This week I was a sore non-loser at my weekly Slimming World meeting. My husband lost 5lbs, last week I lost 3lbs and this week I “maintained”, as it was diplomatically stated.

I didn’t take the news well. I was seething. I Maintained?? I who plan and cook the meals we have after painstakingly researching and thinking of our dietary needs? Although there was good reason as to why I maintained this week I still am sulking about it.

I walked back from the Slimming World meeting last week and I was on track until Wednesday, when I had my psychologist appointment. Without going into stuff that I only bore the psychologist with, I am dealing with some uncomfortable issues in therapy at the moment. I suppose I should have expected and prepared for a physical reaction to the week’s session but I underestimated the way it was going to affect me.

After the session I felt tired, just worn out, I wanted to curl up in bed and not think about anything. I ate a minimal dinner, as my appetite was decreased, took my insulin and went to bed. At 2:30 am I felt increasingly warm and bizarre, I suppose is as good a word as any. Fortunately my mind jumped to the right conclusion and I woke up my bewildered husband and informed him calmly that I was having a hypoglycaemic moment. As men in my experience often do, he looked at me blankly and asked me what to do.

“Check my blood sugar! Get something sugary!” I knew as I shouted the words impatiently that he would not really know how to check my blood sugar, as despite going to the training session describing how to use my new glucose machine, there was only a snowball’s chance in hell of him remembering the finer points. He didn’t disappoint. He switched the machine on, pressed something he shouldn’t have and the machine didn’t recognise the strip he inserted.

I took the machine from him and sent him downstairs to find adequate glucose-laden substance to push my glucose back up to an acceptable level. My blood glucose was 2.5! I was presented with a box of unhelpfully unopened Cadbury’s Chocolate Fingers. The look on my face propelled my husband to hastily open the packet and give me a biscuit. After 3 chocolate fingers my blood glucose still read 2.5. I felt frustrated and frightened if I’m being honest. After eating most of the box of the chocolate fingers I finally got into range at 5.4.

I was disgusted and relieved at the same time. Not two emotions that go together in any good situation. I knew weigh in on Saturday was done for and I felt extraordinarily low from my psych session, my hypo, my diet sabotage, my clueless husband and from life in general.

The next day, although I stuck to my Slimming World eating plan, I was physically more sedentary than usual. I just didn’t want to move. My back which aches from endometriosis pain was really hurting and I just felt deflated. I cancelled my trip to see my father as I felt nauseated on top of everything else.

At midday I developed a fever of 37.7, I was sniffly, achy and had definite evidence of a tummy bug. I grasp the concept of psychosomatic symptoms but could I really manifest a fever because I was mentally suffering from distress? Being analytic about my symptoms didn’t lift my spirits and I remained in bed for Thursday and Friday.

I was determined not to throw the baby out with the bath water on Saturday and went to our Slimming World meeting, where surprise, surprise I “maintained”. I’m glad I stayed for the meeting and discussed my “maintenance”. I felt being open and honest about the hypo and lack of spirit for a couple of days helped me accept it was a detour in my journey. We have Lucozade for future hypos and I will endeavour to check glucose levels more closely and eat better in the evenings.

I also have to be both vigilant and accepting of the fact that if the mind is at unease, at the level I suffer with anxiety, it will have a knock on effect physically. I have to expect and counteract the collateral damage that may result from dealing with painful emotional issues. I have a physical plan of action which I hope to implement pre-emptively for my next session with the psychologist but more importantly I need to speak about distress when I feel it, so my husband is aware that I am not my usual cheerful self, as powers of observation may fail like the electrics in a Renault…

After the meeting, we completed our food shopping and I remained on track with wholemeal pasta and Quorn mince. I didn’t eat out of feeling despondent and I really need to start filling in my FIT goals for next week. 5 minutes a day of cardiovascular exercise is the place to start my commitment to move more. Watch this space…