I had something incredible happen to me last week. I've been busy with class and not had time to blog about it, but all week I carried it around with me in my mind, because small little breadcrumbs of Diabetic-happiness like these come not often enough and too far in between.
It goes like this:
At Wesleyan College, I work in the office of Admissions.
I.Love.Admissions.
I ended up Work-Studying there by chance, because one day my first year I had stopped by the office of one of the faculty and was casually mentioning that I hadn't found a work study job yet. "Well, admissions still needs student workers!" said Amy, one of the Directors of Admissions at, yep, you guessed it - Wesleyan. Still a rather shy, quiet and un-forward freshman/sophomore/Junior (I dual enrolled for two years and didn't really know what I was), I went right up to admissions, applied, stumbled through a slightly awkward interview, and was officially an employed work study student. Every year, students have the opportunity to pick wherever on campus they want to work, provided there are openings - I've never changed where I work, because I couldn't picture working anywhere else.
Admissions is work - any one that goes to any college, I imagine, will tell you that it's not just sitting at a desk, like some work study jobs. I stuff envelopes - I enter data for hours at a time - I handle random drop-ins and give tours and sell the school and handle the phone and print 25,000 postcards to mail out and plan events and arrange flowers and write letters and peel oranges and diagnose beta fish on the fly. It's organized chaos, but mostly a bunch of chaos. Someone once told me Admissions is like the MacGyver of colleges, and it's true. We do it all. It's exciting, it's funny, is frustrating, it's hectic. But I love the work, and it's so fulfilling because I get to outreach to incoming students and talk about my school and be social and creative at every opportunity. I can't wear jeans and I hate giving surprise tours in heals in the cold, and stuffing 10,000 envelopes according to each specific name really bites it, but those are small matters compared to the ultimate love of my job that I feel, and the appreciation I feel for all of the wonderful counselors and workers in admissions and students that work with me. No one would believe me if I described all of the funny conversations we've had, or the things we've laughed over. In the course of 2.5 years, I have changed from this awkward, shy whatever-class-level-I-am, to a slightly less awkward (but still awkward sometimes!), less shy kind of grown up who is about to go to graduate school if someone decides to accept me. I can give tours without blinking. I can talk on the phone confidently. I can deal with people. And hey, I even own more than one pair of slacks and dress shoes, now. (Florida flip flops every day as I grew up with just don't cut it.)
And so I was at work last Monday, utilizing all of these skills I claim to have acquired over the last few years, when the phone rings. Expecting an ordinary phone call from an applicant or perhaps someone needing to be transferred to another department - God forbid it's a male asking about his transcript (Wesleyan is an all women's college) or someone calling for information about Wesleyan University - I answer.
"Wesleyan College, how can I help you?"
A young woman answers. She's clearly an applicant, and she tells me that she is in the process of applying and that Wesleyan is her first choice college. That's always an exciting thing to hear! She has a few questions about when she should pay the deposit and I answer, telling her that the earlier you pay the deposit, the earlier you also get to choose which dorm room you would like.
She hesitates. "Well... do you have to live on campus?"
I explain to her that Wesleyan is a residential campus so that, yes, if you do not have parents or guardians within 25 miles of the school, that you had to live in campus.
She goes on. "I'm just worried," she tells me. "About living on campus and going to college. You see... I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes last October."
My professional veneer immediately falls away as I'm jolted from worker mode to ... well, myself. Without hesitation I reply, startled, "No way. I'm Type 1, too!" I was so startled and excited I could practically have jumped out of my seat. "I was Diagnosed the April before coming to Wesleyan. It's hard..."
We jumped immediately into conversation. I had never met this girl, and yet the connection I felt with her was one that I felt talking to all Type 1's - understanding. Sympathy. Knowledge. We know the intricacies of Diabetes that no one without Diabetes can ever understand. And we support each other. Throughout my walk with Diabetes, I have never had the opportunity to talk with many Type 1's. I met that man in the card shop in Savannah - which was amazing - I've met Type 2's, I've talked with Type 1's over email correspondence, Facebook, groups, blogs, etc. And that's a valuable source and priceless link to others who I can vent to and ask questions and who know how I feel.
Never had I talked to someone who had had Diabetes for less time than me. And aside from the instant connection of knowing inherently what many of this girl's struggles and challenges were, it was nice to be able to help her, or try to, anyways. She was interested in knowing if anything was going on for Diabetes month. I told her to check out some awesome Diabetes blogs online, told her about some Diabetes summer camps she could volunteer for, and told her about JDRF's website and all of the events they advertise, such as walks for Diabetes. I told her to look on Facebook for support groups. I told her that life with Type 1 at college was hard - but that professors were understanding, and that your friends could be a powerful support group for you. That your roommate could make sure to know the signs of a low and watch out for you. That you could educate people so that they would have your back. I told her that blogging was a powerful way to cope and spread awareness, if she liked to write. We sympathized with each other, exclaimed at how hard Diabetes could be, and how few people without it understood. I told her the same advice my dietician had told me all those years ago - that Diabetes is going to make things harder for you. Sometimes a lot harder. But it doesn't have to limit you.
It was amazing.
And a good feeling too - maybe this conversation was a way bigger deal to me than it was to her. Maybe she went on with her life and it faded out of her mind. But maybe, I like to think, maybe this girl rushed to excitedly tell her mom that she had called Wesleyan with a question and the person that answered the phone was Type 1 just like her, out of all of the people that could have answered the phone that day. Maybe it touched her life in a small way just like it touched mine. When I got off the phone, I excitedly told Mary Ann and Amy, who worked in Admissions. Mary Ann thought it was amazing coincidence too. I told my friends - I told my family - I totally nerded out about it and made a way bigger deal out of it than most people ever would.
Because every once in a while, you get those breadcrumbs, like meeting men with insulin pumps at card shops in Savannah and receiving phone calls from Type 1 Diabetics at work. Every moment like that is special, because every moment that your life is touched in that way - where you find someone that understands - or someone asks a knowledgeable question - adds a silver lining to the disease you suffer with each day. And it makes all the difference.
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