Dblog Week

Diabetes as a Disability

Day 2 of Dblog Week 2015 is about those things that we keep to ourselves, and don’t necessarily like to talk about out in the open. Many of us share lots of aspects of our diabetes lives online for the world to see. Today we get to discuss some of the aspects of diabetes that we choose to keep private from the internet, family, and even friends. Why is it important to keep things to ourselves?

DiabetesBlogWeek7

Recently I was asked to complete a survey on employee demographics. You know, the basic questions that it doesn’t take anything more than looking in a mirror to answer. Male, caucasian, brown hair, eyes that change color, glasses when I remember where I put them, no piercings (just holes where they used to be), tattooed, sneakers > dress shoes, untucked > tucked, tie over top button, and plaid if there is ever a choice.

Okay, so maybe they didn’t ask all of the questions that would lead to those answers, but for an employee demographic survey, it didn’t take long to get real personal. One of the sections asked me to voluntarily self-identify any disabilities that I have. I’m thinking, “Okay, so they want to know if I’m physically disabled, if I need accommodations to get to and fro, or something like that.” As I read through the list, I began to feel like it was less and less voluntary, and more and more accusatory.

Disability Disclosure Survey

I will be the first to say that I’m biased when it comes to surveys like this. Whether they are at work, at the doctor’s office, or as part of a contest to win a lifetime supply of alcohol swabs and cotton balls, these questions feel loaded, and require a person to think about themselves in a very particular way in order to answer them effectively. And for the life of me, I have a really hard time thinking of myself as “disabled” because of my diabetes.

I imagine many people with diabetes and other conditions on this list feel the same way. It is extremely difficult to think of ourselves as disabled, or that we might need special accommodations because we have to live with something outside of our control. The fact is, even without any of these things, any one of us could need special accommodations at any given point in time. But does that make us “disabled” because we are strong enough to admit that we might sometimes need help?

Diabetes as a disability is not something I like to think about. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to imagine it. Even if, in reality, diabetes or complications thereof may become a disability for me, it is not something that I am willing to give more than just a brief moment of panicked thought about.

Diabetes is challenging, but so is PTSD, depression, MS, epilepsy, cancer, and every other alleged disability on this survey. Yet, having any of these conditions does not make us disabled. As much as a disability is a physical challenge, it is also an allowance that a chronic condition is strong enough to limit us from doing the things that we accept that we are capable of doing.

For now, for this survey, I don’t wish to answer. None of the items on this survey, regardless of how many I may have personally, are anything that I am willing to accept as a disability. That does not mean that I may not need special accommodations from time to time, but that simply means that I’m human, not that I’m disabled. We all need help and special accommodations sometimes, and we shouldn’t be labeled negatively because of those needs.

Even for a lifetime supply of alcohol swabs and cotton balls.

The PLAID Journal

I love Dblog Week. This annual event when we hear from the diabetes online community (DOC) about shared themes and ideas is always fascinating. I especially love that Dblog Week is accessible to everyone, and embraced by those who are a part of the DOC and those that quietly just need to know that there are dozens of other people living with diabetes…and doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well.

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Today, the blog theme of “I can…” is meant to showcase the positive side of our lives with diabetes. What have you accomplished, despite having diabetes, that you weren’t sure you could? What have you done that you’ve been particularly proud of? What good thing has diabetes brought into your life?

Conveniently enough, today is the day that my team in the medical library and I published the very first issue of The PLAID Journal, an open access, peer-reviewed journal for and by “People Living with And Inspired by Diabetes.” PLAID is one of my dreams come true, and I am so proud of what we have created, and thankful for the almost year and a half of hard work that has gone into making it something both accessible and legit.

People with diabetes is everyone. The PLAID Journal is meant for everyone. Each of us is touched by diabetes, whether we have it ourselves, or whether we know someone who does.

When my team and I set out to create a new journal, I really wanted to see the things that we blog about and share online reach the academic literature, and become part of what we research, study, and use to progress living well with diabetes. I want our voices of needing better technology, more comprehensive health insurance coverage, and greater access to mental and physical health professionals to be heard, and supported through scientific and social research.

With The PLAID Journal, I want to take the personal things that we share with the world every single day and give them a vehicle to travel beyond just the diabetes online community. I want our passions to reach the people that can provide us with the evidence to create the change that we so desperately need in our diabetes world.

