D is for Diabetes, type 1

I wanted this post to be "D is for Daliahs" but I forgot to take a photo of my grandmother's HUGE blooms in July. It's hard to write a post like that with no illustration.

So, instead you get personal health in what looks to be a very long post. I don't write about the big D much here. One hint is all I can remember (and I can hardly blame you if you missed it there). So while planning this post, I thought about why that is and I've come up with a few reasons.

One part is that diabetes is so completely integrated into my life that it's not newsworthy. It's constantly consuming some percentage of my brain power, but even when things aren't going great, there's not a lot of drama. I suppose I (we) should just be grateful that I don't have low blood sugar induced emergency room visits to write about.

Another part is that I like to keep the well-meaning diabetes police at bay. I don't need anyone telling me how their (insert distant relative here) lost their leg to diabetes. I don't need anyone asking me whether I should be eating that cookie (after I've already done the equivalent of a 10-page analysis in my head, decided yes, taken insulin to cover it and moved on to the next set of mathematics required by bigD). And, I don't want anyone to think of me as "that diabetic." I am a whole lot of things and while diabetic is one of them and probably has more influence on who I am than I'd like to give it credit for, it's not what I want to be known for. And I certainly don't want to be "that poor diabetic." I'm telling you a lot in this post. I am not asking for sympathy or pity.

Another part is that I don't share it well. I was diagnosed at on September 18, 1990 at 19 yrs old. I spent a week in the hospital and then moved back to the dorm for my sophomore year of college. It was wholly my responsibility to figure out my self-care. My friends in the dorm were really supportive of my required healthy snacks (or NPMUs = nutritional pick me ups, because Jen hated the word "snack") and the fact that I carried a scale and notebook to every meal that first quarter. I don't want to diminish the importance of a good circle of friends, but they weren't taking care of the diabetes, nor should they have. This set the pattern for me, I suppose. It's mine and mine alone to deal with (yes, I have some degree of this attitude in everything I do which is likely very hard on E'Yoak).

When E'Yoak and I got engaged, I asked my (FABULOUS) endocrinologist for advise/reading material for couples merging lives when D is already a factor for one of you. There isn't anything out there. There are pamphlets addressing "you/your spouse has just been diagnosed" which I took so he'd understand a little about what it means medically. What I wanted though, was something more like a step-parenting guide that also addresses what/how the birth parent in the relationship needs to let go. Right. You probably see why this doesn't exist: I can't even explain it well. The diabetes educators asked me to consider writing the book with E'Yoak. Hah. That would require me to figure out how to share it with him. It hasn't happened yet. (If we have a break-through, though, I hope I'll remember to take some notes.)

I am not, however, averse to answering questions about my diabetes. In fact, I kind of enjoy it. I like helping people understand it better and it makes me feel good when someone makes an effort to understand (not to pity or worry (though that sometimes comes with it, I know), simply to try to "get it."). So, you've had the giant preamble. The information desk is now open to take your questions. If you're wondering something, post a comment and I'll put together a Q&A post soon. Deal?

p.s. I need to give a shout-out to a certain friend who somehow found the right balance (for me) of checking on my well-being without intruding or nagging. He even figured out how to ask me if I'm ok when my eyes go dull (I think that's what he notices when I'm going low) so I go test instead of thinking it's just polite conversation. TY.