Type 3 Diabetes

Several weeks ago my family and I attended the JDRF's Type 1 Diabetes Research Summit, that's when I learned for the first time about type 3 diabetes. The kids were having a blast in the other room at the kids program so we were free to attend the adults program. Dr. Desmond Schatz, the medical director of the Diabetes Research Center at University of Florida, and an engaging speaker went up to speak. "how many of you have type 1 diabetes?" he asked and counted the number of hands raised. "How many type 2s?" less hands compared with the first question but still quite a few. Then he asked:" how many people in the audience have type 3 diabetes?" There was one hand in the air but mainly silence in the crowd. All the rest of us just looked at each other wondering what he was talking about and whether there was a new kind of diabetes that we (how could that be? We read every single piece of literature, scientific or not, the minute it's published) haven't heard about... I did remember reading something about deficiency of insulin in brain but somehow I realized this was not what he was trying to direct the talk too. Then he smiled "type 3 diabetes is what those who care for someone with diabetes have" he stated. Parents, siblings, spouses, grandparents, children, even caretakers and the list is very long, we are all affected by diabetes, we all suffer from the same thing, we share the same worries and fears and coming to think about it, we all share the same dream, we all long for the cure. So what I have been suffering from in the last 3 years has a name and definition, maybe not formally but it fits. One thing I can say for sure, the cure for type 1 diabetes will magically cure us too.

Kindergarten Rush

Lately I have been suffering from the Kindergarten rush. My baby boy is going to Kindergarten next year... But other than the anticipation (his) and anxiety (mine, who else?), this is not a sit around do nothing kind of event, my job starts now, no less than 6 months in advance, at a stressful, depressing and unpleasant place called The International Office, or maybe this is just my selective memory speaking. While some states or counties in the U.S don't have enough or any international families to even justify the existence of such place, in our county where a huge part of the population is international, we have the pleasure of starting an otherwise exciting process at this very office. My first experience with this place, 3 years back, was very negative. Partly because we were so new here and everything then seemed different and sometimes intimidating, partly because my daughter was diagnosed with diabetes only a couple of months afterwards and so the whole time period was fused in my head to a one big bad and sad memory, but mainly because we were treated like illegal immigrants that came from a third world country and probably had never acquired any education, and for us; proud Israelis, this was nothing but unacceptable. The only nice moment we had in this office summed up to the five minutes before we were asked to fill out a satisfaction survey... So the motive for their sudden improved behavior was pretty clear, and I made sure they knew about it. Who could blame me for not looking forward for the next time? So now, 3 years later, we had to go there again, a fact that troubled my sleep and occupied my thoughts. I made sure I had all the needed documents, even called in advance to update my check list. To my surprise the lady on the phone was pretty nice and helpful and added some more items to my long list. I had to employ my dad and especially my grandma back home to issue some original formal documents for me and get them to my email inbox ASAP. Amazing what one can do these days with a computer, a scanner and an Internet connection! I remember looking for a local post office branch just to make a long distance call... And there I was, loaded with all the documents, heading to the International Office with my 5 year old son, hoping to get this over with, wishing to create a slightly better memory for my son who is so excited to finally be going to Kindergarten. I held his hand, took out my polished smile and we went in. A nice lady greeted us, she showed us the way to the first station of our journey and we headed down the long hallway. The office was nothing like I recalled from that terrible first visit. The walls were decorated with traditional paintings from different cultures and the corners were equipped with items from all over the world. We signed in and within minutes were called by yet another relatively nice lady that showed us to her office and gave my boy a lollipop, to buy his silence while going through the tons of documents in my pre organized folder. "This place looks nothing like I remembered" I said, wondering whether my memory had deceived me. "Oh yes, you are right, this place was renovated two years ago, it looks much better now isn't it?" I had to agree of course, hoping the rest of the day will be as pleasant as this. From there we went on to English testing and got an exemption from testing "he will be tested at school for English levels when he starts Kindergarten, there's no point to test him now" they explained, and it totally made sense. Then to the clinic, to make sure his immunization record was up to date, this is the part I was mostly concerned about, because the last time they wanted to test my daughter for tuberculosis and lead poisoning, two unnecessary tests if you come from Israel directly to the specific county we live in now, from which I managed to get away with after protesting. A nice nurse welcomed us to a room with a kids play area and a TV, she thoroughly checked the forms issued by our pediatrician and then said: "You have been living here for over two years, correct?" I nodded, lately we had our 3rd year anniversary... "So your son doesn't need any further testing, you can now take these forms to his home school" she smiled and handed me a survey, the same one I remembered from the last visit, only this time I was happy to give them all five! There's a slight chance I became a little more accepting and patient, and also accustomed to the local manners (or sometimes lack of) but no doubt about it, our local International Office has changed dramatically in the last 3 years, it might not be the best place to spend your spare time at, but at least for me this is no longer a bad memory.

Can I have a middle name?

When my administrating officer called me urgently one morning, telling me I had forgotten to provide them with a very important piece of information, I did have some mild stress reaction for a minute there, thinking of the enormous amount of paperwork that I would have to fill out all over again. But then, when I discovered that this important piece of information was actually my middle name, I sighed with relief and even laughed for a few moments, realizing he was not joking. ״I don't have one" I said, smiling to myself. "what do you mean?!" he asked, thinking that I was actually joking. "I don't have a middle name" I said again. ״Oh, I mean the name that comes before your last name, some people use only the first letter but I actually need the full name" he said slowly, in a serious voice, making sure I understand. "Yes, I know what a middle name is, I just don't have one, my parents had never given me one, I only have a first name and a last name" I exclaimed. "Strange, how come?" he asked with an empathic voice.
So I started explaining how having more than one name in Israel can be a drag sometimes, how it is usually used in its full spelling and not only as the first initial, leaving almost no space for your last name on your ID document, and how the majority of people (as strange as it may sound in the U.S) are given only one name, and many times a pretty short one. That also lead early on to having a pretty short and simple signature, unlike the typical fancy American signature. Well, we ended up the conversation with him feeling a little sorry for me, for not being given a middle name and with me feeling pretty unique about my one short name (and signature). But what had also seemed like a good idea 8 years ago when my daughter was born and later on when my son was born, when my husband and I decided to give each of them only a first name, seem like a big puzzle for them now. My daughter asks occasionally whether she can add a middle name to herself, just because all of her friends have it and it makes their names sound more impressive... "Well, sure" I answer "when you are 18" hoping that by the time she gets there she will learn to appreciate it. And my son, he doesn't even ask, he just picked a middle name that seemed cool enough for him and uses it whenever he finds fit.