“Diabetes makes you a hero! You’re pinch-hitting for a busted pancreas, and you’re kicking ass! Nothing can stop you! Climb mountains, run marathons, compete, destroy threats, take no prisoners! The world is your oyster, and even with a busted pancreas, you remain the pearl!”
We see that. Or we hear …
“Diabetes will eat you alive. Busted pancreas is only the beginning. Bring on the failing kidneys, the amputated limbs, the great-aunt Berthas who are the buried torsos you will become. Depression might join the party, too. And what about eating disorders? This shit will kill you and your efforts are a nice try, but get ready for the ground.”
Intense messages. Both sentiments have their truths. Diabetes can be a blip on your badass radar and it can also kill you. It’s both of those things. It’s all of these things. I don’t have my head in the sand about what’s possible, on either side of the spectrum.
I live entirely in the gray area, in the middle.
I am not recently diagnosed. (Some may even call me a legend, which is 30+ years in diabetes sticker terms – click the link to see what I mean.) Diagnosed as a kid, I have 31 years of lived experience with type 1 diabetes. My health is good but it remains a work in progress (still working on shedding some of this baby weight, also working on an A1C reboot, need to continue to work on managing anxiety, and am living with diabetes-related eye complications). I’m not climbing any mountains but I can do a few miles on the treadmill and I successfully created two human beings, so I’m feeling good about that. Aspirational? Not really. You won’t find carefully curated diabetes on my instagram feed because my diabetes is not always nice to look at. Defeated? Not even a little bit. I don’t want emails telling me that diabetes will be my cause of death because that is not a source of motivation for me. I’m in somewhat of a gray area, the middle ground, rejecting fear and embracing hope.
I still have a lot of hope. A lot. I think good things are coming for people with diabetes, delivered by diabetes devices and drug development and advocacy efforts and stories that are shared by our community. And what makes viewing my good health as a work in progress instead of an impossible dream is that hope. I am aware of the terrible things that diabetes can to do a person, and to a family, and my hope doesn’t minimize those things.
Instead, my hope serves as fuel in time when the news cycle is beyond bleak. Hope is what makes me check my blood sugar and change out my insulin pump infusion set. It’s what makes me cook up a healthy meal. It’s what prompts me to go to the gym. It’s what makes me want to share my diabetes story and hear stories from others. Hope is both a safety net and a shield against the fear.
Hope makes my efforts feel like they’re in pursuit of an outcome worth fighting for. With no cure currently on deck for diabetes, my daily determination to make my health a priority is rooted in that hope.
Because the world is your oyster, and even with a busted pancreas, you remain the pearl.
PREACH! I think you should write another book:)
AMEN!
I tell people we are so close to having the cure. Oh not for me or likely anyone over a certain age, but for my grandchildren’s, children. For me that at least is a good start. Yes we are close.
You are a Bad Ass.
Your analogies are so powerful – not that you need me to confirm it but you are definitely a pearl in my book.
It’s a grey area for sure. Seems like a doom n gloom is sometimes used for fund raising while when doctors talk about living with T1D the speal to new patients is”you can live a normal life and if you keep your sugar under tight control can avoid complications”. After 35 years with it I know both are wrong and is almost like giving out false hope in a way. Ive done the tight control and insulin pumps for 35+years and still have complications.
Nothing is normal about living with this as we know. To be honest I am not quite sure what would be the ‘happy medium’ approach.
35 years ago I was told a cure would be within 20 years, heh. I think that thought has passed bout 15 years ago.
Seems to me that drug companies can make more money off NOT finding a cure and that has limited research in a way.
I just do the best I can though. With PTSD, insulin reactions are tougher than ever.
Sometimes I just try to laugh at it all and say aloud ” Come on, what else ya got for me, bring it on”, as T1D has done all it could to kill me and I am still here.
Thanks for calling the ADA out on their latest email, and thanks for sharing your thoughts.
I understand where you’re coming from, Kerri. I might be labeled one of those “Nothing can stop you. Climb mountains, run marathons…” PWT1D. But I think you know from hearing me speak, and reading my book “Finish Line Vision,” that I have a blend of both positive and negative outlooks-hope and resentment. I raced Ironman triathlons to persecute myself with 10+ hours of physical and mental pain to send a message to diabetes that it was messing with the wrong guy. I call it “angry motivation.” I depend on great researchers to find a cure, great companies to develop products for me to live with it, and great people like you to generate thoughtful discussion. In the meantime, I will make it the best thing that every happened to me, since it is the worst things that ever happened to me . . . and I have to deal with it in the best way I can. Thanks for being such a great friend! You’re the best, Kerri!
SUM thoughts…
a) I can never decide, is it “Grey” or “Gray”?
b) I’ve lived long enough with the D to have grey/gray hair, so that counts, right?
c) I don’t think my story is much different than what all of us have to say – which is, it’ll get me someday but I’m not going to let it hold me down or back any more than it has to. I’m upright, functioning*, productive**, and mostly OK. We probably all have a book in us somewhere, and there’s so much more to every story than diabetes. But at the same time…I’m doing some #WDD awareness stuff this November at work and boy, there are still SO MANY people out there who don’t know anything about T1D. Or T2D. Or any D…and they’re in medical clinics 🙁
d) Keep rockin’! (I just like saying that) 😉
*With iced coffee intake by 8am
**With added iced coffee intake by 4pm
I missed this post last January, but it is priceless to me now! “world is your oyster, and even with a busted pancreas, you remain the pearl” is going to be the title of my next bead embroidery design! I’m on my second day of full time Control-IQ and the world is definity my oyster!! And I feel like a pearl.
Thanks Hunter you put my thoughts on this to word. Bless your heart. You must be a kindered spirit. I Too.