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‘A fire has been lit.’ They were the words I wrote in my first post about AID access in Australia earlier this year.
There are some truths about grassroots advocacy that I have always known to be consistent. It has to come from community. If the issue isn’t important to a significant number of community members, nothing will happen. Advocacy efforts are truly organic. To be real and honest to the consultation process, there cannot be any pre-conceived ideas about the results of that consultation. Or rather, there needs to be an acceptance that agility and swift pivots are necessary if that is what the community directs. And there needs to be meaningful engagement every step of the way, with a genuine belief that expertise lies with all stakeholders, in particular people with lived experience. I am so pleased that this was the foundation and ran through every single step of the way with our AID grassroots advocacy over the last few months.
After months of working and meeting with the community, it was time to bring all stakeholders together. In May, I was so honoured to co-chair the National AID Access Summit with Professor Peter Colman. Again, this was always part of the plan – a clinician and a person with lived experience chairing the meeting to signpost how critical it is to have input from different cohorts. Unashamedly, we had almost as many people with lived experience as others in attendance, because that’s the way to centre people with diabetes. We also had independent facilitators directing traffic. This was important because we didn’t want there to be ownership of this work by any individuals or organisations. This wasn’t anyone’s show; it wasn’t anyone’s vanity project. This was a community endeavour. You know, with and by for people with T1D, not for us!
The outcome from the Summit, and the work that led to it, is a consensus statement that offers clear, concise recommendations. Stars aligned, and the statement was completed the same week as the Parliamentary Inquiry into Diabetes report was tabled. And that alignment was even more significant, when our recommendations neatly mirrored those in the report.
The consensus statement can be accessed and shared here, as well as from the survey for equitable access to AID that has been signed by almost 6,000 people.
Now, it’s over to the community. We have recommendations from the parliamentary inquiry, but that’s not enough. It’s now time to do the work to turn that into policy. And that’s where people in the community come to the fore once again. Today, I wrote to my local MP to ask for a time to meet with him, sharing with him the consensus statement. I am going to highlight just how important this tech is and how it’s not fair that only those of us who can afford it have access. The better outcomes AID delivers should be available to everyone with T1D, not just those who can afford private health insurance, or meet the eligibility for our Insulin Pump Program.
If you’re interested and able to get involved, please do. It is the groundswell of community efforts that has in the past seen some truly remarkable results. If we look back to the path to CGM access for all people with T1D, the community stepped up in truly remarkable ways. It took time, and it took energy, but we got there because people with diabetes never stopped pushing for it. Being able to access CGM really mattered to people with T1D and their families and that drove the ‘never give up’ attitude to get it done.
Now, it’s time for all Aussies with T1D to have access to AID if they choose. This update from the Access to AID Survey has some great ideas about how you can get involved. And reach out to me if you want any ideas.
It’s never hard to find a source of diabetes stigma. Because sadly, it’s all around us. And right now, the source seems to be much of the discussion about the report from the Australian Parliamentary Inquiry into Diabetes.
Yes, I was very excited about the report last week when I was writing about the recommendations and accompanying content about increasing access to pumps and AID systems. That was incredible news, and it was terrific to see that the community-led efforts were met with such a positive outcome.
But the messaging more broadly hasn’t been so great and it’s very disappointing.
Disappointing, but not surprising really. After all, the inquiry was for diabetes and obesity. Last week, I said that people with T2D deserve the same attention as people with T1D when it comes to advocacy efforts and campaigns. Well, so do people living with obesity. When the inquiry was first announced, I remember reading through its terms of reference and feeling my heart sink. These are two separate and equally important health issues that need focused attention. And within that, diabetes itself comprises different types; again, all equally important and requiring specific attention.
But instead of giving diabetes the attention it deserved with an inquiry purely focused on highlighting what is needed to improve outcomes for those of us living with the condition and enhancing the health system to better serve us, we were given an inquiry that conflated two separate and significant health conditions. Something was going to get lost in this. And it seems that is diabetes.
Since the report was launched on Wednesday, a lot of media coverage has focused on one specific recommendation: the sugar tax. That was what was on the front page of The Australian, a segment on the Project and in a number of radio interviews. Also mentioned in this coverage was the recommendation about junk food advertising to children. As you can imagine, the commentary from the community has been pretty horrid and completely misinformed. If ever there was a time for not reading the comments, this is it.
