T1D is like a prickly cactus (literally and figuratively), but I've learned to embrace it, thorns and all.
My diabetes journey began on Christmas Eve in 1997. That day, I became the third person with type one diabetes in my family. I was four years old at the time, so I've lived most of my life with diabetes. While some people may view this as sad, I've learned to embrace my chronic condition and live my life without limitations. You might say that I've taught myself to hug the cactus, so to speak.
When I'm not blogging, you can find me enjoying any or all of the following: time with family and friends, a quality cocktail, Harry Potter, a good book, General Hospital, pop culture from the last three decades, and tasty foods.
I love connecting with other members of the DOC (diabetes online community) - so please don't be shy, find me on Twitter or Facebook!
I am smack-dab-in-the-middle of a very long, very annoying diabetes waiting game.
I’ve waited for my Dexcom sensors and transmitter refill for two months now.
I’ve waited to transition to the OmniPod DASH system for a few weeks now.
I’m very glad, and fortunate, that this waiting game does not apply to the most crucial of my diabetes supplies, which is of course my insulin.
But I’m still tired of waiting.
I don’t mind it as much for the OmniPod DASH; after all, I’d rather use up my remaining pods before diving right into full-time use of the new system.
But the Dexcom sensors and transmitter? That wait has been borderline ridiculous.
To sum it up, the wait is due to a series of miscommunications between me, my doctor’s office, my health insurance provider, and my DME (durable medical equipment) provider. And it sucks, because just like anyone else who has diabetes, works full-time, manages a household, and has a social life, I’m doing everything I can to address the matter when I have the time and mental bandwidth to do so, but still blame myself for not getting my prescriptions sooner.
It sucks that I feel failed by the healthcare system.
And again, I find myself feeling grateful that this is my first time experiencing anything like this in 23ish years of life with diabetes. But what’s opened my eyes is that this is a reality for some people with diabetes all thetime. That doesn’t just suck – it’s unacceptable.
When will we stop having obstacles block the paths to getting essential, life-saving medications and equipment?
This post was written by Elizabeth Roosevelt and it originally appeared on the T1International blog on July 16, 2021. I wanted to share it here today because Elizabeth did a beautiful job of summing up similar sentiments that I’ve personally experienced regarding insulin affordability and access. Thank you for sharing, Elizabeth, and know that many others feel the same way as you!
“We can discuss our technology, diabetes and Covid-19, our experiences with insulin affordability; anything you would like,” Beth, who oversees and organizes the T1International Digital Advocates, echoes through the Zoom during our Digital Advocate meet and greet.
A little embarrassed, I think to myself, “please, not our experiences with insulin affordability.”
As someone living with type one diabetes for fourteen years and a Digital Advocate for T1International since August 2020, it sounds like a conflict of interest that I wouldn’t want to share my experiences accessing insulin – a drug that saves my life each day. After all, this is a major goal of T1International: to advocate for global access to insulin.
It sounds like I shouldn’t be an advocate.
In reality, I’m just a little nervous. I am nineteen years old, was diagnosed with type one diabetes at age five, and have always lived in the United States. Growing up, I had no idea where my insulin came from, but I knew it would be there, delivered to my front door in an unassuming cardboard box with a few neon biohazard labels slapped on the top.
Every time I opened the refrigerator to grab insulin for a pump site change, a few vials of Novolog would be perfectly lined up on the top shelf. Each time I swung the cabinet open to reach for a new infusion set, the supplies were there, waiting for me. When packing for vacation, I never thought twice about having enough supplies back-stocked in my house to take with me.
When I wanted to switch from the Medtronic pump to the OmniPod, the thought that the OmniPod might be more expensive never crossed my mind. Money didn’t grow on trees, but my parents always made it happen. And for that I am eternally grateful and blessed.
So, if the other advocates started sharing their experiences with insulin affordability on that Zoom, I’m not sure what I would’ve said. That I’ve never had an issue with it? That I didn’t know insulin affordability was a pressing problem in the United States until a few years ago, when Instagram posts by Senator Bernie Sanders and diabetes influencers began to pop up on my feed, explaining that Big Pharma was killing Americans, especially those with diabetes? It was only when our country’s flawed healthcare system made headlines that I noticed I seemed to be in a position many American diabetics were not.
