I suppose I'd better tell you about this sugar thing. I'm
one of those one-in-a-million people whose pancreas has given up on them. Not
that I blame him. I've been through everything just as much as he has and I know
what it's like. In fact, I've decided to bestow a name
on him. From now on he's Peter Pancreas and I hope he likes the name just as much
as I used to enjoy his produce. It's where he's left me
that's the question. Without Peter I cannot get sugar out
of my system on my own. It's like getting drunk and being unable to sober up.
And if you carry on drinking (or in my case, eating chocolate bars) you will die. But
as Peter has a snooze down there (somewhere near the kidneys) I have news for
him. I might not like the idea of genetically modified
foodstuffs, but I tell you what, I'm thrilled that they've discovered how to do
something similar to Peter's previous past-time, making insulin. Apparently they
can now make as much as they want of the stuff. It's the
clear liquid with the consistency of frozen vodka that burns out the sugar from
the blood and makes you well again. You get it from the
pharmacy already loaded into a pen-like object and for a time it makes you feel
like you're James Bond. One of my wives was diabetic and
her insulin used to come from pigs. I don't mean anything by that, it's just that's
all they had. Perhaps they were poor. Anyway my insulin
container proudly states it contains "human insulin." Off-hand,
I can't think of anything else you can buy that says it's human. This
doodling reminds me of a friend of mine who was a reporter in Beirut where a rabid
dog bit him as he waited in a dusty back street to interview Gungirl Leyla Khaled. He
went to a doctor who gave him this careful advice: "If I was you,"
he said, "I'd get on the first plane to Heathrow. Wait for three hours
and then summon the stewardess. Tell her you don't feel well and ask if it could
have anything to do with the dog that was foaming at the mouth and spinning round
in circles before it bit you." My friend did this
and the pilot radioed ahead so that the vaccine was waiting for him having been
brought to the airport by an ambulance escorted by two police cars. Come to think
of it, that's a useful bit of advice should you ever find yourself in similar
circumstances! My friend read what it said on the box as
he lay in a hospital bed having great big injections right into his stomach and
it said: "Rabbit brains." Anyway it worked,
though he had to go through agony with his stomach swelling to bursting point
for a fortnight as though he'd drunk a gallon Guinness. And
so back to the sugar. The problem is that it's not as easy as you think to find
food and drink without it these days and Guinness is only the start, by the way. Other
things with carbohydrates in them are broken down into sugar after you've eaten
them. And that needs insulin as well, in order that we can get some energy. When
you inject the insulin, you have to eat only as much as it can deal with, but
you must eat enough to balance everything out. It's no good ordering a meal and
then saying you don't like it and eating nothing. In fact, it's perfect for someone
who doesn't drink and fall asleep headfirst in the soup. Peter,
I hope you enjoy your retirement and hope it's a long and happy one.
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