I completely agree that a sugar tax is a good idea and have been saying so for years. I also believe that junk good advertising should be banned completely, especially for children, starting with TV and online advertising and extending to sponsorship of children’s sporting activities. Again, I have been involved in initiatives involving this for years. One of the reasons these measures are important is that they make healthier choices more accessible, which can reduce the risk of people developing obesity. And yes, obesity is a risk factor for T2D. However not everyone who is obese will develop T2D and not everyone who has T2D is obese. Yet this nuance is missed completely with simplistic messaging and grouping the two together.
And this nuance is important. As is pointing out that obesity is also a risk factor for many other conditions as well such as several types of cancer, liver disease, heart attack and stroke, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, osteoarthritis, sleep apnoea, mental health conditions, fertility problems and pregnancy problems. Not only T2D, so why is it included in an Inquiry about diabetes?
I shouldn’t be surprised by the media missing the mark completely, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t anger and upset me. Because efforts can be made to try to minimise harm and stigma from misreporting. I was asked to contribute to a media release this week about the AID work and I made it very clear that I would not be involved in anything where messaging could be seen as stigmatising. I provided a copy of language position statements and asked to see the release before it went out to make sure that it all aligned. I pointed out to the PR agency that I would publicly call out any media that came from this release if it was in any way stigmatising about any type of diabetes. Sadly, I don’t think there has been that level of care across PR and media groups. Without that care and attention the stigmatising tropes about diabetes, in particular T2D, are in overdrive.
But it’s not just the media. In the report itself, there is this statement: ‘There is a huge burden being placed on health resources by people with Type 2 diabetes’, a statement that clearly blames people with T2D for needing to use our underfunded, under-resourced, understaffed healthcare system. Absolutely no recognition of non-modifiable risk facts or social determinants of health. More stigma. More misinformation. More throwing people with T2D under the bus. And this impacts on all types of diabetes, whether we like it or not.
I really wish that as we are all tripping over ourselves to highlight this Inquiry report, we also stop to think about the messages about diabetes we are setting free into the world. So far, very little of what I have seen hasn’t made me cringe. Far too much has been stigmatising and harmful. We all have a role to play in ensuring that we do not contribute to diabetes stigma, especially when participating in commentary about and the media circus of a new shiny report being launched.
Yesterday, the Australian parliamentary Inquiry into Diabetes report was launched. After eighteen months of countless submissions, interviews, and meetings with diabetes stakeholders from across the country, the report has been handed down with 23 recommendations aimed at improving the lives of Australians living by diabetes. There was much discussion and celebration among those of us advocating for increased access to Automated Insulin Delivery (AID) systems, particularly with the recommendation to expand funding for insulin pumps, which would increase the number of people using AID. Inquiry Chair Mike Freelander expressed strong support for this initiative in his report foreword.
It truly has been remarkable to see the community advocacy seed that was planted back in March in Florence absolutely flourish. Being involved with a dedicated group of people who have worked tirelessly, all volunteering our time to develop a single-issue advocacy movement is a wonderful demonstration of community commitment. We were clear from the beginning about what our aim was – equitable access to AID for Australians with T1D, with a specific focus on addressing the AID component that wasn’t already funded: insulin pumps. With the voices of people with lived experience centred in this work, a survey was launched, community discussions ran wild, a summit was convened and run and very soon a consensus statement will be launched to assist with the next steps of lobbying to have the inquiry recommendation transformed into a policy decision. This was for the T1D community, with the T1D community and by the T1D community. Focused and tailored.
Many of the recommendations in the report focus on Type 2 diabetes (T2D), and people with T2D deserve the same focused and tailored attention. This isn’t about separating the types of diabetes and dividing advocacy efforts. It’s about targeted and impactful initiatives that highlight and address the unique challenges faced by people with T2D. There are undoubtedly considerations specific to T2D, and they should receive the attention and expertise they deserve – not be treated as an addendum to T1D efforts.
And it needs to be driven by the community. I know how difficult it can seem to find adequate representation and advocacy for T2D. When we look at the #dedoc° voices scholarship program, the number of people with T1D far outweighs the number of people with T2D. If we examine other community groups and initiatives, we see that T1D is overrepresented. But there are remarkable advocates with T2D out there already. I met some incredible advocates when I was involved in the DEEP network. There is a T2D community out there, and there will be people who not only rise to the occasion but will drive it with their passion and lived experience expertise. They may not congregate or use the same channels that the T1D community uses, or they may be less visible, but that doesn’t mean they are not there. It’s laziness on behalf of all of us who have said we can’t find people to speak or be involved in T2D community efforts. We have expected them to be in the same place that people with T1D are. Look further. Look harder. Look better. Remember what Chelcie Rice says ‘You can’t just put pie in the middle of the table. Deliver the pie to where they are.’ Deliver the pie to where they are.
