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Insulin & Insults
I used to work with a woman, we will call her Joanne. Joanne would get visibly grossed out every time I stabbed myself with a needle at lunch break. She’d flinch. Gasp. Make little gagging sounds like I was extracting an organ instead of just keeping myself alive. “Could you maybe do that somewhere else?” she’d…
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I’ll Pass on the Pancreas, Thanks
Let’s talk about islet cell transplants, shall we? Basically, it’s when doctors take insulin-producing islet cells (those sweet little pancreatic overachievers we Type 1s no longer have) and transplant them into a diabetic person — often into the liver — with the goal of producing insulin naturally again. Like, on their own. No pump. No pods. Sounds…
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You Can’t Sit With Us…
I must’ve missed the memo that chronic illness was in fashion now. Because suddenly, being a type 1 diabetic is getting packaged, prettied up, and paraded around like a quirky lifestyle choice. Dexcoms are popping up in influencer selfies like glitter tattoos. Barbie’s got a pump now. Celebrities are flaunting injections on red carpets. There are TikToks…
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Profit & Plastic – The Diabetes Barbie Paradox
Little me — the four-year-old giving herself needles in the school bathroom, the kid explaining for the thousandth time why she couldn’t eat the cake, the kid hiding low blood sugar Smarties in her desk — would have LOST HER MIND for this doll. I would’ve carried her everywhere like a tiny plastic reminder that…
Still Sweet, Slightly Screwed 