November is a huge month for diabetes advocacy, what with American Diabetes Month and World Diabetes Day happening concurrently.
And speaking of World Diabetes Day - which is November 14th - there's a cool initiative being spearheaded by my friend Cherise to raise awareness for WDD and the global diabetes community at large. (And I was honored when she asked me to help her organize the event this year! We put together the video below, where you'll see some familiar and maybe not-as-familiar faces from around the diabetes community.)
It's called Blue Fridays, and it couldn't be easier to participate: just wear blue on every Friday in November. There is also a Facebook page where you can upload pictures of you, your family and friends wearing blue every Friday next month. (I also hear that there might be some giveaways for people who upload photos...)
I'll be wearing every bit of blue I have next month, in the hopes that it sparks some conversation and questions.
There are lots of reasons to wear blue - what's yours?
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
DIABETES TALKING IN ALL CAPS.
(FYI: this post will make a whole lot more sense if you're already familiar with this site; specifically entries like this one, this one and this one.)
SOMETIMES I LIE AWAKE AT NIGHT AND WONDER WHY MY PANCREAS JUST COMPLETELY STOPPED WORKING. I MEAN, WTH, RIGHT? I SHOULD DONATE IT TO SCIENCE. IT'S ABOUT AS USELESS AS LEARNING THE METRIC SYSTEM.
NANCY, YOUR WHOLE PANCREAS DIDN'T BREAK. JUST THE PART THAT MAKES INSULIN. ALSO, LEARNING THE METRIC SYSTEM IS KIND OF IMPORTANT. THE WHOLE REST OF THE WORLD USES IT.
I WILL LEARN THE METRIC SYSTEM WHEN THEY FIGURE OUT HOW TO TURN MY BETA CELLS BACK FROM ZOMBIES INTO WORKING PARTS OF MY BODY, LUCILLE.
NO ONE SAID YOUR PANCREAS HAD ZOMBIES IN IT.
IT COULD, LUCILLE. YOU DON'T KNOW.
ACTUALLY, I DO. I'M A DOCTOR.
YOUR MOM IS A DOCTOR.
SIGH.
THE INSTRUCTION MANUAL SHOWED THE MODELS HOLDING THE PUMPS LIKE THIS WITH ONLY THEIR THUMBS AND INDEX FINGERS, SO THAT'S HOW I'VE BEEN HOLDING IT FOR THE PAST THREE YEARS.
WAIT, WHAT? NO! THAT'S JUST HOW THEY DISPLAY IT.
NO, THAT CAN'T BE RIGHT. RICKY WOULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS.
MAYBE RICKY DIDN'T TELL YOU ON PURPOSE. MAYBE RICKY STILL REMEMBERS THAT DAY IN THIRD GRADE WHEN YOU WOULDN'T SHARE YOUR SECOND HAM AND PROVOLONE SANDWICH WITH HIM ON THE DAY HIS MOM FORGOT TO PACK HIM A LUNCH. MAYBE HE NEVER LET IT GO.
THAT DOESN'T SOUND RIGHT. RICKY LOVES ME.
MAYBE HE JUST WANTED TO RECORD YOUR REACTION AND PUT IT ON YOUTUBE SO THAT HE COULD FINALLY GET ON TOSH.0.
I WILL CUT RICKY.
I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY EVERY FEMALE CELEBRITY WANTS TO WEAR THESE THINGS CALLED BANDAGE DRESSES LATELY, YOU KNOW?
I MEAN, COULDN'T THEY NAME IT SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T REMIND ME OF DIABETES? IT'S LIKE, I'M WATCHING THE OSCARS AND ENJOYING MY NICE GLASS OF RIESLING AND GIULIANA RANCIC COMES ON AND ASKS THEM WHO THEY'RE WEARING, AND I ALMOST DO A SPIT TAKE BECAUSE I THINK THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT TEGADERM.
