Welcome to the diabetic club, yes girls are allowed. We have a sweet double wide trailer that is always the perfect temperature and the fridge is stocked with cool refreshments. Diet everything. We have what you need in terms of insulin supplies: syringes, alcohol swabs, and testing supplies.
We are your new best friends, we suddenly have so much in common. Well we don’t but every single conversation is diabetes related. How is it going with your pump? Did your doctor fax that paperwork to HR? Do you want to be my partner in a 3 legged race?
We talk about the silly myths that people ask us about. We start to feel elite, in a world of fad diets we have probably the best. We have a pancreas that does not work but we laugh in the face of adversity. Proving that, like an appendix or one of your kidneys, it is not necessary. Side note: what the heck is my pancreas up to? It is just a freeloading organ at this point, eating all of the food in the cupboard while every other organ works 24/7.
We have parties, we drink one glass of wine when we feel saucy. We eat carb free snacks like pork rinds and cheeses. We do the Macarena, no we don’t, well not me anyway. We do diet Pepsi keg stands. We do not serve cake, but we do watch marathons of “Cake Boss” and ogle it like dessert porn. We test every two hours, it only pauses the party for a few seconds. Then we get right back at it.
We are the best of friends, though we do not talk much outside of our little parties. We get back into the real world. Where our best taste of cake is the smell we get when walking by a bakery. We live happy lives. We get married, we have kids then we pass diabetes onto their kids.