To make PLAID successful, I need your help. I want you to read, share, and contribute to The PLAID Journal. I want you to encourage researchers to publish in The PLAID Journal. Over time, PLAID will only grow stronger because it is built on our voices, our needs, and our experiences. When you read The PLAID Journal, I want you to imagine all of the things you CAN do, even with diabetes. I want you to dream. I want you to be successful.

With diabetes.

PLAID - Start the Conversation

To The Moon and Back

It’s the 4th Annual Diabetes Blog Week! If you want to participate, or if you want to see what other diabetes bloggers have to say about the daily topics over the next few days, head over to Karen’s blog at Bitter~Sweet and jump in.

Today’s blog prompt comes from Briley over at inDpendence.

Recently various petitions have been circulating the Diabetes Online Community, so today let’s pretend to write our own. Tell us who you would write the petition to – a person, an organization, even an object (animate or inanimate) – get creative!! What are you trying to change and what have you experienced that makes you want this change?

On May 25, 1961, President John F. Kennedy addressed Congress and presented his vision that the United States would put a man on the moon and safely return him to Earth before the end of the decade. Eight years later, with an unprecedented national determination, and financial support from the top levels of our government, the United States did exactly that.

Imagine if our government, our Congressional leaders, and our medical experts today put the same kind of determination into curing Type 1 diabetes that the brilliant minds of yesteryear did in getting a man to the moon and back. I want to see leaders with the gumption to embrace seemingly impossible ideas, like curing diabetes, and support them with the same enthusiasm and determination as the leaders in the 1960’s did to send a man hurdling out of Earth’s atmosphere toward a floating dustball, have him land, and then safely return. I want to see every single level of government, big pharma, and supposed research foundations, along with parents, children, and people just like me with diabetes working together to embrace solutions for ways that curing diabetes can be done, rather than excuses for how difficult it is. I know it’s difficult. I get how complicated diabetes is. I live with it every single day, and I see my friends thrive with this disease, and I see them die with this disease.

If we can imagine in eight short years how to send a human being on a rocket fuel powered missile 238,900 miles through a vacuum to land on a dusty, dark, desolate piece of planet with no life, air, water, food, or electricity, and then have him travel the 238,900 miles back safely, then we should be able to imagine how to cure a disease that we’ve already figured out how to live with for the past 90 years.

To view other posts on this topic, click here.

Just Ask

It’s the 4th Annual Diabetes Blog Week! If you want to participate, or if you want to see what other diabetes bloggers have to say about the daily topics over the next seven days, head over to Karen’s blog at Bitter~Sweet and jump in.

Today’s blog prompt comes from Melissa over at Sweetly Voiced.

Often our health care team only sees us for about 15 minutes several times a year, and they might not have a sense of what our lives are really like. Today, let’s pretend our medical team is reading our blogs. What do you wish they could see about your and/or your loved one’s daily life with diabetes? On the other hand, what do you hope they don’t see?

Unless I’m traveling or just too busy to stop what I’m doing (or in denial…yes, that happens), I see my endocrinologist (endo) and CDE every three months, my ophthalmologist (eye doctor) every year, and my dentist twice a year. That amounts to, at the very least, four hours a year in the office of my healthcare team with my pancreas hanging out, my pupils dilated, or my mouth wide open. Sometimes at the same time.

Considering that there are 8760 hours in a year, I spend about .5% of my year in doctors offices in various compromising positions (not counting labs, time on the phone with insurance, time spent hooking so that I can afford my copays, etc.), which begs the question… How the heck am I still alive?

There are plenty of other doctors that I could spend time with too. Presently on my list of docs to find include a dermatologist, a podiatrist, and a psychologist. That last one will likely make my doctor time (and spend) increase exponentially, but that’s a conversation for another day. When I’m less crazy. Because that happens too.

The thing is, I need all of the services and advice of all of these doctors in order for me to stay at my optimal health status and achieve my health goals. Yet, I struggle. What little bit of time I have with each of these doctors, we don’t have a chance to talk about some of the things that they could really help me with probably better than anyone.

At my endo, we talk about diabetes, pump settings, high and low blood sugar trends, A1C’s, prescriptions, and sometimes even new diabetes research and technology. We don’t talk about my struggle with my weight, and how it affects me both physically and mentally. We don’t talk about my depression, and how sometimes I’m smiling on the outside and absolutely falling apart on the inside, and nobody ever truly knows the extent of it. We don’t talk about stress, and ways to manage being overloaded, and strategies to cut it down so that I don’t have to add hypertension and heart disease to my laundry list of sh–stuff to deal with on a daily basis.