STOP POKING ME WITH WORDS AND JUST GET ME A FREAKING JUICE BOX.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Things I've Learned In The Past Week.
The name plate of a medical ID bracelet can make an excellent stand-in for the nickel you don't have when it comes time to change your insulin pump battery.
The DOC now has its own gang symbol. Don't know what it means? Hashtag it.
Sometimes people are brought into our lives - even if only on a brief plane ride - for a reason. It's up to us to make the most of the opportunity.
I was once again reminded of how full of good people this community is, and how welcomed, loved and appreciated we can make each other feel.
I learned that if a small army of people walk into a hospital all wearing the same t-shirt, you're going to get quite a reaction from the male nurse who watches you all walk by.
Four and a half minutes of video can make me laugh and cry and miss my "tour buddies" so, so much.
And I've learned that Billy would totally stick his face in a New-tell-uh jar if I would only let him.
The DOC now has its own gang symbol. Don't know what it means? Hashtag it.
Sometimes people are brought into our lives - even if only on a brief plane ride - for a reason. It's up to us to make the most of the opportunity.
I was once again reminded of how full of good people this community is, and how welcomed, loved and appreciated we can make each other feel.
I learned that if a small army of people walk into a hospital all wearing the same t-shirt, you're going to get quite a reaction from the male nurse who watches you all walk by.
Four and a half minutes of video can make me laugh and cry and miss my "tour buddies" so, so much.
And I've learned that Billy would totally stick his face in a New-tell-uh jar if I would only let him.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Simonpalooza: Simon's Arrival.
Friday night was spent at Jess and her husband's house with snacks, cupcakes, a live Twitter feed of our weekend's hashtag on their TV (how nerdy are we?) and the creation of some welcome posters.
T-shirts were distributed and we made plans to greet Simon at the airport.
Have we mentioned that he thought just one person was coming to pick him up?
All twenty-something of us gathered at his gate, and tried to wait patiently. Our group attracted a bit of attention from both the TSA ("....Wow.") and fellow passengers. One gentleman that deplaned early saw our group and asked, "Are you all waiting for the Australian guy?" *cue affirmative squealing* "Oh, he's a GREAT guy. I sat next to him on the plane and heard his whole story. You're really going to like him. He's great."
It seemed like we waited hours, but it really was only minutes. We decided that he must have been the "nice guy" that was letting everyone else get off of the plane ahead of him. :)
And when he finally was within view... well... you need to see it for yourself, I think. Allison at DiabetesMine put together a video explaining what "Simonpalooza" was all about, and got Simon's arrival on film. The look on Simon's face when it registered that the big mob of people was for HIM... well, that one moment would have made the whole trip worth it.
It isn't that Simon is some sort of celebrity (though he most certainly is in our eyes), though the spectators at the airport probaby believed he was. (They also believed that Sara's marriage proposal sign was the real deal, until we told them it wasn't. Ha!) It's more that we all knew the sacrifice he'd made to come to the U.S. and what it meant to him. And what's even better is that it meant that to us, too. We lift each other up in this community; we cheer each other on; we share the weight of our difficulties and challenges. (Related: Simon is so fearlessly honest that I think his words took a few of us by surprise. Case in point: Simon telling Cherise what she and her work have meant to him. Sara caught part of that moment and posted a video today - it's very worth the watch.)
That undercurrent of understanding we all share amplified the emotion of the moments we had.
As Jess described in her vlog today: We're all with the band.
 |
| image credit (for all in this post): Sara |
 |
Have we mentioned that he thought just one person was coming to pick him up?
All twenty-something of us gathered at his gate, and tried to wait patiently. Our group attracted a bit of attention from both the TSA ("....Wow.") and fellow passengers. One gentleman that deplaned early saw our group and asked, "Are you all waiting for the Australian guy?" *cue affirmative squealing* "Oh, he's a GREAT guy. I sat next to him on the plane and heard his whole story. You're really going to like him. He's great."
