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In a month where there is A LOT of great stuff happening in the diabetes world, stop for a minute and get to know D-Coded, a brilliant new resource which helps to break down diabetes research in an accessible, informative, and authentic manner. It simplifies complex research studies and contextualises information without losing any of the insights and provides people with diabetes a starting point to better understand research, and work out how to delve deeper if we want.
One of the challenges of communicating research is that it can be a lot of detail using specialised language and complex stats and data interpretation. There may be an assumed knowledge that people simply may not have. There are acronyms, jargon, abstract concepts and the details can be lengthy and overly detailed. And that’s if we can see it! Often research papers are behind a paywall, so we can’t event see it in the first place.
Diabetes research is the reason that we are all alive today and it gives us hope for the future. At any one time, the research agenda is advancing to find ways to prevent, cure and treat all types of diabetes in ways that give me so much hope. And so, it makes sense that we should have access to it in a way to keep us engaged and interested and wanting to know more.
One of the tactics I’ve employed over the years is to ask researchers to break down their research into a tweet (280 characters or fewer), or as an elevator pitch. Most find it impossible to do. There is a language to research that can be complex, confusing, and complicated – just as there is a language to lived experience that confounds others. (Don’t believe me? Throw HbA1c, #YDMV, CGM, DIYAPS etc. around and see how people outside our community follow what we’re saying!) D-Coded does that for researchers. Everyone wins here!
It comes as no surprise that this came from the team at Diabesties. Led and powered by Jazz Sethi and involving community, it’s a project that once again shows how lived experience innovation drives change, this time by levelling the knowledge playing field.
Check it out and share as widely as you can.
DISCLOSURE
I am a Lived Experience Advisor on D-Coded. I don’t receive any payment for my involvement and am honoured to have been invited to be part of this project.
On November 14, the world will literally light up in blue to celebrate World Diabetes Day. And here in Melbourne, an event highlighting one of the most important issues in diabetes today will be held. The entire event will be dedicated to how the global diabetes community is coming together to work to #EndDiabetesStigma. And you can be there!
I’m delighted to be sharing the hosting seat with Dr Norman Swan, physician, journalist and host of Radio National’s Health Report. A veritable A-Team of people from the international diabetes community will be part of the event, sharing their experiences of diabetes stigma and why efforts to end it are so necessary and timely. There will be representatives from the global lived experience community, diabetes organisations and health professionals and researchers. You really don’t want to miss it!
For those able to attend in person, you’ll have a chance to catch up with diabetes mates. Any chance for opportunistic peer support is a great thing and I’m so pleased that I’ll be seeing diabetes friends that I’ve not seen for a very long time.
This isn’t only for Melbourne locals. There will be a livestream for people around the world to watch, share and be part of on social media. It’s free to attend and will be a great opportunity to see the diabetes world come together on a day dedicated to us!
It’s RUOK? day and while I am ready to jump on any worthwhile bandwagon, this one, today, seems especially important. A (non-diabetes) community of which I am on the periphery is grieving today after the death of a much-loved friend and colleague. I’ve been reading beautiful tributes to this person and messages of love and support to their family. I can’t begin to grasp what their loved ones are going through today.
RUOK? is more than a single day. It’s a movement that emphasises the power of human and social connection and having conversations about difficult things. If you’ve not looked at the website, there is advice about building the capacity of support networks (the very foundations of diabetes peer support groups for decades now) and developing skills to have meaningful discussions with someone who might be struggling.
It’s applicable to everyone, including those who may appear to not necessarily need it. Undeniably, it’s very relevant to diabetes. (This article outlines the increased risk of suicide in people with diabetes.)
Diabetes and mental health may be a topic on the agenda at most conferences and we’ve certainly seen an uptick in mental health and diabetes research over the last decade. But the strides that have been made are not enough. The pathway to genuine support and treatment for people with diabetes remains elusive. Simply telling people to seek help falls short when the help they need is not available.
Our peer networks go a long way to offering support, empathy, and love, but we’re not equipped to handle complex mental health issues. While we can assure people that they are not alone and perhaps offer suggestions for where they may find help, this does not go far enough in addressing mental health care, especially in critical situations. Accessing mental health professionals that have knowledge and training to support people with diabetes is what is needed. And it needs to be easily accessible. Easily affordable. Easily available. Right now, that’s not the case.
