Current location:	Student Sustainability Center, OSU
Current mood:	hot

My body is not an exact science.
So, there i was waiting at the student health services to get my HbA1c tested, and i was boiling mad. (a) The night before i had been told by a comrade poet that i was a "pussy" for not wanting to go hang out past midnight at a party when i had class the next morning, and (b) i had a doctor telling me i needed to go to a diabetes educator.

So, this is the result.

My body is not an exact science.

My pancreas was hijacked by my own immune system, and an army of antibodies were true to their name and, "Mission Accomplished!", they shut down the function that so many people can't help but take for granted--

Sure, my antibodies won, but the result screwed me over---
Diabetes Mellitus Accomplished.

I was poking fingers before i could read, getting five shots a day before i learned addition...
I can't eat like you can or not eat like you may,
I can't pack up and leave, spontaneously, without a horde of needles, bottles, batteries, and tubing.
I can't binge on alcohol and just sleep it off.
My body is hijacked--so don't call me a "pussy,"
Let's see you try it.

Let's see you try facing doctors who think they can know what I go through by reading scientific studies.
Let's see you be bombarded by medical costs and threats from insurance companies and flounder in balancing illness, prescriptions, and a disease.
Let's see you get hassled by airport security manifested in AK-47s in a foreign country that's fighting the heroin trade and doesn't understand the word "diabetes."

In fact, let's see if you can watch your sister seizure on the kitchen floor when hypoglycemia takes over--and, seven years later, come to realization on the floor of the Sydney airport, head pounding, mouth bleeding, and legs as solid as half-cooked noodles, that you have just had your first seizure in front of 300 oblivious travelers, and only survived because the sound of your head hitting the airport bench attracted the attention of your travelmates and they called in a group of airport EMTs who couldn't, unfortunately, save the corner of your now misshapen tongue.

But...even though I take longer to recover
am constantly battling a rollercoaster of numbers
have been known to get quite distressed over thirst, hunger, and headaches--
Diabetes is like a lover--codependent. It's always there
even when i want to be alone; it knows my body and i know it better than anyone else could.
I am my own expert.
I don't want anyone's pity, i don't want doctors to tell me they have solutions--
I just want some respect--and i just wanted you to know
That my body is not an exact science.