❤️🔥 burning love.
dduane
amyamychan
Today is the 100th anniversary of the discovery of insulin. Before that, Type 1 diabetes was a death sentence.
For perspective, I’ve been diabetic for about 25% of this discovery’s history. When my grandparents were born, this treatment did not exist. If you ask me, “what time period would be fun to go back to?” I can’t even speculate more than one hundred years back, because I know I couldn’t live in that world.
Today, I’m going to pick up four boxes of insulin from my local drug store. My endocrinologist is renewing my prescription, so I’m set for several months to come. I lead a more difficult life than someone without Type 1 diabetes, but I do live, and so do my relatives and friends with the condition. Thank you, Banting, Best, Macleod, and Collip (and all those dogs), for letting me do that.
One hundred years later, after insulin’s discoverer gave his patent away for $1 so as never to profit from the discovery, pharmaceutical companies are forcing people to ration insulin or go without entirely due to unchecked price increases. This is particularly true in the US, and is a major reason why I did not stay there after graduate school. There, and in much of the world where insulin is expensive and scarce, people are dying. Things are starting to change, but not soon enough. It’s been one hundred years, and we need to do better when the alternative is death.
Insulin is worth being grateful about, and its exploitation is worth being angry about. One thing to be aware of is that it is a treatment only, not a cure. Diabetes is still high-maintenance, and I still have a very complicated relationship to it.
Today, though, I’m choosing to focus on my gratitude, and being alive, and being able to go for a walk with my friend in the rain-scented air, do some trivia, see a show.
They say the change in the first child to receive a dose of insulin, 100 years ago, looked like magic.
does anybody have that cat poem, you know the one. not mary oliver's poem. the one about a cat growing up with you like brothers but him still being small whereas you've grown tall. i need a good cry
Transcription of the poem for easier reading:
my cat is sad.
no one else in his family is a cat
we are all human except for him
he is excluded from most things
and no one tells him why
he just wants to play
and be loved
he looks at us with wonder
and disappointment
he says hello i am a cat what is my existence
what is that / why it and not me / please can you look at me and love me too
can i have some of your food please im sorry i dont like my food so much
do you want to play with my toys? this one is my favourite
do you like me
are we brothers
why didnt i grow up
why am i so small
can you help me be happy
where are you going










psqqa