At the eye doctor, we talk about diabetes, A1C’s, and the importance of keeping and EYE on things (see what I did there?) in the back of my eyeballs. We don’t talk about how prescription glasses are expensive, especially when you need multiple pairs (stylish regular glasses, plus sunglasses that make you think you look stylish, plus sport sunglasses for when you play volleyball on the beach with no shirt on all Top Gun style). We don’t talk about how much time I spend staring at a computer screen, and whether or not that is good or bad. We don’t talk about anything to allay my fears and anxiety from potential and, in reality, way over-exaggerated diabetes complications. We don’t even differentiate between Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes, but rather treat it as just this overarching definition of diabetes that sucks and makes you go blind, your feet fall off, and your wenis not work properly. And I need my wenis to continue to work properly dangit! (I don’t even know how I got from eyeballs to wenis, but I’m mildly impressed and entertained with myself right now.)

I want my healthcare team to know that, just because it isn’t their area of expertise, all of these various other things in Martin World impact me, and are related in some way, and have the potential to impact my health in both positive and negative ways. Because I’m stressed out that my BG’s are running higher than normal may mean that I don’t check my BG as often because I don’t want to deal with the stress that I feel when I see that high number on my meter. So then I go get something awful to eat to feed the stress with, and then my pants start fitting a little tighter, and I feel like I’m the size of a whale and the idea of an 19th century style corset sounds like a pretty great idea if it will make my pants fit better. Then my pants get too tight and the pressure makes my eyeballs fall out and my teeth point forward.

What I also want my healthcare team to know is that I have absolutely no clue how to bring these things up and talk about them in the time limit and in a way that makes sense to them before they have to run off and see the next patient. I’m doing good to remember to even show up for the appointment most days. If it’s not on my Outlook calendar with an alarm, don’t expect me to be there. If there was one thing I wish they would all ask, it might be, “So all of these numbers aside, how are YOU doing? Feeling okay? Any particular issue not related to insulin, BG test strips, and pump supplies that I can help with?”

Just ask. The answer might be no most of the time. But sometimes it might be yes. And that’s when it is most important that you asked, and that you are there to listen.

To view other posts on this topic, click here.

Make It So…Wait, Low?

We’re right smack dab in the middle of Diabetes Blog Week, and as much as I would love to be able to post every day, my schedule refuses to allow it. Today’s topic, about some diabetes thing that you or your loved one does spectacularly, captured my attention though, and reminded me of a story that happened just this past weekend.

On Friday, my 31st Diaversary, A-Flizzle and I ventured over to the Monticello Opera House, where I dawned one of these…

…and proceeded to serenade the sold out crowd.

Or maybe I just went there for the Star Trek Murder Mystery Dinner Theatre.

In any case, me and Number One (A-Flizzle) were there and made it so. This was my first murder mystery dinner, so I really had no clue what to expect. In diabetes terms, I didn’t pre-bolus, because I didn’t know exactly when we would get food, or even what the food was going to be. The menu said something about sliced Tribble, with a side of pok tar, and a big stein of Romulan ale. Yeah, go ahead…try looking THAT up in Go Meals! (Which is awesome, by the way, if you ever need an app to look up nutritional info. And no, they didn’t pay me or give me anything to say that. But if they wanted to…*cough, cough*)

Do you think the computer in Star Trek would tell you the nutritional info, or would it just beep and buzz at you like our insulin pumps and Continuous Glucose Monitors (CGM’s) do now? Inquiring Klingons want to know.

Back to the story…so we were sitting there in Act 1, and the galactic detective was setting the scene, something about how awful of a detective he was, or maybe he was getting ready to retire, or perhaps he had chased an alien rabbit down a black hole and had been warped to the other side of space and landed on some distant starship. Honestly, I have no clue, because while we were making it so, diabetes and the full-throttle day was making me low.

Near the end of Act 1, I was trying my hardest to focus and keep up with the story, but I was checked out. My attention was somewhere between Jupiter and Pluto. All I could think was, “I’m low…and is that person really wearing a Darth Vader mask under a hood and pretending to be in Star Trek?”

The spectacular of the story is that A-Flizzle noticed. A regular Coke and a couple of glucose tabs later, I was back in space, instead of spaced out. I caught up with the mystery, we enjoyed dinner, had blueberry cobbler for dessert that was to die for, and by the end I had even figured out whodunit.

The biggest mystery though is how A-Flizzle figured out that I was low in a crowded room with attention being diverted in the opposite direction of me. Somehow, she has figured out my low blood sugar tells, those hijinks that give away that something is wrong, sometimes even before my brain is capable of comprehending it…and that’s a pretty spectacular diabetes trick.

