The following morning I'm rudely awakened by the all too familiar sensation of my heart racing, my body tingling and hands trembling. This is what we diabetics commonly refer to as a 'hypo' which is when our blood sugar drops too low.
Forced to leave the comfort of my narrow, but warm, bed, I heave myself up and head for the kitchen. In search of something to eat in order to remedy the problem.
Opening a cupboard, I quickly grab the first thing that comes to hand, which in this instance is an unopened packet of Jammie Dodgers.
I've no sooner sat down at the kitchen table when the door opens and my father; dressed in his well-worn, navy towelling dressing gown, comes trundling in.
"You're up early." He points out rather needlessly.
"I'm going back to bed now." I tell him, between mouth