It seemed like we waited hours, but it really was only minutes. We decided that he must have been the "nice guy" that was letting everyone else get off of the plane ahead of him. :)
And when he finally was within view... well... you need to see it for yourself, I think. Allison at DiabetesMine put together a video explaining what "Simonpalooza" was all about, and got Simon's arrival on film. The look on Simon's face when it registered that the big mob of people was for HIM... well, that one moment would have made the whole trip worth it.
 |
That undercurrent of understanding we all share amplified the emotion of the moments we had.
As Jess described in her vlog today: We're all with the band.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Simonpalooza: What You Do Matters.
I just got back from a large meet-up of wonderful DOC folks, which you may have seen on Twitter as "Simonpalooza". (Named because our friend Simon, who is from Australia, flew here for the specific purpose of meeting as many of his diabetes online community friends as he could - who we now just refer to as "friends".) I'll be recapping some of my favorite memories from the weekend over the next few days, and what the experience meant to so many of us.
It meant that around 30 of us (type 1, type 2, LADA, and our loved ones) made the trek to Kansas City to spend a couple of days with people we love (and prove to each other that we are real, actual people).
It meant that we all seemed to feel very okay about being stared at for things like pump tubing flapping in the breeze and matching t-shirts that no one else understood, because we understood it.
It meant that each time someone asked about those t-shirts, our story became a little bit less about telling the truth and little more about fanning the flames of Blünt Lancet folklore.
The relatively short trip for us (less than five hours' drive) meant that Aaron finally got to meet some of the people I talk about all the time. (And they found out that he's a real person!)
It meant that we got to see, hear, and bear hug the people who so often can put words and hashtags to what we're feeling in our own lives - with diabetes and without.
It meant that I heard Simon's story straight from the man himself, and the memory of our conversation is something that I will remember and cherish always.
It meant that I cried. A whole lot.
It seems that things happen for a reason - the people you meet, the places you end up, the things you do. To borrow a phrase from someone wiser than I am, it's nearly impossible to connect the dots while looking forward - it's only when you look back on life that you can see the clear connections between decisions, circumstances and situations.
Sometimes you share your life with others (whether it is blogging, Twitter, online forums, whatever) and have no way to know if what you're doing is helping anyone. You share your experiences in the hopes that what you've been through resonates with someone; that maybe hearing your story will bring them some small amount of comfort. You hope that you can spark just a little glimmer of the thought, "I'm not alone after all".
This weekend provided multiple opportunities for folks to tell each other, face to face, that what they do matters - because they themselves were impacted by it. It's hard to wrap your head around the kind of impact simply know someone who is living and struggling and triumphing over the same thing that you are can have, but this weekend I had a chance to witness that very emotion in person.
It was beautiful, and I'm so thankful to know so many wonderful people. What you do matters - so please, keep doing it.
The video above was created by Sara, who so thoughtfully brought a video camera and wrangled us together to get these clips recorded. Please check in with her blog in the coming days to see the photos and videos she took of the weekend. There were a lot of great "moments" that she caught on film. :)
In order of video appearance (and who they are on Twitter):
Babs @babssoup
Jon @kssoup
Bob @rpederse
Cherise @Diabetic_Iz_Me
Nina (Cherise's mom)
Sara @saraknic
Jeff @jeffmather
Lisa (Jeff's wife)
Sarah Jane @SaJaBetes
Allison @AMBlass
Eric (Allison's husband)
Jess @jessmeandd
Josh @TypeBoring
Victoria @victoriacumbow
Melissa @sweetlyvoiced
Heather (and Becca!!) @auntlyh
Courtney @iamsquee
Kim @txtngmypancreas
Aaron (Kim's husband)
Mike @MHoskins2179
Scott J. @scottkjohnson
Kelly @kellyrawlings
Scott S. @Strangely_T1
Simon @STroyCrow
It meant that around 30 of us (type 1, type 2, LADA, and our loved ones) made the trek to Kansas City to spend a couple of days with people we love (and prove to each other that we are real, actual people).