Learning and Lows

It has been an intense week of blogging about diabetes. It’s been an intense week of living with diabetes too.

I have found so many other diabetes bloggers during Diabetes Blog Week that I may never have to buy another book again to always have new material to read. Our community that is sharing about this disease is so awesome, and BIG. I love that, but I also hate it.

Right now probably isn’t the best time for me to write about diabetes, since I’m still quite upset with it, yet maybe it’s the perfect time. I do well with my diabetes. Most days, I have it handled and am able to show it who’s boss.

Today was not one of those days. I spent a full day outside for A-Flizzle‘s birthday, hanging out with friends, discovering and having a blast playing Ladder Golf, and then coming home and giving my animals a bath. Then I went to meet up for dinner, and wouldn’t you know it…I went low.

It happened so fast. One of those sneaky lows, where I started seeing funny shapes and lines in things and people’s faces that shouldn’t be there. This is something I’ve realized seems to happen sometimes when I’m dropping too fast and getting too low, these really disturbing lines and colors that my brain realizes aren’t right, but can’t quite connect to a low blood sugar and something being wrong. Imagine the world subtly and all of a sudden looking like a mismatched patchwork quilt, kind of like a real life Picasso. That is as close as I can think to describe what it looks like, a Picasso painting. I was studying A-Flizzle’s face, trying to figure out why it looked like her jaw was on her forehead and her eye was by her ear, when she looked at me and said, “Are you okay?”

Photo by Nocturnal.Intellect on Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

That was when I realized my speech had already left the building. All I could do was shake my head no. No talking. No checking the Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM). No grabbing my kit and managing to fumble with my testing supplies so I could do a fingerprick. No reaching in my pocket to fish out my keys that have my four emergency glucose tabs on the keychain. No, none of that. I just put my head in my hands and closed my eyes, trying to focus.

A-Flizzle was all over it, as were my dear friends DJ and H1L1. Whatever conversation we had been having, which I think was about the dogs at the table near us, was thrown aside. All the training and education that I’ve given A-Flizzle over the past year and some odd months about what to do if I drop low, and assuring her that it isn’t a question of IF it will happen, but WHEN it happens, kicked in. I have to say, she handled it like a pro, and as unpredictable as diabetes can be, she took over showing it who was boss while I was temporarily put on the bench.

While A-Flizzle was fishing my glucose tabs out of my pocket and feeding them to me and my lack of motor skills, refusing to let me panic, DJ had scrambled to go get orange juice (any kind of fruit juice would have worked, or a regular Coke, but I wasn’t able to tell them that at the time), and my buddy H1L1 was there fielding flying glucose tabs from off the ground before the aforementioned dogs could eat them as treats. I love my girlfriend and friends. This was the first time that I have had a low where I needed a little help since A-Flizzle and I have been dating, and between her and my friends, I cannot describe how thankful and grateful I truly am.

Still, I feel guilty.

I know it isn’t my fault.
I know that nobody is holding it against me.
I know that today was the exception, not the rule.
I know that there was absolutely nothing any one of us could have done to prevent this low. It happened way too fast. My CGM actually alarmed with the low alert while A-Flizzle was feeding me glucose tabs. Way to be on the ball there, technology! (See also: sarcasm)

I also know that I’m telling myself most of this, in hopes that it is true.

The guilt I feel is because there we were having a fine time, carrying on perfectly good conversations, appreciating the day that we had all spent together, maybe sharing a little gossip between friends, and then all of that got derailed by stupid diabetes. Diabetes was like a toddler at the table, eating its peas and carrots and minding its own business, and then all of a sudden demanding the attention of everyone by screaming and throwing a spoon at my forehead. Diabetes should really learn some manners.

I don’t like that diabetes is like that, that it can take over any situation with little to no warning. I don’t like putting anybody else in a position where they have to take on the responsibility of my diabetes. It isn’t fair…not to them, and not to me either. Still, this was one low where I didn’t have to spend precious minutes quietly focusing my way into telling my hands to reach in my pocket, get my glucose tabs, and eat them. I was comfortable enough, and maybe even scared enough, to trust A-Flizzle and my friends to know that I needed help, and to be able to help me. That trust alone tells me that I’m getting better at not hiding my diabetes, and why I admire the people who save us every single day, so very much.

A Boy, a Pump, and a Dog

No long explanation. Just a boy, a pump, and a dog...and a squeaky toy.

