I went to the doctor about my leg again yesterday. A different one. One that I feel much more comfortable with in the whole scheme of things. She seemed confident, personable, and concerned. They asked about my blood sugars, about what had been going on, and all that jazz.

And she believes that the infection is probably from a spider bite that turned into MRSA. Yep, MRSA. The big, scary staph infection. So now I'm sincerely hoping the new course of antibiotics kicks in soon. Because I'm totally run down in body and soul with this whole thing. I'm so exhausted, but can't sleep. I'm in pain. I'm annoyed.

Mostly, my mind is tossing over the responses that I've received from a few of the people that I care about most. My mom being the first one that I told. Her immediate reaction was alarmed. My mind battled against her fear, hoping not to let it in and add to the stress. Eventually, I made her realize that the new antibiotics should work and that it wasn't that big of a deal since it was still a subcutaneous infection.

The other reactions I've gotten have been concern. A worried concern that seeps into me much easier than the reactionary fear that my mother carried. It's the type of concern that I usually hate. Because I'm not concerned, why should someone else worry about me?

It isn't that I'm not concerned about the infection though. I know MRSA is bad, can be difficult to treat, and that diabetics have a hard time with these things. Deep down, an infection scares me. Deep down, MRSA really does. But I'm not living that worry on my shoulders.

My concern isn't so apparent because I'm comfortable with these things. I've been dealing with diabetes for the past sixteen and a half years. I've known about the complications and risks since before I even remember. Mortality has never been that far off for me. So dealing with a tricky leg infection doesn't seem all that "Oh my gosh, I'm going to die!" or even all that stressful. It's a blimp in the radar, a bump that makes me want to just push through this week.

While I was trying to combat the concern and worry of my friend, I realized that I shouldn't be so casual. Yes, MRSA is a big deal. Yes, these things are scary. Tossing around my casual mortality thoughts isn't a good idea. Making light of the fact that death is always imminent for me...not so smart.

Because even though I deal with this every day, day in and day out, 24/7/365, they don't. They haven't been concerned for the last sixteen years. They haven't come to grips with the fact that mortality is often only moments away, that it isn't something to fear or stress about. They need time, maybe all their life, to cope and realize that it isn't that scary.

I need to realize that my comfort level with this disease and its complications and risk factors isn't the same as a new friend, a new love interest, or even sometimes my parents. I live it, all the time. It's easy to me (the whole mortality thing). They don't. They get to turn it on and off, which makes it harder to pick back up. It makes it worse to remind yourself that one bad low could end in heart failure or that one prolonged high might end up in a coma. To me, those thoughts are so constant that I forget they are there sometimes.

To me, those thoughts are like breathing or eating or checking my blood sugar. I don't remind myself to do those things...even if I put them off for a moment or two. I know they are there, things that loom overhead. Just parts of my life. But to someone else, those things are a completely different world. A tough world to grasp in a short amount of time.

So this is my reminder to not be so casual about it. It's my reminder to care that other people care. A reminder to chip the callus away and find the emotion in the situation now and again.