It meant that we all seemed to feel very okay about being stared at for things like pump tubing flapping in the breeze and matching t-shirts that no one else understood, because we understood it.
 |
| There we went, walking down the street. And we totally did get the funniest looks from everyone we met. |
The relatively short trip for us (less than five hours' drive) meant that Aaron finally got to meet some of the people I talk about all the time. (And they found out that he's a real person!)
It meant that we got to see, hear, and bear hug the people who so often can put words and hashtags to what we're feeling in our own lives - with diabetes and without.
It meant that I heard Simon's story straight from the man himself, and the memory of our conversation is something that I will remember and cherish always.
It meant that I cried. A whole lot.
It seems that things happen for a reason - the people you meet, the places you end up, the things you do. To borrow a phrase from someone wiser than I am, it's nearly impossible to connect the dots while looking forward - it's only when you look back on life that you can see the clear connections between decisions, circumstances and situations.
Sometimes you share your life with others (whether it is blogging, Twitter, online forums, whatever) and have no way to know if what you're doing is helping anyone. You share your experiences in the hopes that what you've been through resonates with someone; that maybe hearing your story will bring them some small amount of comfort. You hope that you can spark just a little glimmer of the thought, "I'm not alone after all".
This weekend provided multiple opportunities for folks to tell each other, face to face, that what they do matters - because they themselves were impacted by it. It's hard to wrap your head around the kind of impact simply know someone who is living and struggling and triumphing over the same thing that you are can have, but this weekend I had a chance to witness that very emotion in person.
It was beautiful, and I'm so thankful to know so many wonderful people. What you do matters - so please, keep doing it.
The video above was created by Sara, who so thoughtfully brought a video camera and wrangled us together to get these clips recorded. Please check in with her blog in the coming days to see the photos and videos she took of the weekend. There were a lot of great "moments" that she caught on film. :)
In order of video appearance (and who they are on Twitter):
Babs @babssoup
Jon @kssoup
Bob @rpederse
Cherise @Diabetic_Iz_Me
Nina (Cherise's mom)
Sara @saraknic
Jeff @jeffmather
Lisa (Jeff's wife)
Sarah Jane @SaJaBetes
Allison @AMBlass
Eric (Allison's husband)
Jess @jessmeandd
Josh @TypeBoring
Victoria @victoriacumbow
Melissa @sweetlyvoiced
Heather (and Becca!!) @auntlyh
Courtney @iamsquee
Kim @txtngmypancreas
Aaron (Kim's husband)
Mike @MHoskins2179
Scott J. @scottkjohnson
Kelly @kellyrawlings
Scott S. @Strangely_T1
Simon @STroyCrow
Friday, October 7, 2011
No D Day: Movies.
It's once again "No D Day", and I had a hard time coming up with something. I feel like I share a lot of non-diabetes related things already: my affection for coffee and Corgis; my gracefulness and my varied musical taste; which health appointments I actually enjoy and what I do when I'm not social media-ing.
So, here's what I've got: I'm That Girl Who Hasn't Seen That Movie.
There are a whole slew of them; those movies that "everyone has seen". I know this because I can't tell you how many times this has happened:
[insert witty and appropriately-timed movie reference made by friend or acquaintance here]
[imagine me giving said friend or acquaintance a "deer in headlights" look]
Friend: "...it's from [insert name of movie here]?"
Me: "Oh, I've never seen it."
Friend: "OH MY GOD, WHAT!? YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN [insert name of movie here]???"
I don't know, you guys. I don't know how I haven't seen it. I just haven't, and I probably won't at any point in the future, either. I don't watch a lot of movies in the first place, and new ones just keep getting released, you know? I can never really catch up.
