Woke this morning very excited, a week off starting Monday and camping away from the world. I’m not into beach hols so to be away with Sue and the fury kids (dogs) was filling me with all sorts of joy.

I stretched and swung my legs out of bed.  Here starts the daily routine of first checking the feet before getting socks out;  thermal biker socks.  They seem to keep the blood pumping so anything that helps that is a plus.

Then the left……o what’s that…….That was a blister not any old blister but a blister that had bled.  Ok I admit it had been a crappy day I’d got home had dinner and collapsed into bed.  Foot check… yes it will do in the morning,.. well it was now morning and this was a problem.  I sat for what seemed like forever.

Sue came in “what’s up?” I just look at the toe “Oh” she said.  I knew our plans would have to go on hold and camping would be in our living room.

I didn’t really know what to think it’s Saturday so the NHS is shut so nothing for it,  I will dress it and go see someone Monday.

I went the cupboard and got a dressing pack, yes I keep them to hand.  As I cut open the blister the blood dripped on to the floor and mingled with the already river of tears. I don’t mind saying I cried, no amount of comfort or reassurance from Sue could console me.

I hated my left foot, I hated diabetes and I hated me. I’d ruined everything.

This wasn’t going to be a sticky plaster fix if I was ever going to see the back of this I was in for the long haul.

So here I sat big hole in big toe or great toe as the professionals call it. Well it’s not too bloody great from where I’m sitting.  So compose yourself Andy,  do what needs to be done. The professionals out there will now be winching at the thought of a T1 with a serious ulcer dressing it, but to me it’s my toe my wound so let’s get it dressed. Sounds great doesn’t it but by now I’m hysterical.  I’m sobbing so hard Sue’s given up trying to understand what I’m saying and is just holding me.  It’s hard to express the anger in words really but I was sobbing so hard it hurt.  I’d tried so hard, done so much, I turned my control around, got my control where is should be yet this bastard of a disease still bites like a rabid dog.

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