Oh, golly. What’s happening in my life this week? Probably the big news is that my granddaughter began taking driver’s education classes yesterday. (Since I can’t find a font that indicates a strangled-sounding voice, you’ll just have to use your imagination.)
She’s a baby. She’s only 15 years old. I didn’t even know children that age could take driver’s ed. Apparently so. I tried the old “it costs too much,” but she reminded me she has a savings account with more than sufficient funds. (Teenagers! Harrumph! They think they have all the answers!) We split the cost with her.
Next thing you know, she’ll want to drive my car—with me in it! Seat belt cinched in tight and probably trying to push a hole through the floor with my foot as I attempt to put the brakes on from the passenger seat.
Ah, well. On the upside, she won’t be old enough to get her driver’s license until June, which gives her plenty of time to practice.
I feel the need to insert here that I don’t believe you earn your driver’s license just because you reach the magic birthday. In fact, her older brother still doesn’t have his. It’s a matter of whether the child is ready. His time will come; it just isn’t here yet.
Time has been on my mind lately, and it has to do with some allergy medication. No, I don’t remember the name, but perhaps you’ve seen the commercial on television, referring to the elixir as “time in a bottle.”
“Maybe they should put it on the list of ingredients,” the young model chips: “Two hours you didn’t have before.”
Two hours. Is that all? I’d hardly call that “time in a bottle.” That’s not even enough time for a good nap. It is, however, a good time to check your post-meal blood glucose.
Some years go, I believe I saw insulin referred to as time in a bottle. That I would agree with. Isn’t a lifetime better than two hours? How dare some ad agency try to knock insulin off its “time” pedestal and replace it with some mundane allergy medication? How dare the allergy drug manufacturer allow them to equate the two?
Yes, I’m yelling at the TV again. Not that it does any good, but it makes me feel somewhat better.
I’m also yelling at “our” people, wondering why they can’t come up with a message that actually tells people something. One of my favorites—no longer airing because of concerns about the safety of the drug, Vytorin—told people that high cholesterol had a genetic component. Gee, I wish somebody would say that about Type 2 diabetes, as well. (Especially since it’s true.)
But back to insulin: Yes, a cure for diabetes would be best, but insulin at least gives the scientific community time to keep searching for the elusive remedy.
As somebody with Type 2, my time would not be as drastically shortened if insulin were unavailable, but it’s given me time as well; time to live a healthier, longer life with lower risk for complications.
For myself, I replaced the word “time” with “energy” when thinking about what insulin did for me. I still remember the constant lethargy; the hesitancy to drive for fear of falling asleep; the impromptu—and frequent—naps.
Within a week of starting on insulin, I was bouncing all over the place. Heck, I even felt like having sex again. My boss, who also had Type 2 diabetes, had the grace not to say “I told you so.”
“Ha!” he said instead. “I bet you thought you were just getting old!”
It seems like that was a long time ago and perhaps it was. My granddaughter was just a toddler then. Back then, we even knew from one week to the next what her hair color would be.
Insulin has given me these years of time to spend with her, and to see her reach an age where she can drive. Which probably will take a few years off my life.