This ignited a spark in me. It didn’t seem fair that just because I was born into a family that could afford private insurance to cover my diabetes costs I could do just about anything a person without diabetes could do. I could study and work to the best of my ability because a high blood sugar wasn’t slowing down my mind. This prompted me to seek organizations like T1International where I could not only learn more about healthcare inequalities that impact my own community but also fight for change.
Because I’ve had access to technology that allows me to sleep through the night and insulin delivered to my doorstep, I sometimes feel like less of a person with diabetes (PWD) and guilty of my privilege. While all people with type one struggle with the condition in some shape or form, I find myself invalidating my challenges because I tell myself I have it much easier. And in many ways, I do. I’ve grown up as a privileged white person in an affluent neighborhood, sheltered from the reality that very few people have access to insulin as I do, especially under the heavy, capitalist-driven policies of the United States.
However, I’ve learned that having it easier than others is not something to be embarrassed about nor does it make me less of a PWD. Instead, it is a responsibility.
It’s crucial that those of us who have access to insulin use our platform and privilege to fight for our community and for the people with diabetes who are solely focused on surviving. We must serve as the voice for the people with diabetes who can’t use their own because they’re bogged down working three jobs and choosing between putting food on the table for their family or insulin.
Maybe this fighting takes the form of educating our friends, family members, and colleagues about the disparities in insulin access through discussion or educational posts on social media. Or maybe, it’s collecting near-empty insulin vials and diabetes supplies in your community to help provide short term relief to struggling diabetics. Or perhaps, it’s calling the offices of or requesting meetings with your districts congressional representatives to urge their support of regulating legislation.
Whichever way our fighting takes shape, we must redirect the guilt we feel over our privilege into a heightened sense of advocacy, into change, into a fire that spurs our movement forward and pushes the established healthcare system towards equality.
#insulin4all truly means for all, and until all those who need insulin have access to it, our work isn’t done.
Hi, my name is Molly and I have type 1 diabetes, and although I am extremely grateful for health insurance, I also hate every aspect of it.
When I aged out of my parents’ health insurance plan two years ago, I was completely lost and overwhelmed by choosing my new plan. How much would I have to pay for my supplies? Would everything be covered? Could I keep my doctors? How much money should I put into my FSA? The answers to these questions took me a good chunk of time to figure out, and I only started feeling good about my knowledge of my old job’s health insurance plan in the last year or so.
As a result, the only thing that made me less excited to start my new job was the burden of having to figure out a new health insurance plan. And for good reason, it turns out, because it has been a challenge to say the least. But there are a handful of things I’ve learned along the way that I don’t think I’ll ever forget so that I can have an better experience the next time I need to change health plans. Here are my tips for making the transition from one health insurance plan to another as easy as possible:
1.Take stock of ALL my supplies before starting the new job (and before losing my old job’s health coverage). This was, without a doubt, the best thing I could’ve done for myself before I started my new job. In my last few weeks with my former company, I looked through all of my diabetes supplies and inventoried them. I kept a running list of the most important items (things like insulin, Dexcom sensors/transmitters, and pods) and decided that even if I had plenty of those things, I would still place an order for them before losing my health insurance. This ended up being a fantastic idea because it took me a solid couple of weeks at my new job to figure out which health plan would work best for me, and in that span of time, my supply stash was dwindling. On top of that, it took several more weeks for me to get all my prescriptions straightened away (more on that in tip 3), so I was especially grateful that I had seriously stocked up before leaving my old job.
2.Compare plans extensively. Like I mentioned above, I spent a couple weeks reading through my plan options before I finally settled on one. It took me so long because I wanted to feel 100% comfortable with my new plan, and I knew that I had a 4-week period to complete my research before committing to a new plan. Plus, my new job uses a website that offers a health insurance plan comparison tool (a super cute one, to boot, that explains all things insurance in layman’s terms) that I was happy to take advantage of during the decision-making process.
3. Send as many messages and make as many phone calls as it takes until everything about the new plan is crystal clear. For me, this including calling my local pharmacy and sending toooons of online messages to my doctor’s office, as well as my new health insurance provider. I honestly felt like I was playing a game of telephone – you know, that game that kids play where they have to whisper a message into each other’s ears as a test of listening and communicating effectively – because it seemed that nobody would take accountability for sending my prescriptions to the right place or understanding exactly how I needed help. So in the last few weeks of July (leading into the first few weeks of August, really, ‘cuz I’m still working on this), I made a vow to myself that I’d get to the bottom of everything and get my prescriptions fully straightened away. I’m happy to report I’ve made substantial progress, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t require a lot of my spare time and energy.
