Business cards seem a little out of date these days. In our digital world, I more often than not now tell people to ‘Find me on LinkedIn’ rather then reach into my bag and locate a probably dog-eared business card. Although, with a name like mine, sometimes it is easier just to hand over something that has all my details printed clearly to avoid the song and dance of spelling my name (‘…no I-B; not I-V….’). So, I had some new cards printed when I started my new job and they are tucked away ready for use at conferences and meetings.

However, there are days that I wish business cards were more reflective of what is going on around me and could be used to explain how I am feeling or even suggest how someone might like to respond to my mood.

Here are some that I have found recently (and a couple of golden oldies) that would be particularly handy.


This one came across one of my SoMe feeds yesterday and I felt that Ricky Gervais was speaking directly to me. (We’ll workshop the ‘I hear Ricky Gervais speaking to me through the computer issue another time perhaps.) The constant arm-chair complaints from people about anything and everything, just for the sake of complaining is draining. This couldn’t have come at a better time or been more relevant to the crap I have been dealing with recently. Thanks Ricky!


Useful for those with ridiculous cure claims (carry a white Sharpie and replace cinnamon as required).

Useful to hand out to those with ridiculous cure claims (carry a white Sharpie and replace cinnamon with whatever else is being recommend as required).

My family is Calabrese, not Sicilian, but the sentiment works nonetheless. This is from one of my all-time favourite movies, 'The Princess Bride'.

My family is Calabrese, not Sicilian, but the sentiment works nonetheless. This is from one of my all-time favourite movies, ‘The Princess Bride’.


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For technophobes.


A useful card to hand out to people trying to drag me into their mess.

A useful card to hand out to people trying to drag me into their mess.


Always good advice!

Always good advice!



For people who insist on sprouting motivational quotes at me, here is a pretty response.



When I am rendered completely speechless (it may happen….), this card explains what I probably need to get moving…



Exasperation in a Gilmore Girls quote.


Useful for explaining diabetes in five words.

Useful for explaining diabetes in five words.

And finally, this one has an explicit language warning and as my kid reads my blog (but hopefully won’t click), you’ll have to go to this link for what is fast becoming my favourite saying. (Do not click if offended by the C word – and in this case, I am not talking ‘compliant’.)



Your body is not broken.’

I received this message from someone who reads my blog. They were not being aggressive or rude, but there was an element of frustration in their words to me. The messenger was trying to get me to focus on the things that do work, rather than the things that don’t and she reminded me that the odds are strongly in favour of things that function as they were intended!

I am so tied up with how my body behaves and what it doesn’t do that sometimes I do forget what it can do. And I am (to a lesser degree, but still too much) concerned with how my body looks, and attribute the things I don’t like to the ‘broken-ness’ of it. I spend too much time seeing what I don’t like, leaving me unhappy and miserable with not only the malfunctioning inner parts, but also the outer shell.

I thought about this as I was eating dinner the other night – home cooked chicken noodle soup with heaps of veggies. But then I remembered I’d eaten a doughnut and a coffee and not much else for the rest of the day.

I thought of this as I climbed into my car this morning, but made sure I parked a distance from work so I could walk a little bit further than I if I had driven pretty much to the front door and found a space there.

I thought about this as I sat curled up in front of the television, mindlessly watching a movie, but remembered that I had been on my feet all day, rushing around, racing through the airport and on my feet for all but the hour I was strapped into a seat on my flight back home.

I thought about this as I lay awake at 2.30am, working on my iPad, knowing I should be asleep. But I remembered that I’d managed a nap that afternoon so my sleep debt wouldn’t be too horrendous.

I thought about this as I rushed around this morning getting ready for work, late as usual, and pulled on a pair of new and very high boots. There will be a time I’ll need to start wearing sensible shoes. ‘That day is not today,’ I said to myself as I stood up tall in front of the mirror, admiring the heels and buckles and leather.

I thought about this as I had a glass of champagne and then a second to celebrate a night out, reminding myself it was the first drink I’d had all week.

I don’t treat my body as a temple. I don’t do what’s needed to keep it ticking along as best it can. I don’t worry about things such as the number of serves of vegetables I eat each day; the fact that I don’t eat breakfast most days; that I eat bacon on Saturday and Sunday most weeks or how on the rare occasions I eat bread, I slather it an inch thick with real, salted butter.

