How much do one of those cost? a colleague asked me in the middle of a delicious ham and cheese sandwich last week.
She was referring, of course, to the medic alert bracelet that was wrapped around my wrist.
It was a good question. A good question, indeed.
My parents had ordered my bracelet for me back when I was diagnosed six years ago. Since then, I’ve only ever coughed up the annual membership fee of 20ish dollars, and watched the accompanying catalogues gather dust on my desk (with the best of intentions, of course).
Last year, I finally replaced the annoying expanda-band with the standard curb chain. But how much an actual emblem costs, I couldn’t tell you exactly. Maybe 70-ish dollars?
I’ve been wearing my bracelet diligenly since I last wrote about it in January. It’s still annoying. It still feels suffocating. I’d still rather not wear it. It’s still the first thing that I want to rip off my wrist, the minute I walk in the door of the house.
Yet I’ve still been diligently making a habit of putting it on when I leave the house each day, particularly if I’m going to be on my own. I don’t stash it in the drawer with my keys, wallet and watch at the end of the day, where I’ll likely forget about it. I leave it in plain sight atop my chest of drawers, so that it’s the first thing I see when I go to grab my valuables.
You can put whatever you like on your emblem, I explained.
If I go to hospital, they’ll see that I have type 1 diabetes and am dependent on insulin. It’s just a great thing that communicates with paramedics or doctors if I’m on my own and can’t speak for myself.
It could save my life.
My trusty bracelet had not only proven to be a good conversation starter that day, but had also reaffirmed to me why I wear it, each and every day.