Simply, Sally

I’m a liar.

I’m a bald-faced liar.

I keep saying that my diabetes doesn’t bother me. Well, I’m a liar: my diabetes does bother me. But it’s not the way everyone thinks.

It’s how everyone around me behaves. Sometimes it feels like discrimination — the way people act around me — and sometimes it feels like they’re stifling me. I lost my last job because of diabetes. I couldn’t enjoy my day at the beach because either I was preparing for a meal or my friends in the kite club wanted to talk to me. Or rather, talk about my diabetes.

Thing is, every one of them had something to say and not a single one knew what they were talking about. I thought Type 2 was the unknown disease, but instead that’s what everyone knows. There were even a few former friends who were looking at me the entire time like I’d grown a second head.

I’m not sure what hurt worse, what everyone assumed, or the fact some of them were avoiding me. I wish mom hadn’t told them… I really do. I understand why she tells everyone, but does she have to tell everyone!? That especially goes for members from my dad’s side of the family. They’ve basically disowned me, so why the hell is it their business??

Wasn’t telling Maryann enough? She used to be our neighbor back when we were growing up. Mom told her. Big fricking mistake. That woman is a walking encyclopedia of diabetes myths and she’s subscribed to them all. She was loopy when we were kids, but she’s worse now. And she still has this inane need to lecture.

I’m almost glad I don’t get to see Poppa and Caroline much anymore. Back when I was diagnosed, the weight fell off me until I practically looked anorexic. Caroline was excited and pleased by how skinny I was. She didn’t seem to care about how sick I was or how awful I felt or how close I came to ending up being admitted to the hospitol. And she’s kept up the comments. I don’t understand why Poppa won’t speak up… he raised my Aunt Karla, who was diagnosed as a type 1 when she was 12. He knows diabetes.

I reached out because I wanted to have a social life, but instead I feel more alone now than ever. I had my diabetes under tight control, but now I’m subconsciously sabotaging myself. Hell, I even forgot to take my final dose of insulin last night!

Whatever happens, I have to get back in control. Pure and simple. I guess I have to go back to thinking like I did back when I was diagnosed: this disease is a friend test. And I just found how a lot about my former friends.

Tags: Diabetes, Drama

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 26th, 2005 at 10:42 am and is filed under Diabetes. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.