Insulin Pumps In The Wild.

You know that moment where your diabetes-related spidey sense kicks in, and you can't help but stumble all over yourself?

It could be triggered by a familiar-sounding "beep-boop-beep!" from outside of your personal bubble, a glimpse of pump tubing flapping in the breeze, or the accidental eavesdropping of a conversation not aimed at you.

But sometimes, it's seeing a purple pancreas clipped to the pocket of a Target employee as you pass by. You don't want to be "that crazy lady", so you bite your tongue and keep walking. But then, minutes later, that pump and its owner are mere steps away again, and you can't help yourself. It's like word vomit. It has to come out.

"Is that an insulin pump?", you offer cheerfully. (You know very well that it is - right down to the brand name - but you want to ease into this.)

"Yep!", she responds cautiously.

You motion to the silver pump tucked into your own pocket, as if performing some sort of secret handshake maneuver known only by those who have joined The Club No One Wants To Join. "Me too! I have a Ping." Your voice is tinged with a tad too much enthusiasm.

"Cool."

*awkward pause*

"Yeah. Well, rock on." You realize that you had no road map for conversation past this point, and with the one word replies you've accumulated, you retreat.

Cut to the checkout line, as the cashier rings up the last of your items: she's back. In your line. Standing right next to you.

You debate. You know you should just shut up, pay for your multi-pack of dry erase markers, and walk out the door. But YOU JUST CAN'T.

"So how do you do this? I mean, every time I'm here, I drop low from walking around so much. It's like you guys have inhalable insulin in here."

She politely laughs, albeit uncomfortably. "Oh? Um, I don't know. It, uh... it doesn't really happen to me that much."

You smile, say "Oh, okay", and get the heck out of there.

(And, sometimes, diabetes-related spidey sense happens while you're in a bathroom stall at the mall and can overhear the conversation at the sinks:

Friend 1: "Geez, you always take forever!"

Friend 2: "It's the insulin pump! I have to hold it in one hand and then try to do everything else with the other."

But fortunately for you, the Target experience happened first. You've learned your lesson, and zip it.)

I Don't Give A Sheet.

I dare you to not care what other people think about your diabetes.

Be fearless with me!

Diabetes On My Sleeve.

I'm new to the whole "wearing diabetes on my sleeve" thing. (And when I say "diabetes", I mean "my continuous glucose monitor". And when I say "on my sleeve", I mean "on my arm".)

Aaron and I were at a friend's post-wedding soiree (they got hitched in Vegas - photos looked beautiful! - and had a reception party at their home after they returned) on Saturday night. I was actually wearing the dress in the photo to the right there, so my Dexcom sensor was fully visible on the back of my arm.

I knew very well that it was possible - likely, even - I'd get questions about "that thing on my arm", and I felt prepared and okay with that. If any medical professional out there wants to know what being involved with a community of fellow patients does for someone with diabetes, here's one thing: because I have read the experiences of others who have worn their CGMs out in the open, I felt confident in trying it myself. I didn't really feel ashamed or skittish either - in fact, I think I might have walked a little taller with that CGM sensor out in the open air.

So there I am, plate in hand and spooning up some watermelon, when I feel something nudging my Dexcom sensor. I thought it was Aaron - maybe the tape was coming loose and he was trying to fix it? Nope. It was a lady I'd never met before in my life, with her hand on my Dexcom sensor. A lady who was old enough to be my mother - and therefore, old enough to know better, I'd think.

I had been totally thrown off of my game. Questions? They are totally are welcome, and I was prepared for those. Touching? Totally a WTF moment.

"Um, hi?", I greeted her with.

Still touching the sensor, she said in a very concerned voice, "Oh, my! Is this medication?" Her arm returned to her side.

[First reaction was to say: Yep, it's a nicotine patch. I'm reeeeeally addicted, so they gave me the Super Ginormous Mega one. But, I pocketed that angry and sarcastic response in favor of something more useful. Because, sometimes, I can act like an adult.]

"Sort of. It's a glucose monitor. I have type 1 diabetes, and it helps me see what's happening."

She paused. "Does it work?"

[No, ma'am... it doesn't. I just like how it looks. Don't you think it accents my outfit nicely and brings out the color of my eyes?]

"Yep; it works really well." I tried so, so hard to not make a "Is this really happening?" face, and returned to my meal gathering.

And then she walked away.

I looked at Aaron, to see if he'd witnessed what just happened. His smile and subtle head shake told me that he had.

The moral of this story? I'm not sure. But I do know that this situation didn't bother me nearly as much as it might have before I found the diabetes online community. Primarily because, even as it was happening, I knew that I'd have a story to share with people who could laugh at it right along with me. Having a support system of fellow patients helps me feel more confident in doing what I need to do in order to be healthy, and that's a great thing.

