"Diabetics"

(Sorry this post is so long... guess I got a bit carried away with this story.)

The man checking out my groceries stopped to look at my milk and half and half.  He was reading the labels of the nutritional value, and then looked up and turned to me, “Did you know diabetics can’t have milk?”  For a moment I looked at him, looking for a pump, callused finger tips, something to indicate that he himself had diabetes.  Then I chuckled to myself.  Did he somehow know that I had diabetes? Was my pump tubing sticking out?  Why was he telling me this?

“It’s funny you’re telling me that because I have type 1 diabetes.”  I smiled at him, then said, “You mean because of the enzymes in milk that aren’t good for the immune system?”  I was trying to figure out what he was talking about.  Most people haven’t read about the few studies that have linked drinking cow’s milk to the development of autoimmune diseases like diabetes.  I was ready to hear what he had heard, and if he agreed that I shouldn’t be giving my own children milk because of this enzyme.  

“Oh, yeah, but no, I mean because of the sugar in milk.  But diabetics can have half and half because there isn’t any sugar in half and half.”  Oh, boy, here we go.  He is still referring to “people” with diabetes as some kind of strange group... “Diabetics,” what “they” can and can’t have, as if we belong to some kind of other species. (Did he not hear me just tell him that I have diabetes, that I’m diabetic?)  I can’t think of another disease or condition where the people are only referred to by the name of that condition.  Cancerers, AIDSists, Lupusites, it sounds funny, right?  People are cancer survivors, or have cancer, aids, lupus, but they aren’t defined, identified only by their condition.  Why is it that with diabetes, suddenly I’m a “diabetic,” no longer a woman, mother, sister, wife, or friend living with diabetes.  

“Hmmm.”  I pick up the small container of milk and half and half I’ve just purchased.  He’s right, the half and half says 0 grams of sugar.  “Okay, but let’s look at the serving size,” I say.  “You can drink a whole cup of milk and it’s 13 carbs, but the serving for half and half is only two tablespoons. I bet if someone drank a cup of half and half there would be some sugar in it.”  Now I’m thinking, I hope some person isn’t drinking half and half in place of milk thinking it’s “sugar free.”  It’s crazy how misinformed people become.

“Oh, but not carbs, sugar,”  He corrects me.  “But if there was any sugar in the half and half they would have to put it on the label, right?  So there can’t be any sugar in it.”

“Actually carbs are broken down into sugar in your body, so really someone with diabetes should look for carbs, not just sugar.  I’m not sure what the rule is for nutritional labeling, but my guess is that if you made the serving size the same for the half and half, that there would be close to the same amount of sugar as in milk.”

He’s not convinced.  I quietly grab the jelly bellies I’ve purchased while waiting in line and put them into my purse.  I’m secretly hoping he doesn’t ask me about the sugar in the jelly bellies because I don’t think I can explain low blood sugars and why “diabetics” sometimes actually need sugar.  Plus my own blood sugar is low, and I’m becoming a bit irritated at the whole situation.  “Why did I even open my mouth?”  I wonder.  It would have been easier to just have said, “Oh that’s interesting.  I didn’t know diabetics can’t have milk,” and left it at that.

He goes on to tell me that he is going to ask someone at work about the whole sugar in milk thing, and that I can come check back with him next week.  Apparently having lived with diabetes for almost 12 years doesn’t make me an expert on the subject.  

“Same time, same place, next week,” I say and smile at him as I grab my cart full of groceries, and hurry out to my car so that I can open up my jelly bellies and fix my shaky hands and light sweat that is starting on my forehead.