This is an opportunity to move the discussion about T2D beyond personal responsibility, which is what public-facing campaigns have largely focused on to date. The stigma and blame these campaigns generate are often harmful. And one result of that stigma is community members who are reluctant to come forward. I mean, would you like to be a spokesperson for advocacy efforts about T2D if messaging has blamed you for getting T2D in the first place? I know I certainly wouldn’t.
This is an opportunity for real, meaningful systemic change that addresses failures in healthcare access, education, and prevention. Junk food advertising to kids, sugar taxes, and finding ways for the healthier choice to be as easy as the less healthy choice are all critical steps. Addressing food insecurity, socio-economic disparities, and providing better healthcare access are also necessary. All of these measures address the root causes on a large scale, rather than pointing the finger at individuals and telling them it’s their fault.
We can do hard things and be bold. But it will need a collective effort and strong leadership.
And while we’re at it, remember where to look for the innovation and advocacy that has driven change. The community. Access to continuous glucose monitors (CGMs), insulin pumps, and other advancements has all started in the community and been picked up and run with by other stakeholders to make things happen.
People with T2D deserve the same level of advocacy and support. Now seems like a fine time to do that. And as a person with T1D, I am here to support and be led by my T2D peers.
There’s been a lot said about AID equity over the last few weeks. Actually, way longer than that. The momentum may have ramped up since a meeting at ATTD in Florence, but this has been something that the community has been speaking about for ages. In fact, I found a policy document advocating for pump access for all people with T1D from ten years ago, and I spoke at its launch in Parliament House . In there is a direct quote from me: ‘I decided to start using an insulin pump because my husband and I wanted to start a family. I knew of the importance of tight diabetes management prior to and during pregnancy. Insulin pump therapy gave me the ability to tailor and adapt my insulin doses to provide me with the best possible outcome – a beautiful healthy daughter.’
For the last six years I’ve been talking about how transformative AID has been with quotes like this: ‘Short of a cure, the holy grail for me in diabetes is each and every incremental step we take that means diabetes intrudes less in my life. I will acknowledge with gratitude and amazement and relief at how much less disturbance and interruption there is today, thanks to LOOP (AID).’
But enough from me. This is an issue that the T1D community owns and is engaged in. Last week at the #dedoc° symposium at the Diabetes UK Professional Conference, brilliant diabetes advocate Emma Doble spoke about patient and public involvement, highlighting how it refers to being with or by the community, not to, about or for them. The AID equity work underway is definitely with and by. It’s something community is calling for as a priority. A visit to any online T1D group will demonstrate that, and spending any time speaking directly with community will provide insight into the number of people who simply cannot access AID because they cannot afford an insulin pump. This is standard T1D care. The evidence is clear.
To get an idea of just how the T1D, and broader diabetes community feels, have a read of their own words. These comments are from the Make Automated Insulin Delivery affordable for all Australians with type 1 diabetes petition. They’re all publicly available, so you can click here to read the comments I’ve shared and many, many more.
‘Why would you bet against the type 1 community?’ That was a question asked in a session at the ISPAD conference a couple years ago. It wasn’t someone with T1D drawing attention to the community. Instead, it was said by someone working in global health who had seen the remarkable efforts such as the #WeAreNotWaiting movement and grassroots, peer-led education initiatives in low-income countries. These efforts have driven change and improved lives of people with diabetes. They have been led by those with lived experience and supported by other diabetes stakeholders. But the starting point is people directly affected by diabetes identifying a problem, solving it and leading the way. In the history of diabetes – from the first home glucose meters, to building systems leveraging off existing technologies, to global advocacy movements – community powered initiatives have been a driving force for change.
And so, here we are today, coming together once again to advocate for better equity and fairness for all people with type 1 diabetes, this time in Australia, and this time advancing access to automated insulin delivery devices (AID).
Insulin pump funding is broken. AID is standard care and yet far too many people are left unable to use the tech because of how pumps are funded in Australia. Right now, unless a person with T1D has the right level of private health insurance, or meets the criteria for the Insulin Pump Program, they must find the funding for an insulin pump. That needs to change.
