2006-10-30 - 10:55 p.m.
Last weekend, my friend K. from my Harvard days came to town to run the Chicago marathon. This was her first marathon ever. Back in school, she wasn�t a marathon-running kind of girl. Maybe she�s still not. But, although we don�t talk about it explicitly, her effort was doubtless partly inspired by her being diagnosed with type I diabetes some years ago.
Type I diabetes is an autoimmune disease and usually first presents in children (it�s sometimes called �juvenile diabetes�). K. first presented with it at like 25; quite unusual. Her parents went to a support group for the loved ones of people affected by diabetes. Everyone else was the parent of a little kid. When they started talking about K.�s post-college jobs, everyone was like: �Are you sure you�re in the right place?�
Although K. and I were in the same peer group, we were never especially close in college. Not that we weren�t friends and there were a few memorable drunken moments between us (I seem to recall I once showed her my genital pierce while she was sitting on the toilet, explaining how to properly wipe). But now she also has a disability. Not a disability like mine, of course. But there are things she now understands that it�s almost impossible to explain to others.
Like the subtle (or not-so-subtle) desire of those closest to you to see you just Be Sick and not do anything else. Their seeming confusion that you have a life and dare to do things beyond your disability. Even their labeling it as �bravery� when you engage in the most mundane tasks, like going grocery shopping or riding the bus. I know this is just an expression of the desire to protect and comes from love, but still�
K.�s parents came to Chicago to see her run. (Also to attend the nearby Notre Dame game; they�re both alums.) She was very glad that her mom in particular saw her do it. Her mom sometimes seems to have the vague impression that K. is teetering on the verge of death. This is someone who, when K. accepted a job as a lawyer for the federal government, said �Oh! You shouldn�t work! You can just stay at our house and have us look after you.� (Yeah, I could also just shoot myself in the head�)
K. ran the whole race (as she does everything now) with her insulin pump attached. She has a newly-FDA-approved internal glucose monitor. It constantly tests her blood and radios her pump when to engage. That way she didn�t have to stop running periodically to stick herself and maybe shoot up. God bless technology. Like with many things, she probably could have run without this, but it makes it a whole lot easier.
I don�t know what her time was (that�s usually not the point when running a marathon), but she finished. Since I can�t exactly run these days, I�d like to think that my hope at least ran with her.
� Geoff Gladstone
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