#dblogweek – Day 2 – One great thing
For the next week, I’ll be participating in the 3rd Annual Diabetes Blog Week (for more info, click on the banner above). Each day, D-Bloggers will be (mostly) blogging about a common topic but offering their own perspectives.
Today, Karen wants me to write about something that I do that is spectacular. This is a hard one.
You could ask my family and friends about what I do to take care of my diabetes, and I’m sure they’ll tell you all about the things they see me do They’ll see me doing these things so that I can live – not pretending to do it and not “skipping a day”, and they’ll be impressed. When it comes to the things they see me do, not only can they write a list, but they can vouch that I actually do the things on that list.
Yes, when it comes to diabetes care, I do what I have to do. And those items on the list, in my family’s mind: they’re real, and they’re spectacular.
But to me, there’s nothing spectacular about taking care of diabetes. This isn’t to say that it isn’t incredibly demanding. Taking care of diabetes, whether one’s own or that of a loved one, requires people to push themselves to unthinkable levels; to attempt, and achieve, what things they never dreamed of before diagnosis.
But I don’t take care of myself in order to test my limits. I didn’t opt-in to diabetes as an endurance-challenge for me. It’s not a marathon in which I can push myself to finish, then relax and be proud of what I’ve accomplished. If I wanted to really see what I’m capable of, I’d have signed up and trained for the NYC Marathon. That’s a noble attempt and, if completed, a spectacular accomplishment.
Diabetes isn’t about trying to win, all the while knowing that if I don’t, there’s always next time. There is no next time, and I didn’t choose this test. Diabetes is something that I face every day of my life. This is for real – all day, every day. There’s no spring-training in which to try something new when it doesn’t really count. There’s no offseason in which to let the aching scar-tissue heal before the next big push. There’s no finish line. Quite simply, I go until I can’t go anymore, and then it’s Game Over. Permanently.
“Well controlled diabetes is the leading cause of nothing.”
So what is it that I do that is spectacular?
And I aim to keep it that way.