having to continue disposing of rubbish in the regular way. We now have a bin in which the lid won't close and two weeks until the next collection. Despite the obvious vermin problems a situation like this could cause, they will probably refuse to empty the bin because the lid no longer shuts. This ACCENTUATES THE FUCKING PROBLEM. On top of this there are now hundreds of rules as to what can be recycled. This leads me on to my latest gripe. A couple of juice cartons had been put in the 'bottle' bin. These are apparently Tetra Pak and shouldn't go in there. This is fair enough. However, when I went to retrieve the bin last night, I did NOT expect to see the offending cartons placed on our fucking wall. This absolutely fucking incensed me. Why the FUCK are these cunts rifling through bins at the crack of dawn? Why are they allowed to litter the street because they've discovered some contraband refuse? Is it now ok to just put your litter on someone's wall? Just don't throw it on the floor? This episode did explain to me why they rock up at 6am, shouting and banging about. If they came any later, people would be about and they'd have to actually do what they're paid a kings ransom for. Take rubbish away in their stinking truck. The result of this is the cardboard being collected next week. I'm filling a box up with cat shit and let them deal with that. Fucking pricks.

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Not finished any drawings for AGES, so here's a quick one of Daryl Dixon off The Walking Dead I've just completed.

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My latest creations have had their final firings in the kiln. Pretty pleased with them. Soon to be on sale at www.elliemagpie.co.uk

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Finished pencil drawing of Yoda.

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Another one done.

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Tonight's work in progress

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Lino cut!

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Quick one before bed. Bit rough round the edges

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Finally finished. 4 odd hours of work. And to think my graphic design teacher did nothing but slag me off!

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Work in progress 2....

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Work in progress....