It’s the beginning of the week, and as I again begin to experience the verbal threats of financial sanctions, the bullying to force me to leave, the threat of the contractor reappearing, I quietly contemplate my mission and how best to make its point.
Should I put graves in front of the house with pictures and dates of all those who have died from type 1 diabetes and its complications? That may be too morbid for even me to walk through.
Perhaps posting signs outside of the NIH, with faces of people, a diagnosis date, a medical bill, and/or a grave?
Too many graves – maybe it should be 1 grave = ? people
The cost is high
It’s hard to write this, knowing that the same information may be used to justify a lack of investment in you as a person – by the insurance community, by the social community, by the employment community.
These are desperate times. There are those who would make me into someone I am not (or occasionally may be, out of a deliberately provoked reaction), because to portray me unfavorably, weakens my case. There are others who would try to redirect my activism toward other goals.
In the end, the point is focus. It is not about poverty. It is not about civil rights. It is not about religion. It is about the terrorism that each type I diabetic faces during their life. It is about fixing problems that should have been fixed a long time ago.
It is about my intellect and ability to solve problems, and the fact that it is needed right here and right now.
On my own terms.
A donation to JDRF. Not because I believe they can cure a disease that likely has an origin in bioterror (the big clue here is the 50% concordance rate (or discordance) in monozygotic twins), but because they are a voice – the common scream, if you will, of many young children who face a needle every day of their life because someone wants money, or information about how glucose interacts with genes.