It’s the story of our lives. The one that never ends…
Sometimes life with diabetes feels like…well this is what comes to mind: Me, with diabetes’ hands (yes I personified an “invisible” disease) around my neck. Diabetes is choking me and I’m wailing my arms, struggling to get the hands to loosen their grip, trying to kick the legs out from under diabetes.
Other times I feel like I’m standing on Mount Everest, hands on hips, triumphantly looking down on a tiny spec that is diabetes saying “Ah ha ha ha!”
Then most of the time, I feel somewhere in the middle. Diabetes is a nag. Nag when I’m changing a diaper or bathing two little ones. Nag when I’m making dinner. Nag when I’m 200 before bed. Nag when I’m paying for insurance and diabetes supplies.
Just like what is known as a “nagging wife”. Only, here is what I’ve realized: a wife doesn’t nag-she simply points out the obvious, she repeats things that need to be repeated because they weren’t done in the first place. So when our diabetes nags us, diabetes is just speaking out saying “Hellooo! I’m here! or in other cases, “I hate to point this out but…it’s just that I deserve better.”
So today when I felt “nagged” by the incessant need to test and give insulin, I thought, oh wait, diabetes is just saying, “I need this and I need that”. And I know this is a wacky way to personify diabetes but truthfully since it’s so much a part of my body, I feel better thinking of diabetes as a nag rather than an enemy of sorts. I want diabetes cured, of course, but in the meantime it’s kind of the boss. And frankly, when I do all that is needed, our home which is my body, runs pretty smoothly and we get along just fine.