I’m back from San Diego, and just as I expected, I’m ready to pack my worldly possessions and move there. The weather was as glorious as it gets, and it pained me to return to Philadelphia. Of course, the reason I went wasn’t to watch seals bask on the beach in La Jolla or eat some of the best Mexican food I’ve ever had (if you’re ever in San Diego, go to El Agave – the food was indescribably delicious) – although I very happily enjoyed those things too. The much anticipated reason I went was to meet some new diabetic sisters.

The Behavioral Diabetes Institute’s Celebration of Strength Luncheon was even better than I had imagined. It was both inspiring and humbling. Women, young and old, having had type 1 for 9 months to 59 years were there. Because we were the honorees, most everyone got an opportunity to go up to the microphone, introduce themselves, say how long they’d been diabetic, and whatever else they wanted to add. The only disappointment was that we ran out of time so about a quarter of us, myself included, didn’t get to share our stories.

However, the women who did shared some wonderful stories. Some described histories of depression, histories of denial, one woman was one-month post-heart transplant, and several had chosen careers as nurses or other diabetes-related endeavors. There was a daughter who had been type 1 for many years and her mom who had developed it only four years ago. Several women couldn’t help but cry as they described how diabetes had affected them, and it was all I could do to not shed tears listening to their stories.

Amy Tenderich, 10-18-08

I think what was most meaningful for me was being with so many other women who had similar experiences of denial, insulin-omission and ignoring their diabetes. I love participating on the various online forums, but even there, I often feel like I’m somehow ‘less-than’ because I didn’t “just accept it”, as if it were as easy as deciding what color socks to wear. As I’ve said before, it often feels like other diabetics are the least understanding when one of their own is in denial, which breaks my heart over and over again. Being amongst those women who had traveled that precarious path, many of whom had clearly suffered, emotionally and often physically, was the most I’ve felt I truly belonged in a long time.

Everyone seemed to really enjoy Amy Tenderich’s presentation as it was so easy for all of us to relate, no matter how long ago our diagnosis was. She described the stages we go through, being diagnosed, the consequent sense of confusion and loss, collecting ourselves to take action, and then finding the inspiration and wherewithal to stay on top of this disease. The process varies from person to person in terms of timing and how we all cope with each step, but listening to her describe her experience with each stage, I think all the women in the room were reflecting on their own process and progress.

After she spoke and everyone ate, she came over to introduce herself to me. We got some pictures, and had a few minutes to chat. Amy is super nice, so personable, and she has this aura of positive energy that you have to experience because it’s infectious. I could easily have spent the rest of the afternoon just talking with her if there had been time.

We were using a private room at the Prado that a bride had reserved for use after us. Apparently she was having a myocardial infarction that we had gone over our allotted time (which I can understand since I was a bride once), so we slowly migrated out of the room. One of the women, Michelle, introduced herself to me. Michelle said she reads my blog, and had seen I was going to be there so she had been looking for me. She and I chatted for a few minutes, and it was definitely cool to meet someone out there who enjoys reading this. I wish I’d gotten a picture of us together, but hopefully that won’t be the last time we see each other. (Hi Michelle! I know two 1-L Michele’s, but for now I’ll assume you’re in the majority of 2-L Michelle’s.)

Once I migrated into the hallway, I briefly spoke with Dr. Susan Guzman, BDI’s Director of Clinical Services, who had organized the event and invited me. She introduced me to another woman, Joan, who is helping coordinate BDI’s DiaBuddies program. We chatted about the possibility of replicating the program in other cities, so she took my contact information. They’re still in the early stages of implementation in San Diego so introducing such a program in other cities is still in the drawing board stage, but it’s an exciting possibility that would be a much needed addition to the services, or lack thereof as I see it, in Philadelphia and its suburbs. She invited me to the next DiaBuddies training in January. As much as I would have loved to tell her I’d be there with bells on, finances and logistics are unavoidable concerns that I’ll have to consider, so I’ll see what happens with that.

Amy Tenderich & Me, BDI Luncheon, 10-18-08

There were a bunch of other women I would have loved to talk to, but everyone was departing. Amy had a plane to catch, several women had left early because of family obligations, and all good things must come to an end. It was so remarkable to be together with all those women. When they had gone up to the microphone to introduce themselves, a couple of them had expressed what I was thinking, that it was the first time since diabetes camp they had been together with so many other type 1 diabetic women.

It brought back memories of sharing a cabin every summer with other girls who might not have understood the challenges at that time since we were young, but we faced them and managed in our own ways. This time, instead of being young girls and teenagers, we were all women with the life experience, understanding and insight about the challenges inherent to being a woman with type 1 diabetes that only comes with time and maturity. There was a definite connection, and just like after camp, I still feel sad that I had to say good-bye to yet another group of diabetic sisters. For me, all that was missing were the bunk beds and pajamas.