What Would Diabetes Day Do?

THE WHOLE WORLD HAS DIABETES. No. That's not true. But today, maybe some random people in the world will become slightly more aware of diabetes.

Today is World Diabetes Day.

I’ve had type 1 diabetes for 13,944 days. (I tried to math this out on my own but I ended up Googling “how many days has it been since September 11, 1986?” and went from there. Math: It’s not for Kerri.) That’s a long time, but like other things in my life, days seem to be accumulating very quickly. How am I 45 years old? How have I had diabetes for over 38 years? Why did I walk into this room? When did I end up with one, single gray hair in my eyebrow, for crying out loud? How did I get here? How do I work this?

And despite having a semi-closed loop insulin pump, I had a blood sugar of 37 mg/dL the other night. There wasn't an easily identifiable catalyst for this event, but when my pump and phone started alerting with that URGENT LOW GLUCOSE alarm at 1.45 am and I saw the 41 with arrows down on my phone, I didn't believe it. My symptoms were minimal, mental acuity intact, and it was day one of a new sensor and transmitter combination, so I took out my meter, just to make sure.

37 mg/dl, followed by 39 mg/dL. I was then sure.

I had glucagon at the ready but two juice boxes worked their magic, after ten very long and well-lit minutes, as I'd turned on every light in the bedroom (sorry, Chris) and was sitting on the edge of the bed, ready for ... what? I don't know. Ready to pass out? Ready to take the glucagon injection? Or maybe the glucagon up my nose? Ready to sit and wait for glucose to enter my blood stream while I worried more and more about the lack of symptoms I was feeling. Would I have slept through this? Would I have survived this if the alarms hadn't eventually sounded?

Despite having glucose tabs, if the low is intense enough, I'll eat an entire pack of Twizzlers without thinking twice. Might follow up with a spoonful of peanut butter. The rationally portioned low treatments are my goal, but when hands are too weak to grip anything and the waves of unconsciousness are lapping at the base of my brain, I can put away 180 grams of carbs in a single bound.

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

Despite having a job, and a partner who is employed, and despite access to insurance (plus the privileges that are afforded to me when it comes to country, race, etc.), I worry actively about access to insulin. I have a 90 day supply that was delivered this week, but I'm already thinking about the reorder come February. I think about keeping it all at the right temperature so that it doesn't spoil, covering it with a vial protector so that it doesn't break, and what would happen if there was a hurricane, a power outage, a fire, an administration that makes access to safe and efficacious insulin harder. It's not an idle worry. It's a worry that has its foot on the gas.

Despite feeling like World Diabetes Day is something that we, as a community of people who are already aware of diabetes, shout back to ourselves about, I was really touched to see my son’s school marking the day. A newsletter went out about November 14, encouraging kids to wear blue for diabetes. That surprised me. It was nice. And my son left the house wearing my blue circle pin, and he seemed proud to play his part in educating people, even just for the day.

(Despite not talking about my kids very often on Substack, I do have to share that my son is a terrific advocate. Just like his sister has been throughout the years. Only he’s a little more direct. Like when we were at Barnes and Noble, browsing books, and one of the employees stopped to chat about the books we were buying, and my son nodded as she spoke, occasionally interjecting, “Hey, maybe this store should sell your books, Mom. The ones about diabetes.” And then he’d waggle his eyebrows.)

Despite having lived with diabetes for 38 years, I still wonder what it's like for my mom. She had to learn this, raise me, let me go, and not worry while still worrying. She had to let me take over for something that is impossible to let go of.

Despite a disease that's trying to make life hard, I've still lived a life. And I'm proud of that.

Happy World Diabetes Day to you, you badasses. I’m proud of you.

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