My baby boy is nineteen. His diabetes is fifteen today.
I couldn’t write yesterday. Couldn’t fully get in to words what I want to convey after 15 long years of kicking diabetes’ ass.
Today I can write.
I want to explain what living with this uninvited guest has been like these last 15 years.
It’s rude.
When you just want to ‘be’ it is there yelling at the top of its lungs seeking more attention.
My son can be mid conversation about something really close to his heart, almost bringing himself to tears (you know the teenage years) and here comes diabetes screaming, “I don’t give a fuck about your breakup, pay attention to ME. I need my sugar checked or I may go so low you pass out. Fuck your feelings, I’m all you need to worry about.”
Rude.
My son can be all packed and ready to go on vacation. Car loaded. Friends all hyped for their trip. Car started. Music blasting. Oh wait, here comes diabetes. “Pay attention to me! I know you’re all excited about the trip but I’m gonna go low RIGHT NOW so you all can sit and wait until I’m tended to.”
Rude.
My son can be tired from working 2 full days in a hot kitchen at a restaurant and looking forward to sleeping in. Ha! Diabetes laughs.
“You’re not sleeping in! Don’t you know I’m gonna need some sugar at 4am to combat a low because you worked so hard the day before!”
Or
“Don’t you know I’m gonna need a correction from the high blood sugar from the stress of working so hard the day before!”
Rude.
So yeah 15 years of living with this asshole is grating. Diabetes is an asshole. Always was and always will be.
Rude ass.