Sticking together.
The sun was setting on another perfect day in San Diego, and the time just seemed right for a margarita. Let me back up for a second – I never drink margaritas. In fact, I don’t even think I know how to make a margarita. As a person with diabetes, they’re just one of those things I know have a ton of sugar and I choose to generally stay away from. But something about the perfect day and the beach we strolled along simply demanded it. We had to have a margarita.
My friend and I sidled up to the beachside bar, and ordered two margs with salt on the rocks. I checked my blood sugar and bolused three units as a guess, keeping my CGM on the table for easy reference. I’d know soon enough if the bolus was correct, and for a few moments, I forgot about diabetes. We chatted and watched the waves rolling onto the beach, the sun sinking lower in the sky as we sipped on the sweet drinks.
After a bit, I saw a friend of mine who also happens to have Type 1 diabetes. I waved him over and we greeted each other, and his eyes glanced down to the bar.
“Are you drinking a margarita? Seriously? What are you doing!? That’s all sugar,” he said, hands in the air in a distinct WTF? gesture.
I felt the diabetes guilt wash over me – the feeling of knowing I was doing something that wasn’t the best for my diabetes management and I had been busted. Busted for enjoying one glorious margarita on the most perfect day ever. He had a point, and he had diabetes – I couldn’t BS my way out of that one. I drew in my breath to admit as such when he caught the eye of a bartender.
“One Budweiser,” he said.
Immediately, my mind went to the calculations. One beer is at least 10 grams of carbohydrates, and my margarita was what…30 grams? Is one so much more terrible that the other? How on earth could this person, who also knows that sometimes perfect diabetes management doesn’t happen because life happens, be judging me, when he was indulging as well? And although his carb count was lower than mine, neither of us were doing ourselves any favors by drinking alcohol.
“Well I bolused for it. And some days just call for a margarita, you know?” I told him, annoyed. “Plus, I’ve got my DexCom right here, so I’ll know where my blood sugar is heading. Speaking of, are you on one of these yet? They’re incredible.”
“Uh, no, I, uhm, I tried one once. I just uhm, I don’t know, its so, uhm, hard to get used to wearing something on my body.”
Suddenly I realized that he was feeling the diabetes guilt too– the guilt of not using the latest technology that could potentially help him manage his diabetes better. The same feelings I used to get before I was on a pump and people made me feel like my decision to be on injections was compromising my health. The guilt trips I used to get for choosing how to manage my diabetes. He felt busted too.
Both of us know what it’s like to have this disease and feel judged and guilty every day, and both of us had made the other feel badly with our offhand comments. Here we were, on this glorious day, feeling sheepish for the way we managed our diabetes. Feeling bad about ourselves for one decision out of the millions we make every day of our lives to manage our health. Though we’re judged every day by other people, it stings more from another person with diabetes. They know those feelings of living with this chronic disease that no one else will ever understand, and for that reason those comments can cut so much deeper.
I held my margarita out to his fresh Budweiser. “Well, cheers my friend! It’s great to see you, what a day, huh?”
Did you enjoy this post? Why not leave a comment below and continue the conversation, or subscribe to my feed and get articles like this delivered automatically to your feed reader.
Enjoy your margarita! I enjoy them often! Let the guilt go…at least this one time 🙂