Dead Knitter Society - Episode 2 #knittingandgrieving

All Saints Day - in which, we begin.

Chasing a Cure

In the 19 months and 7 days that I have been a T1D Momma, well meaning friends have shared articles about the newest study or trial for the BREAKTHOUGH CURE, the panacea that will eradicate Diabetes from our lives. And while I know that these posts come from a place of love and concern and caring, I am at best pessimistic, and at worse a little angry everytime I see them. 

You see, the FDA sees type 1 as managed, so it's never at the top of the heap of things to be approved. And, God knows I've learned, that just because there is a treatment, it doesn't mean it's covered by insurance, or accessed by anyone with a limited budget. My other kids need to eat too. When copays for life sustaining medications get doubled and the amount covered gets cut in half each year, the idea of THE CURE being something I can afford? Laughable. 

You see; being the parent of a diabetic is waking up every day and watching your child dart into traffic. Every. Day. Every meal, every hour they exercise, every cold, every stomach flu, every fucking breath, they are BASE jumping with a shitty tattered parachute. 

I can't hope. My capacity for hope has been exhausted by our daily living. It's not that I don't appreciate the intention behind the sharing, I do. I just can't even fathom what happened to my girl. I can't even comprehend that she walks around wearing life support. SHE WILL DIE WITHOUT THESE THINGS, THESE VERY EXPENSIVE AND IMPERFECT THINGS. Every day that I wake up I am one day farther from before, and I yearn for it more. Hope is a dangerous thing. When you dodge traffic every moment of every day. 

On Confidence

I wish you didn't need the validation of strangers to believe how awesome you are. Hell, I wish you didn't need my validation either. But somehow it stings when it's my opinion that doesn't count. In reality though, I really wish you believed in your own muchness. 

You are so much. 

Rockstar Human

Leaving this here for a time when I need a reminder that there is a rockstar human under the snark and sass:

"I'm sorry I cranked at you and your brother on Sunday. It wasn't you. I was projecting."

"No worries Mom. I could tell."

Disjointed Psuedo-Rant

Posted about 6 weeks ago on Facebook...

I am still grieving before... Insulin is not a cure... It is life-support. Please Heart, beat from love, not from fear...

"Thank You For Being Nice To Me"

"Thank your for being nice to me." Every so often, really often actually, a patient of mine will say this to me. Hearing this makes me really sad, and pretty damn angry. You see, that means that along the way, my patient has had an encounter with one or more EMS crews, my colleagues, who were not kind, or worse.

Emergency Medical Services. That's the industry I work in, as a Paramedic. There's a saying, it's cliche, but so true:

The call is rarely an emergency. It is sometimes medical. But we always provide a service. 

I think that last sentence is oft forgotten, hazy in a fog of yet another blue faced junkie, a perfectly healthy, ambulatory young adult with a fever that they haven't treated at home, a lonely Nana who has a hangnail... for the past three weeks, it's endless. This post however is not about the burnout, or the overuse of the 911 system, that can wait for another day. 

My point here is this: Each person we interface with deserves our empathy, and our compassion. Each one deserves to be treated as we would wish to be treated. Why? Because we are all part of one human family. Because being kind and empathetic is not actually for the other person, it is for our own humanity. Because we are in service to these people. All of them. I challenge you, in EMS and in life, to be love, be kind, be human. The energy you put out will return to you.

 "Be kind whenever possible.  It is always possible." ~ 14th Dalai Lama