Pancreas

Dear Pancreas,

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,

Frank