Kristin, my dad, age 89, has had T2 for about 10 years and recently had to go on shots. It’s been a huge adjustment for him and he has been terribly depressed. My mother, a card-carrying member of the diabetes police, clueless division, tells him he’s not following his meal plan, etc etc. Then she turns around the next day and calls me for advice because he’s sitting for hours staring with his head in his hands. I do the best I can, but I don’t live near them; thank God they live in a retirement community with full medical facilities, and my brother who is a RN and PA lives nearby.
One of the interesting upshots of this whole situation has been my mother admitting to me that she had no idea how difficult it must have been for me in 1967 when I was dx’d at 13. I have always been angry that the person who told me I had diabetes was the receptionist at Children’s Hospital in Washington DC, and not my parents or my doctor. I am trying to get the courage to blog about that day, many details are as fresh in my mind as 41 years ago, but it’s too painful.
I enjoy seeing your picture when I sign on, with your smiling upturned face, and wanted to tell you that I think you are amazing - you offer a kind word to many of our neediest friends here at TU. It helps me a lot when I read your comments to others - I’m in a rough patch right now with the D, which seems like a monster trying hard to crush me, and taking satanic pleasure while he’s doing it. Thank God for you, and Manny, and all the others who really GET IT.
