Little Things

Hey y'all!

A lot has happened since I last posted.  I turned 17 (wow!) and spent a weekend at potentially the greatest leadership seminar ever to exist--more about that later.  I also got the results from my ultrasound: 1 cm of growth, which means there's no need for a biopsy!!!  I'm so relieved, and so grateful to all of y'all who sent supportive messages after my last post.

Most of this blog is dedicated to talking about the "big things" that T1D can do to a person's life.  The ways in which it can shape you, change you, and yeah, hurt you.  But lately I've also been reflecting on the little things--the ones that outsiders would never notice, and the ones that even PWD sometimes overlook.  See, when you live with a condition like this for as long as I have, it's easy to fall into a sort of pattern.  You expect certain things to happen, and when they do, you just ignore them because it's easier than getting upset.  But sometimes something happens to break that routine.

When I first arrived at the Illinois Leadership Seminar, I was a little anxious--and not just because I was in a group of complete strangers.  PWD know that when we're in a new situation, there's a lot to consider.  Meals without carb counts, random bursts of exercise, and oh yeah, the whole "no cell phones" thing.  Not to mention the fact that I was wearing Dex on my leg, where everyone could see it.  Nice.

I made it through the first day without really discussing my T1D with anyone (except my group leader, who gave me permission to use my phone without any sort of pushback--a miracle in itself).  But that night, we had a dance, and y'all know what that means: low bg.  By the time I stepped into the hallway to catch my breath, Dex was saying 58 and dropping fast.  Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, but my purse--and my emergency fruit snacks--were on the other side of the noisy, crowded room where the dance was being held.

Somehow, a girl in my group noticed that I was starting to panic, and asked what was going on.  I don't remember what I said (probably something along the lines of "blood sugar--low--food"), but next thing I knew she was grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowd.  And then, get this--when we got to the corner and I grabbed a bag of fruit snacks, she stayed with me.  Didn't walk away, didn't turn to chat with someone else.  She stayed with me until I was done eating, and then asked if I was feeling ok.

T1D is exhausting on even the best of days, and a lot of that comes from the tiny details that see insignificant until they build up and overwhelm you.  But every now and then, someone does something that lifts a little bit of that burden off your shoulders.  They might not even realize they're doing it.  But to a PWD, those little gestures make a world of difference.

It's the friends who wordlessly offer you some of their food when they hear Dex beeping an urgent low.  It's those rare times when you pull out an insulin syringe and realize that for once, no one is staring at you.  It's the people who ask questions before making assumptions, the ones who care more about helping you than judging you.  It's meeting a fellow PWD in the wild and sharing that brief connection that runs deeper than anything else you've ever known.  It's the way my friends check on me after an endo appointment, the way my tennis teammates ask "what are you at?" before a match, the way random classmates will stand up to defend me when a teacher tries to give me a detention for checking Dex in school.

To everyone who's reading this, everyone who's made my fight against T1D easier in their own little ways--thanks.  Y'all mean more to me than you know.

Next time I post, I'll be getting ready to leave for Congress!  In the meantime, don't forget to comment, subscribe, and stay fabulous.  Love y'all!