the slump

The slump My doctor, like many medics, knows little concerning diabetes, but she does her share of guessing and gives advice according to her assumption Cheer up, she says, you look sad. Depression is a part of the illness, walking on a treadmill of illusion to stave off a coma that hangs onto the sick like an ill-fitting cape, a heroic actor will not be seen dead wearing Beans! She says triumphantly is good for diabetes with meat and veg, pauses, and suggests walking is good Diabetic ice cream, she says, must be good on a hot day it is full of artificial sugar, I say. No, I'm not about to help her I know what she likes, should I invite her to a classy restaurant, it must be posh as she goes to her hairdresser twice weekly Do you still smoke? No, but it makes no difference Tobacco, has nothing to do with diabetes She grabs her pad and writes out some tablets to be taken twice a week and come back in six months. Looks out of the window and asks herself if you are still alive! She knows I'm a mind reader.