We know how to do this in Australia. The reason that pump consumables are on the NDSS is thanks to community advocacy efforts back in the early 2000. And more recently massive community noise helped to get CGM onto the NDSS for all Australians. Of course, these wins worked because everyone was involved in advocacy: people with lived experience of diabetes, healthcare professionals and HCP professional groups, researchers, diabetes community groups and organisations and industry. What a lot of noise we can make when we’re singing from the same song sheet!
Right now, attentions are razor focused on improving access to automated insulin delivery systems because the evidence is clear: AID reduces diabetes distress, improves quality of life, and (for those who like numbers!), help with glucose levels. And as an added bonus for the bean counters – it’s a smart, cost-effective investment for our health system.
If AID is standard care, financial barriers preventing people from accessing it need to be eliminated.
And that’s where we would love your help.
Please sign and share the petition that has been started by Dr Ben Nash and supported by a group of people with T1D (including me). Petitions are a great way to get people talking and interested in a topic. It builds momentum and helps contribute to whole of community conversations. While we know the T1D community is already on board, we’ve now seen a number of HCPs, community groups and diabetes organisations share and promote the petition and are keen to get involved with broader advocacy efforts. That’s pretty cool!
Postscipt:
Understandably, there are questions about why this work is specific to T1D technology access. That’s a fair question and I think that our very own Bionic Wookiee provided an excellent explanation of that when he said this in a social media post earlier this week:
‘AID systems were developed for T1D (where they can track all the insulin going into the system without having to cope with the body’s variable insulin generation). So right now they mainly apply to T1D…
Expanding CGM and pump access to people with other forms of diabetes than just T1D is important for the future. Having wider access to AID for the T1D population will be a beach-head for that.‘
And in a conversation I had about this with UK diabetologist Partha Kar yesterday he cautions that there needs to be a starting point because the sheer numbers of diabetes can be daunting and tend to scare policy makers. He also points out that when it comes to outcome modifying interventions, technology is THE thing in T1D, whereas in other types of diabetes there are other options. I’ll add that those other options often have stronger evidence which is why they already have funding.
Hasn’t it been terrific this week seeing a couple of great news stories in the T1D tech world? Our friends across the ditch in NZ have welcomed an announcement from medical regulatory board Pharmac that all people with type 1 diabetes will have access to CGM and automated insulin delivery devices (AID). Meanwhile, this week saw the start of a five-year national roll out of AID in England and Wales which recommends access be granted to children and adolescence (under 18 years) with T1D, pregnant people with T1D and adults with T1D with an A1c higher than 7%.
So, where is Australia when it comes to people with T1D being able to affordably access automated insulin delivery devices?
Let’s start by highlighting the positives. There’s so much to be grateful for here in Australia. The NDSS continues to be a shining light for Australians with diabetes. Syringes and pen tips are free at NDSS collection points and BGL strips are subsidised. Since 2004, insulin pump consumables have been on the NDSS, CGM sensors and transmitters have been subsidised since 2022. Insulin is heavily subsidised by the PBS.
But even with these benefits diabetes remains costly, and the playing field isn’t level. Pumps remain out of reach for many Australians. Without private health insurance or meeting eligibility to apply for the government funded Insulin Pump Program, people with T1D are required to find up to $10,000 for an insulin pump. That’s simply not affordable and it means that Australians with T1D can’t access AID.
With AID providing real life-changing benefits and significant reduction in diabetes burden, now is the time to ensure that the tech is available to everyone with T1D who wants it – not just those who can afford it. And that means that it’s time to equitably fund the missing piece of the AID puzzle: Pumps.
A fire has been lit. From a small meeting at ATTD in Florence to catch ups, coffees and phone calls back home, the groundswell has well and truly started. People with diabetes are central to this, working closely with motivated and determined HCPs and diabetes community organisations. There is a united focus on what needs to be done: affordable insulin pumps so AID is a reality for every Australian with type 1 diabetes who chooses. And excitedly, there seems to be an appetite for this from policy makers.
So what can we learn from the recent successes in NZ and the UK? Well, it’s exactly what we know from our previous advocacy experiences and wins here in Australia. A united stakeholder approach is critical with everyone from individuals with diabetes, community groups, diabetes organisations, professional bodies, researchers, industry all being clear and consistent about the ask. Simple and effective communication about the issue is needed. Community drives the momentum – it always does and recognising that is essential. Using evidence to support why AID must be available to all with T1D is important, and goes perfectly with sharing examples of lived experience to highlight the benefit of the technology. Hearts and minds.
