I watched a lot of baseball over the weekend. Oh, I know there’s a lot of college and NFL football out there, and that’s okay, but I watch as much October baseball as I can. That’s partly due to the fact that the best of the best are playing against each other right now in the playoffs, coupled with the knowledge that we are now officially less than a month away from no more baseball for about six months.
I’ve watched a lot of baseball over the years. I mean, a lot. I’ve been watching baseball on television since the 1960s. I’ve been to hundreds of major league games in person, in (if I have this correct) Cincinnati, Cleveland, Chicago (Wrigley Field and the old Comiskey Park), Washington, New York (just the old Yankee Stadium), San Diego, and of course, Baltimore. I’ve been to, I think, 13 or 14 Opening Day games in Cincinnati, and a couple more in Baltimore. I even made Opening Day in both cities a few years ago.
And it’s not just the major leagues. The Great Spousal Unit can tell you that if we see a little league team playing in a park somewhere, I’ll want to stop the car and watch a few innings. And we’ve done that.
Now… what does all this have to do with diabetes?
Well, I get a lot of enjoyment from watching baseball. Always have, always will. A lot of the baseball I’ve seen in my time has been since my Type 1 diagnosis 24-plus years ago.
Joe Carter’s World Series winning homer in 1992… all those great Atlanta Braves teams in the 90s and 00s… the Florida Marlins’ improbable championship in 1997, and again in 2003… Madison Bumgarner almost single-handedly giving the Giants their third championship in five years last year.
What do I want to see? More baseball! It’s one of the many things in my life that doesn’t give me any value except great memories. Priceless memories. Like my father taking me to see the Reds against the Cardinals in 1971, when I was nine years old. Joe Torre (the National League MVP that year) hit two solo home runs, and Johnny Bench, the Reds catcher, picked off a runner at first base. I remember almost 40 years later, taking my father and father-in-law to see the Twins and the Dodgers in a spring training game in Fort Meyers. My dad caught a foul ball. I still have it. Don’t tell him… he might want it back.
The truth is, I have a hundred stories like that. I have a hundred memories like that. And I want a hundred more.
I’ve been able to enjoy a lot of those moments in my life thanks to insulin, my care team, and my family and friends. If I’m going to enjoy even more, it’s going to be because I learn, adapt to new techniques and ideas, and take advantage of the latest in technology and drugs.
I think what I’m trying to say is this: When you’re burned out, when you just don’t want to do that BG check, when you just want to unplug and walk away from diabetes, well, I get it. I feel the same way sometimes. Often, when I feel like that, I try to think of one really fantastic thing that I would miss if I couldn’t be around to enjoy it. The One Thing might change from time to time, but I try to get that focus on what’s important and permanent (memories), and off of what’s temporary and annoying (burnout).
Find your One Thing. I’m not saying it will make things so wonderful you’ll never ever get burned out again. But sometimes, remembering the good stuff helps bring us back and refocuses us so we can not only live to fight another day with diabetes… we can live to enjoy another day of piling up the best memories we can, against the worst thing that might ever happen to us.
What’s your one thing?
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