Tuesday’s prompt for Diabetes Blog Week: “Living with diabetes (or caring for someone who lives with it) sure does take a lot of work, and it’s easy to be hard on ourselves if we aren’t “perfect”. But today it’s time to give ourselves some much deserved credit. Tell us about just one diabetes thing you (or your loved one) does spectacularly! Fasting blood sugar checks, oral meds sorted and ready, something always on hand to treat a low, or anything that you do for diabetes. Nothing is too big or too small to celebrate doing well!”
Like a lot of the folks whose posts I’m reading today, I had a hard time figuring out what I could possibly write about for this prompt. There are a million things floating around my head for tomorrow’s post–the string of site failures I’ve had this month, taking care of my eyeballs, the ENTIRE DAYS when I do not test and just sort of wing it–but I think it’s always easier to criticize ourselves than to do what might feel like bragging. Finally, running out of time and lacking an idea, I thought back to all of the diabetes moments that I’m actually kinda proud of, and found one common thread: I was a huge diabitch. (You can also say it dia-beyotch if you’re feeling feisty.)
I don’t mean that I get cranky when my blood glucose is off the charts, or that I can’t handle my A1c disappointments like a big girl. I really don’t mean it in a negative way at all. Most of the time I’m a very polite person, but when it comes to my health, my inner diabitch comes out whenever she needs to lay the smackdown. Being appropriately diabitchy is the one thing I do best when it comes to making sure that I’m taking care of myself and acting in my own best interest even if that puts me in the sorts of confrontational situations that “ladies” generally don’t engage in.
When I’m “being my own advocate”, I self-advocate HARD.
Pump coordinator telling me that I’m “not allowed” to start a pump and CGM at the same time? Time to diabitch out and go over her head to get my personal robo-pancreas party started.
Hospital nurse* saying that I’m “too skinny to have the ‘bad kind’ of diabetes” and attempting to give me an insulin shot that would have killed me based on SOMEONE ELSE’S correction factor? Cranking the diabitch knob to 11, refusing the shot, and demanding to see a doctor before anyone else can give me anything.
Pharmacist insisting that he can only give me one vial of Novolog for the month based on my prescription? This diabitch is going to show him how to do some basic math. (Units in vial)/(TDD) = an apology, the right number of vials and one of those CVS branded glucose meters thrown in for free as a peace offering.
I’m kinda like the Hulk with a busted pancreas and fewer destroyed clothes.
* To all my nurse buddies- I have only love for you, but this woman was completely terrible.