So, in an effort to help you avoid the awkward conversation above if we ever meet, here's a brief list of the most frequently referenced movies that I'll have no clue you're referencing.
- The Shawshank Redemption
- The Godfather (any)
- Scarface
- Schindler's List
- Goodfellas
- Apocalypse Now
- Citizen Kane
- Saving Private Ryan
- The Green Mile
- Raging Bull
- Platoon
- Stand By Me
- A Streetcar Named Desire
- Rosemary's Baby
- A Beautiful Mind
- Any of the Harry Potter movies (haven't read the books, either)
- Any of the "Planet of the Apes" movies
- Any of the Beverly Hills Cop movies
- Any of the Die Hard movies
- The Graduate
- Breakfast at Tiffany's
- The Notebook
- Footloose (although I have seen it in its musical theatre version - counts?)
- Brokeback Mountain
- Any movie involving Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, James Dean, and just about any top actor of the 1940's
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Guest Post: I Get By With (Or Without Real Life) Help From My Friends.
I'm pleased to bring you a post today from fellow diabetes blogger and #sweatbetes extraordinaire Maria. (She's also studying to be a biomedical engineer, which means she is WHOA smart and totally a badass, in my eyes.) I think many of us can relate to the philosophy that sometimes humor is just as important a part of our diabetes management as insulin and glucose meters are, and how important it is to have people in our lives that "get it". Thank you for sharing your words here today, Maria!
____________________________________________________________________
"Who doesn't have ticklish feet?" -Classmate
"I'm ticklish, just not on my feet." -Roommate after I try to tickle her feet
"Diabetics?… But seriously, I just learned how to resist the urge to laugh." -Me
Best comeback ever. At least that's what my friends were giving me props for (because Biomedical Engineers hear about diabetes at least once in almost every class [or so I feel, but maybe a lil exaggeration]). Moments like these make me laugh when I consider that I've been somewhat Missing In Action on the front line of my diabetes care for about 10-12 years.
I'm a lucky person with diabetes, who managed to somehow survive her tumultuous teen and crazy college years with a little luck, little to no D-inspiration/care, and no signs of complications (yet [Thanks Body for functioning sometimes!]). For the longest time, I pushed myself to do a million things (that hasn't really stopped) without really paying attention to my closest companions, my irreverent pancreas and her silly tagalong Diabetes. High school and undergrad was definitely difficult to bring along this extra piece of luggage. I'd check my blood sugar once in a blue moon. I'd try and remember to bolus before I ate (which happened exactly once, I think). Even as a master's student, I tried to shove diabetes into my backpack and never pull it out (along with that fairly old granola bar and less old juice boxes for "emergencies").
What changed? I started reading a blog about living with diabetes one day. And then another. And then another. Until I was fully bitten by the Diabetes Online Community (DOC) lurking bug (and oh my, is it ever infectious). Some light switch went on that said, if they can do it, I can too (before the You Can Do This Project).
After spending nearly 14 years in a PWD free bubble, the light bulb went off. Things started to click. My HbA1c came down. My bringing up of diabetes in normal conversation went from non existent to all over the radar.
My best friend in high school actually sat me down to ask about my health because he finally saw the glucocoaster I ride through my tweets. While he remembers my teachers in high school scolding my eating habits in class, he never thought it was a big deal because I never really flaunted it around. My parents asked more often on the phone about my diabetes after I moved back in with them for a few months this summer. While my mom worries (about everything from my eating habits to my car and to my wardrobe occasionally), she had slowly let diabetes fall off her radar because I never discussed it. I never made a point of saying, "I'm testing" or "I need to wait for this low to come up before I can eat." While she still doesn't quite grasp that there's no such thing as perfect with it, she sees it more now and asks on the phone about my good friend, diabetes. Things are drastically different now.
