A Cure…
It would mean I could live freely without people looking at me with pity in their eyes, or telling me tales about their grandma who had her foot amputated because of diabetes, or of a friend of a friend whose blood sugars went so low while in the shower, he passed out and drowned, or of an acquaintance who had a heart attack while pregnant because of her diabetes…
It would mean I could eat freely without others telling me how to eat, that I could reach for a piece of chocolate, or a cookie, or a scoop of ice cream without family members, friends and strangers – all with outdated information – questioning, and or admonishing, whether it wise I ingest such sweet treats…
It would mean I could run freely without worrying about my blood sugars crashing, or having to calculate how much to reduce my basal rates by, or where to clip on my insulin pump, or how to stuff a meter, test strips, poker, and sugar tabs (in addition to my running necessities) into the tiny pouch on my fuel belt, or how to keep both my metre and pump dry while running in a climate that is rain-logged 85 per cent of the year…
It would mean I could travel freely without worrying about having to pack enough insulin, test strips, lancets, infusion sets, and canulas in my suitcase and carry on, or about whether I’d be singled out going through security for my insulin pump being mistaken for a bomb, or having to secure a backup pump for “just in case” and then worrying about something happening to the backup which would put me on the hook for $7,000…
It would mean I could raise my son freely, not having diabetes in every picture of our relationship, not having to worry about my BG crashing in his vicinity, or having to figure out how to explain my disease to him when the time comes, or worrying about undoing the not-so-pleasant myths (read: fear mongering) of diabetes that others will surely fill his head with…
It would mean I could sleep in for the first time in 25 years, I could go a day without feeling like a pin cushion, I could eat a meal without weighing the carbs, I could go out with friends without fretting over where I would get my next meal from and how that meal would affect my blood sugars, I could wake up without diabetes the first thought of the day…
What would a cure mean for me? It would mean freedom from these T-1 shackles I’ve had clanking around me for 25 years…
Freedom. A girl can dream can’t she 🙂
November is Diabetes Awareness Month.