Like Children in the Fog: Our First Weeks with T1D

When it all began, I was paralyzed. We had no plan, no strategy—only fear. Pure, almost physical fear. It mixed with responsibility, with love, and that aching helplessness that only a parent truly understands.

Simon had just turned sixteen. Two days after his birthday, we were in the hospital. The diagnosis: Type 1 Diabetes. A silent enemy that had been lurking beneath the surface. It started subtly—fatigue, sleepiness, sudden weight loss. My thoughts raced: stress? puberty? something worse? Drugs even crossed my mind—but his eyes were clear. There was nothing to suggest that.

Then I reached for the glucose meter. The result was unmistakable: “Hi.” Off the charts. Ketones above 3.3. That moment split life into “before” and “after.” We rushed to the hospital. A blood glucose reading of over 54 mmol/L. The diagnosis was confirmed—Type 1 Diabetes, an autoimmune condition where the immune system attacks the insulin-producing cells of the pancreas. The only option? Daily insulin injections. For life.

No hope, they said.

But when no one offers you hope, the only option is to create it yourself.

I’m no stranger to low-carb and carnivore diets. I've been on a years-long quest to heal my own chronic tinnitus. Along the way, I’ve seen hundreds of personal testimonies—people with autoimmune conditions like MS or psoriasis whose lives changed through the carnivore diet. So the decision came from the heart: the “Lion Diet” — the purest anti-inflammatory protocol out there. Just meat, salt, and water. Nothing else.

Simon was discharged from the hospital on April 29. That same day, we started the diet. Today—42 days since diagnosis and 39 days on the Lion Diet—I see changes in him, and in myself.

It feels like I’ve become a father again. Just like when my first child was born. Everything is new. Uncertain. Every decision weighed down by fear. Except now it’s not about how to bathe a newborn. It’s about my child’s life.

And the questions keep spinning in my head—what more can I do?

Last year, I spent nearly five months in Poland after my father suffered two major strokes. His condition was grave. After three months in a rehab center, he showed little improvement. Then I discovered HBOT—Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy. I had heard of it before, but now I dove deep. It was almost miraculous. Within days, he had more energy. After two weeks, he could speak full, coherent sentences. During that research, I found studies suggesting HBOT helps with autoimmune diseases, reduces inflammation, boosts stem cell production, and promotes healing. The decision was clear. We rented a hyperbaric chamber and started sessions on April 13.

Within days, we saw fewer sugar spikes. Simon's nervous system calmed. His CGM data smoothed out, like someone had ironed out the graph. You can see the chart in this video.

Soon after, we added hydrogen inhalation (H₂). Our device finally arrived from the US. Studies suggest hydrogen therapy has strong potential for autoimmune conditions. It seemed like the perfect complement.

At the same time, we introduced vitamin C—800 mg, simply because we had that at home.

But not everything goes smoothly. Just our luck—the pollen season began, and Simon has had seasonal allergies for years. On top of that, the GCSE exams started—some of the most important in a teenager's life. Blood tests confirmed elevated glucose levels. We couldn’t pinpoint the cause, so we stopped both the hydrogen therapy and vitamin C. We kept HBOT, as it had already proven itself. After a few rainy days, things stabilized. I never thought I’d be happy about rain.

We’re learning every day. Like kids in the fog. Our first panic came when Simon took a hot shower right after leaving the hospital—his CGM graph spiked. Almost gave me a heart attack. Finger check? Normal. Turns out hot water can interfere with the CGM sensor. Next panic—nighttime hypoglycemia. But again, finger check showed normal. Likely he had rolled onto the CGM in his sleep, skewing the readings. And there's more—because of his low body fat (around 7%), the CGM often gives inaccurate results. Sometimes by over 2 mmol/L. So despite being helpful, it can cause a lot of unnecessary stress.

Since the diagnosis, I barely remember what Netflix looks like—but I know every pixel of the LibreLinkUp app. At one point, I opened it 158 times in a single day. Even now, as I write, my phone is charging beside me in developer mode so the screen doesn’t turn off. Guess what’s on it?

And CGM isn’t the only surprise. One evening our carbon monoxide alarm went off. Panic. Why upstairs? Why not in the kitchen? Turns out hydrogen can trigger CO alarms due to sensor similarities. Mystery solved.

Unfortunately, not every problem is so easily solved in the UK. But let me start with a positive surprise. I’ve seen videos of patients being attacked by doctors just for mentioning keto or carnivore diets. I was worried. Not because I doubted our approach, but because we didn’t need extra battles during such a hard time. But I was wrong. We haven’t heard a single bad word from the team. Just constant reminders about DKA—they must have asked me a hundred times if I knew what it was. I reassured them I understood the insulin-glucose-ketone balance. Of course, they aren’t trained for non-standard approaches, but our dietitian has been very supportive and offered advice. We even got referrals for basic tests (electrolytes, vitamins, etc.).

Which leads us to another UK issue—blood tests. Getting a full panel here feels like trying to get a US visa. Even if you're paying privately. For adults it’s easier, but for children under 18? Nearly impossible without a GP referral. And the GP? Guarded behind the Great Firewall of Reception. The receptionist simply refused to book us an appointment. “No medical reason.” Full stop.

Luckily, we found a clinic in Manchester that will test minors, so we’re planning to go as soon as Simon has a day off from exams.

But the challenges don’t stop. As I said—Simon is super lean. This makes it harder to produce ketones. Even though we add fat to meals (like butter), his ketone levels are usually just 0.1–0.6mmol/L. If it hits over 1.0, we celebrate. We tried ketone salts and patches, but results were poor. Most ended up in the toilet, not the bloodstream. Now we’re waiting on ketone esters—our strongest tool yet. They should arrive within the week.

Ketosis is a key part of our healing strategy. It lowers inflammation, can help repair DNA, slow apoptosis, and activate cellular rescue pathways. Exactly what we need.

Why are we doing all this?

Because no one knows. No one can say how many beta cells are still alive. How many are functional but lack the energy to produce insulin? So we're doing everything we can to reduce inflammation, stop the autoimmune attack, and create the best possible conditions for the pancreas to regenerate. Yes—regenerate. Studies show even people with long-standing T1D can still produce new beta cells. But under constant attack, they don’t survive. We want to change that—with Lion Diet, HBOT, hydrogen therapy, and ketosis.

Will it work? Time will tell.

I’m just a desperate dad, not a doctor. I’m doing everything I can to give my son the best shot at life. A life without insulin. Without constant fear. Without the long-term complications of this disease. Since the day of diagnosis, I’ve done nothing but research. And think. And plan.

That’s why we’re going public. I believe that somewhere among nearly 8 billion people, there’s someone who knows more. Someone who’s walked this path. Maybe someone who’s tried this exact protocol. Maybe someone who can help.

I believe our story will reach that person who can guide us forward and see what we might be missing..