Ramblings of a mother of five, wife of one, and Type 2 diabetic. (formerly known as RFamHere's Ramblings)
This spoon
It brought me joy
This spoon
It gave me a smile
This spoon
It was comforting
This spoon
It knew it was needed
This spoon
It was more than a utensil
This spoon
It found its purpose
This spoon
It belonged to me
This spoon
It came home with me
This past weekend, I spent time in Princeton, NJ at the HealtheVoices conference thanks to Johnson & Johnson. They paid for my travel, hotel, and other related expenses in exchange for me providing my own voice. My voice as a patient advocate, a person living with diabetes as well as multiple other chronic conditions. They asked for me to be authentically myself. The good and the bad as I felt comfortable to share. In Friday night’s keynote, we were encouraged to express the masterpiece that is our life. Poetry got me through my teen years, and this session helped spark that love again. My last post was the poem inspired by that presentation. This next poem was written in my living room as I digest my feelings from them conference. Digesting the information will come later. Thank you, HeV and J&J!
Hone Again
As I sit here remembering
Recalling my journey
Reminiscing about yesterday
Friends now family
Understanding my pain
My heartache
My troubles
My woes
Holding them close
Snuggly in my heart
Safely, securely, protected
Accessible to me as needed
Knowing we all have pain and heartache
Same yet different yet the safe
Different shapes and patterns that fit together
Like a beautiful melody
Safe and warm
Lived and heard
c2025 Diabetes Ramblings
Just wait! You're in for a wild ride!"
Diabetes said to me, "Your doctor thinks you've got this.
Ha! How easily fooled he is!"
I replied to diabetes, "I've go this! It will be easy!"
I thought I knew all I needed to know.
Like the song that doesn't end, neither does diabetes.
Like the changing seasons,
days of brightness turn into days of darkness.
Conversations with caregivers, family and friends,
well-meaning busy bodies.
Sometimes soft and subtle, full of quiet contemplation.
Suddenly turning fast and loud, judgmental.
Needing to find a way to quiet their critiques.
I open a box of crayons where each one is different.
Every color is beautifully unique.
Like my diabetes. Unique to me.
Not simple to understand but part of me now.
Diabetes said to me, "You think you know me?"
I replied to diabetes, "You think you know ME?"
c2025 Diabetes Ramblings