4. Talk to coworkers and ask for their feedback on plans. This might be unique to me because I work for a diabetes organization and my colleagues have an intimate knowledge of health insurance hurdles combined with a chronic illness, but even so, I remember asking coworkers at my previous job about their thoughts on the health insurance offerings and I got some solid feedback from that. So that’s why I decided to ask around at the new job, and of course I was met with helpful replies that made my transition a little smoother.
The biggest lesson I learned throughout this process? I realized I need to give myself a little grace. This stuff isn’t intuitive to anyone (unless you’re some sort of health insurance guru). I shouldn’t beat myself up because the system is more complicated than it needs to be. And bottom line is that I need to focus on the fact that I have choice when it comes to health insurance, period, because I know that there are too many people out there who can’t say the same.
So I guess in a way I am glad for the challenges presented to me by my health coverage.
While I won’t start using my DASH until after my old OmniPods are used up (first generation OmniPods aren’t compatible with the DASH PDM), I’m still really excited about switching things up. Nearly a year ago, I expressed my desire to switch to the DASH in addition to my frustration that it would be more expensive for me to make the change.
But with a new job comes new health insurance and a whole new set of “rules” that I’ve been figuring out in the last couple of months.
And let me tell ya…it hasn’t been easy. But more on my struggles to get my basic diabetes prescriptions filled under my new health insurance to come in a blog post very soon…
Anyways, back to the DASH. When I called Insulet to report a failed pod not too long ago, the representative I was speaking with was asking me if I’d heard about or was interested in the DASH system. Normally, I would’ve brushed her off and explained that I was only interested in getting a replacement for my failed pod that day, but I happened to have some spare time on my hands and decided to ask her if she could see if/how my new insurance would cover the DASH.
She kindly did some research and reported back to me that yes, it was indeed, and that all I’d have to do is get my doctor’s office to prescribe some DASH pods to me and in the meantime, Insulet could send my DASH PDM to me so that I had it on hand when I was ready to start using it. What really sold me, though, was the price – I’d be paying less for a 90-day supply of DASH pods than what I was paying for regular OmniPods under my old health insurance plan.
It was a no-brainer, really.
Even though I’m not DASHing away to start up my DASH (again, gotta make use of those old pods first), I’m still looking forward to getting acquainted with a new piece of diabetes technology that will feel familiar to me because of my years on the OmniPod system. I can’t wait to share more when I finally get DASHin’!
I attended a family reunion earlier this month and got into a conversation with a relative who’s well into her 90s. She was asking me what I do for a living and I kept my explanation fairly high-level: “I work with college students who have diabetes”.
(Which, side note, I help handle the communications side of things for CDN and so far, I don’t often interact with the students…but I figured this was still a semi-correct answer that spared me from getting into the social media aspect with someone who’s probably never even heard of Instagram.)
Her response to my job description was…interesting. She started telling me the story of a “young bird” she once knew who had diabetes, needed dialysis, and then got her foot amputated. And then died.
This is a classic diabetes “horror story” that people often seem to tell when they discover that the person they’re speaking with has diabetes. It’s a story that’s told as a knee-jerk reaction: Either the person expresses their sorrow for the fact that the other person has diabetes, or they tell the tale of someone they knew who had diabetes and suffered immensely from it.
It’s a strange phenomenon, for sure, but one that happens across the board to people with diabetes.
You might be wondering…how do I react in situations like this? Is there a right or a wrong way to handle them?
I chose to navigate this particular interaction by nodding sympathetically. While I truly was sorry to hear about this “young bird” and her fate, I was also very uncomfortable by the story. I’ve never felt “okay” about discussing diabetes complications because they scare the living daylights out of me, and I also was completely caught off-guard that a simple question about my job was enough to trigger the telling of this vignette. So for me, this wasn’t exactly a teaching moment in which I could correct this distant relative of mine and explain why it can be harmful to tell these horror stories; in fact, this whole incident made me realize that I don’t think I’ve ever truly reacted to a diabetes horror story when it was told to me.
