Congratulations. You’ve officially been in retirement for eight years today. I hope you’ve enjoyed the seemingly endless stretch of long sleep ins and lazy, effortless days.
If there’s one organ in the human body that I’ve truly come to appreciate since you clocked off for the last time eight years ago, it would have to be you.
You were able to produce just the right amount of insulin for the carbohydrates that I sent your way, and convert those carbs into energy for me to use through the day.
You were able to respond to all of the crazy factors that affected my blood sugars. Things like pizza nights, illness, stress, physical activity and even how well I slept last night!
You were able to produce just the right amount of insulin so that my blood sugar didn’t peak too high, but also didn’t drop dangerously low. You never had to chase the unicorns.
I honestly don’t know how you did that gig all by yourself for 17 years. You didn’t have any resources at your disposal. You didn’t have any healthcare professionals to guide you. You didn’t even have any friends to support you. Yet you never once complained.
Being a pancreas is in no way normal. There’s no one else quite like you. The nature of your job can feel rather isolating. Yet you held your head up high. You stood tall. You never once showed a single shred of emotion. You never burned out.
You’ve definitely pushed me far from my comfort zone. I’ve met new people, I’ve visited new places. Your retirement has definitely instilled a great deal more confidence in me than I’d ever once imagined.
Dare I say I’ve taken quite an interest in you. I read about you. I talk about you. I write about you, frequently. I’ve even dedicated a whole blog to your demise. Some might say I’m obsessed with you.
You’ve left me with tonnes of additional duties since you departed the office eight years ago. I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t do the job half as well as you once did. I have to do the job of a human being as well, you know. I do try my best, you know, but somehow I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fill your shoes.
So, in case you had forgotten, today also happens to be my eighth diaversary. I’m not sure if you’ve been out shopping yet, but if you wanted to get me something really nice to mark the occasion, you could simply get up off the couch and come out of retirement.
I know I can’t offer you much, but I promise to feed you, take care of you and provide a roof over your head. I’ll never for a second take your job for granted again.
So, what do you say?
With all my love,
Mine will be off the clock for 44 years in about a month. Which means it has been off the clock longer than it worked You have to love retirement.
I follow your blog for some months. I am also diabetic. I’m struggling about this disease, and trying to understand it, in a wide spectrum of my Self.
Recently I found Biodecoding as a new way of seeing our diseases(in general) and a way to find the origin of any of our physical problems. My point of view is that this new perspective can provide many interesting information, that would help us to reach health in ourselves.
Concretely about diabetes, yours and mine, I found some descriptions of the problem that resound with the story of my life, so therefore in my heart.
I don’t know if you have read something about Biodecoding and diabetes. But this post, where you describe in some way the pancreas as a live being and your relationship with it, it has invite me to comment about this issue here in your blog.
I would like to leave here a link that talks about Biodecoding and diabetes, in case it may be of good use for you or some of your readers:
Hope this helps in some way.
Thanks, as always, for your excelent blog.
Thanks for the kind words, and for the interesting link! I’ve definitely heard of links between stress and anxiety with destruction of the beta cells, so I can definitely identify with that story of the boy and his disputing parents. I genuinely do hope that you find a way to come to an understanding of your condition with less struggles. You’re not alone in this! 😉
I just have to say that I love your poignant letter to your pancreas – made me a bit weepy. Funny how we take our health so for granted until something happens and it’s gone. I struggle with Type II every day, think about my blood glucose every day, feel guilty and bad when I have that treat and suffer the consequences of a glucose number higher than I know I should work for. Guilt, worry, anger for getting stuck with this, fear of what may be coming in old age. It really helps to know that I’m not alone, even half-way around the globe in Canada. Thank you.