“What is that, on your arm?”

Attempting to embrace the bathroom advocacy, I told the lady I have type 1 diabetes.  “And this is an insulin pump.  This part of the device holds the insulin,” – point to the black pump clipped to my bathing suit strap – “and the insulin goes into my body here.  It’s a nice change of pace from all the shots.”

Her friendly face furrowed, trying to piece together what I had said and what she already knew about diabetes.

“But … you’re so young.”

And I wanted to inform her, to swoop in and tell her about the different kinds of diabetes and different ages and ways you can be diagnosed.  About this diverse community of people.  About how you can manage this disease.  How it challenges, and inspires.  All of that stuff I feel compelled to explain 10,000 times over whenever someone seems confused about this disease that we know so intimately.

… but man, I was feeling rough that day, every minute of my almost 40 years, and she had just called me young.

“Yeah.  I know.”

And I left.

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