You’ve perhaps seen the Spare a Rose Campaign, which supports IDF’s Life for a Child Program that provides insulin to children in need. A small $5 donation provides a month’s supply of insulin to a child in need. Check out the Twitter chat on #sparearose that just happened from #dsma a matter of fact …

I’ve loved this campaign for all four years of its life. But this week I had a very different reaction to it.

A few days ago, I was on my way home from the ATTD Conference in Milan, with a stop in Newark before returning to San Francisco. I moved from my first airplane through customs and ran to my next gate in Newark. Phew! I had one hour to climb on a conference call, get some lunch (I was right at 80 mg/dL but moving down), and get on the next flight.  

The rest was a blur - the conference call was about some exciting advocacy work, and I was transfixed for the next 45 minutes. I got a salad and lots of bread, and my blood glucose started moving up. 

ALL OF A SUDDEN: “Passenger Close! Come to gate 94C now - your flight is departing!”  

Luckily I was very close to the gate, and I ran to the plane to make it on just before it departed.

30 minutes later, a sinking feeling overcame me. “Where is my insulin bag? That has my insulin pens in it!? And my passport? And my credit cards and ID and … and … my insulin!!!”

Of course, I could not find it anywhere, realizing I had left it outside the gate. I spent the next eight hours (the plane was delayed landing in San Francisco ~ we sat on the tarmac) without any monitor or any insulin. I broke every traveling rule I give myself – my back up meter was in my luggage, which I “usually” have but which they had made me check at the airplane in Italy.  

I spent the entire flight just feeling my blood glucose climb, alternately worried that I was going low, then feeling thirsty, sure I was high, and not having any insulin with me – no syringe, no vial, no pens, no pump.

I got home, tested, and my monitor read HI. I hungrily (really) went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pen. I took six units and breathed a sigh of heavy relief. And, I cried a little bit. I felt so guilty for blithely asking so many people to spare a rose, thinking I knew what being without insulin was really like. 

And, of course, I don’t know. I only knew what it was like for a tiny moment. (Okay, nearly 500 moments)

I hope that everyone will think about what it would be like if someone close to them, or if they, didn’t have insulin. Not just for a few hours, or a few days even – no insulin at all. And then I hope you might just write in a $5 or $10 gift to Spare a Rose, whatever you can make happen. Because there are tens of thousands of children around the world who have no access to insulin, and they need our support. Thank you so much for thinking about this. I did, last night, and knew I had to try to help a little more, which I did today. 

Some patients are worried all the time about where to get insulin. Let’s try to help them. Can you send this campaign to just one person who you think can spare $10 and two minutes to make this happen? Read more on the campaign from the phenomenal Kerri Sparling in our recent issue of diaTribe. The campaign is continuing on past Valentine's Day, so you can still make a donation! 

very best,

kelly

PS Newark Airport came through for me along with a good friend from NJ - the restaurant found the bag and it’s on its way to me via FedEx - thankfully. Also thankfully - my blood glucose is back to normal!