I said I would and I did. Today I wrote a check to the Diabetes Research Institute Foundation (DRI) for $500. DRI is the premiere Institute looking for a cure for diabetes, and half of my donation comes from the sale of my book, The ABCs Of Loving Yourself With Diabetes-– in other words, from you. Thank you. 

The other news is that I will be on a working vacation over the next five weeks, ’til January 18th. I will continue to post, although at this moment still have to figure out exactly how to do that from New Zealand and Japan! Just to say, posts may be a bit more irregular, you can’t always predict when a herd of sheep may be passing or a friendly native insists you join him at the pub or the local sento. 

Here’s to a very happy holiday and that we all swing into the new year in good health and good cheer. 

My husband is a management consultant who lives in Brooklyn and works in Europe. It’s a heck of a commute but somehow we make it work.

Last week he facilitated his first week-long management course in Connecticut, a mere two hours away — Eastern Standard Time and no jet lag. But greater than that, in the world of ‘wonders never cease,’ his course participants, as is the company’s tradition, elected a charity to make a donation to at the end of the course and they chose (all on their own, no coaching from my hubby) Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF).

Now, what was even more remarkable  was not only do I have type 1 diabetes, but one of the other four course leaders has a 17 year old daughter with type 1 diabetes.

Typically a guest speaker is invited the last night of their course to talk about the chosen charity, so it was not a stretch for my husband to call me and ask if I’d come up and fill the role. Knapsack packed, I hopped a train from Grand Central Station and was soon standing in front of twenty executives from ING and five executive management instructors to compress thirty-six years of living with diabetes, and the establishment and achievements of JDRF, into fifteen minutes. Oddly enough this is fun for me; while I may get white knuckles just before showtime, after I’ve gotten my first laugh, which I intend by the way, my knuckles open up and I feel my audience resting in the palm of my hand.

It was easy to draw parallels between the topic of their course, leadership, and the leadership of the impassioned parents of children with diabetes who collectively wrote letters and called senators and created JDRF, now a world class cure-focused research organization. It was easy to liken managing systems in a corporation with managing our systems in diabetes: food, exercise, medicine, stress, illness.

Toward my close, I talked about my own personal passion in my work, helping people develop the emotional resilience to get up each and every day and manage this condition again, and again and again, and how still after 36 years of living with diabetes I have no assurance that Tuesday will go the way Monday did, or Sunday did, or Saturday did. As I spoke those words in particular my voice cracked, tears came and I choked, I choked right there in front of 25 executives. My husband told me later it was a great moment of authenticity and they “got it.”

I’ve spied here and there over the past year of giving presentations, that no matter how much knowledge I possess or how well I speak, diabetes comes with an emotional suitcase, and while I thought I’d only brought a knapsack to Connecticut, that emotional suitcase had accompanied me unnoticed. But it’s also O.K. because it was in opening that suitcase in that room that evening that allowed for a shift in my audience from head to heart.

When the host asked me pre-speech how I wanted to be introduced, before I answered he said, “Is it true if you don’t take insulin you’ll die?” I would have never have thought of that in the moment, but I said, “Yes, actually it is.” He asked, “Can I use that in the introduction?” To which I responded, “Sure, why not?” “O.K., great,”he said laughing, “I’ll bring them down and you bring them up.” A version of good cop/bad cop perhaps, and a brilliant game plan hatched in 60 seconds.

But his question, is it true if you don’t take insulin you’ll die, unknowingly made me feel a little vulnerable and a little heroic, which truthfully I rarely allow myself to feel. So maybe that’s where my tears came from 12 minutes later. In any event, the next day 20 executives went home to neighboring parts of Connecticut, Des Moines, North Dakota, Massachusetts, Atlanta and one to Amsterdam with a little better understanding of what type 1 diabetes is, how invisible this illness is and what all us invisible people are doing all day long managing round-the-clock blood sugars. And I’m pleased to say these executives who overpaid for mugs and hats and theatre tickets to raise money for JDRF raised $2,600 and the company matches half so all tolled almost $4,000. Not bad for a night’s work and a free dinner.

