I don’t talk much about my Type 1 diabetes because I don’t like to admit that I have a weakness…and because I don’t participate in pity parties…and I do not like to hear “Bless your heart, my grandmother died from that.” I always ask if the grandmother had Type 1…well, let’s just take a look at a dialogue to help explain why I don’t chat about having the sugar.
Well-Meaning Person: What is that?
Me: It is an insulin pump.
Well-Meaning Person: You got diabetes?
Me: Yes, I am a Type 1.
Well-Meaning Person: Is that the bad kind?
Me: All types of diabetes are bad.
Well-Meaning Person: My grandmother died from that.
Me: From Type 1 diabetes?
Well-Meaning Person: From diabetes. Her final days on this Earth were terrible. She was suffering from kidney failure. The dialysis wasn’t working anymore. Bless her heart. She had part of her leg amputated last June. She was a fighter though. Granny never let losing her eyesight bother her. I remember when the fluid started…
Me: *interrupting this lovely story* I am sorry to interrupt, but I just remembered that I have got to be somewhere.
Talking about any disease is tricky…getting the right information across to your audience is crucial. I am part of a “category”–each “item” in that “category” is different. I am not a doctor…nor do I play one on TV…so, how do I define my disease to those who do not have it…to those who do not understand….
I am weary from clarifying that one does not “outgrow” Type 1 diabetes.
I am weary from explaining that no diet, no particular form of exercise, no special pills, no special pink drink, no special herb concoction will cure me…will cure my Type 1 diabetes.
The reality is harsh.
There is no cure.
Admitting that to myself has not been easy.
Please do not pity me.
ATTENTION PLEASE: This post is not to seek pity.
Even though there is no cure, there is hope. There is also a chance that I will die a horrible death…blind, without kidney function, and legless…
BUT…I am NOT going down without a fight. A SERIOUS FIGHT!!!
So, I’ve got my running shoes on and my Camelbak packed because I will live to die another day. Bond. James Bond.
Stay tuned for future posts about the survival contents in my Camelbak and the progress on the home renovation–which has now turned into “Get This House Ready to Sell” mode…oh, yes…the Hathorns are about to be on the move again.
Thanks for sitting a spell with me today!