Beware the Front Row!

Recently, Mrs B was diagnosed as diabetic. Part of her "treatment" was an invitation to go to a seminar on all aspects of the illness including cause, types, dietary changes and even podiatry (I didn't know either - it's feet!).

Being the wonderful man I am, I volunteered to go with her and we accordingly arrived for what was billed as several hours of lectures but with tea/coffee breaks. Chairs were arranged in several rows and we, of course, headed straight for the back and sat waiting for this exciting event.

As I idly glanced round, I noticed that most people had eschewed the front row and I mused briefly on the reticence of people. What I didn't realise was that one should watch out for those that deliberately go to the front row. I knew this within minutes when a Front Row-er starting harping on about how some low-fat yogurts are 0.2gms higher in sugar than normal yogurts. He followed this with "I've been speaking to lots of people about diabetes". You could hear the collective sigh from the other rows as he launched into a long, rambling anecdote about how his diabetes was discovered, and there was no way he was going to take medication as he was going to fight it himself, and was drinking 11 litres of water and eating 274 bananas a day beneficial as he'd read this in a magazine?

The other Front Row-er had her daughter with her who was taking verbatim notes and asking all sorts of questions about as relevant to the rest of us as nuclear physics to an iguana so, of course, I got the giggles. The poor nurse chappie was desperately trying to move on and in the end had to just ignore them as he nattered about glucose and beta cells etc.

By this time, I was getting fidgety and spent my time doing origami with the little paper cups from the water dispenser and longing for a coffee, as promised. The nurse finished and passed us on to the dietician without any break.

This poor girl was talking to us like a bunch of 5 years olds as she explained the right types of food compared to the bad stuff. To demonstrate the bad, she showed a slide of a massive plate of fried eggs, bacon, mushrooms, fried bread etc which of course made me hungry. I had to do it: I sloped off to find some chocolate from those wonderful ladies at the WRVS kiosk in Out-Patients. I was a bit reluctant to wander back in with it but needs must and Mrs B was salivating as well. Of course, the kiosk had closed and I trailed sadly back, just in time to find Front Row-er 2 bitterly complaining that it was all too speedy and she couldn't write fast enough. Front Row-er 1 was then in earnest discussion about the merits of Tesco "I Can't Believe It's Not Melted Whale Oil" versus Asda "Utterly Crap" low-fat spread and which should he use on his Mighty Shite toast?

We had just about given up the will to live at this point and were deciding whether we could slide off and then it came to Podiatry.

Now, this intrigued me. Why should diabetes affect one's feet? However, with still no break in sight, Mrs B said words to the effect of "Well, golly gosh, I need a cigarette". We accordingly wandered out and were followed by another defiant smoker who was obviously of the rebel persuasion also.

We trooped back in once more, just in time to hear Nurse Feet thank Front Row-er 1 for his podiatological anecdote and thanked our gods that we had escaped the gory details. Front Row-er 2 had by now had a choking fit, rushed off to answer her phone and was still muttering furiously about people not talking more slowly. Well, I don't know whether Nurse Feet had a bus to catch but she regaled us with comments about how diabetes can lead to loss of feeling in feet, so don't walk around without slippers, followed by a cautionary tale about athlete's foot and dashed off.

We were left sitting there and, as if by some telepathy, we decided enough was enough and legged it. The rest of the people started getting up also - except for the Front Row-ers who remained sitting there, hoping against hope for an encore.

God forbid, but if anyone out there has the misfortune to be diagnosed as diabetic, don't go to the education session. 5 minutes on Google will be just as informative. If you do decide to go, take a hot drink or 3, a couple of magazines, I-Pod etc. and keep away from the front row. Better still, if you see anyone sitting there, tell them it's the ante-natal clinic and send them as far away as possible.