I just discovered that there’s a new national public awareness ad campaign sponsored by the American Diabetes Association, American Association of Diabetes Educators, Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation and the National Council of La Raza (the nation’s largest Hispanic diabetes advocacy group). What’s historic is that all these groups are coming together for the first time. Seems a signal that the powers that be realize that diabetes is the awful epidemic that it is, and are willing to put aside their differences and work together – at least for now. You can catch the campaign here. 

I caught wind of this this morning on the blog, DiabetesMine, which I check frequently. What I found equally interesting is the flood of comments Amy’s (blog writer) article pulled. A third of the respondents seemed to like that the new campaign creates greater awareness of the importance of the A1c value. A third were cynical and jumped on the fact that the commercials don’t explain A1cs in the context of diabetes care, and that this campaign is only to make pharmaceutical companies richer. The last third bemoaned the fact that even though they know A1cs are important, they can’t seem to motivate themselves to better control their blood sugar.

I don’t often leave a comment on Amy’s blog but I did today because I feel strongly whatever we can do to get people more aware of the importance of controlling their blood sugar is good provided the execution is well done. And I think this campaign, as an awareness campaign, is well done. You may want to go check out Amy’s article, and the comments, but I can tell you here what I chimed in with in response to the nay-sayers: 

“I’ve not much to add (to the litany of comments) except maybe this: If you’re cynical, ask yourself why? Our experiences and beliefs color everything we do and say. You’re coming from a point of view before you even see something. Can you suspend your point of view and see something first without an opinion?

For those having trouble putting your awareness that uncontrolled diabetes causes complications into action, take a small step. Change one action for a week, see if you don’t feel better. One week, then a second week, but don’t even entertain the thought of a second week till you get there.  Change happens one step at a time, one day at a time. Five years from now you’ll either be changed — or not. Do nothing and you’ll be the one on the stretcher, but don’t let that scare you, use it as information.

If you think pharmas are only out for profit, you’ll dismiss this campaign before you actually consider that people at pharmas may actually have two sides: wanting to make money and wanting to help people.

Sure, we can say there’s not enough info in the ad, but it will come. Let’s get patients into health care provider offices first. If you think there’s not enough training for most health professionals about diabetes, I agree. If you think there’s not enough attention paid to coping and emotional issues regarding diabetes, I agree, it’s what I write about. But doing something constructive to change this, even if it’s just raising your voice works best when your intent comes from a constructive, rather than destructive, place. Everything is energy and energy affects everything.

If you think this ad campaign should tell you everything in 30 seconds about why you need to know your A1c, likely this is the first in a succession of ads. People can only take away 1-3 messages at any one time. I know, I was in advertising. No point littering, it only creates confusion.

Let’s get patients into doctor’s offices, doctors better trained, up the awareness of how emotions affect chronic illness, and if you agree, choose to be a part of that effort doing something constructive rather than destructive. Anything. This effort really needs as many of us as possible.

Of course Big Dave, one of the many commentators, then commented on my comment. What fun! He said that I’m biased toward pharma companies because I give patient education seminars funded by Sanofi-Aventis and pharmas do not have our interests at heart. Of course, you just know, I had to respond. And so I said, “Big Dave, I wasn’t talking to you particularly, but I will answer your concern. There are four A1c Champion programs: 2 branded, 2 unbranded. I only do the unbranded ones, meaning motivation and education, nothing to sell. And yes, people tell me all the time after I present that they learned something or something in them shifted, usually that they have to be responsible for their care, rather than leaving it up to their doctor. I don’t mind cynicism, I only mind it when it closes minds. I didn’t say pharmas have your best interest at heart, I just said don’t discount it, along with their profit-making.

I have a feeling right now Big Dave is scripting a response to my response. I’ll leave you to check. Just proves, though, that “comment-ing” is a great way to get us all talking and thinking.