I know my BG pretty much every minute of the day, but other numbers that contribute to the measure of health – weight, BP, cholesterol – I have no idea about, unless they’re fresh in my mind from a recent blood check.

I wonder if I should feel bad about how I treat my body. But I don’t and I don’t really think that if I did more, the things I consider ‘broken’ would be fixed. I know that if I were to look at the balance sheet, I would certainly be engaging in more healthy than unhealthy behaviours.

I also know that the things that may not necessarily be best for my body (high heeled boots, doughnuts and coffee for breakfast etc.) give me pleasure. My broken body allows for that. In fact, it makes me realise that perhaps it is not so broken after all. And that has to count for something.

The DOC is a moveable feast. I thought about this the other night during the OzDOC tweetchat, when Frank directed us through a series of prompts about what the community offers us.

When I first dipped my toe into the world of DOC, I was cautious. What was this world and who were the people who populated it? As it turned out these were ‘my people’ in that they understood the daily challenges of living with diabetes. Most of the online discussion was diabetes and I lapped it up.

I jumped in – completely and unashamedly – a short time later, desperate to connect with as many people as possible and hear as many stories as possible.   I participated in tweetchats every week, I read blogs and commented on them, and, if the opportunity presented itself, I met up with people that I only knew from a small avatar and their Twitter handle.

Before long, I had a huge network of new friends who were, in some ways, living parallel lives, faced the same challenges and frustrations and wanted to celebrate the same victories.

I’ve been part of this world now for a few years and have always been grateful for the support and love that I receive. After yesterday’s post, so many people reached out to check that I was okay, offer their support and even ask if there was something they could do.

But the way I interact does change at times. Sometimes, I am more diligent about participating and encouraging dialogue. Other times, I just put things out there and leave them, not really wanting to engage in discussion.

As much as the online world is wonderful, it can be overwhelming. A need to pay forward – and pay back – the love and support is compelling. I feel guilty when I don’t respond to comments on my blog, reply to tweets or answer Facebook messages or emails. But there are times that I simply cannot interact as much as I would like to. And that is okay.

I have come to realise that my online world is similar to my in real life world where I have started to consolidate the people I regularly see and hold near and dear. As I have gotten older, I have realised the importance of having a few really close and trusted friends rather than a huge number of more casual friends.

One of my best friends is on secondment in France at the moment and I feel a huge and sometimes aching gap because she is so far away, even though we message frequently and I bullied her into joining Instagram so I could see what she was up to. That’s the way it is when you tighten the network of people who know everything – losing one (even just for a few months; even in digital times) is very noticeable.

Sometimes, the two worlds (the online and the IRL) cross over. Some of my nearest friends – the ones I need like I need air – are DOC friends. We may have met on Twitter, but after a few, or even just a couple, of face-to-face catch ups, their friendships are invaluable. I cannot imagine a week where Annie and I are not messaging furiously, or Cherise doesn’t send me some random photo and a quirky comment, or Kerri doesn’t reply to a rant of mine with #RageRenza. Grumpy’s irreverent comments occur most days making me laugh, and Alecia’s messages make we want to start a countdown to the next time I’m in NYC so we can hang out together, drink orange flavoured drinks and take photos with shaggy-haired jazz musicians.

These women (and Grumps) are flung far and wide. We may have been connected by diabetes, but that is certainly not why I consider them friends. Diabetes was the catalyst, but I know that if that were the only commonality, the friendships would have fizzled out by now. 

This exchange with the wonderful (and offline as much as online friend) Georgie explains it (with a complete lack of eloquence from me, of course)…

I realised the other night in the tweetchat that after throwing myself into the DOC, I have backed off a bit. I don’t join into every discussion as I once would have; I still read lots of blogs, but don’t comment much anymore; I don’t ask all that many questions anymore; I really only to the #OzDOC chat, and I sometimes go weeks without popping in to say hi. This may be temporary – it may be just where I am at the moment. But I am getting what I need. And I am lucky the community allows for that.

For a couple of weeks now I have been feeling well below par. I am exhausted. I’ve not been sleeping particularly well, which is unlike me, and yet, all I feel like doing is sleeping. I’ve felt nauseous and not been interested in food, and even coffee has lost its appeal. (As I am a woman of particular age, when explaining these symptoms to others I see eyebrows rise questioningly, heads tilt and the words ‘Could you be…’ start to form on their lips. No. I am not.)