With the push already well established and a number of people powering the charge, it’s inevitable that the diabetes world in Australia is going to be hearing a lot about equitable AID and pump access in coming months. Keep an eye out on community groups for grassroots efforts to elevate the issue and for calls to get involved. We know that we can get this done – just as with getting CGMs funded for all people with T1D, for finding a novel way for Omnipod to be funded, and for Fiasp remaining on the PBS. (And, if we look further back, for getting pump consumables on the NDSS.)
Community will be critical to getting this across the line. Once again, we’ll need people with diabetes to step up and write letters, meet with local MPs, make noise, and show why this is necessary. Every single person with T1D and their families has a role to play here. If you’re already fortunate to be using AID, meet with your local MP and tell them how it has changed your life. If you haven’t had access, write about why you know it will help. For me, I’ll be talking about how much time I have grasped back not needing to do diabetes, how I have far fewer hypos, how I have an A1c in the ‘non-diabetes’ range which evidence suggests reduces my risk of developing costly complications. But most importantly, it has reduced my diabetes burden so much and that makes me a far happier, more productive person. And I want that for everyone with T1 D.
Postscript: a quick word (or two) about language. Media reports, especially in the UK, have incorrectly referred to the technology as an ‘artificial pancreas’. What we are talking about is automated insulin delivery devices (or hybrid closed loop systems). It’s important to get the language right for a couple of reasons: Artificial pancreas is simply not the correct term for what the technology is. It overstates what it does and potentially leads people to think the technology is a cure for T1D. Additionally, it underestimates the work that PWD do to drive the technology. More detail about why getting the terminology right is important can be found in this piece I wrote back in 2015 about the same issue and then again here from almost exactly two years ago.)
I’m introduced most generously by Adrian Sanders, Secretary General of the Parliamentarians for Diabetes Global Network.
The #dedoc° symposium kicked off ATTD 2024 in the most powerful way. Four community advocates from across the globe presented on a variety of topics including access to insulin during humanitarian crises, access to diabetes care and technologies in low income settings, accessibility of technology for people with diabetes also living with disabilities, and access to research findings. You can hear the brilliant talks from #dedoc voices Leon Tribe, Tinotenda Dzitiki, NurAkca and Asra Ahmed here.
During the panel discussion, there was an important discussion about how and why it is critical for people with diabetes to be included in all conversations about diabetes. Meaningful consultation is the golden ticket here, and there were some valuable comments and suggestions about how that happens. Someone asked the question about reimbursement for lived experience expertise, an often ignored issue when it comes to people with diabetes being involved in research, programs, committees and anything else that takes our time. Our unique perspective cannot be provided by anyone else, and yet there is rarely budget to cover the costs of our participation. Sadly, it’s not routine to offer payment for our time, instead we are often made to feel that we should be grateful for a seat at the table. It’s worth reminding those who don’t value us in a financial way that WE ARE THE TABLE and without us, there wouldn’t be a place setting for anyone else.
It was clear from the conversation that diabetes advocates – even those sitting on stage at International scientific conferences – find it difficult to ask for their valuable expertise and time to be reimbursed.
I jumped off stage and made a bee line for Jazz Sethi. We do this thing at conferences that I’ve started referring to as the ‘Jazz and Renz conference special’. (You can see previous efforts here and here.) Within five minutes we’d hatched a plan for our next project, and today, we’re so excited to share it. It was clear that we need some ‘Rules of Engagement’ that provided a clear and easy way for people with diabetes and those seeking to work with us to understand not only why engagement and consultation is essential, but why it’s also essential to pay for our time.
It’s not just about reimbursement though. It’s also about recognition for that work in a multitude of ways including being included as a co-author on publications, included on programs giving presentations and having our expertise acknowledged as just as important as all other diabetes stakeholders.
And so, here are some simple guidelines that can be used by people with diabetes when working with organisations, researchers, healthcare professionals, industry and anyone else who wants out expert knowledge. Use them in your discussions with anyone who invites you to be involved in diabetes work. Print them out and take them with you when you’re meeting with anyone running a project or convening an advisory group. Share them in your networks so as many people as possible can use the information to guide discussions about ensuring our value is truly acknowledged. We hope that this will make those discussions just a little easier.
