Just as hyperglycemia is but the tip of the iceberg when discussing the physical ravages of diabetes, depression is but the most visible diagnosis of how diabetes affects our minds.

I'm not talking about the temporary states of anxiety or paranoia, lassitude or somnolescence, that accompany our glycemic highs and lows, but the long-term, "you should get psychological help for this" effects of living with chronic disease in general, and diabetes in particular.

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The second annual "No-D Day" was Friday, 7 October. I missed it in preparation for Yom Kippur.

This is the second year that the diabetes online community has dedicated a day specifically to writing about things other than, um, diabetes. Let's face it: most of the time our posts are so full of highs, lows, food diaries, d-meetups, medication schedules, glucose tests, and so on that we tend to lose site that behind those walls of figures sit real people. People with parents, spouses or partners, sometimes children, sometimes furkids, jobs, homes (we hope!), and a whole range of interests beyond the latest FDA letter drive for an iPhone-mounted glucometer or a low-suspend pump.

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Once you get past the congestion of sheer numbers and the mix of colors, designs, and graphic techniques, there's one thing that stands out on every team shirt at the Seaside Heights, NJ JDRF Walk: cure. It's not just because the event is called the Walk to Cure Diabetes (emphasis mine), or because insulin is "not a cure" for autoimmune diabetes. It's not because parents are struggling to pay for their children's pumps and CGMs, or because adversity breeds strength.

The reason we see the word cure is same reason we see another word on team names and slogans, and that word is hope.

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Between the High Holy Days, my upcoming JDRF walk, and online friends who are mourning recent losses, the deceased have been on my mind lately.

More specifically, those who have been lost to diabetes -- whether as a patient or as a victim of someone Driving While Low -- as well as those with diabetes who have died, but not from diabetes.

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There's something that haunts every person who remembers Life Before Diagnosis. We describe it as spontaneity, carelessness, social acceptability, freedom.

What it boils down to are food and money.

For starters, diabetes robs from us the ability to "just" eat when we are hungry, not-eat when we're not, and not have to weigh, measure, and log every morsel that passes our lips. Then, it robs from us the (admittedly ill-advised) pleasures of the occasional ice-cream sundae or wolfing down half a pizza pie. And because we can't be certain of the foods that we don't prepare ourselves, it robs us of the ability to eat at friends' and relatives' homes, or even casual-dining restaurants.

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Every morning, I weigh myself, check my blood pressure, and test my blood glucose. The latter two measurements are checked on various occasions throughout the day -- moreso the glucose than the pressure, even though my only prescription medications are for my blood pressure rather than my blood glucose. There is a range for each that I consider "safe". When the ambient temperature drops, Raynaud's kicks in, and with it, the risk of hypothermia. Unfortunately, three of those parameters -- blood pressure, blood glucose, and body temperature --
have a common symptom when they drop below the safety zone. That symptom is shakiness.

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