On Monday, my sister and I did some shopping – something we could both do for Australia our skills are so impressive – and I had to sit down in the stores while she was doing her usual trick of finding clothes marked down to a quarter their usual price in her size that looked perfect on her.

I went out for breakfast on Monday morning and when I got home, I had to sleep for a couple of hours just to be able to face the thought of going shopping.

As soon as I started mentioning that I wasn’t feeling great to those near and dear to me, they immediately suggested I go see the GP. But I dismissed it as being because I am busy at work with lots of deadlines looming / we just lived through a bathroom renovation / We’ve been binge-watching a new TV series and should be going to bed sooner / <Insert excuse here>.

I even told myself in a moment of spectacular denial ‘I have diabetes. It’s a chronic health condition and sometimes it makes me feel crap’, when the truth of the matter is that my diabetes has been somewhat quiet and manageable over this period and I would be furious at anyone who dared to automatically assume the reason for me not feeling a hundred per cent is due to my pancreatically-challenged state.

However, two weeks later, I think they may have been right. I probably should go to the GP and get checked out. I am sure it is just a low-grade virus and all it needs is time and rest. (Oh look – there I go again with the denial….)

As much as I hate to admit it, I do blame diabetes when I am not feeling well. I hear myself say things like ‘I had a couple of hypos yesterday’ or ‘I woke with high BGs’ to explain away anytime I feeling out of the ordinary.

I remind people all the time that ‘sometimes it’s not diabetes’ and yet I seem to be happy to use it as an excuse to myself when convenient.

When your body is broken to a degree, it is difficult to know what to do when the usual ‘not feeling well’ things come up. For people who don’t live day in, day out with a chronic health condition, they see it as irregular and react. Those of us with bodies that are a little rogue at times just decide that it is part of being broken.

It took my mum saying something for me to realise that I might want to delve a little deeper than deciding it was just more ‘system failure’. Where others would jump in and suggest I go to the doctor the second I mention not feeling well, mum gets that it could just be part and parcel of the tiredness we sometimes feel living with a chronic heath condition. She gets it – she lives it.

So when she told me the other day that I was ‘looking gaunt’ (proving yet again that at the core, she is (wonderfully) a true Italian nonna), and that she was a little concerned, I snapped to attention.

So – tomorrow I plan to go to pathology and have blood drawn, using the full blood work path request my endo sent me a couple of weeks ago as a precursor to my annual diabetes screening. I will do it and then I’ll follow up with my GP (who is sent a copy of the results) and see where I go from there.

It could just be a low level virus. It could be just tiredness or an iron deficiency. It could be something different altogether. But I am pretty sure it’s not diabetes even though I have been stubbornly trying to convince myself otherwise.

If you are part of the Diabetes Online Community, you probably would know that 20 April was the second annual #IWishPeopleKnewThatDiabetes Day. I wrote about the first event last year and you can read all about it here.

I am a little late writing about it, because truly – what more can I offer to the discussion? If you want to experience the power of the day, search on Twitter (or, to a lesser degree, Facebook or Instagram).

For me, there are two real benefits to #IWishPeopleKnewThatDiabetes. For people with diabetes, it is a chance to have many of our feelings and experiences validated. We see other people communicating the same successes and frustrations; the same victories and disappointments; we see humour in what is often a sea of doom and gloom, and we feel less alone and part of a tribe.

The other benefit is how #IWishPeopleKnewThatDiabetes has the ability to go beyond the DOC. People from outside ‘our world’ can catch incredible insight into all those aspects of diabetes they would never ever otherwise see if their only reference points were the six pm news or a tabloid story in a local newspaper. They would be able to see beyond the numbers – the statistics that are huge and incomprehensible – to the individual and the day-to-day impact.

I loved that there was such a strong focus on the issues of accessibility from people all over the globe. (Go Diabetes Kenya, by the way, for your awesome tweeting!)