And for those who wish to work with us, have a read. If you still think that our time isn’t worth your budget, or our expertise worth real recognition, then it can only be considered that you are doing the very least to include people with diabetes. That’s tokenism. We’re not here for that anymore.
Disclosure
I was an invited speaker at ATTD 2024 where I presented on the T1D Index in my capacity as Director Community Engagement and Communications in the Global Access Team at JDRF International. I also chaired a session on access to research. ATTD covered my registration costs. My travel and accommodation were covered by #dedoc° where I am Global Head of Advocacy. I chaired the #dedoc° symposium at the conference.
I stumbled across a book the other day called Women Holding Things. The author and illustrator, Maira Kalman referred to it as ‘love song to those exhausted from holding everything’. It’s quite gorgeous, with beautiful illustrations of all the things women hold – both literally and figuratively.
And I thought about what people with diabetes hold and just how weary and drained the weight of carrying diabetes and all that comes with it can be. I can’t draw, but here are my words that highlight some of the things we hold. It’s a love letter to the strength people with diabetes have gained through holding things, even when we want nothing more than to put it all down.
We hold on because we have no other choice but to do so.
We hold bags carrying around diabetes supplies – right now as I wait to board a flight, I have a separate bag with nothing more than sensors and pumps and alcohol wipes and spares of everything. I will hold it through airports, as I climb on planes, on ground transfer to hotels, and around with me through every step of my journey, a constant companion in my travels.
We hold cups of coffee because sometimes it feels like the only thing that will get us through the day.
We hold a fear of the future and what it can be, a shadow that sometimes stretches longer than we’d like.
We hold emergency hypo snacks ready for those unexpected moments. Or expected… (see: airports).
We hold guilt for some ridiculous reason because we shouldn’t and it is heavy and we would be so much lighter if we could let it go. But it’s there. We hold it.
We hold hope so close to our hearts, trying to balance up the fear or at least make a dent in its weight.
We hold insulin bottles and glucose monitoring supplies and all the little things that are needed to be replacement pancreases.
We hold anxiety and worry, and at times, a quiet uncertainty about what the next day, the next week, the next year holds.
We hold our diabetes friends close because they understand without needing explanations, and we hope that by being there for them as they hold us close, somehow there is a magic law of reciprocity that means we’re all holding less a little less diabetes.
We hold other diabetes stakeholders to account when they fall short of our expectations or fail to understand the nuances of our lived experiences, or underestimate our expertise. Or when they unleash a campaign that instils more fear.
We hold a steady gaze at research to see what our future life with diabetes might hold.
And we hold onto the promises, even the five-more-years promise that we know is a joke, but perhaps, just perhaps if we hold onto it tightly it might, it just might come true.
We hold our heads high as we advocate for better care, more understanding, and greater awareness.
We hold bottles of cinnamon, not because we know it’s a cure, but because it tastes great in the apple cake we’re holding onto for afternoon tea.
For those of us who can remember a before time, we hold on to memories about what life was like before we had to hold onto and carry diabetes.
We hold the hands of those whose diagnosis came after ours because we’re so grateful to those who came before us and held our hands.
We hold the key to lived experience and with it, we hold a unique perspective that must be listened to. Because we hold onto the belief that #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs
We hold a wealth of knowledge that comes from being a world class expert in our diabetes.
We hold a firm grip on the reality of life with diabetes because if we let that slip the consequences are too great to imagine.
We hold an inner strength that often surprises even ourselves.
Sometimes we hold back nothing as we tell our stories and and advocate for what is right.
We hold the power to change perceptions, influence policy, and inspire others.
We hold our spirits high when we feel we’ve had a win because holding onto those small victories carries us on through times where we feel we’re dropping the ball.
We hold our loved ones close, sometimes to protect them, sometimes to draw strength from their support.
We hold the courage to face each day, each challenge, with a bravery we often don’t credit ourselves for.
We hold a steady pace, because we know that diabetes is a marathon, not a sprint.
We hold onto the belief that it will be okay, that we will be okay. Because otherwise, there is nothing at all to hold onto. And that…that is just too heavy to contemplate.
Just what is the emotional labour associated with living with a life-long health condition like diabetes? I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week, firstly because I was asked to give a talk about it to a group of researchers to help them understand barriers they may experience with getting participants into their research. It was a great discussion, with plenty of questions and hopefully a new understanding of the burden diabetes unleashes on us. And then, I thought about it when I was feeling the weight of that burden – more so than usual.
