We met up at Les Halles for dinner.  Four people, meeting up for the first of many times.  She greeted Chris with a huge smile and a hug. 

It was more than diabetes. 

Sure, she understood completely when I mentioned a botched infusion set or that sticky mouth feeling when blood sugars are swarming out of control.  We talked about technology and “old school diabetes” and what how things have changed over the last twenty-plus years.  Conversations about how diabetes influenced romantic relationships, or financial decisions, or career aspirations passed easily between us. 

She knew when I said “I don’t think about a cure,” that I was actually saying, “I can’t think about it.”  She’s been diabetic for almost 25 years.  She knows exactly what I mean.

But after the talk about diabetes was tapering, we still had more to talk about.  Marriage.  Family, both being a part of one and starting our own.  Perspectives on writing.  Gossipy bits.  And she made me laugh – oh good Lord the girl is funny.  Our friendship is born from a diabetes connection but one that is rooted in so much more than that.  Talking with her was like talking with someone I grew up with, who understood where I was coming from and where I hoped to go.

So when Christel and her husband, John, came to visit NYC, it was more than diabetes.  It wasn’t about comparing pumps or blood sugars or tales from our islets.  We had dinner with two people who felt like old friends, only she and I just happened to both bolus before the crème brulée was served. 

It was more than diabetes.

Kerri and Christel.
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