Spare a Rose

Spare.

Spare.

Dictionary.com defines the verb as “to give or lend, as from a supply, especially without inconvenience or loss.”

At that rate, why wouldn’t we spare roses this February, and perhaps all year long?

The premise is simple: click here, donate $5- the cost of a rose you may normally give to a loved one on Valentine’s Day (or, set up additional monthly donations if you can!), and save a child by providing life-sustaining insulin through your donation.

If you are reading this blog post from a cell phone or a computer screen, chances are you have $5.00 to spare.  If you do not, that is okay, too; instead, please help to spread the word about #sparearose.

What is $5.00 worth?

-one medium coffee and one donut from your local coffee shop

-half of a movie ticket  (What use is that?!)

-crappy red wine and a headache you don’t need, anyway

-an overpriced bottle of water at a sporting event

 

*****-And oh, yeah, A LIFE!!!!!!!!

 

Close your eyes and think of a time when you did not receive a viable amount of insulin for a few hours.  We have all been there: a kinked insulin pump cannula, diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA) during diagnosis or severe illness, or whatever the case may have been.  We have felt the heartburn and nausea of high ketones, the unquenchable thirst, and the longing for comfort that takes too long to get there.

For most of us, those days represent acute instances of distress.  Scary, yes.  Life-threatening, sometimes.  But if we are reading this blog post today, we somehow escaped diabetes’ wrath and are feeling better thanks to the insulin taking up all of the shelf space in our refrigerators.

Without insulin, kids in developing countries know that type of suffering intimately.  Those of us who are more fortunate cannot lay our heads on our pillows at night and be okay with that.  We understand diabetic ketoacidosis.  We have a moral obligation to curtail DKA as best we can before it senselessly takes any more lives.

If my words come off too harsh here- well, it is a risk I am willing to take.  If our moral obligation leaves us momentarily uncomfortable in our realization of its truth, so be it.  These kids are more than uncomfortable as they await insulin that they should have to begin with.  We owe it to them to do the right thing.

If you can, please spare a rose this February.  Through the simple act of sparing, we can dry so many tears.

Thank you

spare a rose 2015

 

 

 

Favorites and Forgiving Diabetes

My favorite post is one that mostly flew under the radar:  24. P.S. I forgive you.

This post describes how I chose to forgive diabetes for the bad and to reflect on the good I have received during my 24th “diaversary.”  While it was not my most popular post of all time, it openly represents my emotions on a day that is always bittersweet.

Stephen’s short yet powerful comment on this blog post meant a lot to me, as did another I received via Facebook from the mother of a diabetic child who thanked me for writing the things that her son could not yet articulate at a young age.  Those little moments make blogging so worth it.  We can use our words to connect with and encourage others who face similar obstacles each day.  #DOC in a nutshell!

24. P.S. I Forgive You

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You have been a part of me for 24 years– which is 8,760 days- you selfish, conniving, jerk.

You have pierced my skin over 160,000 times.

On occasion, you have damaged my kidneys and my psyche, my relationships and my view of the world.

They were freak events- both my diagnosis and the insulin pump product defects that plagued me in my twenty-third year of dealing with your crap- but they happened to me, a living, breathing human being who did nothing to ever deserve that amount of suffering.

None of us did.

Today I am not mad at you, though.  I have spent enough time asking “Why?” to know that you don’t care why.  You just do as you do, whatever your flavor of the week is.  Sometimes the stars align and I get my insulin doses right for a day.  Other times, I go to bed frustrated with myself that I didn’t do better, although I know rationally that most of this is not that simple.

I want you to know, however, that there are things that you have not taken from me in 24 years of being an unwelcome guest dwelling in my body.  Through your efforts at taking, you have actually given me things: perspective, friends, academic opportunities, a passion for helping others, the therapies of writing and talking.  There is some reason for all of this, and many times I have known that God- and God-sent people- were the ones who got me through.

Why did I survive a disorienting and quickly-declining 46 mg/dL blood sugar value in my twenty-third year as a type one diabetic?  Frankly, without Dexcom CGM, I wouldn’t have survived, so that’s why.

Why do I read Facebook posts about children with diabetes, fighting back tears as their Moms and Dads document their struggles?  Because I know that these kids will grow up to be kinder, smarter, and more considerate for having gone through it.  And if we have to go through it, we might as well turn out as the type of people everyone would want to have as friends.  We might as well turn the bad into as much good as we can.

Why- as I sat in a waiting room in Boston, the sickest I had ever been with persistently high blood sugar that would not budge no matter what we did, scared and alone- did a doctor sit next to me quietly?  Why did she urge me to receive her treatment after I had run from it months earlier?  Why was she so confident that we could do this?

Why was she right?

We are doing this, and we’re going to continue to do this- to fight back, to live well.    

Why am I blessed when there are thousands of people all over the globe who may not have proper access to insulin and medical professionals?  I don’t know why, but I am cognizant of this idea today, especially.

Now, in my almost twenty-seventh year of existence, I have reached marker number twenty-four with type one diabetes.  It has not been easy, but it has been… something.  Some people never have this chance.  Some people are not diagnosed in time.  Some people die waiting for life-sustaining medication.

“Some people” are people who have feelings and families, and who could have bright futures, too.  Spare a Rose, Save a Child / Life for a Child get it right; those of us who are fortunate enough to have access to insulin can pay it forward with a few clicks of a mouse and a few dollars donated.

At least for today, diabetes, I want you to know that I forgive you.  I haven’t had it as hard as some.  In fact, I can count my blessings because of the perspective that you have given me.  There will be many more times that I will scream my lungs out in frustration with your stupid games.  But if I don’t forgive you right now, I will live however many more diaversaries there may be with a sense of embitterment at the life that I could have had without you in it.

Instead, today I recognize that living despite having you along for the ride is a gift in and of itself.  Please know that I am going to make the most of that life.  Thanks for reminding me to do so.