A Damn Big Hole
"I'm a disabled person"
"That's not how I see you"
"Why not? Why? It's who I am. Who I've always been. It's how I grew up. It is how I see myself. I have never considered myself handicapped or broken. I don't need to be fixed. If it weren't for this pain, and the limits I'm facing at work and looking after my son, I'd never even consider getting a new hip. This surgery is going to take away my crutch forever, and everybody says that is sooo great. But what else will I be giving up? Who will I be then?"
So says Dr. Kerri Weaver, of the operation scheduled to replace her congenitally abnormal hip. The hip that has caused her to walk with a crutch for her entire adult life. Leaving aside that she is a fictional character, she almost certainly isn't the only person to feel this way in relation to a disability or chronic illness. In fact, I know she isn't. Because there is a part of me that can take what she says and apply it to me.
I don't consider myself to be disabled.
But I do consider myself to be diabetic.
And that is what I am, what I have always (bar three years) been and how I grew up. Diabetes most definitely doesn't define me, but it would be pointless to deny that it is a huge part of who I am. It shapes so many aspects of me and the way that I live my life: self awareness, self confidence, responsibility, empathy, compassion, determination, tenacity... Would I have turned out to be the person that I am today, the person that I love being today and everyday, without diabetes along for the ride?
I don't consider myself handicapped by diabetes either, when handicap is considered under its internationally agreed definition: a disadvantage that limits or prevents the fulfilment of a role that is normal for that individual. It is a social concept. And quite simply, there is nothing that I can't do because of diabetes. I refuse to let there be. Diabetes demands effort and time from me for good management but it has given me things: skills, strengths, positive emotions; Sometimes I think the one thing it hasn't given me is the words to explain how I feel properly. It has taken very little away.
But my feeling still come tearing apart from Kerri Weaver's when I consider the idea of being 'fixed'.
Of course I want to be fixed.
I want a cure with the same passion and desperation as every other person who is affected by diabetes. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by impatience and longing, when I let myself dream just a little too long about what it would be like never to have to think about blood glucose levels, carbs and insulin doses again; What it would be like to be free from the fear of hypoglycaemia and the fear complications.
Somehow though, I still grind uncomfortably, harshly, reluctantly back, because like Kerri and her pain, if it weren't for that fear of lows and complications, and if it weren't for just how difficult and frustrating diabetes so frequently is to manage, I'm not sure I'd be so bothered about getting mended.
I know I won't have to give up all those things I've listed above that it has given me and the aspects of my personality in which diabetes had likely played a role. I know that I will still be me. But diabetes keeps on giving. I learn new things from diabetes almost every day. And I make new friends. That will be a shame to give up. More simply, diabetes takes such a chunk of mental and emotional effort everyday, and such a chunk of physical time, that even though I long for it, I can't imagine what I will do with that time and energy if diabetes is not there to consume it.
I want diabetes gone. I have no doubt, though, that it will change me.
And it will leave a damn big hole.






Hi Caro,
I read something yesterday that touched a chord in me and how I feel about diabetes. I'll quote it here.
It is from "The Physician Within" by Catherine Feste - she's a type 1 that just happens to live in my area, and I've heard her speak a number of times. Very neat.
Page 191.
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I am convinced that disease and pain and difficulty can be blessings because of the spiritual growth they can bring. Without struggle, we remain weak. A perfect illustration of this comes from the story of a man who raised butterflies as a hobby. He was so touched by the difficulties they had in emerging from the cocoon, that once, out of mistaken kindness, he split a cocoon with his thumbnail so that the tiny inmate could escape without a struggle. That butterfly was never able to use its wings.
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I am touched by that because I do feel that there is some reason that I have been given diabetes. All the mental anguish and struggles I have are not without some higher purpose.
I just try to be patient with it all and know there is more to it than I can comprehend right now.
But - if given the opportunity of a cure, I too would take it in a heartbeat. And I think I would appreciate all those things in life just that much more.
Posted by: Scott K. Johnson | 4 May 2006 22:42:58
Caro, I'm certainly glad to have met your e-cquaintance and I feel the growth in many personal areas that this disease has brought me.
And I want more than anything to get rid of it.
And I would be willing to search for something great to fill that big damn hole... :)
Posted by: Johnboy | 5 May 2006 11:21:14
Scott,
That is a great quote. Thank you for sharing it, as well as your own feelings, with me.
Johnboy,
I wondered, when I made the decision to conclude this piece with the sentence that I did, whether it would be interpreted as wistful or regretful. It wasn't meant to be.
Really, it was a statement of fact. I could equally well have said "I'll have a whole lot more time on my hands for other things." But I didn't feel that would encompass the fact that the void would involve more than purely time. It will also involve emotions, my way of thinking, my lifestyle.
The idea that all that could change overnight... well it would be a pretty big hole.
But like you, I'd be willing to look for something to fill it up again.
Thanks both for your comments. This kind of feedback always means a lot.
Posted by: Caro | 5 May 2006 11:40:07
Caro,
Between this post and the comment you left on another blog, I completely agree with you. Completely. To the point where I can't leave much of a comment because I feel like you just Know.
Cheers to your amazing writing.
-- Kerri.
Posted by: Kerri. | 5 May 2006 14:44:23
Thank You Kerri.
Having people out there who just get it is a wonderful thing.
Posted by: Caro | 5 May 2006 15:40:31
I watched this episode and felt exactly the same way about that quote that you did.
Posted by: Megan | 10 May 2006 02:47:53