So, It's disability pride month. I... have a complicated relationship with my disability. A lot of people don't think it's one. I didn't think it was one for a long time. It took a lot of deprogramming of ingrained thought to realize, Holy Shit, it is a disability. Most people have a working pancreas. Most people aren't physically hurt when they eat food. Most people can look at a bagel, a slice of bread, some pasta, a piece of fruit, a glass of juice, or soda, and not even think, or worry, about what will happen when they put it in their mouth.
I don't have that luxury.
My body produces zero insulin. When I was much, much, much younger, something in my body freaked out and my immune system decided my islet cells in my pancreas, the ones that make insulin, were the enemy. I cannot live, without my insulin pump, injections, glucose monitoring, so much routine lab work and doctors visits. My disability is slowly killing me. It has been since likely 1996. I was diagnosed in 1997.
It has caused me Chronic Kidney Disease. It causes me to have a love hate relationship with foods that I enjoy eating. I often joke that I love bagels, but they hate me. Fried foods are deleterious in the extreme. Pizza is murder. I have to take insulin to enjoy an apple, and even then, I may still feel sick later. There is not a day goes by that I don't have a catheter in my torso, and an itchy cgm whisker in my arm.
There are some days that I just can't. I just can't get out of bed, I can't cope with the neuropathic pain. For some reason my insulin resistance is up, and some days things just suck. It's not every day, but it happens. Lot's of people don't think it's a disability, this disease. But it is, and it will kill me someday, oh, yeah, that's the part that most people forget. This shit is gonna off me in the future via one of it's complications most likely. It used to take peoples legs, their eyes, it would eat them away, bit by bit. It hurts, physically, every, damn, day. People just don't see it. I'm pretty good at masking the pain. The stress. The feeling trapped in my job because I need the medical plan. The Federal Government classes Type 1 Diabetes as a disability. Being disabled was a hard pill to swallow, but I am.
This is my life. And it will be until I check out, barring some amazing miracle of medical science. When I was diagnosed I asked the nurse when I would get better. The look on her face was just... crushing. Diabetes has taken so much from me. There is still so much I have in my life that is good. I have love. I have good days too! There are some days where I have hope, where I have joy, and by God there are some days I really do have to fake it until I believe myself it's a good day, and sometimes it works! Most of all though. I want to be alive. I want to be here. I just wish, sometimes. people would acknowledge that just, existing this way is fucking hard.
I don't have that luxury.
My body produces zero insulin. When I was much, much, much younger, something in my body freaked out and my immune system decided my islet cells in my pancreas, the ones that make insulin, were the enemy. I cannot live, without my insulin pump, injections, glucose monitoring, so much routine lab work and doctors visits. My disability is slowly killing me. It has been since likely 1996. I was diagnosed in 1997.
It has caused me Chronic Kidney Disease. It causes me to have a love hate relationship with foods that I enjoy eating. I often joke that I love bagels, but they hate me. Fried foods are deleterious in the extreme. Pizza is murder. I have to take insulin to enjoy an apple, and even then, I may still feel sick later. There is not a day goes by that I don't have a catheter in my torso, and an itchy cgm whisker in my arm.
There are some days that I just can't. I just can't get out of bed, I can't cope with the neuropathic pain. For some reason my insulin resistance is up, and some days things just suck. It's not every day, but it happens. Lot's of people don't think it's a disability, this disease. But it is, and it will kill me someday, oh, yeah, that's the part that most people forget. This shit is gonna off me in the future via one of it's complications most likely. It used to take peoples legs, their eyes, it would eat them away, bit by bit. It hurts, physically, every, damn, day. People just don't see it. I'm pretty good at masking the pain. The stress. The feeling trapped in my job because I need the medical plan. The Federal Government classes Type 1 Diabetes as a disability. Being disabled was a hard pill to swallow, but I am.
This is my life. And it will be until I check out, barring some amazing miracle of medical science. When I was diagnosed I asked the nurse when I would get better. The look on her face was just... crushing. Diabetes has taken so much from me. There is still so much I have in my life that is good. I have love. I have good days too! There are some days where I have hope, where I have joy, and by God there are some days I really do have to fake it until I believe myself it's a good day, and sometimes it works! Most of all though. I want to be alive. I want to be here. I just wish, sometimes. people would acknowledge that just, existing this way is fucking hard.