It was terrific to see diabetes organisations getting into the mix and contributing to the day. Special shouts out to Diabetes UK, Diabetes Kenya (again), Diabetes Canada and American Diabetes Association for strong shows. And I was so proud to see Diabetes Australia (disclosure – I work for them, but none of the IWPKTD tweets were from me – kudos to Jenelle) and some of the local diabetes organisations including Diabetes NSW, Diabetes QLD, Diabetes WA and Diabetes TAS for getting involved and tweeting and retweeting throughout the day.

After days of these sorts of awareness days, I feel a little emotional. I have gone back and re-read some of the tweets and am struck by how similar – and how different – we feel about living with diabetes. My feelings run the gauntlet from anger and frustration through to hope and inspiration. Mostly though, I feel connected and supported.

#IWishPeopleKnewThatDiabetes doesn’t end today. There is a website and a blog, and you can sign up for updates. A huge thank you to Kelly Kunik (AKA Diabetesalicious) for coming up with idea and running with it. And a huge thank you to everyone for sharing your thoughts.

The world is bathed in purple today with the death of Prince. I have had this clip on repeat all day.

On this day in 1923, insulin became commercially available.


Fast forward 75 years to 1998, and on this day, I was given a shot of insulin as I sat in the offices of an endocrinologist. That morning, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.

As I watched the doctor quickly and proficiently inject my arm, I had no idea just how precious, effective and dangerous this magic elixir could be. And I had no idea just how lucky I was.

I am not lucky because I have diabetes. Despite being one of those eternal (and annoying) glass-half-full types, I struggle to see the positives in being diagnosed with diabetes.

But I am lucky that if I have to have diabetes, it is here in Australia where I am afforded the luxury and ease of access. Getting insulin is as simple as asking a doctor for a prescription, calling the pharmacy to order it in and the next day picking up a couple of months’ supply for the grand cost of $40, after which I take it home, leave it in my refrigerator and use it as I need.

I have been doing this now for 18 years. My diabetes has come of age. It can drive, vote and drink (three things I should definitely not do if my glucose level is low.)

Diabetes is not a blessing. I don’t think I have ever hated something more and doubt I ever will. I despise the way it has intruded into my life and has eaten away at things I once took for granted. I detest that my loved ones have had to become experts, and are now fluent in the language of ‘diabetese’. I loathe the fear and terror that it has caused me at times.

On this day in 2016, I am thinking about having lived with diabetes for a significant part of my adult life. I am thinking of how it has shaped me, the times it has forced my hand, the way it has influenced the direction my life has taken. I see how it has made me think certain ways, re-evaluate aspects of my short- and long-term decision making and made me advocate for something in which I once had no knowledge (or interest).

But mostly, I am thinking about how I get to celebrate my diaversary as a day of success and triumph. And that many do not. My privilege is starkly obvious as I celebrate with a piece of cake, and, coincidentally, pick up a waiting insulin prescription from the pharmacy up the road.

So, today, I am making a donation to T1International to commemorate this day and those far less fortunate when it comes to living life with diabetes. If you have a spare few dollars – perhaps even just 18 of them – maybe you could, too.

I frequently refer to myself as ‘the difficult child’ – not so much in my family setting, because there I am clearly the perfect daughter (just ask my sister!). But professionally, I am sometimes difficult because I have been known to ask a lot of questions, think outside the square and am a risk taker.

And I would also be termed difficult in other settings.

For example, I am, according to this article, what would be considered a ‘difficult patient’, a term that I really struggle to understand.

Anna Reisman MD, an associate professor at Yale School of Medicine, wrote the article, sharing a recent conversation she had with some med students who asked ‘can’t these patients stop with all the questions?’ instead, wishing for patients who simply listened and did what they were told. They wished for ‘easy patients’ rather than ‘difficult’ ones.

Living with diabetes can be difficult. It doesn’t behave how we would like it to or how we expect it to. It makes us frustrated and angry and sad and annoyed. It makes us want to try different things as we hope to get better results and see in-range numbers. And sometimes – often – we are the ones searching, Googling, asking others and wanting for more and better and different treatments.

When I ask questions or walk into a HCPs office asking to try something new, I am not being difficult or questioning their expertise. I simply want a discussion about how I can improve my health.

The only reason I manage my diabetes the way I do is because I researched, asked questions and told my HCP it was what I wanted to do. I wasn’t being difficult when I first raised the idea of ditching MDI for a pump. Nor was I being difficult when I asked about CGM. Or when I wanted to change to a different insulin.