On RUOK? Day implores us to tap into our social circles and genuinely check in. (Do it, please; just do it). But there is a braider landscape of mental health in the diabetes landscape that needs real transformation. And while it seems unreasonable to add extra burden to those of us living with diabetes – after all, we are already expected to do so much of the physical, emotional, social, and political labour just to get by – community action drives change so often. We have had successful and coordinated community efforts to increase technology funding and access. Is our next frontier turning our attention to increasing funding and access to mental health care for people with diabetes? I know that some diabetes organisations have this in their sights, but without people with diabetes making noise, the campaign is only half-baked. Our voices amplify the urgency of the issue.
Today is just one day, but if RUOK? Day is what provides the gentle nudge to initiate these conversations, it’s a step forward. The tapestry of personal narratives, community connections and shared experiences form the basis of peer support. But not everyone has a safe space where they can share or the people to share with. Sometimes we need to reach out, extend a hand and signal we’re ready to listen. Keep reaching out. Today. And tomorrow. Every time you can.
Imagine a community where people come together to make things happen. You don’t have to look far, really. Just look at the diabetes community!
Here’s something new from some folks (Jazz Sethi, me and Partha Kar) who are desperately trying to reshape the way diabetes is spoken about, and how fortunate I feel to have been involved in this project!

The thinking behind these particular language resources is to truly centre the person with diabetes when thinking about communication about the condition. In this series, we’ve highlighted three groups where we know (because these are the discussions we see in the diabetes community) language can sometimes be stigmatising and judgemental. This isn’t a finger-pointing exercise. Rather it’s an opportunity to highlight how to make sure that the words, images, body language – all communication – doesn’t impact negatively on people with diabetes.
A massive thanks to Jazz and Partha. Working together, and with the community, to create and get these out there has been a joy. (As was sneaking into the ATTD Exhibition Hall before opening time so we could get a coffee and find a comfortable seat to work before the crowds made their way in!) And a super extra special nod to Jazz who pulled together the design and made our words look so bright pretty! And a super, super, super special thanks to Jazz for designing my new logo which is getting its first run on the back of these guides.
You can access these and share directly from the Language Matters Diabetes website. These don’t belong to anyone other than the diabetes community, so please reach out if you would like to provide any commentary or be involved in future efforts. There’s always more to do!
I live right near one of the busiest streets in inner Melbourne and Fridays are extra busy. This morning, I was walking quickly to grab a coffee, a mental checklist working through my mind of the things I needed to get done for work for the day.
I was stopped at a light, waiting for green so I could cross. ‘Meeting in 45 mins to discuss the next project; review proposal that was sent this morning; reply to email about Melbourne Uni presentation; send bio and headshot for program for conference in August; amend flights for San Diego trip, call…. Wait. Am I low?’
The unmistakable urgent low alarm of my Dex snapped me out of my to-do list, and I pulled my phone from my pocket. My Dex line was straight, my number in range. I shook my head thinking I must have dreamed the blaring alarm. As I was shoving my phone away, I saw a woman next to me rummaging through their bag. The next second, she crouched down and turned its contents onto the footpath.
‘Hey,’ I said quietly, knelt down so I was level with her. I handed over an unopened packet of Mentos. She looked at me, surprised. I smiled. And said, ‘I’ve done that very thing more times than I care to remember.’ I passed her a small purse and a couple of pieces of paper that escaped from the dumped bag debris. She thanked me and we stood up together. ‘Are you all okay?’ I asked. She nodded. ‘Yep, I’m okay. Thanks.’
The light changed and I set off, giving a little wave. ‘Wait,’ she called after me, breaking the Mentos packet in two and handing half to me. ‘Take this in case you need it?’ I shook my head. ‘You hold onto them; I’m nearly home. Hope the rest of your morning is hypo-free.’
I picked up my pace and turned down a paved laneway, and into a café. As I waited for my coffee, I thought about how that brief encounter was a snapshot of the invisible community of people with an invisible condition. Until, of course, it’s not. Community isn’t always apparent. It doesn’t have to be the coming together for face-to-face meetings, or long Twitter exchanges. Sometimes, it simply lies within fleeting moments of strength and vulnerability and solidarity that provide solace and remind us that there are others out there who truly get it.




















