D-Platitudes

As I alluded to in a previous post, I attended a major conference in my field just over a week ago in NYC. It was not only an excellent chance to stay up on the most current scholarship in my field, but it also gave me the opportunity to reunite with a very good friend of mine. We met when we both lived in Venice and took a course together three years ago. I very rarely see this friend, and so I took advantage of every possible opportunity to spend time with her. We went to museums, conference sessions, and several meals together. I crashed her school's reunion party (I'm something of an affiliate, but only very tangentially). It was so marvelous to spend time with her.

There were several other grad students from her school that she was staying with and spending time with, so I was often spending time with them too. One of them I'm even pretty good friends with, also in our course in Venice. She's a few years ahead of me in her PhD and has had several lengthy stays in Italy to do dissertation research.

One day, I was at lunch with these two friends and two of their classmates, both of whom I'd met two days before. I was sitting close by my friend with lots of research experience in Italy and I decided to pick her brain.

I've mentioned on this blog before how I will soon be spending somewhere between 4 and 9 months in Rome to complete my dissertation research. I think I've also mentioned that I've started trying to figure out how to take care of all things diabetes related while I'm there. How to get my meds. How to get pump supplies. If people in Italy wear medical bracelets. Lots of Italian vocabulary so I can talk about my health with non-English speakers.

I am somebody who is always prepared. Like a boy scout. I don't go into anything blindly, especially now with diabetes. I don't panic. I rarely worry too much. I just like to be prepared.

So, I'm talking with my friend about these things, particularly about getting insulin. About how she has gotten prescriptions while living abroad. Often when she answers a question, I pose another or present possible problems with that circumstance. Another student, one I'd met a couple of days earlier, is sitting next to me and is hearing this conversation happen.

I keep expressing certain fears to my friend and she keeps offering suggestions and advice. It's a fine conversation. Nobody is stressed or having problems or freaking out. All is well, or so I think. Apparently, it didn't seem that way to the girl sitting next to me.

After we've been talking for about five minutes, this person, virtually a stranger, starts rubbing my back and telling me that everything is going to be ok. That I shouldn't worry, people in Italy have diabetes so everything will be fine and I don't need to stress out about it.

Needless to say (I think), I find this extremely condescending. This person, who I've met very recently, who doesn't know anything about my health, this disease, availability of supplies internationally, has decided that she needed to intervene in this productive conversation and tell me that I'm worrying too much about it.

As this is happening, I'm trying to figure out the best way to handle it. Several options enter my mind, including punching her in the face, telling her that she has no idea what she is talking about and that there is no need to be condescending, forcibly removing her hand from my back, etc. I decide not to do any of these things. Although it made me VERY angry, ultimately I felt sorry for her and how young she is. How little she knows or understands the situation and that she felt it was appropriate to say and do this to me. Besides, I was spending the rest of the afternoon with this group and I didn't want to make everyone uncomfortable by telling her exactly what I thought.

So I stewed. I avoided her the rest of the day. I tried to accept the fact that people just don't get this and I kept reminding myself that I was in no way out of line in the way I handled the situation. Maybe I should have taken a moment to provide her a little education, but the way the whole thing happened, it just didn't seem right.

In the nearly two weeks since, I've thought a lot about this situation. My friend, with whom I had the conversation, encouraged me to contact her with any other questions I might have when we were saying goodbye to each other. I know that living abroad with an illness that requires the administration of life support (that is, insulin) several times a day will not be as easy as living at home. I know that to make things as smooth as possible I need to be prepared. I know that my resources are great enough that all will be fine, that I have people I can go to with questions, that Medtronic has an Italian branch.

I know that it will be ok. I just don't need anyone giving me platitudes, thinking to themselves that saying things like that to me is helpful or encouraging in any way. This wasn't exactly an encounter with the Diabetes Police, but it did remind me that even with all of the support that I do have, there are so many challenges to face and often when you aren't expecting them.