I was looking for ways to make my diabetes less difficult – because it is a difficult monster! It is not the person being difficult. It is the condition. And this clarification is important.

I think frequently the term ‘difficult’ is used instead of the word ‘empowered’ or assertive – neither of which are interchangeable with ‘difficult’.

In the article, Dr Reisman offered some excellent advice to the med students explaining why patients who do ask questions and want to take charge should be celebrated – not discouraged. And she ends the article with this pearl:

‘Don’t dread patients bearing questions, I told my students. Welcome them. They’re some of the best teachers you’ll encounter.’

I can’t think of a better way to explain it!

I read a few other pieces by Dr Anna Reisman and this is another brilliant take on the expertise of patients.

Always difficult. I mean assertive.

Always difficult. I mean assertive.


Today, I am writing about Aussie Rules Football. I know nothing about Aussie Rules/Footy/AFL, so let’s get my status as a complete and utter non-expert out of the way to begin.

I have actually been asked to write about this by a football tragic who we will, for purposes of this post, call Footy Tragic.

Footy Tragic loves football. Footy Tragic has an encyclopaedic mind when it comes to the history of AFL and if you ask her anything about the team she follows (Collingwood…spit) she knows everything. Every.Thing.

Footy Tragic also knows a lot about diabetes and when the two worlds collided, she was not impressed. We discussed what we could do to try to fix it – because together, we think we can solve many, if not all, the problems of the world – and while I can’t promise to actually make it all better, I can write about it.

At various times, there have been AFL players with diabetes. Dale Weightman played for Richmond when I was a kid and he is still regarded as a role model for children with diabetes. (He is also a very nice bloke who was a frequent guest speaker at events I coordinated in my previous role.)

Today, there are a couple of fairly high profile (so I am told) players including Jack Fitzpatrick (who plays for Hawthorn) and Paddy McCartin (St Kilda) who was the 2014 number 1 draft pick. (I don’t actually know what a draft pick is and I can only assume number 1 is good, so well done, Paddy!)

Anyway, Paddy has been having a good run with the senior St Kilda side this year, which is brilliant. What is not so brilliant is how the reporters and match callers are dealing with the player with diabetes, which is, of course, a terrific story to tell.

To begin with, the commentators tried to give an explanation of diabetes by informing listeners that ‘There are many kinds of diabetes, but Paddy has the ‘full on’ one.’  They were also pleased to announce that while Paddy had trouble with his diabetes last year, one of the doctors at the St Kilda Football Club has ‘worked out’ his diabetes and Paddy is ‘good to go now’. His sugar levels are ‘all fine’!

With what I can only imagine were their super serious voices, the commentators shared that Paddy is brave – as are all people with diabetes – because they (we!!) have blood taken ALL the time and Paddy has blood taken on the boundary line.

During Saturday’s match, Paddy went off the ground after being hit on the head, but the commentators made sure to clarify that it could have been because of ‘diabetes issues’.

So, here is the thing. It really is brilliant when we have elite sportspeople absolutely kicking ass (and footballs) in their chosen sport. It is fabulous for them and it is great for others living with diabetes to see people achieving and excelling.

It’s also great because it gives balance to the lousy way many people with diabetes are portrayed in the media.

But would it be all that difficult for there to be a tiny bit of research done somewhere to accurately speak about diabetes in the context of this (and other) elite sportspeople?

Let’s be clear.

Paddy has type 1 diabetes, which is no more or less full on than any other type of diabetes. All diabetes is full on. All diabetes is serious. All diabetes sucks.

Paddy has not had his diabetes ‘sorted by his doctor’. Although if he has, and his doctor is hiding some magic ‘diabetes sorting pill’ (or hat!  Diabetes sorting hat!! – Harry Potter Digression) he better bloody share it around. What Paddy is doing is working incredibly hard – undoubtedly with his healthcare team – to make sure that he can get out on the field and…do whatever they do on the field.

If Paddy gets a knock to the head on the field and there is blood oozing out of his forehead and he is acting a little woozy, it’s probably a concussion – not ‘diabetes issues’. Because, sometimes IT’S NOT DIABETES!

Paddy is not having blood taken on boundary. He is pricking his finger to check his glucose. I am not minimising this – I know it sucks – but let’s be truthful about what it is.

