The fact that I have diabetes is not the first thing most people learn about me.  In reality, it's often one of the last things I reveal about myself.  An exception to this rule is disclosure in the workplace. 

Because I am hypoglycemic unaware, and because I don't think it's fair for a person to find out about my diabetes because I've either lost consciousness or behaved aggressively, I typically let the people I work with know what they might be up against.   It's never really "comfortable" to disclose - as I'm never sure how people might react - but I find that it's absolutely necessary.  

In past positions, I've told just the people who are in neighboring cubicles or offices.  I've simply explained that I have type 1 diabetes, that I inject/infuse insulin, that I am in very good control, and that despite the good control low blood sugars are possible and can be dangerous.  I've pointed out that I keep sugar in my desk and in my bag and advised not to try to test my blood-sugar and to not fight me if I am aggressive.  I've told them that I won't be upset or offended if an ambulance is called.  Sometimes, word gets out and it can create some odd questions like "you're not fat, how can you have diabetes?"  

One of the cool things about my new job is the small office and small staff.  There are only six of us on our administrative side, and we all work within thirty feet of one another.  Given that this makes every one of my coworkers "people in neighboring cubicles or offices,"  I decided this time, with the encouragement of my boss, to talk about my diabetes at our weekly staff meeting.  

I explained that I have diabetes, that I wear an insulin pump, and that I don't always feel my low blood sugars.  I talked a little about how low blood sugars can effect a person and how dangerous they can be.  I pointed out the juice boxes in my drawer and in my lunch bag.  I went through the steps.  If I am acting strangely, suggest that I test my blood sugar.  If I refuse or act aggressively, don't argue with me, just give me a juice box and encourage me to drink.  If I refuse that or I am in anyway unresponsive or combative, call an ambulance.  

There was no panic.  There were no odd questions.  In the meeting and over the next few days, there were intelligent, calm responses and queries.  "Will it hurt you if you're not low and I've given you juice?"  "I don't want to offend you - what if you're just having a bad day?"  "How long have you had diabetes?"  "How much insulin do you take?"  "How long has it been since you've had a low blood sugar?"  "Do you have to stay away from all kinds of sugar?"  "How did you get type 1?"  "What's the difference between type 1 and type 2?"  

I silently praised the gods of good fortune and intelligent coworkers as I answered their questions.  

Late one afternoon, one of my coworkers came to my desk to answer a question I had.  When he finished his answer, I said "Okey dokey!"  He said, "I knew you were an okey dokey kind of person..."

This last made me laugh.  "What do you mean?"

"Well, I could just tell you're a person who just goes with it, who stays cool, who thinks 'okey dokey' when they get an answer that maybe isn't what they thought they'd get."

"Ah," I said, "I guess I am an okey dokey kind of person then."

"I also know you're strong person," he said, more serious now, "Because it took a lot of guts to talk about your diabetes in our staff meeting.  You're obviously a strong person."

I smiled and said "I'm not nearly as strong as you'd think."  

I guess I'd never thought of it that way, but I suppose it takes a particular kind of strength to expose a weakness in that way.  To say "I may need your help" and trust that you won't be judged for it.   To uncover something that you might prefer to keep hidden.  

And although I guess it can be challenging, I simply wouldn't have it any other way.