That's what my mother always said my fingertips looked like when I was little. She didn't say it in a mean way. But she always said it sympathetically. Like she felt so sorry for me. Which I know she did. She felt so helpless to not be able to fix her little girl.
When I was diagnosed in 1985, testing was so much different. We didn't have the luxury of micro fine lancets, or lancet devices with different depths on them. They hurt. A lot. And they bled. A lot. And sometimes, especially to a little four year old, it felt like the lancet was going to go straight through my finger.
This left many many ugly red and brown dots on my fingertips. That's why my mother said it reminded her of hamburger meat. I, myself, still look at my fingertips and think to my self "Look. Hamburger meat." It makes me want to cry sometimes, knowing that I will probably never have beautifully manicured hands and soft fingertips that are free of callouses and tiny red spots. I don't think about it often, but today was a day I thought about it a great deal.
I was visiting Kerri over at Six Until Me. Her post today started out with a picture of her fingertips. I laughed. They were MY fingertips!!! How'd she get a picture of MY fingertips?? At that moment I felt loved, understood, and absolutely not alone in this fight against diabetes.
Then, this evening, I stopped by Amylia's blog, Amazing Grace. Yesterday she had posted a picture for diabetes 365. This was also a picture of her (my???) fingertips holding a cell phone. Again, I felt connected. This time to someone on the other side of the world. Again, I felt loved, understood, and absolutely not alone.
I live with diabetes every day. It's a part of nearly every decision I make. I don't complain about it very often. After all, what would the point of that be?? I just live with it. I test, I get turned down for short term disability policies, I go to doctor's offices where they know me by name, I count every gram of food that enters my body. It's just part of me and my life.
But sometimes, you can't help but feel different and alone. Today was not one of those days. So I'd like to thank Amylia and Kerri. Even though I've never met either of them (I would count myself blessed to be able to meet either of them), I feel like I know them. We share a common thread. We share a life. We share our fingertips.