I am not expecting AFL commentators to know everything about diabetes, but I do expect them to not make things worse, or add to the considerable confusion of what diabetes is all about.

Paddy McCartin is an absolute legend – as is anyone with diabetes excelling in whatever they do. He is showing that diabetes is not stopping him and I honestly can’t even imagine what it takes for him to manage his diabetes while playing football at such an elite level.

I just wish that we could celebrate what he is doing with the right messaging, and work towards dispelling some of the myriad diabetes myths.

This pretty much explains my Aussie Rules expertise. (Click cartoon for source)






 …was World Health Day. There was a lot of chatter about diabetes – it was everywhere! The focus was, as to be expected, type 2 diabetes and specifically how it can be prevented. But there was some type 1 diabetes-specific information.

This was definitely my favourite poster from the WHO’s campaign. Highlighting the symptoms of diabetes and encouraging HCPs to check people for diabetes will, hopefully, mean fewer diabetes misdiagnoses.

The BBC online interviewed UK woman, Lydia Parkhurst, and provided some balance to the day by looking at the day from a type 1 diabetes perspective.

Diabetes FAQ

A new website has just been launched which aims to answer diabetes-related questions in a simplified way. Diabetes FAQ allows readers to ask questions and then answers are added to the site’s database.

I’ve written this piece for the new site. Check it out!


Yep. We all know that.

And here is what happens when it goes very, very wrong. (Hastag #EffOff)

(And this too!)


When I was a little kid, I loved Lego. For many years, my birthday and Xmas lists were all about the stuff. Lego gifts were always given in the same way: the box was all wrapped up; I would tear the paper away; I would squeal with delight at whatever Lego masterpiece I was given, excited at what was inside the box. And then, my dad would gently take the box from me with these words, ‘Okay darling, I’m just going to make sure all the pieces are here and then you can have it.’ He would then put it together and then I would get to play with it. It wasn’t until I was older that I realised how most people did Lego!

We had some really great things and my favourite was, ironically, a hospital. A few years ago, my mother-in-law gave me a castle with a drawbridge after hearing me say once that I regretted never having had one when I was a kid. I got to put that one together all by myself.

Anyway – a clever person in the UK has decided to explain diabetes using Lego bricks. Check out Brickabetes on Twitter and Instagram.


International Diabetes Federation YLD Program President, Cajsa Lindberg has written a powerful piece about diabetes stigma and overcoming healthcare inequality. Read it here.


You may remember Sierra Anne Sandison for her ‘show me your pump’ campaign in the Miss America contest from a couple of years back.

She has recently started selling these very excellent t-shirts. The first run sold out in a few days, but they are back in stock.


Have a great weekend! In the meantime, watch this gorgeous clip from one of my all time favourite movies.


Collective nouns are one of my most favourite things.

I was given a gorgeous book as a birthday present a couple of years back and love flipping through the pages, remembering the collective nouns and admiring the stunning illustrations.

From ‘A Compendium of Collective Nouns’ from Woop Studios. Click for more!

Today, I thought I would throw it out there and start to collect some diabetes collective nouns. (I only wish I could draw so they could be accompanied by images…)


A POSSE of PWD (at a diabetes conference)

A HUSTLE of PWD (meeting for a drink)

A DEFIANCE of PWD (when asked ‘should you be eating that?’)

A SADNESS of diabetes diagnoses

A KINDRED of DOC folk who are more than just diabetes peeps.


A SUPPORT of family

A SPLURT of bloods

A HAPPINESS of Nutella jars

A happiness. (Click image for source.)


A FAILURE of kinked pump lines

An EXPENSE of sensors


A ROBOTIC of CGM users

A DELIVERY of insulin pumps


A BEEPING of BGL meters.

A SAVIOUR of dirt-covered-jellybeans-discovered-at-the-bottom-of-one’s-handbag-(or-in-one’s-car-glove-box)-when-there-are-no-other-hypo-treatments-around.

A FRUSTRATION of consistently high BGLs

An INTELLIGENCE of diabetes blogs

A CERULEAN of Blue Fridays

A BINGE of hypos

And finally my favourite diabetes-related collective noun. I was thrilled when I discovered the unofficial mascot of the DOC already has a collective noun and it is so fitting:

A BLESSING of unicorns.

Read about Renza

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