The emotional labour of living with diabetes is a complex, often invisible force, shaping our lived experience in profound ways. It’s the mental and emotional effort we put into the never-ending demands of the condition. It’s accompanied by an inner dialogue that asks if we’re doing enough, trying enough, feeling enough, being enough. It comes on top of the physical labour of doing diabetes, which in itself, is significant. It’s an ever-accruing emotional toll of being perpetually alert, constant decision making and wondering how those decisions might impact our immediate and long-term health and wellbeing. The emotional resilience required to do diabetes each day is an additional burden of itself, the sum of all these parts equalling an unforgiving weight that, at times, just feels too damn heavy to carry anymore.
But it doesn’t end there. Living with diabetes is an act of advocacy in itself, even if that advocacy is for ourselves alone and whether we use the word or not. Some people who take on advocacy issues and causes, leading efforts, participating in them, speaking about them. Whether involved in advocacy as a paid day job, consulting-type role, voluntarily, or a hybrid version (me), all of it adds to the emotional labour of diabetes.
Of course advocacy can be energising – striving for better healthcare, pushing for more understanding, and campaigning for supportive policies are endeavours close to our hearts and seeing efforts result in stunning outcomes bolster our energy levels. Working together with others with diabetes to change our communities is motivating. But it can also be exhausting. Each act of advocacy draws from our already limited reserves. The constant need to explain, to justify, to fight for our rights and needs can lead to burnout, leaving us feeling drained and disheartened in a fight that seems unending.
That’s where I spent a lot of this week: drained, disheartened, devastated and frequently teary with the weight of advocacy casting a long, dark shadow.
I know that this is something people with diabetes speak about, and the mental health of diabetes is finally on agendas, but it still needs to be said that being adjacent to diabetes, or being a champion for mental healthcare doesn’t offer a true understanding of just what it feels like. The best allies I know are the ones who recognise this gap in understanding and do all they can to ensure they don’t add to it and try to learn by stepping back and not overshadowing our voices or efforts.
One of the ways people with diabetes have attempted to deal with this labour and resulting burnout is to build peer communities and networks. Solace from the weight of diabetes can be found in others with shared experiences in sanctuaries where our struggles don’t need to be explained but they are deeply understood. These are safe spaces where we exchange stories, share tips, and buoy each other’s spirits. These communities become a wellspring of support and encouragement, where our emotional labour is shared, and our advocacy efforts are collectively bolstered. Safeguarding those spaces is essential if we’re to draw strength from them rather than find ourselves being overwhelmed by them.
In recent years, I’ve found myself becoming more and more selective about where I find that support. Twitter was probably the first to be left behind as I no longer found it a safe space. I’m reminded of that any time I venture back an innocent tweet about my own diabetes choices is attacked from some low carb bro. I replaced the openness of social platforms with closed group chats of others with diabetes, knowing that the support was there without the risk of trolling. Those chats provide the light to guide my way through the shadows.
This week, with the heaviness of all that is diabetes weighing me down, it has been difficult to find that light. The networks I have are always there, but even that is sometimes not enough when everything is overwhelming. Hosting this week’s #docday°, and hearing from advocates from around the world doing incredible things wasn’t enough to help me see clear. I thought of how to push through this, and I don’t have an answer. Except this: One of the things we do so well in our community is lift each other up because our community and other people with diabetes are everything. And so, even while I am feeling weighted down, I can focus on that. And hope that in amplifying and cheerleading my peers with diabetes and their efforts, I’ll rise too.
Two community things you should know about…
Spare A Rose, Save a Life is continuing to accept donations here. Thanks to amazing advocate Tinotenda for driving this year’s campaign.
Sign and share this petition and read the consensus statement initiated by a group of #dedoc° voices which is calling for uninterrupted insulin access in humanitarian crises. Congrats to Lucia for coordinating this work.
Ten years ago, Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott appointed himself as the Minister for Women. Much has been written about the message this sent and what the government of the time really thought about women, despite the carefully framed rhetoric being spewed in press releases and at doorstop press conferences. But this post is not a lesson in Australian politics. It merely sets the scene for me to speak about the underhanded ways that those whose voice should be heard are silenced.
