Lay in bed with a bag of Doritos, listening to R.E.M’s “Everybody Hurts” on repeat.
Take a long walk.
Participate, halfheartedly, in optimistic conversations with coworkers.
Dance to Jackson Browne’s “Doctor My Eyes.”
–When a 12 year old Spaniard informs you “the results were caca, mierda, poop.”
–When you overhear a man on the metro saying “the only problem the US has is their vacation times.”
–When the old Spanish dear at the newsstand declares “We have a new president!”
Wonder what’s next?
Light a candle.
Read reactions that are more beautiful and fair than anything you’re capable of producing.
Sit with it.
Take heart, take stock, take a break.
Every time November rolls around I think of a line from Amy Winehouse’s “Me & Mr. Jones.” “What kind of fuckery is this?” she sings. She’s referring of course to the fact that her boyfriend made her miss the Slick Rick concert (note: never keep a girl from her music).
This month always takes me surprise, hits me right in the gut. Two months away from a brand new year, Thanksgiving around the corner, the horror of Halloween behind me, and the only thing my heart beats is “what kind of fuckery is this?” How does this happen year, after year, after year? Alucinante! the Spaniards might say. But here we are in the reality of November which also, it just so happens, is Diabetes Awareness Month. DAM!
Since I started writing about life with T1D again, I’ve been thinking a lot about what awareness means to me. When I think about awareness, I think about a lot of things. Too many to write about in one post. One that I think about more than others, though? The vast majority of people with diabetes who haven’t been as fortunate as I have. I was lucky enough to be born in a place and into a family that afforded me the luxury of worrying and thinking about things like the philosophy of illness, in a place and into a family where fighting for technological tweaks and tools that would make my life easier was the norm. I think about that and, while fighting for those things has its place, too (after all, tech progress is invaluable), my awareness focus today falls on those who don’t have the privileges that I do.
Living with diabetes is difficult and demanding in the best of cases but without access to the tools necessary to manage it, it’s a death sentence. I want people to be aware that there are many people with diabetes in the world who don’t have access to or can’t afford those tools. Insulin, test strips, and the education to know how to use them are absolutely vital. It is 2016 and people are dying and suffering from a disease that has been manageable since 1922. What kind of fuckery is that?
Because Type 1 International sums it up succinctly, this is the part where I refer you to the Diabetes Access Charter. The world is overwhelming and the advocacy world even more so (there’s so much fixing to be done). The easiest thing one can do, though, is show solidarity. So this November, please take five minutes of your time to read and sign the charter.