The unexpected diagnosis

Two years ago, after numerous tests trying to explain why so often I felt achey and generally under the weather, I was diagnosed as having a hereditary resistance to insulin. It was not what I expected, I was a healthy, slim, active woman with a teenage son and a full time career - the triggers of diabetes, such as being over weight, eating too much junk food, general inactivity - really didn't describe me or my lifestyle. But sometimes your genes just let you down.

So suddenly I was dealing with something incurable, and something that could potentially lead to diabetes and heart problems if not controlled. Quite a lot to take in when I had suspected that the feeling of being run down was probably only due to stress. Mind you, I had been lucky - my GP had persisted in trying to find the root cause when most GPs would have agreed with my diagnosis of stress.

And how to deal with it. No pills or medication, just diet and activity. More specifically, a low GI diet and pulse raising  activity at least 3 times a week. Sounded simple - low GI was something I had vaguely heard of so surely it must be easy to follow some "rules", read a few books, look at the GI labels on food and everything would be straightforward. How wrong I was! No food labels exist for the GI levels of food, partly because the GI level depends on the concentration of sugars and the mix of food in the meal you are eating - this means that the glycaemic load (GL) is a more important measurement than the glycaemic index (GI), and this is much more variable. All I know is that I had always considered myself an intelligent woman until I stood in the aisles of a supermarket on my first lunch break after diagnosis completely at a loss as to what I could eat.

Two years on I am still confused, but I have some guidelines by which I now eat and cook, and in general these seem to work. I survived the first 3 months of cold turkey, removing sugar completely from my diet, and now try to maintain a sensible approach to food without living a life of complete denial.

So here I am writing about my experience, maybe to share or maybe as a form of therapy. It is entirely possible that no-one else will ever read this, but if that proves to be the case then I will be grateful for having had a chance to record some of my experiences as I have tried to come to terms with how best to cope with this condition.