A couple weeks ago, a tweet from Ron Graham (@rongraham1) echoed the general belief that it is easier to tell the truth than "to worry about remembering what it was you said". Seems to me even "telling the truth" requires a bit of memory. How much truth did you tell? Whose truth? And to whom did you tell it? The only Truth about "truth" is that it is relative: there's my truth, your truth, your partner's truth, and the fellow across the road's truth. (Scott Johnson's
recent blog entry on Diabetes Daily examines the different truths of
his diabetes management through doctor's and patient's perspectives.)
Even "G-d's Eye Truth" is not a perfect truth, unless one presumes that "G-d's Eye" sees and perceives all the
sensations and subjectivities associated with all observers of a given event and that G-d's observation is not subject to Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle.
Shortly after I reacted to Ron's tweet, I ran a bit of a thought experiment to come up with an example to explain the subjectivity of "truth". I'm sure everyone here will "get it."
The scene: a room filled with people. Some of them have diabetes, some of them don't (and don't know anything about diabetes). Some of the people with diabetes have type 1, some have type 2, and each has
a different level of control and a different management program. They are asked to watch a short silent video.
The establishing shot is that of a silver-haired woman. We cut to a close-up of a glucometer with a strip inserted. We can see the shape and color of the meter and strip, but the angle obscures the brand name. Then we cut to close-up of a fingertip with a drop of blood on it. We then return to the glucometer, reading 104 mg/dl. The sequence takes about 15 seconds and ends on the glucometer display.
The audience is asked to truthfully describe what they just saw.
Someone with no exposure to diabetes may say "It has something to do with blood". Among those familiar with diabetes care, one might say, "I saw a diabetic woman checking her blood sugar; she is in good control." Someone else might say, "I saw an ad for a blood glucose meter". Someone who has not been able to get his or her blood glucose anywhere near that "magical" 104 mg/dl might write that he saw someone without diabetes test her blood sugar, "because there's no way someone with diabetes could ever read '104'"...
There's no obvious lie, no deliberate untruth, no attempt at spin-doctoring in any of these descriptions -- but each is different, and each is colored and interpreted by the life experiences of the viewer. (I've seen each of these sorts of responses in the forums on a number of diabetes-related sites.)
Taken in toto as a continuous action, the scenes and cuts do suggest that the woman has just tested her blood glucose level -- but we never actually see her handle the glucometer or prick her finger, nor do we see the test strip soak up blood. There's no slide showing the glucometer's manufacturer. This sequence could as easily place within a TV drama, or a diabetes education program, or as a viewer submission to a "Test! Don't Guess!" contest as it could a glucometer commercial.
In short, truth is relative -- even when it comes to diabetes management. We need to remember who knows enough of our own diabetes-management truths to be able to assist us in an emergency.
And sometimes, a peek into someone else's "truth" about our struggles can give us the emotional ammunition to go charging -- syringes, pens, insulin pumps, and glucometers loaded -- back into the breach.
