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Getting So Danged Emotional About my First Endo

December 20, 2011

My Montreal endo gave me stuff to think about today.

In short, he wrote me a notice to see him in six months, but said that he would “leave it up to me” whether I wanted to book it or not.

No, I’m not cured of diabetes.  I’ve just moved provinces.

I’ve been living in Ontario for three-plus months, and am now eligible for Ontario health coverage. It makes sense that I switch provincial coverage. I love my new home in So-On, and have no intentions of moving back to Montreal in the foreseeable future. Ontario will cover the cost of some pump stuff that my insurance won’t. I’m already participating in studies with some fancy Toronto endocrinologists who would no doubt take me into their practice, and really, I should just make the switch.

I will, probably, soon.

But today, when my endo walked me to the door, saying something about “leaving it open” and “we’re always here if you need us,” I could feel the goodbyes coming on.  I wanted to say something somewhat-closure-related, like “thank you for everything” or “I really have loved being in your practice, and don’t wanna leave but…I don’t live here anymore.”

Instead, I was speechless.  Totally unable to say anything.

I wanted to tell this man how much that clinic has meant to me. That I will never forget seeing him walk towards me in the ER to announce I was cleared to go home, or the time he called me the day after my discharge from the hospital to check up on my numbers. That the entire clinic was the closest place to “normal” I knew in the first few scary months with diabetes. That the nurses and dietitian have given me care and attention that has moved me almost to tears.

Boy, I’ve come a long way. I’m wearing a pump now, and a CGM; I have partied with the best of them at diabetes camp, I am participating in studies-galore and have fundraised the hell outta diabetes. As a friend recently wrote to me in an email, I have “taken diabetes by the balls, swung it like a hammer (like Miss Trenchbull in Matilda!), and, to grotesquely mix metaphors, kicked it in the ass.”

I booked an appointment for June.  Lord knows I’ll see my share of endos before then, what with Toronto-based studies I’m participating in this winter.  I’m sure I will have had my A1Cs read about fifty-gazillion times before June. What province I will legally be covered under by then remains a mystery (kay, no real mystery, it’ll almost for sure be Ontario).

I had a hard enough time switching my cell number from a 514 to a 519 three months ago. When a friend gently asked me what the hell I was hanging on to, and when I couldn’t answer, I called up Telus and made the switch.  I’m sure the same will happen with my province-of-residency, and the health coverage that comes with.

All to say, I’ll probably end up canceling that June appointment.

But I had to book it. I just had to.  This diabetes journey has been one of the most profound experiences I’ve encountered to date in my 28 years, and the adventure largely began in that hospital.  Letting go? I’ll do it in my own time.  One small appointment cancellation for Dr. A at the JGH Endo department? One giant leap for this year budding type 1, whose diabetes just turned 19 months.

 

 

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Sondra permalink
    December 21, 2011 12:07 pm

    Glad to see your on the pump and in control….. Keep well.

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