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February 10th, 2012
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By now I am sure most of you have heard about the “breakthrough” discovery made regarding a possible cure for type 1.


When I saw the report on NBC nightly news I was floored. I sat in my chair staring in front of the TV. My son said, “that is cool huh dad?”


I just looked at him and said, “I guess it is.”


His weird look was probably a mirror of the weird look I felt I had on my face. How was I supposed to feel about this?

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There comes a point where death isn't scary anymore. But hope...hope is scary.

 

I'm a fan of Grey's Anatomy on ABC. The latest episode featured a terminal cancer patient...a young and seemingly vibrant woman (minus the disease ravaging her body)...who was seeking physician assisted suicide. Those lines up there were ones she said in defense of her own death.

 

As they passed through the TV speakers, they hit me. Hard. I know they're just fiction, that some TV writer/producer thought them up. Someone thought they knew what it felt like to face that precipice. Maybe they actually do. Maybe they're writing from experience the way that I am now.

 

Those words hit me hard because it's a way that I've never verbalized about emotions that I constantly feel. I've never really considered death and hope in that way. The fear. In a reverse kind of way.

 

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Back in November I wrote a song called "Not By Choice" for World Diabetes Day.

 

The words I wrote were pulled from my memories of how it felt to be diagnosed and not know what type one diabetes was. Thoughts like, “why did this happen to me?” “What did I do wrong?” And I blamed myself for a long time too.

 

Then I found this community online. The Diabetes O.C. which we affectionately call it and a community I mention often. When I found this group of other people with diabetes who had those same feelings, I realized that we could help one another and not give up hope.

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Tonight we're meeting friends for dinner and a show at the Tin Angel in Philadelphia. Fantastic place to see live music if you ever have the opportunity. We're seeing a band called the Trashcan Sinatras, which you may have heard of if a.) You listened to alternative/college radio in the early 90s or b.) You're from Scotland. A great band.

 

I do hope we make it there. We can certainly use it. These rare night outs have a tendency to fall apart at the eleventh hour for one reason or another unfortunately. Charlie's recent trend of unexplained high blood sugars has us wondering if a virus is lurking within him, only to be revealed as we're walking out the door with keys in hand.

 

Susanne has changed his infusion site two times in the last two days to see if that was the source of the highs. Alas, no. The highs are coming no matter what.

 

We're both pretty frustrated.

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False hope begins with an article torn out of a magazine, folded up into a neat square and given to me by my friend's mother. A photo of a cute 7-year-old girl with an embroidered pink flower clip in her hair lying on her bed alongside an expressionless Hello Kitty doll tucked behind pink pillows. The girl displays three white pills in one hand and a blue insulin pump in the other. And, of course, a smile. A warm, understated smile.
And my focus turns to words. Words in bold; words that are capitalized; words that are enlarged.
"From Pump to Pills"
"LIFE-CHANGING NEWS"
"First grader with DIABETES can now live her life free of daily insulin injections"
Being cautious about getting too excited, I scan the article for conjunctions such as however, but or although floating across the page like dark rain clouds. (READ MORE)


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Is it any wonder that insulin is so difficult to manage?  It is, after all, a young drug, and one that has seen rapid and extraordinary changes in formulation and delivery in the ninety years since discovery. 

 

Many vaccines, antibiotics, antiseptics, antihistamines, and anesthetics were invented in the 300 years before insulin first made its appearance on the scene.  People were flying, driving cars, listening to radios, riding escalators, vacuuming their carpets, talking on telephones, and enjoying air conditioners before the invention of insulin.  

 

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Yesterday, I searched Marvin's bright blue eyes as they danced in the afternoon sun. I marveled at the gray of my cat's fur. I glanced at the scenes flying past the car window.

 

It was a fairly normal day. I woke up, I went to lunch with Marvin, I spent the evening with my mom. I didn't think twice about my life. Until I was watching TV last night and the thought popped into my mind, I hope I don't go blind.

 

It was an episode of "Without a Trace." A girl around fifteen years old had suddenly gone blind from a retinal disease. In the episode, she struggled with the loss of her sight. She acted out, she was forced to develop new systems and patterns, she lost it.

 

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As hard as these last few days have been, I'm still very grateful for the life that I have. Even when things seem hopeless and horrible, there are always blessings in life. That applies even to this stupid disease that we have to deal with every day. Despite a random 300 with no reasonable excuse, I am still thankful for certain things.

 

Mostly, I'm thankful for the people in my life. I have an amazing support group who love me unconditionally and each meet a separate need in my life. Like Marvin, who is by far the best man I know and I honestly can't imagine how I'd be here without him. Or the fellow diabetic women in my life like G, Tracey, or Megan who listen to the complaints and understand exactly where I'm coming from. Then there are the non-D friends who just give honest feedback to whatever issue I'm having and take the time to understand who I am and how I function.

 

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We have been promised a cure for decades. It's always just around the corner. There was the seaweed and islet cell transplant success that I remember quite vividly. There were pancreas transplants. The stem cell rejuvenation talk. And recently, there has been a large movement towards the artificial pancreas.

 

And now, JDRF, Animas, and Dexcom have teamed up to do just that. Build me an artificial pancreas. Okay, not me personally. But maybe, someday.

 

But what does an artificial pancreas actually mean for me? Well first, this first-generation AP (yep, I'm shortening it) utilizes an insulin pump and CGM sensor to continually monitor blood sugar levels then either give or stop insulin as needed. We'd still be bolusing for meals, but the daily hassle of tracking every change would be lessened.

 

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I know this is not a popular view, but I believe I will live a long life and all of it with diabetes. No, I do not believe there will be a cure in my lifetime. Yeah, that’s kind of crappy to say, but I just don’t see enough progress happening (of course I’m really an outsider when it comes to all things cure related) and there is so much money in the treatment of diabetes right now that I think the focus and priorities are not in a place to support a cure.
 

That’s not to say that I don’t think there will be significant progress on the cure front, I just don’t think I’ll live out my days as a non-diabetic. I believe I’ll be wearing my pancreas on my hip in some shape or another forever. And that’s a long forever, people.
 

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Carey Potash
Carey PotashCarey is a full-time hater of diabetes. The benefits stink. His 7-year-old son, Charlie, has been giving he and his wife the finger since November of 2003. Carey's parenting humor has appeared in various websites and print magazines. He resides in the suburbs of Philadelphia with his wife and three children. (Read More)
Brenda Bell
Brenda BellBrenda was diagnosed with high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and Type 2 diabetes in July 2002. After a rocky start, her diabetes has been diet-controlled since January 2004 and she hopes to keep it that way for as long as possible. (Read More)
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