Because of Diabetes, I Win

Not too long ago the DOC was tasked with writing about the most awesome thing we’ve done in spite of diabetes. There were so many great posts, and today’s Diabetes Blog Week topic takes that same notion of awesomeness, and gives it a twist. Rather than the awesomeness that we’ve achieved DESPITE diabetes, today’s topic is to write about the awesomeness achieved BECAUSE of diabetes.

I am who I am because of diabetes. Diabetes isn’t all that I am, but there is no way that I can say that it isn’t responsible for helping to shape who I have become.

I’ve written before about how I don’t have the perspective of life without diabetes. I was diagnosed at age two, so it has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. To some that may sound tragic, but I rather like who I am. I don’t have any guarantees that I would like the person I might have been without diabetes being such a big part of my life.

Since struggling with yesterday’s Diabetes Blog Week post, I’ve realized as I’ve continued to reflect that maybe I’ve accepted the fact that I have diabetes, instead of hoping and pretending like it isn’t there and might magically go away. Accepting diabetes is a hard pill to swallow, and shouldn’t be confused with being happy about it or giving up hope. You have to sometimes embrace the monkey on your back to keep him from choking you to death.

The Diabetes Online Community (DOC) has been a huge part of my life in since I discovered that there are other people who go through the same trials with diabetes as me. How I live with my diabetes has changed a lot since I began sharing and being a contributing member of the DOC. I’ve pulled back the curtains on what it is like to live with diabetes, not only for everyone that reads my blog and follows me on Twitter, but also for myself. I still fall into the habit of hiding it sometimes when I shouldn’t, but I am getting better about putting diabetes out in plain sight.

As I write about diabetes more, talk about it more, and teach others about it more, I know that I will continue to get more comfortable with sharing the spotlight with diabetes. Because of diabetes, I have found a community of people who I can lean on when I stumble, and who can rely on me when they struggle. Diabetes is a condition best treated in a community. Because of diabetes I can focus my energies strengthening that community, increasing awareness, and improving the lives of all people with diabetes. Because of diabetes, I have a lifetime of knowledge and experience with this disease to share.

Because of diabetes, I win.

Photo by Elisfanclub, Flickr, CC BY-SA 2.0

Walking Contradiction

The Diabetes Blog Week challenge for today was to write ten things that I hate about diabetes.

I have struggled with this post all day long. It’s not that there aren’t things that I hate about diabetes. I’ve read so many other posts from my friends in the DOC, and I agree with every single one of them. Like…

…Jacquie’s list where she mentions the heartbreaking blue diabetes candle.

…Kelly’s list where she highlights critical insurance issues relating to diabetes.

…Jess’s list highlights the guilt and fear that often accompany diabetes.

…Mike’s list that captures the anger and helplessness that comes with diabetes.

…Scott’s list and all the logistics of diabetes.

I sat down tonight and had a talkie talk with A-Flizzle about why I’m having such a hard time with this post. Her response was, “Martin, you can find the positive side to being in a chain gang. The reason you can’t find ten things to hate about diabetes is because that isn’t how you view your life with diabetes.”

Photo by Patrick Denker, Flickr, CC 2.0

She’s right. I don’t typically think of diabetes in terms of hate. Sure, there are things I don’t like about diabetes. I’ve certainly had my days where I’ve looked up with tears in my eyes and said to someone, no one, anyone that I’m tired of diabetes. It’s not always easy. Still, I try my best not to give all the aggravations of diabetes so much power that they become all I can focus on.

I try to find the positive side of things and not dwell on the things that aren’t perfect in this world; especially not the things that I can’t do anything about.

I have diabetes. Diabetes does not have me.

Without the dark of night, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the beauty of a sunrise or a sunset. Life can sometimes be a little sweeter with diabetes. I spent 28 years of my life with diabetes not knowing anyone else with this disease, and living every single day with it more alone than I ever realized. Today I know more people with diabetes than I can count, and I meet new friends every single day who overcome it just like I do.

I hate that, but at the same time, I love it. I’m a diabetic walking contradiction.

30 Years With Diabetes

Today’s Diabetes Blog Week topic is diabetes bloopers. You know, those things that make you go, “D’Oh!” and facepalm yourself. I’ve had my fair share of diabetes bloopers: Dropping & shattering glass vials of insulin, running off on trips without all of my diabetes supplies, forgetting to dose for a meal, forgetting that I already dosed for a meal, finding the cat playing with rogue pump tubing, catching the dog gnawing on a perfectly good tube of glucose tabs…the list goes on and on.