I've only been living with my roomies for a few weeks now, but they already know that I talk to my diabetes (and my diabetic devices) all day long. They know, almost as well as I do, that my Dexcom lies sometimes. We sat down at dinner and just after my third bite of food, my continuous glucose buzzed about being low. Before I looked at it or opened my mouth, my roommate said, "Shhh! She's eating!"
Sometimes, I'll show them my graphs and they'll tell me what they see. Today's response? "It looks like your diabetes is giving you the finger. You need to get that pancreas of yours a stern talking to."
If laughter is the best medicine (which is definitely what I bet on in real life or online life), my friends give me no shortage of good medicine.
__________________________________________________________________
Here's a little bit more about Maria:
Maria Qadri is in her first year of doctoral studies in Biomedical Engineering, after completing a Masters and Bachelors of Science in Biomedical Engineering as well. As a determined young woman, she has a deep love of adventures (ultimate frisbee, indoor & outdoor rock climbing, delicious flour disasters) as well as jumping up and down for great causes (UNite for a Healthy Future / Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation / Engineers Without Borders). Her diabetes is a high school freshman at 14.5 years old and enacts all the (in)appropriate blood sugar (and subsequent mood) swings. She loves the driving around the northeast and volunteering to help with almost anything (minus laundry)! Check her blog out at Climbing Diabetes or on Twitter!
____________________________________________________________________
"I'm ticklish, just not on my feet." -Roommate after I try to tickle her feet
"Diabetics?… But seriously, I just learned how to resist the urge to laugh." -Me
Best comeback ever. At least that's what my friends were giving me props for (because Biomedical Engineers hear about diabetes at least once in almost every class [or so I feel, but maybe a lil exaggeration]). Moments like these make me laugh when I consider that I've been somewhat Missing In Action on the front line of my diabetes care for about 10-12 years.
I'm a lucky person with diabetes, who managed to somehow survive her tumultuous teen and crazy college years with a little luck, little to no D-inspiration/care, and no signs of complications (yet [Thanks Body for functioning sometimes!]). For the longest time, I pushed myself to do a million things (that hasn't really stopped) without really paying attention to my closest companions, my irreverent pancreas and her silly tagalong Diabetes. High school and undergrad was definitely difficult to bring along this extra piece of luggage. I'd check my blood sugar once in a blue moon. I'd try and remember to bolus before I ate (which happened exactly once, I think). Even as a master's student, I tried to shove diabetes into my backpack and never pull it out (along with that fairly old granola bar and less old juice boxes for "emergencies").
What changed? I started reading a blog about living with diabetes one day. And then another. And then another. Until I was fully bitten by the Diabetes Online Community (DOC) lurking bug (and oh my, is it ever infectious). Some light switch went on that said, if they can do it, I can too (before the You Can Do This Project).
After spending nearly 14 years in a PWD free bubble, the light bulb went off. Things started to click. My HbA1c came down. My bringing up of diabetes in normal conversation went from non existent to all over the radar.
My best friend in high school actually sat me down to ask about my health because he finally saw the glucocoaster I ride through my tweets. While he remembers my teachers in high school scolding my eating habits in class, he never thought it was a big deal because I never really flaunted it around. My parents asked more often on the phone about my diabetes after I moved back in with them for a few months this summer. While my mom worries (about everything from my eating habits to my car and to my wardrobe occasionally), she had slowly let diabetes fall off her radar because I never discussed it. I never made a point of saying, "I'm testing" or "I need to wait for this low to come up before I can eat." While she still doesn't quite grasp that there's no such thing as perfect with it, she sees it more now and asks on the phone about my good friend, diabetes. Things are drastically different now.
I've only been living with my roomies for a few weeks now, but they already know that I talk to my diabetes (and my diabetic devices) all day long. They know, almost as well as I do, that my Dexcom lies sometimes. We sat down at dinner and just after my third bite of food, my continuous glucose buzzed about being low. Before I looked at it or opened my mouth, my roommate said, "Shhh! She's eating!"
