The Able Diabetic

The first thing I had to learn as a brand new type 1 diabetic was how to deal with injecting. I wasn't afraid of injections but I didn’t much fancy having to give myself one. It was an alien concept. My diabetic nurse visited on my first in-patient morning, pre-lunch and drew up a syringe. I remember her clearly pointing out that the needle was tiny, and wouldn’t hurt 'hardly at all'. She was right. It is the case that insulin needles are only a little over a centimetre long, and extremely fine. That said, the actual act of putting the needle against my thigh and sticking it into myself wasn’t something I was able to do that first time. I had it in my hand, and was trying to summon up enough mental fortitude when, bang, she just grabbed it from me, stuck it in and injected. Just as quickly out it came. All in an instant. See? Nothing to it. 

The only time I’ve been abroad and come close to losing my insulin pen was on a business trip to Kyiv. I had a job focused on Eastern Europe in my early thirties. My flight was a BA morning one, for a short trip. I did it often and was well used to it. 

When we landed and I was making sure I had all my personal belongings before disembarking, I realised I couldn’t find my fast-acting insulin pen. I had no back-up. In a complete panic I looked everywhere: under the seats, in all the places in my own baggage that it might be. The BA staff were really good. Given they were trying to get everyone off the plane and I was causing a disruption, they were very helpful.

Eventually the insulin pen was found, having slipped deep into the recesses of the seat. 

At that point, over a decade in, you would have thought I would have learned to be really careful about these things. Obviously not. Losing it was an awful scenario. I was hugely relieved to be able to carry on with my trip, the upset over. 

You spend a lot of time with colleagues, and they play a very significant role in life. The pattern of work means these are the people our lives are often lived with. I have a generally open policy when it comes to talking about my diabetes, but that’s not the same as putting it out there, clearly.  On reflection,  I realise I haven’t been as clear about it as I could have been. I am quite late to this understanding. I wonder how many colleagues that I’ve assumed have known, maybe didn’t, or were once told, but then the information slipped away. I am sure a lot of people don’t think of me as ‘Sarah, the diabetic’, especially at work.  

It’s interesting to ponder on the reactions colleagues have held of my diabetic status in the workplace. I’ve found a kind of correlation between seniority at work and the extent to which people are inclined to ask questions. Often, the PAs respond in a very warm, interested and questioning way; to generalise, they ask the questions about how long I’ve had it, whether I am a ‘high’ or a ‘low’ type, and have little reticence about getting a bit of a handle on it. They are also, and I’m sure this is an extension of their professional roles too, most likely to say, “well if you ever need anything, do shout”.   

At the other end of the spectrum, and again, somewhat generalised, very senior colleagues adopt a circumspect, polite, accepting but distant take, indicating that they appreciate a little latitude may be needed from time to time, but with a subtle indication that talking about personal matters such as this would be somehow inappropriate. Like everything in the workplace, there is a culture, and this topic is influenced by it.  Senior colleagues are also the ones with the single-minded focus on the business, and although culture is moving towards bringing the authentic you to the workplace, it has not always been so.   

Close colleagues inevitably see a bit more. The times have happened when a meeting was ongoing, and I have needed to reach for sweets. Circumstances dictated how I handled this. If it was a one to one, I usually do apologise and say I need 5 minutes, because a meeting like that has an intensity of focus that scoffing sweets will affect. If it’s a larger group, and if I’m not leading or very active, then the eating of sugar can be done while everything else is going on, although that is still mildly embarrassing. I’ve learnt that there is no point at all in trying to hide what you’re doing; it is impossible to eat the best part of a tube of fruit pastilles fast but surreptitiously and not be noticed.