Diabetes advocacy sits in an environment that often resists the voices of those most affected by diabetes, at times in somewhat sneaky ways. A wolf in sheep’s clothing in advocacy comes in the form of anyone claiming to advocate by ‘being the voice’ of people with diabetes, which is problematic not least because we have our own voices and don’t need others to speak for us. Being adjacent to diabetes does not give anyone license to speak on our behalf. In fact, the very idea that anyone thinks that they can represent those who should be centred is offensive.
It matters, by the way. When our insights are not the ones being heard, we find ourselves in a cycle of misunderstanding and misrepresentation. Our perspective must be heard because it is inevitably comes with the reality of diabetes. When a person with diabetes is asked about why we need to invest in better diabetes care, have better access to drugs and technology or improve funding in diabetes research, we will speak of how improved care leads to better engagement with our healthcare professionals, reduced emotional load and the resulting increased time we can spend with loved ones and being productive at work. We will speak about how increased access can equal decreased burden for us and what that means in our real lives. And we will speak about how research is the gateway for us to have better understanding of our diabetes, helping us make more informed decisions, and speak to how research has changed our lives to date. We speak about hope authentically because we hold onto it with both hands.
Someone speaking ‘on our behalf’ will inevitably focus on reducing burden to the health system (which often makes us feel as if we’re to blame for overwhelmed and overrun hospitals and adds to diabetes stigma) or resort to listing diabetes-related complications, a familiar trope that sounds like a shopping list that does well to scaring us! I spent years being a spokesperson for diabetes organisations and always ensured that the reality of day-to-day diabetes was part of the discussion, not just the rehearsed talking points that tell nothing of the people behind the numbers. Even more importantly, I learnt very early on in my own advocacy when it was not my voice that should be heard and ensured I had a network I could reach into to find the right person. I estimate that about ninety percent of the time I’m asked to give comment, I point whoever is asking in the direction of someone far better positioned to share their lived experience.
This year brought with it a new role where it was essential that I step into the background. I now find myself in the incredibly fortunate position of working with unbelievably brilliant grassroots and community advocates doing truly life changing work with people with diabetes across India. I am not here to tell their stories or about their work. I wouldn’t do it justice – I have more than enough self-awareness to know that. I recognise that they are the protagonists of their narrative. They are the ones doing living the experiences, doing the ground-breaking work, and pushing for change. My responsibility is to be an ally and a supporter, doing what I can to amplify their voices rather than overshadow them. Perhaps this speaks to my own confidence in my abilities as an advocate that I don’t feel threatened by others who are raising their voices. Effective advocacy thrives on collaboration and shared leadership, and I admire those in the advocacy world who willingly take a step back. I think it’s fair to say that others also see those who do that; and also those who do not.
There are more insidious and damaging ways that our voices are silenced. Let’s go back for a moment to our former Prime Minister. I said earlier that he made himself Minister for Women. Except, he didn’t. In fact, he abolished the position and moved it into the Office of PM and Cabinet, removing the seniority and decision-making powers it had previously held. Sure, he appointed Michaela Cash as an advisor, but this was no more than an exercise in tokenism. The reality was that the PM would have final control over decisions affecting women. Abbott bristled when questioned about his decision, refusing to listen to the myriad women and women’s groups criticising the move, instead responding defensively.
I use this as an example when consulting organisations about effective engagement and how to address commentary from the community they work with and for. Receiving criticism can be uncomfortable. However, by being open to how community responds and the feedback they generously offer, it is an opportunity for improvement and collaboration, rather than a threat to be neutralised. It’s incredibly disappointing when organisations respond by attempting to discredit or question the motives and expertise of those with lived experience or suggest that negative comments are part of efforts underpinned with ulterior motives. It’s disheartening to hear implications that individuals offering critical perspectives are merely being influenced by others, disregarding their ability to form independent thoughts and opinions. This is simply another way that community voices are effectively silenced, and proves to the community that contributions from those who should be heard are not valued at all.
I speak a lot about allyship as a pivotal force in including and amplifying rather than excluding and silencing the voices of those with lived experiences. Allyship is an active commitment to placing people with diabetes at the forefront of conversations; featuring them in all levels of decision making; putting them in the rooms where things happen. True allyship involves listening to and acting upon the needs and concerns of people with diabetes, even when what is being said is difficult to hear. What it isn’t is fantastic window dressing. We see right through that.
I wrote this piece while listening to Black Oak Ensembles 2019 album, ‘Silenced Voices’. It’s stunning.
Diabetogenic 