And I think I’ve finally figured out the reason why…I just don’t want to engage with a person who’s going to react to my diabetes by telling me about the terrible outcome experienced by someone with diabetes who they may or may not directly know. What’s the point? What else am I supposed to say besides I’m sorry? I can’t really think of a graceful way to turn the conversation around, so for me, it’s always felt easiest to just nod, smile, say something compassionate, and then end the conversation by walking away or changing the subject completely. It’s not right or wrong, per se, but at least I know that I’m doing right by myself and my comfort levels.
This tried-and-true tactic of mine just goes to show that not every diabetes anecdote can be turned into a teachable moment – at least, not in my opinion or experience.
Diabetes in the wild moments happen when they’re least expected.
I mean…I never go out anywhere in public assuming that I’ll run into another person with diabetes, or a person who will recognize my Dexcom sensors or OmniPods as diabetes devices. It just happens organically and it’s always a unique encounter. But given that my other most recent diabetes in the wild experience left me feeling awkward and uncomfortable, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to having another one any time soon.
But on my vacation, I did indeed have one that I’m pleased to share was much more pleasant than the last.
I was waiting in line for go-karts – as one does on vacation – when the woman in front of me spotted my Dexcom and asked me if I was type 1, to which I replied that I am.
This launched a short conversation about diabetes technology in general. She expressed knowledge of the OmniPod and I told her that I was wearing one, and she nodded eagerly and said how much easier it makes her life in the summertime, when she’s frequently swimming and doesn’t have to worry about disconnecting her tubing before going for a dip (a comment which I wholeheartedly agreed with). We exchanged a few more words about our diabetes devices, and before she turned her attention back to her group, she thanked me for taking the time to chat with her.
I couldn’t help but smile after the whole interaction. After all, it was kind of nice knowing that another person who just “gets” diabetes was standing inches away from me and looking forward to a carefree go-kart race, too.
This post was originally published on Hugging the Cactus on June 3, 2020. I’m sharing it again today because I have seriously benefited from learning the “true” length of time that a single OmniPod lasts on my body. Read on to learn more…
When people notice my OmniPod insulin pump, the first question that I’m asked is “what IS that?”
After I explain that it’s my insulin pump, and it’s called a pod, the second question I’m asked is some variation of “how long does it last?”
The canned answer that I provide is something about having to change it every three days, because that’s how the OmniPod is advertised.
But I’ve used this pump for years now and never bothered to really test this three-day limit. I’ve known for a long time that my pod works a handful of hours after the expiration alarm starts chiming, but I wasn’t sure about exactly how many hours I had before a pod expired for good.
So, the other day, I decided to find out.
My pod expired at 10:22 A.M. Since I prefer to change my pods in the evening, I figured it was the perfect time for this little experiment, assuming that the pod really would last me for the majority of the day.
And, well, it did! At 10:22 on the dot, the pod beeped at me to notify me that it was expired. And in the six hours after that, it would alarm every hour (on the 22nd minute) to remind me, time and time again, that it was expired. In the seventh hour – beginning at 5:22 P.M. – my PDM started chirping at me on and off every 15 minutes or so. First it was because I was running out of insulin, but then it was to really get the point across that my pod was expired!
I was determined to use every last drop of insulin in the pod, though, so I bolused for my dinner around 5:45 and I was pleased to discover that I got my full dose of insulin without any issues. As I was cleaning up after dinner, that’s when the signature OmniPod BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP went off as one blaring, unceasing alarm. I checked the time: 6:22 P.M.
So there was my answer. An OmniPod can last precisely 80 hours after you initially activate it for the first time (or in other words, 8 hours after you receive the first expiration message)…as long as it still has insulin in it. It’s definitely something good to know for sure now, because in the future, it might come in handy and help me avoid wasting precious insulin.
Before I left for my vacation, I had my (long overdue) annual physical with my primary care doctor. Like he does every year, he ordered bloodwork for me which meant that I had a whole host of health data to review on my online patient portal, including my current A1c.
When I saw that value up more than half a point from my last reading, my heart sank.
Now, I’m not going to say specifically what the reading was, because I’m a strong believer in keeping that sort of information to myself (and if you’re the type of person who shares their A1c, that’s okay, too – it’s just not for me). But I will say that it definitely isn’t the worst A1c reading that I’ve ever had, though it upset me because I think it’s the highest I’ve been since my college years.
