I met another one yesterday. 

I called my new health insurance to see what copays would be for Humalog versus Apidra, and the woman I spoke with said my insurance began May 1, 2011 and terminated April 30, 2011 so she couldn’t give me an answer.

Seriously.

So I called a different number for the new insurance and spoke with someone to confirm I really do have coverage.  (I do.)  I told her it mattered because I have type one diabetes so I’ll need to be filling a prescription soon.

She asked me when I was diagnosed.

Now, you probably know that normally, when you’re on the phone with someone or are standing in front of them and you mention you’ve got type one diabetes, “when were you diagnosed” isn’t the first question.

It isn’t the first question unless they know what they’re asking.

It turns out; her son has type one diabetes.  He was diagnosed when he was 18 months old and he’s eight now. 

Oh, and he’s autistic.

As  I’m struggling to process what it must be like to take care of an 18 month old with type one (which, by the way, I still haven’t been able to do even though I’ve been trying for more than a decade), the “autism” part filters in.

Wow.

She kind of tried to shrug it off and say simply “I’m a lot more patient than most people.”

Wow.

I mentioned that I blog about what it’s like to live with type one and she sounded interested because, she said, she doesn’t know what it feels like.  She said “he can’t communicate what it’s like with me; when he’s screaming I know he’s low.”

Wow, again.

It brings to mind the one-legged marathoner who kept me from ever feeling badly as I ran behind him for twenty six miles.  He had some struggles in his life, I’m sure. 

It brings to mind those facing a disease for which there is no hope of survival, or that means an existence dictated by hospital beds or morphine. 

I mean, sure, diabetes is difficult, but are you kidding me?!  We can actually DO something about our health in our daily lives and we can have full active intelligent happy amazing lives.  We can even do it without others knowing we count every carb or prick our fingers, if we decide that is the best way for us to get through.  

We with diabetes are so very lucky to be living right now rather than even a few decades ago!! 

I guess I just feel silly sometimes when I’m faced with a bigger reality than my own.

And this is the part for which I will never ever forgive myself: I didn’t wish her a happy mother’s day.

I was happy to be a part of the Diabetic Youth Foundation’s FUNraiser this weekend and I had a great time walking with the families and kids.  Thanks, DYF!

Before we launched on our walk, one boy stood up and started talking about how much camp had changed his family and his (type one) brother’s life for the better.  He made some comment about his brother’s classmates initially thinking diabetes was contagious when his brother was first diagnosed.

We all kind of laughed when he said that… who could be so silly to think diabetes is contagious?!

But I’ve been thinking about it ever since!!  I don’t remember anyone ever asking me if my diabetes was contagious, but I guess I can see how some not in the know can think diabetes is contagious… radio and TV commercials area always mentioning “diabetes” (of course, those are almost 100% of the time directed towards those living with type 2, not type 1 diabetes) only proliferate the staggering amount of mis-information.

That said, I quickly did a google search for “diabetes contagious” and I am really disappointed by what I found!!

I found a lot of replies on general question sites that involved phrases like “is stupidity contagious?!” and “please don’t be so ignorant” and some really sarcastic things I seriously doubt someone would say as a response in real life.  (At least, I hope they wouldn’t!)

Now seeing THAT kind of thing upsets me.

Listen, I’m just as frustrated as the next person living with type one about the misinformation out there about “diabetes” and I feel just as gypped out of a full name that doesn’t have to share the disease name with an older larger sibling taking all of the glory.  I’m just as tired of answering the “can’t have sugar” questions and I’d be just as happy to have no one look at me as they ask me again “but you aren’t overweight…?”

But really?  Answering an honest question about either type of diabetes with disdain and mockery?

We can do better than that.

We need to take steps if we want to eliminate the misinformation out there.  Yes, WE need to be the ones to explain what life really is like.  WE need to do it—no one else can.

It comes back to being the change we wish to see in the world—one little step and one little answer at a time.

I struggle just like anyone else with the concept of “winning”… I’m competitive enough with others and with myself to put quite a bit of importance on that idea of being at the top or in the front or wearing the gold.

