They say
doctors make the worst patients, and it’s often true. Sometimes it’s because we
think we know it all, and other times it’s because we may know a lot but fail
to utilize it in our own lives.
A large
reason why I was able to a 180 with my own diabetes was because I didn’t want
to be “that doctor” that asked so much of her patients without doing it
herself. Now that I’ve been seeing
and treating patients with diabetes for a few months now, I’m appreciating that
there is so much power in being the example. In these last three months, I have
had several heart-to-heart conversations with wayward Type 1 teenagers. The
ones that I used to be, the ones barely keeping their heads above a hyperglycemic
sea of hopelessness and self-doubt.
I hate that
I took such horrible care of myself for so long, but I love that I can now look
them straight in the eye and say, “Hey, I get what’s going through your head
right now. I know you stressed all day (or longer) about this appointment. I
know you’re dreading what your A1C is going to be and what your parent’s
reaction to it will mean. I know that you don’t do readings because you don’t
want to face the fact that it’s going to be a sky-high number. I know you snack and don’t bolus because
it’s incredibly annoying. I get that this diabetes thing absolutely SUCKS and
that paying less attention to it is just EASIER.”
But then I
get to follow it up with my little revelation: Even though treating it is more
work and such an amazing pain in the ass, the freedom and pride and weightlessness
that comes with giving it attention is SO MUCH BETTER than the carrying the
guilt of ignoring it.
And when these
teens give me the side-eye of doubt, I can re-assure them that I’m living proof
of this. And then, if they’re interested, I can share the little ways and steps
and changes that I tried, which ones failed and which ones helped. And how it
might not work for them but we’ll figure it out together. And that it won’t be
a great big success story all at once, but that little changes add up to big
changes over time.
These
conversations are sometimes successful in motivating these patients, but they’re
always successful in motivating me. For every one thing I teach a patient, I
learn 10 more. So I’ll continue to
open up to the ones that are ready to hear me admit my failures, so they can hopefully
share in my successes.
Practicing
what you preach is an art form, and one that I’ll be perfecting for years and
years. I just have to keep reminding myself that there’s a fine line between
preaching and being preachy :)
