So I'm in CVS yesterday, on a rare 66 degree March day here in Philadelphia. The sun was shining, I was sans top coat and feeling groovy.
A lady in a Peacock blue shirt noticed my pump and struck up a conversation with me. She told me that her 14 year old daughter was on the pump and had been diagnosed at the age of 11.
"She's doing great," said the lady in blue. "I tell her to fight it with all she's got, that diabetes is the enemy, and that it's OK to feel hate towards it, lord knows her dad and I do."
Then she looked at me point blank and asked, "You know what I mean?"
I looked her square in the eye and answered her honestly. "I refuse to hate diabetes, because I refuse to hate myself. I can open up any women's magazine and do that. Those mags always make me feel that I'm not thin enough, curvy enough, pretty or smart enough, etc. I refuse to buy into that anymore. I don't need any more issues than I already have.
MY diabetes, for better or for worse, is part of of who I am. IF I hated it, I would hate myself.
Do I dislike it intensely At times? absolutely. Do I dislike certain positions that diabetes puts me in? Yes. Is it a pain in my ass both literally and figuratively? You bet. Would I wish it on others? No way! But I gotta live with it until there's a cure, so I have to make it work with me, not against.
She stared at me for a good 20 seconds and said, "I never thought of it like that."
We said our goodbyes and she headed towards the pharmacy. I made my way to the register, paid for my sundries and like Elvis, I left the building.
I think she thought I was crazy. Hell, maybe you do to, but I'm done hating. Hate takes energy, energy I need. To hate the big D would mean that diabetes would get the upper hand in our complicated relationship, and I refuse to let that be the case.
I'd rather focus my energy on living.