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.