Deciding on Disclosure.

Life is weird.

Even though I see the amount of traffic this blog receives, I don't often think about who is reading what I write here. My mind doesn't tend to connect those numbers with actual people, and certainly not with people I'd encounter "in real life". Okay, so my mom reads this, and so do several of my friends - but strangers who I might meet one day? It's hard to wrap my brain around that.

See? They're awesome!

This past Saturday, I grabbed some lunch at one of my favorite places with a couple of my DOC friends, who were visiting from Kansas City. I've written about this restaraunt before and how cool it was that they had so many JDRF sneakers displayed last fall as they raised money for the Walk to Cure. As we stood in the foyer, I was telling them this was that place, and gesturing to where the sneaker displays had been. And as is customary for me when I get excited about something, I was using my "outside voice".

Then, I heard from behind the hostess' table:  "Wait - are you the infamous blogger?"

Bewildered and slightly uncomfortable with that wording, I turned around and incriminatingly answered, "....maybe?" The hostess told me that they had seen my blog post, printed it off, and it had been laying around for people to read.

Then, my friend chimed in: "And she's in a magazine!" She pulled the new issue of Diabetic Living out of her purse, flipped to page four, and pointed me out. The girl's eyes widened, and she responded, "Oh... wow!"

I wanted to hide under a booth.

When I started out this blog, I put as little personally-identifying information about myself as I thought was necessary out there. I didn't have my picture anywhere on here, I didn't specify what city I live in, and I didn't (and still don't) use my last name on my blog. I didn't use people's real names when I spoke about friends or family.

Some of that has changed over the past few months - if you really look, you can find a lot of those pieces of information in different places now. And, when you Google my name, a lot of diabetes-related stuff comes up. I guess the cat's sort of out of the bag, now.

I'm still not comfortable being "totally out there" with everything. My hesitation and reasoning for not using my last name on my blog, or anywhere in the DOC, had been that I didn't want to give any future employers a reason not to hire me when they searched for my name online. Due to some recent happenings (which are really, really cool, and I'm super appreciative of the opportunities I'm having - more to come on this), this won't be a "clear" search anymore - and I think I'm starting to be sort-of okay with that. The job I'm in right now is totally okay with my DOC involvement (and very supportive in the time off I've requested to participate in some of these things), which is super - but this isn't the sort of thing I can see myself doing for the rest of my life.

They say there are three criteria for the perfect job: Something you're good at, something you enjoy doing, and something you can get paid to do. When you can find something that fits all three, it's like magic - and I haven't found that magical trifecta yet.

I feel like I've smooshed two completely different topics into one very incohesive post here, but that's how I'm rolling today. I realize the irony of someone who writes about their personal health (and submits a photo to a magazine) being shy and protective of their identity, but that's where I am.

Life is weird, and to some extent, so am I.

Discretion.

I am posing a question for which I do not have a good answer.  I can argue either side it, and I want to know where you stand.

In regards to diabetes:  Is discretion a personal choice, or a selfish act?

"Don't tell anyone, but my pancreas
is kind of a slacker."

On one hand, I can make the point that my diabetes is just that - mine.  It's something I live with, deal with, curse at, and wish away; all on my own.  How I manage my diabetes ultimately isn't up to anyone else, and aside from the occasional advice and prescriptions of my medical team, I'm the one running this circus every day.  Everyone with diabetes has the right to decide, in every situation, whether or not they want to share this part of themselves - and they should also get to decide how and when.  Diabetes may not be something you want to be "loud and proud" about, for any number of reasons - and that's okay.  I totally understand that, and in some situations, I choose to exercise that exact option.

On the other hand, it can be argued that being discrete doesn't serve a very noble purpose, nor does it accomplish much of anything.  As a community, we often express frustration over the misconceptions that the general public has about diabetes.  We grumble, and rightfully so, about the relative inattention this collection of diseases called "diabetes" attracts.  It can often feel like many people don't actually care about diabetes until it affects them personally.  And yet - who better is there to correct misconceptions, to demand attention, than us?  As an awesome dude said once, "You must be the change you want to see in the world".  The next time someone makes an inaccurate or hurtful comment about diabetes, call them on it.  If you want diabetes research funding supported, call your members of Congress.  (I get so nervous every time I do it, but it ends up being NBD.  It takes two minutes!)  When you see the media get it wrong, tell them.  Write a letter; an email; make a phone call - every time. 

What do you think?  Do you view keeping diabetes to yourself as a personal right, or as a disservice to the diabetes community-at-large?  Something in between?