This article hit me pretty hard. At first I didn't want to talk about it, I don't know.
Do we all know someone like this? I'm coming from a different perspective, though. I may a diabetic now, but I've been in a similar position to the woman in the article. The person I am thinking of had no qualms about putting their or my life at risk so that they could feel a little more like diabetes wasn't changing anything about life for them. Unfortunately, that's just not the reality of it.
The reality is trying to force juice down someone's throat when they're fighting you and saying they won't treat it, because they refuse to keep glucose gel (or glucagon for that matter) around. The reality is realizing you're out of test strips and you can't bum one because this person doesn't even know where their meter is and probably doesn't have any strips, even though they could get them for free. The reality is recognizing lows by the way the person is driving and never being able to convince them to eat some carbs (yours, no less) until you arrive at the destination. The reality is the constant ups and downs - both bg and mood. Everything has a readymade excuse: "I was high." "I was low." Sometimes it's not even true. The reality is carrying three times as much sugar as you could ever possibly need and seeing it all disappear into the other person's mouth in the space of ten minutes because they just can't get the hang of carrying their own, even after 20 years. The reality is the ugliness that comes out of this person's mouth automatically when you tell them you've just been diagnosed with diabetes: "I guess you should have exercised more" followed later by "you test too much" and "I have no sympathy for you whatsoever." The reality is knowing that all your concern, your planning, and your rearranging of things to make it easier to manage your own diabetes is often not only not appreciated, but explicitly resented. The reality is the cold sweat that breaks out over you when someone who *never* sleeps late does, but you know how angry they're going to be if you try to check on them.
You'd think that becoming diabetic would change my mind about the whole experience, and yet it hasn't. I want to understand how someone could have such a poor relationship with their diabetes that they feel compelled to treat people that care about them like that. I want to, but I don't. Maybe if I could, I could help. Or maybe, as I've often been told, I just need to let it go. But how do you stop caring?