Let it out.
It was another crazy busy day at work. I had been to three different cities in the Pacific Northwest already, and it was barely 2pm. It was one of those days of running around, putting out fires, trying to get everything done on a seemingly endless list of to-dos. At one of my accounts, I was pulled in to a patient room to discuss our product with a young man 12 years my junior. He sat with his arms folded at the end of the exam table, eyes on the floor, while his doctor explained who I was. His doctor also noted his off-the-charts A1c, and how it was putting his future in danger.
I started to talk about CGM and how it had been helpful to me, and why it could be a useful tool for him as well. The young man would barely nod with each of my bullet points, and had yet to bring his gaze up to meet mine. This wasn’t working. Nothing I was saying was landing. Was he totally over this? Wondering why the blonde lady in the blazer was yammering on about some device? Annoyed at his doctor for telling him to get that A1c down AGAIN? Bored? Whatever it was, this kid was not. Engaging. With. Anyone. I changed my tack.
I asked him a question I often ask patients - it’s a question that gets them talking about their diabetes in a way that lets them also air their grievances. I asked him “what annoys you most about having diabetes?” It’s a question that can get us talking and relating about the shared challenges of diabetes, and lets them know I’ve been there too. It also helps me understand why their doctor wants me talking to them about CGM in the first place. I expected a post-adolescent smart-ass answer from the young man. Something along the lines of “EVERYTHING, DUH!” But he didn’t say anything. The room was quiet. Until I heard that he was softly crying. With his chin resting in his hands, eyes downcast, I watched a tear escape one eye and then his hand go quickly to his cheek to wipe it away. I kneeled down in front of him by the exam table so our heads were closer. He still couldn’t look at me.
“Diabetes is hard. It’s really, really hard, isn’t it?” I said quietly. “It’s a disease that we never asked for and don’t want to deal with. It’s a full time job with no breaks and I want you to know that I get that, and that I know that nothing about this is easy. And it’s ok to not be ok with that all the time.”
The doctor handed him a tissue. He nodded his head and wiped away his tears. I talked a little more - mostly just out loud and to the doctor to let him know how to go about learning more about our products. I thanked the patient and walked outside the exam room and I felt the tears welling up in my own eyes. I don’t think anyone could have answered my “what annoys you” question any more appropriately, because the truth is, it’s all of it.
It’s just the fact that we have to deal with this and others don’t. And yes, we should all count our blessings and look on the bright side and be grateful for our modern medical choices but there are moments where you just want to say “THIS DISEASE SUCKS AND HAS TRULY GOTTEN THE BETTER OF ME TODAY.” Especially if you’re having one of those days and some lady just barged in to your doctor’s appointment (oops). It was powerful, sad, and also strangely connecting for him to have cried like that. It made me hurt for him because he’s part of my non-working-pancreas tribe and he’s having a tough time. We all have tough times with diabetes. But that’s why we have to let it out sometimes - whether it be at the doctor’s office or with a loved one or on a blog or forum. It’s ok to answer the question “what annoys you about having diabetes?” with “All of it.” And to have a good cry about it.
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Comments
What’s always made diabetes difficult for me is that when I was diagnosed, my goals and personality didn’t change. I was (and am) the same person. With the same desire to be able to run around like a headless chicken, play Bass Trombone for three hours at a stretch and jump in to help someone at a moment’s notice.
But NOW, I have to plan to be spontaneous. Which is (oxy)moronic.
In terms of ‘getting to me,’ this was one of your best blogs. One of ‘The Four Agreements’ (read the short but life-changing book by Don Miguel Ruiz) is to Always Do Your Best - and acknowledge your best will be different day to day, when you are well, when you are sick. And it also illustrates why you are/will continue to be so good in your profession - in addition to being an skilled and compassionate listener, in this case you also walk the talk and it shows. I’m sure this is one endo that will always remember this detail visit, and hopefully invite you back for many more.
Thank you Rich - it was a humbling experience to be there in that tough moment for him, I felt so bad and also so alike - sometimes it’s just so hard and there’s nothing else that you want to do except cry - or punch something! I’ve done both!
This disease sucks and it truly got the better of me too yesterday, angry crying jag included. I will have better days, but yesterday I was worn out with the 24-hour-ness of it all.