The Year That Is
I am glad we didn't kill the cats.
Sitting on our couch, our new daily routine with coffees in hand while watching the glossy delivery of morning news, my husband and I heard, distinctly, that pets were testing positive for Covid-19.
I turned to my husband and said, very seriously, "maybe we should take them out back and.."
He had enough sense to second guess my reaction, and not follow through. "No" he said, "how could our cats get Covid?"
Anything was possible then. In my mind, any bit of air, or dirt, or bag of frozen peaches, or paint by numbers from China could carry the disease that was spreading fast and furiously across our world. Covid-19 was killing so many people, including, especially Type 1 Diabetics. Hit pause, turn up the volume, feel the gut punch, that's me- the T1 in the family. And that was the beginning of the scariest year I have ever experienced. Killing our beloved cats to save my life, somehow made sense enough for me to say it out loud.
When I was diagnosed with T1 at the sweet age of 24, ready to marry my college sweetheart, ready to embark on a new profession, ready to travel and willing to throw caution to the wind, my life changed. I walked down the grocery aisle jealous of women buying chocolate cakes. I wondered about having children. I thought about my impending death. For with this, and many chronic illnesses, my chances of dying early from complications related to Type 1 Diabetes went up. Way up.
So I went to therapy, I learned all about my pancreas, and endocrinology, I took the insulin, I ate healthy foods. I faced my new fears that seemed to develop overnight sometimes, wherever they hid, in traffic, up mountains, in the ocean, in bed. I write about it still. The fear, the mental anguish, the thankfulness. This is the life with a chronic illness, it haunts not only the body, but the mind, in ways that take over sometimes. And then there are months and years that float by, with management, and medicines and doctors visits. In those years we made a beautiful family, and got jobs, and bought a home, and got pets.
And then COVID.
Spring 2020 didn't bring a panic, more of a genuine, slow and very deep feeling of survival mode. Close the doors, wave to friends from afar, stay home from school and work, pack for the hospital just in case. Order supplies, like the world was ending. I counted out the vials and how many days I had in case the supply chain was interrupted. With Type 1 Diabetes, a person's life is sustained by all of the typical things like sleep and food and water, but most importantly insulin. It is why we Type 1 Diabetics are alive. I have never forgotten that. This year the reality of it hit on a different level-I could be dead by the winter.
Of course I had taken my health for granted in the past years. I thankfully have health insurance and cry when I hear the stories of Diabetics without insurance unable to afford insulin. They inevitably suffer the ails of poverty, then death. It happens. Still. In this country. In 2021.
COVID added a new sense of desperation. No copay was going to stop that.
Because even with health insurance, the tiny virus could get you on planes, at homes, and weddings-unknown places. COVID could get anyone, any age, and people with comorbidities (how many times have you used that word this past year? In your life?) are more susceptible. Even just being a mom, protecting our kids, assessing risk like we were in a college seminar, was a new challenge, a mountain to go up every damn day.
My family rose up gracefully, without hesitation and gave up things they didn't even know were on the table. Sleepovers, hugs, sports, shopping, unobstructed breathing, school. So many things. They did it gracefully, without much pushback. What a gift with two teens and a tween. The struggles they experienced were real this past year and shared universally by so many kids. Yet, they thrived in other ways as well. I like to think we worked in a new and beautiful way protecting each other, forming trust amongst our family that may not have been built if this was any other year. My Diabetes has always hung in the background, extra bags on trips, me taking an extra minute to emerge from the car to "check my sugars," or just boxes of insulin next to our ketchup in the fridge. This year, my Diabetes took the front seat, became the fussy baby, the one to soothe and protect. Ugh. I talked about Diabetes more, learned the science of how air particles move, and struggled inside when my friends said they worried for me. Who ever wants to be that friend?
I had moments of panic, at gas station pumps, yelling at my husband for not sanitizing before touching the steering wheel. It is nice to look back and think I was wrong. For the yelling, for letting fear take over, and maybe giving it more room in our lives than I had ever before. I am glad I was wrong and science said so and I so appreciate what science and medicine are teaching us every minute- new information, new ways to live with this piece of shit virus.
And so, we know to not kill the cats. We know to get vaccinated, to wash our hands more, and wear masks. We know to be in control of our blood sugars, this hasn't changed for any Diabetic. And we know our illness oddly works as a magnifying glass to the fears that live inside us as humans. And we know that with all that was challenged this year, what remains is to be celebrated and protected. Maybe it gave more meaning to better BS control (that can read blood sugar for Diabetics and bullshit for anyone else). It was hard to know when to even write about everything this year. But I finally did, and guess what? Our newest kitten is sleeping soundly on my lap.
