A new-found diabetes silver lining

It’s hard to imagine that type 1 has a silver lining. A friend who I met in the diabetes world — her daughter was diagnosed the same day as my son — says that it’s the best community that you never wanted to be a part of.  Certainly this community is an upside of type 1. And, if I stretch my generosity, I suppose I could say that I’m grateful we live in this day and age, with closed-loop technology and CGMs and an array of insulin choices. I don’t love that my kids have diabetes, but if I had to choose a time in history for them to have it, it would certainly be now.

And that’s where the good-news diabetes list would tap out for me. Until recently.

Something miraculous happened in my family, which has prompted me to expand my list. My father, who is 80 years old, and who’s had type 1 for over 60 years, has just transitioned to an insulin pump.  I had never imagined my aging dad would be capable of making such a learning leap. After all, this is a man who barely remembers what goes in the recycling, and who struggles to log on to a zoom call. But he’s managed it, and by and large he’s been successful.

I’ve found his transition remarkable, but that isn’t the silver lining I’m talking about. What’s been most uplifting to see, from my perspective, is the generosity and patience of my 25-year old son.

My son has spent an inordinate amount of time — sometimes three or four hours a day — for weeks, walking my father through set changes, helping him navigate the pump, supporting him as he calls tech support. Long after the pump rep — who was lovely — let him know that he was on his own, my father was anxious and needed the support. And my son was there to help him.

I admit to having been a bit irritated at the time drain. After all, my son has a life of his own and he’s been more than a little derailed by this new part-time job. But when I talked to my son about it, wondering if he could push my dad to be a little more independent, he pushed back on me, saying, “He’s learning.  And he’s always been alone with this disease, so I think he deserves the support.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that the support I’ve given him over the years had registered for him in this way. That, thanks to diabetes, he knows what hardship looks like—a particular kind of hardship—and he wants to pass that on to other people who are struggling. I had never thought of this silver lining: That our children understand the support they’ve been given and that they want to give it back. It’s a small win in a very hard world. But in the moment, when we see that kind of generosity in our kids, we’re proud of the people diabetes has helped them become. And perhaps we’re relieved that tough situations can breed goodness, and that even after all these years our children have things to teach us.