I came home from my Disneyland Half Marathon Weekend with four awesome trophies signifying my hard work and running accomplishments. Tuesday evening I took a picture of all four of them and posted them to my facebook page.
What a disastrous idea.
3 medals and a toenail-- each a trophy I earned
I had 25 responses to this one photo. And they were not all in the “congratulations you rock” kind of way.
No.
I got to have a discussion of how, and if, I care for my diabetic feet.
Really??
That is what we needed to discuss in that photo? Wow.
I can rationalize these responses into the commenters caring about me because they saw I had a bruised toenail, a lack of a knowledge of marathon running (a result of running 35+ miles/week for several months, bruised and missing toenails are a consequence of the sport), all sorts of rationalizations to avoid telling well-intentioned souls they have completely missed the mark.
But I’m really, REALLY tired of that rationalization and benefit of the doubt I give to others who feel free to offer unsolicited opinions and share unrelated concerns because they see me primarily as a diabetic.
I usually don’t hear it from people who live with diabetes—it’s the ones who don’t have diabetes who feel a need to remind me I have a disease. Hmm.
If I had a black eye after a car crash, would you tell me my diabetes might make me go blind someday?
Did you realize that those comments assure me you see me NOT as Amy first, but as a diabetic?
What a shame.
You’re missing out.
You’re missing out on ME.
It makes sense why many of us don’t talk about our diabetes. Why should we? If we know that whatever mood we’re in will be blamed not on our minds or emotions but on our blood sugars, what worth do we have as individuals?
It’s too bad; I am a complete person AND I have diabetes; they don’t eclipse each other. They shouldn’t, and if you let someone in your life appear before you as a diabetic first, you are missing out on who they really are.
Diabetes is hard enough, but when we feel our identities shrink in the face of the disease it is almost intolerable. I ran all those miles, had all that fun, met all kinds of people and ran alongside people from all over the country for two really fun hours. I trained for nearly two years to earn one of those medals. I traveled to cities and towns I’d never seen and saw countless sunrises on the way. Sure, I brought glucose with me and stopped to check my blood sugar I don’t know how often. But that wasn’t what you saw. You saw my toe. My “diabetic” toe.
What’s more, I don’t check my feet because I have diabetes. I pay attention to my feet because I worked for a podiatrist for more than a decade, look at them every day when I stretch, paint my toenails myself, sit with my legs crossed and my bare feet underneath me, and am more ticklish than anyone I’ve ever met. I pay attention to my feet because I am a runner.
But some thought I needed the reminder to take care of my “diabetic feet” because they saw my bruised toe.
I should have replied “you know, everyone gets bruises—not just people with diabetes.”
Although you don’t usually get bruised toenails from sitting on the couch.
Make sure when you find yourself in a similar spot you remember YOU can eclipse your diabetes. Don’t let people in your life see things any other way.
You deserve it.
