This is so lovely. Iām so glad you were able to share a moment with that little girl, and you probably made her life that much easier, in one sweet moment.
This was so lovely. My partner was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes last year in his 40s and I have been surprised by how little understanding there is about diabetes in the general population. I'm so glad you had such supportive parents as a child adjusting to this enormous change and I'm certain that little girl in the purple trousers felt much less alone in that moment you shared with her. What a gift.
Oh Rebecca, this is your best yet. Several of the sentences and several of the paragraphs are just so beautifully constructed that Iād like the piece just for those, but you really brought the whole thing round so nicely. Terrific!
This was such a lovely post. Thank you! It made me think about how while there are a lot of advantages to having an invisible disability (lack of discrimination and so forth), there are also a lot of disadvantages -- mainly a lack of public awareness.
How deeply you touched me. As I think you may know, my sister was diagnosed with Type 1 Juvenile Diabetes when she was 12 and I was six. I watched go through what you describe, but much longer ago without the science and technology available to you. But the sense of "different" had not changed, and you express that dilemma so beautifully. Kudos, Rebecca. xo Mary
I love that sort of subtle, understated human connection. Perhaps not quite the same, but a few years ago I visited a school to do some research. Amongst the group of students I interviewed was a sixth form class. On my way out of the school, I caught the eye of one of the (male) students from that group. We looked at each other, and each of us gave the briefest of nods. No smiles -- far too demonstrative -- and certainly not winking or blinking! But a brief and meaningful human interaction nevertheless, and one in which he, the student, and I the visiting teacher, were equal, at least for that fleeting moment.
What a gift you gave that student! I was diagnosed with kidney disease when I was 12, and I understand completely that desire for someone besides your parents to know what youāre going through. I had to take high doses of steroids daily and looked like an inflated balloon in middle school. Iām sure you can imagine how awful that was.
I remember going to Tulane in New Orleans for a biopsy and spending a couple of days in the childrenās wing there. It was awesome! I felt so NORMAL with all the other kids--one had diabetes, but I donāt recall what the others were battling. But we raced from room to room up and down the halls of the hospital visiting each other and finding such comfort knowing that we werenāt alone.
This piece was wonderfully written. You are a gem.
Wow!!!! This is the best post of yours that I have been privileged to read. Here you are sharing your heart and your pain from your childhood all the while telling a damn good story so well that I lived it with you. Thank you for having the courage to share so openly and sweetly in a way that those of us who did not really understand about diabetes now totally get it. A great title, enigmatic and intriguing, which you tie up so well in your story....
I will look forward to more stories from you that touch my heart and bring sweet tears to my eyes...
We all struggle to believe in and have a love relationship with ourselves...
I encourage you to always remember how precious and lovely you are...that you have a gift the world needs you to share...and believe in the beauty of your dreams....
This is my new favorite thing you've written. Such heart. Thank you.
This is so lovely. Iām so glad you were able to share a moment with that little girl, and you probably made her life that much easier, in one sweet moment.
This was so lovely. My partner was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes last year in his 40s and I have been surprised by how little understanding there is about diabetes in the general population. I'm so glad you had such supportive parents as a child adjusting to this enormous change and I'm certain that little girl in the purple trousers felt much less alone in that moment you shared with her. What a gift.
Oh Rebecca, this is your best yet. Several of the sentences and several of the paragraphs are just so beautifully constructed that Iād like the piece just for those, but you really brought the whole thing round so nicely. Terrific!
Brought a tear to my eye.
Absolutely loved this post. Thank you.
This was such a lovely post. Thank you! It made me think about how while there are a lot of advantages to having an invisible disability (lack of discrimination and so forth), there are also a lot of disadvantages -- mainly a lack of public awareness.
How deeply you touched me. As I think you may know, my sister was diagnosed with Type 1 Juvenile Diabetes when she was 12 and I was six. I watched go through what you describe, but much longer ago without the science and technology available to you. But the sense of "different" had not changed, and you express that dilemma so beautifully. Kudos, Rebecca. xo Mary
This was beautiful. Thank you Rebecca.
I love that sort of subtle, understated human connection. Perhaps not quite the same, but a few years ago I visited a school to do some research. Amongst the group of students I interviewed was a sixth form class. On my way out of the school, I caught the eye of one of the (male) students from that group. We looked at each other, and each of us gave the briefest of nods. No smiles -- far too demonstrative -- and certainly not winking or blinking! But a brief and meaningful human interaction nevertheless, and one in which he, the student, and I the visiting teacher, were equal, at least for that fleeting moment.
What a gift you gave that student! I was diagnosed with kidney disease when I was 12, and I understand completely that desire for someone besides your parents to know what youāre going through. I had to take high doses of steroids daily and looked like an inflated balloon in middle school. Iām sure you can imagine how awful that was.
I remember going to Tulane in New Orleans for a biopsy and spending a couple of days in the childrenās wing there. It was awesome! I felt so NORMAL with all the other kids--one had diabetes, but I donāt recall what the others were battling. But we raced from room to room up and down the halls of the hospital visiting each other and finding such comfort knowing that we werenāt alone.
This piece was wonderfully written. You are a gem.
Safety in numbers; I'm sure the youngster felt courage and comfort from that thoughtful exchange!
Really beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing.
Wow!!!! This is the best post of yours that I have been privileged to read. Here you are sharing your heart and your pain from your childhood all the while telling a damn good story so well that I lived it with you. Thank you for having the courage to share so openly and sweetly in a way that those of us who did not really understand about diabetes now totally get it. A great title, enigmatic and intriguing, which you tie up so well in your story....
I will look forward to more stories from you that touch my heart and bring sweet tears to my eyes...
We all struggle to believe in and have a love relationship with ourselves...
I encourage you to always remember how precious and lovely you are...that you have a gift the world needs you to share...and believe in the beauty of your dreams....
This is beautiful, Rebecca. I echo Markās comment, as this, too, is my favourite piece youāve written.