Diabetes Blog Week Day 3 - Cleanin' Out My Closet

Yesterday we kept stuff in, so today let's clear stuff out.  What is in your diabetic closet that needs to be cleaned out?  This can be an actual physical belonging, or it can be something you're mentally or emotionally hanging on to.  Why are you keeping it and why do you need to get rid of it?

I don't think I ever quite forgave my pancreas for leaving me. For packing its bags and stealth-sneaking away in the middle of the night. No note. No goodbye kiss. It left. Just like that. I had a working pancreas, then I didn't. I should've microchipped the damn thing. Maybe in 10 years time I would get a call to say it had done an 'Incredible journey' Chance, Sassy & Shadow style and found its way home.

I just kind of shoved those feelings of abandonment deep into my closet, like so many pairs of shoes I didn't want my husband to know I bought. 

So maybe it’s time I light up the funeral pyre and let it go. But with much less singing. I don't actually like Frozen and I find it repugnant (New favourite word) that I know what that song even is. 

I’ll pick a funeral home. Write my Eulogy. Eulogy to a dead pancreas.

“Today we mourn my dear, beloved, dead pancreas. He was a good pancreas, a hard working pancreas, who was taken at the prime of his life, at the tender age of 22. I close my eyes and imagine that he was needed for a higher purpose. I imagine he fulfilled his purpose here in this life, and got be reincarnated as a higher life form. Maybe a heart.   Perhaps, in another life, I will see him again.

I am greatful for every moment we got to spend together. We ate a lot of cake together. It was his favourite food. Indulged in chocolate. Sometimes we even ate potato together. Mostly I miss the way he would let me eat popcorn. I miss eating popcorn with my pancreas. 

We took holidays together. He never brought a ticket, I would just smuggle him through the airport security in my stomach. 

When someone you love passes away, there is a strong temptation to remember them perhaps a little too well. Misdeeds are forgotten. Offenses are forgiven. Only the most shining characteristics of our loved ones make it into the version of them that we keep with us when they depart. My pancreas’ only fault was in leaving me behind, to toil without it.” 

At this point I’ll probably start wailing hysterically and beat upon the tiny tiny coffin I will buy for it. By coffin I mean shoe box. It costs a lot of money to take over your own pancreatic duties, I can't afford a coffin.

I suppose there will be a wake. People will bring me cards and flowers and cry. I have already cried hysterically and mourned, so I will probably just walk around, happy as larry, trying to find the cake people bring you when you’re upset. For now, seeing as I am pretending to bury my pancreas today, I will just eat my leftover wedding cake. I bet my pancreas regrets leaving me now. My wedding cake is delicious (White chocolate and honeycomb with apricot buttercream, anyone? I can see you salivating).

Farewell, Sweet Pancreas, Parting is such sweet sorrow.