There is an entire drawer in my refrigerator filled with insulin.
Not a little shelf in the door. Not a box or two tucked behind the groceries. An actual drawer… the kind most people probably fill with sandwich meat, cheese, or whatever else is supposed to go there.
But mine is filled with insulin.
And I don’t think I stop often enough to realize what a privilege that is.
Type 1 diabetes requires insulin to survive. Not eventually. Not when things get bad. Every single day. Our bodies cannot produce the insulin we need, so we have to replace it ourselves for the rest of our lives unless and until something changes that.
I know that every time I open my refrigerator, there is insulin waiting for me.
I know that when my pump runs out, I can refill it. I know that when I change my Omnipod, I have insulin to put inside of it. I know that there is another vial after this vial and another box after this box.
And there is an incredible amount of security in that.
The strange part is that after living with Type 1 for long enough, you stop seeing it that way.
I open that drawer and see diabetes supplies.
Someone else with Type 1 could open that same drawer and see something completely different.
They could see months of survival.
Because the reality of Type 1 diabetes is that not everyone gets to experience it the way I do.
When we see Type 1 Diabetes online, especially on social media, we often see the visible technology. You see the Dexcom on someone’s arm. You see the Omnipod. You see the insulin pump. You see someone checking their blood sugar on their phone or their watch. You see automated insulin delivery systems, continuous glucose monitors, smart devices, new technology, and all of the incredible advancements that have made living with this disease safer and easier.
And all of that deserves to be celebrated… I am INCREDIBLY grateful for it.
But sometimes I think that version of Type 1 can unintentionally make us forget about the people who don’t have access to it.
There are people with Type 1 who have to fight with insurance companies just to get the medication and supplies they need to stay alive. There are people whose coverage changes and suddenly the insulin or technology they have built their entire management around isn’t covered anymore. There are people stretching supplies longer than they should, delaying replacements, fighting refill dates, choosing older or less convenient management options because that’s what they can afford, or worrying about what happens when what they have runs out.
And there are still people in parts of the world where simply having reliable access to insulin, glucose testing supplies, trained healthcare providers, refrigeration, or emergency care is not even guaranteed.
That’s Type 1 diabetes, too.
And I think that’s another side of See T1D that deserves to be talked about.
Because seeing Type 1 cannot only mean seeing those of us fortunate enough to wear the newest technology on our arms.
See the Dexcom.
See the pump.
See the incredible technology.
See the research and progress that have allowed people like me to live lives that generations before us could only imagine.
But also see the person who can’t afford the sensor.
See the person fighting an insurance denial for the pump.
See the parent counting how many supplies are left until insurance will allow another refill.
See the person wondering how they’re going to afford next month’s insulin.
See the person living somewhere where the technology we casually discuss online isn’t even an option.
And see the person for whom simply having insulin tomorrow is not something they can take for granted.
Because access is part of the Type 1 story, too.
I don’t feel guilty when I open my refrigerator and see that drawer full of insulin. And I don’t think guilt is what gratitude should look like.
I feel incredibly fortunate.
I feel grateful for my family, my healthcare, the technology I have access to, the researchers who developed it, and the people who fought before me to make living with this disease safer.
But gratitude should also make us pay attention.
Because the goal cannot simply be to keep developing incredible ways to manage Type 1 diabetes if those advancements never reach the people who need them.
Progress matters. Research matters. Technology matters. Affordability matters. Access matters.
And that is something I appreciate about the work being done by organizations like Breakthrough T1D. Fighting Type 1 isn’t only about what comes next. It’s also about improving the lives of people living with it right now, advocating for access, pushing for better treatments and technologies, and working toward a future where where you live, what insurance you have, or what you can afford doesn’t determine the quality of diabetes care available to you.
So maybe the next time I open that drawer, I’ll look at it a little differently.
Yes, it’s a drawer full of insulin.
But it’s also security. It’s access. It’s privilege. And most importantly, it’s my lifeline.
I have the privilege of knowing mine will be there when I need it… Every person with Type 1 deserves to be able to say the same.
And I think I would challenge my fellow Type 1s, parents of Type 1s, and families living with this disease who are fortunate enough to have that same sense of security to stop and recognize it every once in a while, too.
The next time you open the refrigerator and see boxes of insulin waiting for you, the next time another shipment of pump supplies shows up at the door, or the next time you replace a CGM without having to wonder whether you can afford the next one, stop for a second.
Not to feel guilty.
To feel grateful.
Because when something becomes part of our everyday lives, it’s incredibly easy to forget that having reliable access to it isn’t everyone’s everyday reality. We complain about insurance, prior authorizations, delayed shipments, prescriptions, pharmacies, failed sensors, bad pump sites, and all of the other frustrations that come with managing this disease… and trust me, we have every right to. Access shouldn’t be difficult for any of us.
But if, at the end of that frustration, there is still insulin in your refrigerator, another sensor in the cabinet, another pump site in the box, or another shipment eventually arriving at your door, there is privilege in that security.
So appreciate it.
And then let that gratitude make you care about the people who don’t have it.
Let it remind you why advocacy matters. Why affordability matters. Why access matters. Why it isn’t enough for incredible treatments and technologies to simply exist if the people who need them cannot get them.
Because none of us should consider ourselves lucky simply because we have access to the medication we REQUIRE to stay alive.
That should be the standard.
For every single person with Type 1.
So when we ask you to See T1D, don’t only see those of us whose diabetes is easy to see.
See the people whose stories don’t make it onto your feed.
See the people still fighting for access to the things some of us are fortunate enough to take for granted.
See them, too.
SEE T1D.
#SeeT1D #DiabetesAwarenessMonth #Type1Diabetes #T1D #BreakthroughT1D
