Can’t nobody take my pride…
I love donating blood. It’s a simple way for me to do something awesome for people who really need it. I’m an exceptional bleeder, so I show up, plug in, and get outta there within an hour. BAM! Good Deed Karma through the roof. My company has a truck pull right up to the building every six months, so I try to get in there when the Blood Bank comes by.
Let’s get the first question you’re asking yourself out of the way first – Yes, people with diabetes can donate blood if they are in good control. The person receiving the donation cannot contract diabetes that way, and there are no bumblebees sticking to the donation bag trying to get super-sweet goodness out of your blood. We can donate, no biggie.
I showed up for my appointment Wednesday and eyeballed the snacks they had waiting for us post-donation. Carb, carb, and Snoop Carby Carb were the options. I made a mental note to fake eating a package of Oreos on my way out so they wouldn’t chide me for skipping the “nutrition” my body would need after donating.
After checking in with the nurse, I was sent to a smaller back room where they do the obligatory finger stick to check you iron levels, as well as take your blood pressure and go through a litany of unbelievabley personal questions (nope, no contact with any transvestites in South Africa for at least the last 5 years, thank you very much). The nurse pulled out a fresh lancet and took my hand in hers.
“So just a little finger stick, ok? People say this hurts more than the arm needle, so I just want to warn you.”
“I have diabetes actually, so I do this to myself about 15 times I day,” I responded, trying not to sound annoyed.
“Diabetes? I’m sorry to hear that” said the nurse, as if had just told her I have 3 months to live.
I know people don’t understand what it means to live with diabetes. I know lots of folks have seen the worst. They’ve seen grandparents lose limbs and vision to diabetes. They’ve seen young children poke themselves with lancets, syringes, and pumps. I know people have misconceptions about what it means to have diabetes. That many people think of it as a death sentence.
But let me just set the record straight, if only for my own benefit. You can believe every stereotype about diabetes out there if you want. That I could cure myself if only I worked out and ate right. You can think “I would never be able to give myself my own injections” (even though you would if you had to). You can feel amazed when I run (on insulin) my first half marathon in August. You can be impressed that I didn’t let diabetes stop me from having a great career, living in Spain, being an athlete, enjoying life, inspiring my friends, falling in love, or living my life to the fullest.
But there’s one thing I won’t let you do. I won’t let you feel sorry for me for having diabetes. I have an incredible life, that just so happens to include diabetes. I’m not sorry about anything.
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i got your blog link through TuD. i love what you said at the end. i hate it when people feel sorry for me. i’m here, right? lving & breathing! thank you for this post, it’s what i needed =)