#type one diabetes

Hello, type one diabetic with a heart condition here who still wears a mask when running a regular 5k…WEAR A MASK MY DUDES

Seriously ya’ll T1 buds, wash those hands!

You know when you take out a site and it’s immediately itchy and awful? Yup. That’s me, today. 

PS-stay tuned for a review of my new pump, the Medtronic 670g! Sorry for the lack of updates, both me and the fiance are running for office.

I mean come on, I want a snazzy Netflix special 

Seriously though, still need my insulin and test strips. 

When you wake up, test, realize you’re high AF, treat, and nap until you’re normal again.

If only I could do it on work days…

Copyright me, your internet diabetic dictionary :P 

Sorry I haven’t posted in so long, guys. I’ve been focusing my efforts on political action and haven’t had a lot of time to write! Anyway, I wanted to share this comment I wrote, which was picked as a top choice by the New York Times in response to the AHCA vote today:

I pay federal income taxes just like you. However, I am also sick. As a child I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, an autoimmune condition which renders me unable to produce the hormone insulin. Thus, I rely on injections and daily blood testing to keep myself alive. Without insurance, I need to pay over $20,000 per year to survive. I have no other choice. Without insulin, I die. That’s an unreasonable economic burden for a 24-year-old–frankly, for anyone.

The fact is, there is nothing I could have done to stop myself getting sick, just like those with cancer or many other illnesses. I was simply healthy, then I wasn’t. The healthcare market is not a free market because we, the sick, are held captive to our bodies and the medical costs that price us out of living.

A more economic example: I cover my home in case of fire, and I hope I never have to call up the insurance company. Yet, I still pay in to the system to protect my property. Hopefully, I will never have to use that money, and it will be used to pay off some other person’s insured and destroyed home instead. With healthcare, why is it any different? We pay in, hoping never to have to use the benefits, while the money goes to another. You, like me, could wake up one day and find yourself stuck with a pre-existing condition. This is why we have insurance and need the protections of the ACA.

Guys, I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. Fight back.

…woke up with a peanut in my bed. Guess I missed my mouth mid 3am blood sugar drop.

Whoops.

Time to push more of my liberal agenda: protect the ACA. Call your lawmakers! Think of how much diabetes costs without insurance–tens of thousands of dollars. Without preexisting condition protection, we don’t get insurance. Without bans against lifetime insurance caps, we don’t get to keep insurance. 

We may be sick, but we are not dead; don’t let your house representatives categorize you otherwise. We deserve to live full lives, regardless of a disease we did nothing to earn and cannot will away. 

So fight. Be sick–there’s nothing we can do about that–but nevertire. 

You can search your representative numbers here:

http://www.house.gov/representatives/find/

You know, I was trying to actually cook like a successful grown-up. 

Hi, all–sorry I’ve been so long. 

So, do I have news for you! I officially have chronic condition #2, thought to be autoimmune. Now, in addition to attacking my pancreas, my immune system has decided to revolt against my skin. At least I’m special; less than 1% of the population apparently has this condition. Thing is, while rare toys, cards, books, or collectibles may be great, rare diseases are far less so. 

What surprises me is how much more of a toll this diagnosis was taking on my self esteem than has diabetes this past week. For better or for worse, diabetes is an invisible illness. It has far more of an impact on my life than skin changes, but I can hide my pancreas problems if I so choose (though I usually don’t). You can’t hide a skin condition, and it doesn’t make you feel pretty. It makes you feel strange, and it seems harder to reclaim as a positive in the way that I own my “cyborg parts” as a part of my diabetic identity. 

The good news is, with the diagnosis and proper treatment, I’m getting better. 

I like to imagine that my immune system is just so incredibly strong, though it may attack my body, it’s also some sort of superpower–maybe I’d be immune to a zombie contagion or nuclear fallout. Silver linings? 

They’re here! The buttons are here! Donate to get yours before they run out and help me run out diabetes instead: 

http://www2.jdrf.org/site/TR?fr_id=6292&pg=personal&px=10474618

Come on, guys! A month left to donate. These buttons are limited in quantity, and all you have to do is donate to help find a cure for type 1 diabetes! It’s a win-win! Just include your mailing address when donating:

http://www2.jdrf.org/site/TR?fr_id=6292&pg=personal&px=10474618

Like this cutie little button, designed by yours truly? You want one? Easy! 

This year, to raise money for JDRF, I’ll be sending one of these little guys to every person who donates to my page. Link below!

http://www2.jdrf.org/site/TR?fr_id=6292&pg=personal&px=10474618

Make sure you include your name and mailing address when donating!

If it goes well, I might make other diabuddies for you all! Pens, meters, etc…give me a reason! 

Shouldn’t have been surprised by this advantage of working at a toy company: when your pump runs out of juice, everyone at work has triple A batteries on hand!

My blood sugar is taking forever to come down and I don’t know why…

Dear stranger from dance, 

I appreciate your asking about my pump, how it works, why I wear it. However, when you watched me check my blood sugar, your comment registered not interest and affection, but pity. In fact, you were’t even subtle. As I licked the small drop off the top of my finger, a routine part of my life, you said:

“That’s so sad.”

You didn’t even bother to whisper. You said it to my face, as if I should agree. Somehow, I was meant to validate your sympathy. Yet, here’s the thing–I’m not sad, and even if I were, your opinion of my condition would not affect that. 

People like me–people with disorders, illnesses, and disabilities–do not exist as receptacles for your empathy. You don’t get to feel elevated for your understanding nods and soft tones. I don’t need soft tones. I won’t break like a glass when your voice hits a high note. I do need your understanding, like any other human being. 

So, no I’m not sad. My life is just different from yours. The night you said that to me I danced until midnight, went for drinks with friends, and collapsed in bed just in time to get enough sleep for a  party the next day. I checked my blood sugar a few more times and changed a pump site in the midst of all that, yes, but that’s just my normal. And that’s okay.