Once it fully sunk in that this was my current A1c reading, like it or not, I started thinking about the why. Why have I gone up? I could think of a few factors…
I haven’t been eating super healthy; rather, I probably eat too many sweets that cause my blood sugar to fluctuate more than it ideally should.
The pandemic has changed a few things about my daily lifestyle – I don’t get out of the house as much I used to because I work from home, which means I’m in very close proximity to my kitchen and that gives me too many opportunities throughout the day to snack.
I get lazy and don’t bolus for “small” snacks (i.e., snacks with 10 carbs or less).
On the subject of laziness, I’ve been really bad about “eyeballing” my plates and portions lately when it would obviously behoove me to measure out my food and study my nutrition labels.
So those are the things I could think of that are the likely culprits behind my dissatisfactory A1c. As I sat and stewed over them and chided myself for my carelessness, though, I also tried to gently remind myself that A1c is only one measure of blood sugar “control”: I told myself that I need to bear in mind that my overall time in range is something that I should study and try to learn from, rather than dwell on this narrow snapshot of my 90-day blood sugar averages.
Using my Dexcom Clarity app, I learned that my time in range was suffering. I prefer to spend 80% of my time in range, and lately, I’ve fallen short of that goal. So after studying the amount of time that I spend “high” or “very high” (high blood sugars are always more troublesome for me than lows), I started to get a clearer picture of what was going wrong for me and what I might need to do to fix it.
This whole exercise, as bummed as I was to have to go through it, is going to serve as a great reminder to me that whenever I get disappointing news about my diabetes management, the best way to cope with it is to study the facts that I quite literally have available to me at the tips of my fingers. I know why my A1c is where it is, and I also know now the areas in which I need to improve. And that’s something to be grateful about and use as a motivator so that I can improve both my A1c and my time in range.
I know I can do it – I’ve done it before and can’t wait to feel that triumph over my diabetes.
This blog post was originally published on Hugging the Cactus on April 6, 2018. I’m reposting it today because most people know that carb counting is important to a person with diabetes, but they might not understand exactly why. This post features an example that demonstrates all too well the negative implications associated with neglecting to carb count. Read on to learn how I figured out the importance of carb counting…the hard way…
One recent evening, I was rummaging through the kitchen pantry and noticed a bag of “veggie stix” stashed away, waiting to get opened. The sight of the bag instantly brought back memories of a time I was blatantly irresponsible with my carb counting and insulin dosing…
…It was my junior year of college. I had plans to meet with a friend for dinner at seven o’clock. While that’s a standard suppertime for many people, it was kind of late for me. So that explains why I decided to treat myself to a snack a couple hours before it was time to go, just to hold me until I had my meal. My snack of choice? A bag of veggie stix just like these were sitting in the kitchen of my on-campus apartment. I thought I’d help myself to a few, believing (naively) that I had enough self control to know when to stop shoveling them down my gullet. That’s right, instead of doing the right thing and counting out a bunch before stowing the bag away, I was blindly consuming handful after handful without dosing for a single stick.
I can’t even use the defense that these veggie stix are strangely addicting – they really are, they taste a little like those potato sticks that used to come in cans – because I knew what I was doing wasn’t good for me. I just didn’t care. I had munched my way through half of the bag when it dawned on me that it would probably be smart to stop myself from eating more. I rolled up the bag, returned to my room, and did some homework until it was time to meet with my gal pal.
Little did I know that my blood sugar was rising to potentially dangerous levels.
I didn’t find out how high I was – over 400 mg/dL – until I reached the sandwich shop and had a plate full of chicken pesto carb-y goodness waiting to be consumed. My face must’ve shown my shock, because my friend asked me if I was alright. I quickly explained to her my mistake, and took an extra large bolus to cover my food and correct my blood sugar. Once that was done, I somehow managed to stop panicking long enough to enjoy the dinner with my friend, even though I couldn’t eat a bite of mine until an hour or so after injecting my insulin.
Although it sucked to go through this, I’m kind of glad that it happened because I learned a major lesson from it: ALWAYS count my carbs. It doesn’t matter if I WANT to be lazy or pretend that my diabetes doesn’t exist, I HAVE to hold myself accountable. It may be mentally draining and a bit of a nuisance, but it’s my own health here. It’s up to me, and me alone, to manage it.
And by the way, I did just help myself to the above bag of veggie stix. I had exactly 24 pieces, which equals exactly 5.4 grams of carbohydrates – a much smaller amount than what I ate that one night five years ago.
