Seeing the number in front of me was, I suppose, another moment where I had to accept a truth. Then, if that weren’t enough confirmation already, the nurse left the room and in a little while the doctor came barging in the door and said unceremoniously, “Yep, you’re diabetic.”
Category: Personal
Often what motivates me to care for my diabetes is the thought of living a long and able life so that I might enjoy my children’s adulthoods, not tethered to dialysis. I hold on to a belief that I have a great deal of control over my outcome. I have also believed – and I suddenly realize that this is folly – that, by having one chronic illness, I am somehow exempt from more threats to my well-being and longevity. My anemia is a sign, however, that my body is much more complex than a basic system, with inputs and outputs, I can understand and control.
I had only managed to swim a mile once in my pool and my health seemed off that summer. I still pushed myself, despite the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I completed the swim, but I did so slowly. It felt like I was swimming in oatmeal. At age 48 I wondered, was I getting too old for such exertion?
These are some of the questions I ask myself about any person when deciding whether or not to tell them I have diabetes. I don’t try to hide my diabetes. I mean, I wrote a book about it. But, I’m careful about revealing my diabetes to just anyone. Doing so is always a leap of faith and a high stakes roll.
I’d like to believe that anyone and everyone I tell would be understanding and accommodating to this fact of my life.
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