No matter how commonplace diabetes has become, I still react the same way when I see a person with diabetes in the wild. I still feel a special connection despite the fact that I don’t physically share the disease. I get excited, like I’ve just spotted a rare plant species or a member of a secret underground society - whose cover is only blown with the slightest hint of pump-tubing. I feel like there should be a unique handshake or some sort of enigmatic hand gesture.
I walked by an all-glass conference room at work the other day and saw two guys sitting at a long spruce-colored table and glancing up at the large flat-panel monitor on the wall. As I walked by, I saw one guy begin to unzip a small black pouch.
"Hmm," I thought. "I think I just saw a diabetic."
To be certain, I circled around and did a second drive-by. This time the guy had a white pricker flush against his index finger. The other guy just went about his business, punching keys on the keyboard, ignoring the quick blood-sugar check. I gazed at him in wonderment like he was the Loch Ness monster.
I wanted to pound the glass repeatedly, screaming loudly to penetrate the thick glass.
"Hey!!!"
"Hey!!!"
"So what’s your blood sugar???"
"Hey!!!"
"You OK???"
"Are you low???"
"Do you need me to get you some juice???"
I wanted to breathe my hot breath on the glass and write "my son has diabetes too" with my finger on the glass and a drawing of an unhappy face.
I wanted to barge into their meeting and just give the guy a hug.
Of course, I did none of those things.
Hello Carey. How old is your son and how old was he when diagnosed? Tell him you know a guy who has been Type 1 for 64 years and he is very healthy, with no complications. That guy is me. I was diagnosed in 1970 when I was 6 years old. I am now 70 and using an insulin pump. I hope your son has a long, healthy life like me. I hope he achieves all his goals and he does not let his diabetes stop him from doing all the important things in life.
Richard
Woops, I should have reread my post. I was diagnosed in 1945. Sorry about the typo. I confused my age with my date of diagnosis.
Carey,
Your story reminds me of a time we were sitting on a train headed back to Portland from Boston.
My family was seated in one of those first seat sections of four seats, where it is set up two facing two. A woman and her tween daughter were getting on the train. The daughter came first with lots of bags, and the mother lagged behind, seemingly struggling just one bag. She paused in her walk, looked up for her daughter and called out to her "hey I need help." I jumped up to help and asked her if she was OK. She replied "yeah, It's just I'm diabetic and my blood sugar is too low." More powerful words could not be spoken in my family's presence.
The shift into high gear was palpable. My Type 1 son, thrust a juice box and a roll of glucose tablets out. My non-D son grabbed her suitcase and carried it to her daughter. My husband asked her where her kit was and if she wanted to test or just treat.
To her stunned face we explained we were a type 1 family.
When she was feeling better she came back to us to chat and she and my son bonded.
Carey,
An interesting story. Do you really believe diabetics make up some sort of "underground society", or that there should be a secret handshake? I hope that with all of the effort you have put in to supporting the diabetes cause, and that if you were not jesting, that you really ought not feel like an outsider. If you yourself are ever diagnosed with diabetes, which I hope never happens, you may see that it really isn't so glamorous.
People with any type of chronic illness are likely to "bond" with others having the same illness more easily and readily that those who do not have the illness. But that isn't much different that two perfectly healthy people "bonding" because they both have the same hobby or career, and it certainly doesn't mean anyone with a chronic illness doesn't want or need the ever-loving support of "anyone", regardless of whether "anyone" has the same chronic illness or not.
Thank you for this blog. You were never on the outside looking in, I promise.
Dantony C.