So it’s Diabetes Blog Week, (thanks to Bitter~Sweet Diabetes) and although it’s Week 10 of uni and I have assessments and essays spilling out of my ears, I’ve decided to join in! What better procrastination than to write about stuff that isn’t uni related? It’s my first time, so please be nice 🙂
So, the topic! “Often our health care team only sees us for about 15 minutes several times a year, and they might not have a sense of what our lives are really like. Today, let’s pretend our medical team is reading our blogs. What do you wish they could see about your and/or your loved one’s daily life with diabetes? On the other hand, what do you hope they don’t see?”
This is a pretty defunct question for me. I share everything with my health team. Everything. Honestly, my educator knows more about my fears, my habits and my relationships than my family or closest friends do. I want her to know everything, and I hide nothing. She is the only person in the world who knows exactly where my mental health is at.
This might seem weird to a few of you – why would I share such personal details with someone who’s simply there to make sure my hb1ac doesn’t get too high?
But the thing is, diabetes is such an all encompassing, 24/7 disease that it does affect every aspect of my life. I’m not saying my life is run by diabetes – quite the opposite – but it does give everything a certain flavour. Part of managing these disease is not only our day to day management, but also our mental health. Without being on top of it, without letting them know that you’re burning out or can’t face any more injections, how will your health care team be able to help you?
Your team is not there simply to say “Good job, increase your basal” (although they do that fabulously), they’re also there to support you in ways your loved ones cannot. Honestly, if I went in there with made up blood sugars (we’ve all been there, don’t deny it) and said “Everything is great!” when I hadn’t tested in a few days, I’d be wasting everybody’s time.
My team sees everything. They see me cry over sore fingers and injection bruises, get frustrated over my highs, cry some more over being burnt out, and give me a “get your shit together we love you don’t die” talk when I get lazy with my carb counting and end up at 15 all day. They don’t need to “wish” to see everything, or figure out if I’m lying about my blood sugars, because by laying it all out on the table, we’re working together as a team. That’s what we should be. Not a team telling the patient what to to, but the patient with diabetes as part of the team 🙂