The blooper that is really on my mind today is the one that my pancreas made 30 years ago when it decided to quit working. Or maybe it was my immune system that decided to work too well. Or maybe it was because I had chicken pox. Or maybe it was because someone got me wet or fed me after midnight. Or maybe it was because a butterfly flapped its wings in China. 30 years after the fact there is so much more we know about diabetes, but what exactly causes it and how to cure it are still not on that list, despite what we were told about how close we were to a cure when we were diagnosed.

Today is a day of celebration, of blessings, thankfulness, and appreciation. I have learned more in my 30 years with diabetes than some people learn in a lifetime. Living with diabetes has taught me so much, and coupled with other life lessons, I would be remiss to not stop for just a moment and appreciate the gifts that I have been given…thanks to diabetes.

The 1^st 10 Years

If you’re low, anytime is snacktime.
Bananas and peanut butter on vanilla wafers is the best snack in the world.
You can’t go play when you blood sugar is high. But if you can sneak away when your parents aren’t looking, it’s fair game. The back door doesn’t squeak and make noise like the other ones do.
Swimming always makes you go low.
Visiting the cute nurses on the Pediatric floor at the hospital when you’re there for lab work is always a treat. They know you by name.
When you hear the term “A1C” you think of steak sauce and hamburgers.
You don’t know anyone else with diabetes.

The Teenage Years

If you’re low, it’s a nuisance, and you have to stop what you’re doing and take a break to feed it. Not always ideal when you’re being paid hourly at a part-time job.
Whatever is fast and convenient is the best snack in the world.
You hardly notice when your blood sugar is high. Until it makes you feel awful. Then it is all you notice.
Swimming still makes you go low.
Visiting the cute nurses on the Pediatric floor at the hospital when you’re there for lab work is still a treat. Other floors are acceptable as well, as long as there are cute nurses. You know THEM by name.
When you hear the term “A1C,” you also hear words like “goal” and “lower.” Those cute nurses are a good distraction.
You’ve heard of other people with diabetes, but you still don’t know anyone that has it.

The Last Ten Years

If you’re low, your CGM alarms and you drop everything and treat it. Except when you have low-brain and can’t seem to focus. Then it becomes more of a struggle, and is sometimes followed by a hangLOWver.
Cheese, nuts, and other low carb foods are the best snacks in the world.
Because you are in better control of your diabetes, you can feel a high blood sugar in the upper 100’s now. 200+ makes you feel like dog’s ass.
Swimming still makes you go low, and now you have to replace a pump site when you get done because the sticky doesn’t stay stuck in the water. You are able to ride a bike for over 100 miles in one day. You’ve discovered OTHER activities that have the same effect as swimming on your BG’s, and are just as much fun.
Visiting the cute nurses, wherever you can find them, has become a rarity. Now you mostly settle for Helga, the former wrestler with the mustache and gallon sized syringe and harpoon needle to do your lab work. She knows you as a number.
When you hear the term “A1C,” you start thinking all about decimal pointed numbers like 5.6 and 6.5.
You meet an amazing community of people online and in real life who also have diabetes. You start a blog, and start sharing your life with diabetes. They inspire you.

The Next Ten Years

Your diabetes is tightly controlled, and you don’t have any of the complications that others who don’t take their diabetes seriously often suffer from.
You’re slim, fit, and eat right so that you’re able to do the things you love and experience the world. You look fantastic naked.
You accept that there will always be things that make you go low. You’re prepared for them, and never let diabetes keep you from being able to do anything that you set your mind to.
You have a family now, and your diabetes is not the center of the universe, but just a piece that helps explain your awesomeness during bedtime stories.
You vow to only have lab work done from cute nurses in the future. You have diabetes, so you deserve it.
Your doctor rarely mentions the term “A1C” anymore. He’s more interested in what awesome things you did in the last three months so that he has success stories to share with his other diabetes patients.
You continue to write about diabetes, speak about diabetes, advocate for diabetes research and better treatments, and share your world with diabetes. You challenge others to take control of their own diabetes, and cherish those stories of how you inspired someone else to save their own life.

Today, May 11, 2011 is my 30th Diaversary. Thank you all for being such an amazing part of it.

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” — Mae West

Allison, Caroline, me, and Brenda at a May 2011 D-Meetup in New York City

	Rick Phillips on I Lied
	Tina on A Bunch of Sensitive Pric…
	Heather Gabel on Diabetes as a Disability
	Martin on Diabetes as a Disability
	Heather Gabel on Diabetes as a Disability