This post was written by Konstantina Taki and it was originally published on the T1International blog on June 8, 2021. I’m sharing it here today because the journey from patient to medical student as person with diabetes has always personally fascinated me. Despite my interest in medicine, I’ve never actively pursued it as a career (and probably never will), but I appreciated learning about Konstantina’s experience. Thank you, Konstantina, for sharing your perspective!
Having lived with type 1 diabetes for more than 12 years, I have experienced different aspects of the condition. First of all, as a patient, I approach diabetes from a personal view. I can also understand how the condition affects parents of children with diabetes. It’s something new, demanding and difficult to handle. The last five years, as a medical student in Greece, I have seen diabetes from yet another more practical and scientific perspective.
The world of medicine is a marvellous, enormous one. It is a multifaceted science. When I started studying medicine back in 2016, I had a completely romantic approach. I was convinced that the core of medicine is the purpose of making people’s lives better. I believed that healthcare systems were patient-centered and every decision or strategy was made in order to ensure that people’s lives were safe and to improve their health. It was a challenge for me to realise that even in such a human-centered domain, there are motives and decisions which aren’t really altruistic. Instead they are often led by powerful companies.
Over the course of time, I had to face the fact that pharmaceutical companies influence healthcare systems in such a way that healthcare professionals almost have no control. For example, a lot of medical research is funded by the pharmaceutical industry, or ‘Big Pharma’. So how can we ensure that the outcome of research is unbiased? The vast majority of medical seminars and conferences are also sponsored by Big Pharma. This means that organisations who want to support medicine without pharmaceutical industry support struggle in terms of fundraising. Healthcare systems, and the people leading them, tend to lose their purpose of saving people’s lives and improving the health of patients. Instead, they take advantage of people’s health to make profits.
Type 1 diabetes is a non-preventable chronic illness, and its successful management depends on insulin. Without insulin, a person with diabetes is in danger. Insulin belongs to the category of essential medications. I believe pharmaceutical companies take advantage and exploit this situation. Unfortunately, many patients, including those with diabetes, deal with the effects of Big Pharma’s politics and strategies. Having read articles, and later discovering T1International, I saw the process of how the profits of pharmaceuticals cause the loss of human lives. In 2021, people with diabetes still die of their inability to access the only drug that keeps them alive: insulin.
Your money or your life. This is a dilemma that seems to have deep roots in medical society. I am lucky, and I feel safe due to the fact that in Greece this phenomenon doesn’t occur as much as abroad. However, I did experience this dilemma personally in my Endocrinology appointment. In the examination room, there was my doctor, a nurse and a sales manager from a pharmaceutical company with diabetes products. The whole appointment was led by the sales manager. She was focusing on the weak points of my blood sugar throughout the session. Her aim was to convince me to start using a continuous glucose monitor (CGM), which at the time wasn’t distributed for free in Greece. Once I understood that she was trying to get me to use and pay for the product, I tried to focus on my diabetes management without discussing the CGM. The doctor was indifferent. She didn’t seem to be bothered by the sales manager. I ended up arguing with them and then I left the room.
Access to healthcare is an unquestioned human right for every person, which includes the need for medication and technology. Given the fact that the production and distribution of medication diabetes technology can provide extreme amounts of profits to companies, people with low or even no income are therefore excluded from healthcare systems. So who is being served by healthcare systems? Patients or profits? And how could all those profit-maximizing strategies come to an end or at least decrease?
Being able to approach diabetes as a patient but also as a medical student, and hopefully as a medical doctor in a few years, I have mixed feelings. I undoubtedly want to see a change. From a humanitarian view, I strongly believe that no human life is inferior when it comes to health and medicine. People should be treated equally, without discrimination or undue pressure. If there is one thing that medicine has taught me is how vulnerable we are when our health is at risk. In addition, I acknowledge that my awareness for this phenomenon is a result of the realisation of the catastrophic effects my life would have if I had no access to insulin. Companies should not hold patients hostage – but it happens every day.
The reason I appreciate T1International so deeply is its scope to change this condition through raising awareness and advocacy. Inequality in treatment of people with diabetes should come to an end. Health care systems globally must turn into patient centered systems. It is a difficult and slow process but nothing is unachievable. #insulin4all isn’t just a trend. It is a need, a vision, and hopefully one day it will become a reality.