Sometimes, I'll show them my graphs and they'll tell me what they see. Today's response? "It looks like your diabetes is giving you the finger. You need to get that pancreas of yours a stern talking to."
If laughter is the best medicine (which is definitely what I bet on in real life or online life), my friends give me no shortage of good medicine.
__________________________________________________________________
Here's a little bit more about Maria:
Maria Qadri is in her first year of doctoral studies in Biomedical Engineering, after completing a Masters and Bachelors of Science in Biomedical Engineering as well. As a determined young woman, she has a deep love of adventures (ultimate frisbee, indoor & outdoor rock climbing, delicious flour disasters) as well as jumping up and down for great causes (UNite for a Healthy Future / Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation / Engineers Without Borders). Her diabetes is a high school freshman at 14.5 years old and enacts all the (in)appropriate blood sugar (and subsequent mood) swings. She loves the driving around the northeast and volunteering to help with almost anything (minus laundry)! Check her blog out at Climbing Diabetes or on Twitter!
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Wordless Wednesday: Happy.
It seems that I can't stop posting pictures of my dog here. I'm sorry. I just.... I can't... I mean, LOOK AT HIS FACE. You can't say "no".
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
There Is No Spoon.
I'm not sure where it began.
It probably wasn't a singular moment or comment that began that ever-growing snowball. It likely was all of those little things, laid one by one on top of another; melting into a suffocating landslide of guilt and shame.
Probably, it was the college years when my A1C started climbing and I felt as though I was doing all I was able and willing to do at the time - but it was never anywhere close to good enough.
It could have been the many, many times where an endocrinologist visit ended in tears, because my answers were never the sort that could pass their test. It could have been the dread of those appointments eventually causing the pre-appointment build-up of anxiety and just plain fear. (And then, beating myself up over canceling the appointment.)
It could have resulted from not getting to hear the experiences of other real-life patients - of not knowing one single soul on that college campus who also had type 1 diabetes. I didn't know anyone else there who was living this same routine of shoddy math, bodily defiance and food distortion that I was.
It could have been my almost certain belief that one day, because I could never "get it right", I'd inevitably lose my eyesight. Or kidneys. Or toes. Take your pick.
It could have been realizing that "good enough" might not actually be.
It was seeing the impossibly low goals that my doctor had for me, and wondering, "How on earth do people do this? How do they do this, and still live a life? How can they enjoy that life, when all they're apparently thinking and worrying about is what diabetes is doing to them?"
It was being absolutely convinced that every single other diabetic in the entire universe must have this figured out, except for me.
I was convinced that I was the only screw-up. The way my doctors reacted to my self-care only reinforced that belief - because the only reason they'd be so shocked and disappointed would be because I was their worst patient, right? Because everyone else was achieving these kinds of numbers? Isn't that what was happening?
It was partly because questions were phrased, "Why are you still high in the mornings?", and "You are low way too often; what are you doing to cause that?", and "Why didn't you do what I told you to?".
It was beating myself up over my failures, then resigning myself to futility.
It had never occurred to me that a "perfect" diabetic wasn't actually a real thing. My past experience had shown that the medical world (which was all I had at the time, as this was B.D.O.C.) tended to make it very clear that there is an acceptable range, and it's [here]. And if you can't get yourself there, it is because you aren't trying hard enough; you aren't disciplined enough; you aren't following their guidelines as you should be. The focus of blame tends to be on the patient's ability to self-manage, not on the disease itself.
It's one of the greatest gifts that bonding with this community has given me. Though it took a while for this to really sink into the parts of my brain and heart that can truly believe something, I think I can finally start to believe that there is no "perfect". There is "try your best"; there is "learn from your mistakes"; and there is "never give up". There will be questions without answers. There will be numbers without logic.
I can choose to let the outcomes of my diabetes decisions define who I am and how I live my life, or I can choose to accept the reality that the only parts I can consistently control are how I feel and how I react.
I have begun to accept that there is no spoon.
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