Sitting on our couch, our new daily routine with coffees in hand while watching the glossy delivery of morning news, my husband and I heard, distinctly, that pets were testing positive for Covid-19.
I turned to my husband and said, very seriously, "maybe we should take them out back and.."
He had enough sense to second guess my reaction, and not follow through. "No" he said, "how could our cats get Covid?"
Anything was possible then. In my mind, any bit of air, or dirt, or bag of frozen peaches, or paint by numbers from China could carry the disease that was spreading fast and furiously across our world. Covid-19 was killing so many people, including, especially Type 1 Diabetics. Hit pause, turn up the volume, feel the gut punch, that's me- the T1 in the family. And that was the beginning of the scariest year I have ever experienced. Killing our beloved cats to save my life, somehow made sense enough for me to say it out loud.
When I was diagnosed with T1 at the sweet age of 24, ready to marry my college sweetheart, ready to embark on a new profession, ready to travel and willing to throw caution to the wind, my life changed. I walked down the grocery aisle jealous of women buying chocolate cakes. I wondered about having children. I thought about my impending death. For with this, and many chronic illnesses, my chances of dying early from complications related to Type 1 Diabetes went up. Way up.
So I went to therapy, I learned all about my pancreas, and endocrinology, I took the insulin, I ate healthy foods. I faced my new fears that seemed to develop overnight sometimes, wherever they hid, in traffic, up mountains, in the ocean, in bed. I write about it still. The fear, the mental anguish, the thankfulness. This is the life with a chronic illness, it haunts not only the body, but the mind, in ways that take over sometimes. And then there are months and years that float by, with management, and medicines and doctors visits. In those years we made a beautiful family, and got jobs, and bought a home, and got pets.
And then COVID.
Spring 2020 didn't bring a panic, more of a genuine, slow and very deep feeling of survival mode. Close the doors, wave to friends from afar, stay home from school and work, pack for the hospital just in case. Order supplies, like the world was ending. I counted out the vials and how many days I had in case the supply chain was interrupted. With Type 1 Diabetes, a person's life is sustained by all of the typical things like sleep and food and water, but most importantly insulin. It is why we Type 1 Diabetics are alive. I have never forgotten that. This year the reality of it hit on a different level-I could be dead by the winter.
Of course I had taken my health for granted in the past years. I thankfully have health insurance and cry when I hear the stories of Diabetics without insurance unable to afford insulin. They inevitably suffer the ails of poverty, then death. It happens. Still. In this country. In 2021.
COVID added a new sense of desperation. No copay was going to stop that.
Because even with health insurance, the tiny virus could get you on planes, at homes, and weddings-unknown places. COVID could get anyone, any age, and people with comorbidities (how many times have you used that word this past year? In your life?) are more susceptible. Even just being a mom, protecting our kids, assessing risk like we were in a college seminar, was a new challenge, a mountain to go up every damn day.
My family rose up gracefully, without hesitation and gave up things they didn't even know were on the table. Sleepovers, hugs, sports, shopping, unobstructed breathing, school. So many things. They did it gracefully, without much pushback. What a gift with two teens and a tween. The struggles they experienced were real this past year and shared universally by so many kids. Yet, they thrived in other ways as well. I like to think we worked in a new and beautiful way protecting each other, forming trust amongst our family that may not have been built if this was any other year. My Diabetes has always hung in the background, extra bags on trips, me taking an extra minute to emerge from the car to "check my sugars," or just boxes of insulin next to our ketchup in the fridge. This year, my Diabetes took the front seat, became the fussy baby, the one to soothe and protect. Ugh. I talked about Diabetes more, learned the science of how air particles move, and struggled inside when my friends said they worried for me. Who ever wants to be that friend?
I had moments of panic, at gas station pumps, yelling at my husband for not sanitizing before touching the steering wheel. It is nice to look back and think I was wrong. For the yelling, for letting fear take over, and maybe giving it more room in our lives than I had ever before. I am glad I was wrong and science said so and I so appreciate what science and medicine are teaching us every minute- new information, new ways to live with this piece of shit virus.
And so, we know to not kill the cats. We know to get vaccinated, to wash our hands more, and wear masks. We know to be in control of our blood sugars, this hasn't changed for any Diabetic. And we know our illness oddly works as a magnifying glass to the fears that live inside us as humans. And we know that with all that was challenged this year, what remains is to be celebrated and protected. Maybe it gave more meaning to better BS control (that can read blood sugar for Diabetics and bullshit for anyone else). It was hard to know when to even write about everything this year. But I finally did, and guess what? Our newest kitten is sleeping soundly on my lap.
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