Spoiler alert: If you're looking for uplifting, this isn't the post...
Last week, I stumbled on a blog by a talented, intelligent writer.
A mother of a child with a genetic syndrome.
A "tax-sucking civil servant leach" (her description, not mine).
A woman who has had Type 1 diabetes for 13 years.
Though her blog has almost nothing to do with diabetes, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. About her outlook on the disease:
And on the effectiveness of an insulin pump:
That is the worst part of being diabetic, at least in the stage I'm in (what I sometimes refer to as "pre-disabled," since something like 90% of type 1s will eventually have complications). That you do everything right, you measure and say no and count and shoot and test and record, and it just doesn't work. That this "manageable" disease, this disease that can be "controlled," will not be controlled after all, no matter how hard you work. Like that woman I knew when I was pregnant, who despite excellent blood sugar control, still almost went blind while she was pregnant.
At least having a pump is like having a slightly better weapon and a get-away car; I still know I'm going to lose someday, but hopefully a bit farther off and with less effort in the meantime.I can't get this out of my head. I look at my son, and the thought that we've already lost.... yes, I know this is just one person's thoughts, but still.
But in some ways, I am already losing, and I know it.
Are we simply winning battles here, with no hope (short of a cure) of winning the war?
He's my child, and I cannot stop thinking about these words.
We can't be losing. We just can't.