Standing at my desk and chatting up a coworker, coffee in hand, I noticed the tiniest twinge of a headache. Not overly concerned, I sat down and pulled out my meter. “Just to rule it out,” I thought, loading up the meter with a strip and clink … ringing in at an icy 39 mg/dl.

“You have to be kidding me…” muttering under my breath, grabbing a bottle of juice from the stash in my desk drawer. There were only six sips available in the bottle so I grabbed a pack of peanut butter crackers and ate two of them.

Nothing but a headache. No foggy feeling in my brain. People’s voices weren’t echoing. I could see and hear and feel everything just fine. Even the headache wasn’t bad – nothing I thought a cup of coffee couldn’t cure.

Instead: 39 mg/dl.

As I sat at my desk and waited for my bloodsugar to rise, I thought about the television show I’d watched for a few minutes the night before. It was on MSNBC or similar, discussing the health care reform being rocketed through legislative bodies and the plan was quoted as being something that will afford consumers more “control over price and quality”. Consumer driven health care. Making people more aware of how expensive health care is. As though we need to be told.

Price and quality?

“An atrocity.” I said to Chris, becoming livid. “If this legislation passes, it won’t be price and quality, but price or quality. You either chose the best care available and pay an obscene amount for it or you chose what you can afford.” I was completely pissed off at this point. “For someone like me, it could mean going back to injections, even though the pump keeps me the healthiest. Or not testing as much during the day, sacrificing my hard earned A1c for my checkbook balance.”

“I knew that one day I would be worrying about paying for medical coverage, but I thought it would be when I was sixtysomething and on the cusp of retirement. Instead, I’m 27 years old and panicking about whether or not my health will be compromised as a result of government decisions in the next six months. Absolutely ridiculous. Don’t they understand that keeping me healthy now keeps money in the insurance companies’ pockets later? Preventative measures now to ward off paying for treating a complication later? They think pump therapy is expensive – wait until they’re paying for my leg to be amputated.” 

Crying now, so angry.

Fast forward to this morning, sitting at my work desk, drinking a bottle of juice as my bloodsugar teeters precariously at 39 mg/dl, wondering why people from the United States Senate offices are just reading my blog instead of contacting me directly.

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