It isn’t one of my better qualities: it gets in my way a lot.

That said; I’ve come to understand this is something I do, and like living with diabetes, it is easier for me to learn to strategize and cope rather than fight every day.

Some ways I’ve come to learn to cope with not being the best/ fastest / smartest / kindest /most popular /prettiest/ funniest/ healthiest/ most graceful at everything I ever do or try:

Re-define what “winning” is.  When it comes to diabetes, this one is a lot like removing judgments from blood glucose readings.  If you can think of a different goal than “finishing first” or “highest score” or “80-120 all the time” (none of which I believe to be possible for the overwhelming majority of us on any kind of consistent long-term basis), and organize your thinking with that new goal in mind, you are well on your way.

Be realistic in your own criticisms.  Sure, we can be fairly hard on ourselves and sometimes that is warranted.  But a lot of the time it only serves to delay our progress by weighing on our psyches.  If you really are trying to improve your time or achieve some similar objective goal, you are going to need to clock your progress and really see how you are objectively doing.  If it isn’t an objective goal, be as honest as possible with yourself and kindly evaluate yourself now versus yourself a year ago, or in whatever time frame is reasonable.  It’s essential that you evaluate your positive AND negative progress, and evaluate both without harsh or hateful words directed inward.

Keep the true end goal in mind all the time.  If you want to accomplish a specific goal like acing a test or losing 20 pounds or what have you, you need to also look beyond that stated goal.  Are you trying to ace the test so that you feel smart?  Are you trying to lose weight to bring down your blood pressure?  If these end goals are the real thing, then it is sometimes easier to achieve those than the stated specific goal. 

If you only got 89% and wanted to get 90% on that test, you could absolutely be a winner because you learned the material and actually were smarter than before, even with missing an answer. 

It’s all relative, and it’s all pretty transitory.  What sticks with us are our feelings about ourselves and our own worth. 

I say 100% winner, 100% of the time.

I am super excited to be a part of the Diabetic Youth Foundation’s Bay Area Walk FUNraiser this weekend.  I am excited not only because I feel good helping such a fantastic organization doing amazing work year-round, but I’m also excited because I get to meet more people just like me who are living with diabetes.

I haven’t always felt that way.

I promise.

I remember going to my first ADA walk with my mom shortly after I was diagnosed.  It wasn’t exciting at all.  I was still trying to figure out what was going on with my own diabetes; I don’t think I spoke with any other person at the event.

I stopped attending a lot of the diabetes-oriented events after that, and after a few “support group” meetings that were nothing but bitter complaint sessions in smelly hospital meeting rooms.

No fun.  At all.

I do know I met another type one when I was in high school; she was pretty normal and she was the first person who told me about wearing an insulin pump.  She also actually liked her doctor—a new idea for me.  We never really socialized since she was older than me, but it somehow made something better for me to know she was out there at my school.

(The only other person I knew with type one went to my grade school and she was very shy and no fun so I never really knew what to do with her.  I knew her before I was diagnosed myself so all I really remember was her sad face when someone had a birthday at school and brought cupcakes to class.)

It wasn’t until I (for some odd reason, considering how I felt about others I had met) signed up to work at the DYF’s Bearskin Meadow Camp that I really had to interact with other type ones—interact with them as PEOPLE, AND as fellow type ones.

I think it was the PEOPLE part that has made all the difference for me.

If you have had the same experience meeting other diabetics that are “just like you” in only one area, but completely not like you in the rest of their non-diabetic lives, then you’re just like I was for the first 10 years I lived with the disease.

Since I have come to learn that everyone living with (at least type one, I can’t speak for type twos on this) diabetes is, in fact, EXACTLY LIKE ME.  Not one of us cares to be defined by the disease.  Each one of us has dreams and hopes and plans that really don’t have one iota to do with what our blood glucose levels decide to be at any given moment.  Not one of us cares to be slowed down by diabetes, and each of us have pretty full lives ASIDE from what we do to care for our bodies.

It’s important to get to know others with diabetes, if only to reinforce for yourself that others out there are just like you and doing what they choose to do, diabetes or not.