I frequently say that diabetes takes a back seat to other things in my life. Often, they are gorgeous and pleasurable and fun things – like birthdays and holidays and hanging-out-with-the-people-I-love-days.
Other times it’s because I am too busy and running around, life, work and everything else means that diabetes gets attended to when and where I can manage it.
And, of course, other times it is because I just can’t – my headspace will barely allow it.
But with World Diabetes Day, we are pretty much guaranteed that diabetes – our own and on a larger scale – will be attended to. There will be focus, there will be fuss, there will be attention.
Not this year. This year, for terrible and horrible and heartbreaking reasons, diabetes took a back seat. Because it had to. My heart bleeds, not only for Paris – a city that means so much to me and my family, a city Aaron and I visited only last month, a city where we have spent some of our happiest days – but also for the world where this happens all too regularly.
I have no more words about World Diabetes Day this year. Other than to say, it is over and felt that way, almost before it started.