Last week, I told you about an event where I sold ten books in thirty minutes -- a very unusual experience in my process to interest people in the book I published a year ago, Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun.
This week, my story is vastly different. I stood (or perched on a stool) for three hours while literally hundreds of people strolled by at a huge downtown event and sold...wait for it...none. I was just outside the door of a popular bookstore, had a snappy double poster on an easel to catch the attention of passers-by, and tried to make sure I wore an inviting smile. But no dice.
I did have one serious nibble from a woman who said her husband had been diagnosed "pre-diabetic" and that his glucose numbers have been going up and up, but he just swears that the doctor is wrong. She was obviously concerned and when she called him over, I did my best to beguile him into seeing that his life isn't over. But I could tell from the vaguely sour look on his face that he wasn't buying what I said and was certainly not buying the book.
She hustled him into the shop where the book could be purchased for me to sign, but when they left some time later, he slid out the door with his back resolutely toward me. And she threw me an apologetic glance over her shoulder as she followed him away. I'm sure the conversation between them about his condition has been going on for a while and will continue. But there was nothing I could do.
Mulling this over since that night, it occurs to me that this is particularly interesting when you consider how different our cultural (and personal) response is to the diagnosis of any type of cancer. The day hardly passes without someone I know or some friend of a friend or even someone famous going public with their diagnosis of cancer. Instead of keeping it a secret or slinking away into a closet, they take it on like a public challenge -- along with their family and often most of their friends.
A few weeks ago, I saw a woman I don't know personally but have a lot of respect for professionally announce on Facebook that she was about to start chemo therapy to fight a condition of cancer. Her response? She'd gotten a snappy new almost bald haircut and paired it with a cosmetic and fashion make-over that would have done Vogue proud. The grin on her face and her many friends' encouraging comments accompanying the photos she posted painted a very different picture than the one most people diagnosed with diabetes present.
I can't get my brain around why this difference exists other than to imagine that maybe it has to do with the speed the situation demands. A diagnosis of cancer is typically met with an immediate response and aggressive treatment. Some individuals refuse the treatment, but many (if not most) fight to the end like warriors with their family and friends fighting right along side them. There isn't much time to spare or play in the wheel. Using this approach, a good many are ultimately cured or at least blessed with years and years of additional quality life.
Unfortunately, though, far too many of those who, like me, have received a diagnosis as diabetic seem determined to roll the dice and hope for the best, leaving loved ones heartbroken and helpless as they wait for the long slow physical and emotional degeneration to commence. What makes those with cancer stand up and fight while those with diabetes go into denial?
A person with diabetes has the real ability to affect the condition of their body and the quality of their life to ensure more days, more love, and more fun than most people will necessarily ever have. As I wrote in my book, I enjoy being alive and, to the extent that I have anything to do with it, I don't intend to give up living until I'm damned good and ready. How about you?
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