I do. It’s made by two young type 1s who’ve started a small company calleddiabetes happens to help enhance the lives of young diabetics. Right now, through the sale of their T-shirts, (on their site, look under ‘news’ and send an email) they’re sponsoring a young type 1 girl or boy for a week at Chris Dudley’s Basketball Camp.  They’ll learn how to take better care of their diabetes, and have an incredible week playing ball. Not bad for one’s self-esteem, me thinks. On that note, I think my cool T-shirt is one of the cheekiest, most pride-puffing ways to say, “Yeah, I got diabetes, I got my head on straight, I’m handling it, so what?” Guess I read a lot into a T-shirt.

I saw this T-shirt at the Children with Diabetes conference this July while in the banquet hall eating dinner. A girl, who looked to be about 18, ran past my table wearing it. It was love at first sight; I had to have it. I waited for her to return to the hall, knowing she would pass my table again. When she sprinted back in, I stopped her gayly calling out, “Excuse me, I love your shirt!” She stopped, smiled broadly, and bent down for the question she knew was coming. She told me she’d gotten the shirt in the Exhibition Hall. I thanked her, gave her a thumbs up, and put ‘Exhibition Hall T-shirt’ on my Urgent Vendor Sleuthing List for the next morning.

To my disappointment there were no vendors in the Exhibition Hall selling my beloved T-shirt. Finally I learned they had been there the first day but alas, were gone. All I had to go on now to track down my shirt were two words, ‘diabetes happens.’ But I couldn’t forget those words. They’d been reverberating in my head like a mantra since I’d seen them. A little internet surfing once home, brought up the the information I needed. I emailed Tyler, sent a check, and my shirt arrived shortly thereafter. Only days later I was meeting ‘A’ (see below) in the city and it was the perfect occasion to visibly wear my pride.

I felt happy from the moment the navy cotton slipped over my head. A few pairs of eyes read my chest throughout the day. No declarations from anyone, but I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Take that, world,” I thought. “I am one proud diabetic!” If a shirt can have this affect, I’ll have to talk to Tyler about a coat, bed sheets, hmmm………. an umbrella would be nice.

Yesterday I had the fun of being in a focus group at an advertising agency testing concepts for a pharmaceutical company’s new campaign for diabetes care. We were five people on our side of the table, five real live people with diabetes, and they were three – a researcher, a copywriter and an account director.

We were presented with four different concepts and asked what hit us positively or negatively about the ideas, what the ideas were communicating and what was our gut reaction. These ideas would then be worked on further and narrowed down to be presented to the client and potentially be made into TV commercials and magazine ads. Often, as advertising is developed, it is shown to potential viewers to validate whether the ideas being developed are going in the right direction. After all, we are the ones who live with diabetes, they are the ones who read about it in a brief. 

It’s a heady feeling to help people make decisions that will impact and influence millions; to have the opportunity to affect how they will talk to us, approach us, regard us. It gave me a deep sense of satisfaction to represent my own views and I hope the many, having listened to so many people’s stories of living with diabetes.

While I will not blow their cover, for this is a competitive pitch, I will tell you that two concepts resonated with me. The first because it presented living with diabetes as a progressive process best performed in a ‘make one small change today’ way. It was positive, it understood that this is a condition you can’t get on top of in a day or a week, or just by taking a pill. Rather there are many habits and lifestyle modifications one must address to move toward living well with diabetes.

The second concept that grabbed us all has a great tag line, but again my ethics prohibit me from telling you what it is. But I will tell you that it regards people who live with diabetes as powerful and positive and people who throw themselves into enjoying their lives rather than letting diabetes stop them. It inspired us. It commended us. And it’s how

I hope everyone with diabetes will choose to take life on after they get past the shock, anger, why me? stages and phases and realize now it’s your decision truly, totally about how you want to live your life. Below you’ll see my observation about being on ‘the other side of the needle.’ Yesterday was just as interesting being on ‘the other side of the table.’ It also confirmed what a hot topic diabetes is today. Hopeful, isn’t it?