{"id":1188,"date":"2011-04-27T17:37:25","date_gmt":"2011-04-27T17:37:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/skinnygeneproject.dreamhosters.com\/?p=1188"},"modified":"2011-04-27T17:37:25","modified_gmt":"2011-04-27T17:37:25","slug":"my-storythe-catalyst","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/my-storythe-catalyst\/","title":{"rendered":"MY STORY:THE CATALYST"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

This is a continuation of “My Story<\/strong>“, my life\u2019s journey towards becoming who I am today.\u00a0 Since it is rather long, I have broken it into\u00a0sections, so you can read it at your leisure. Each step along the way has had its own particular relevance to me today. This is the second. Please click here<\/a> to read the first section –My Story<\/a><\/strong>.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/h3>\n

T<\/strong><\/span>HE CATALYST<\/strong> \u2013 What I thought was the beginning<\/em><\/span><\/h3>\n

That day, I told her the story about my Aunt Gloria. \u201cAunt Glo\u201d, as we called her, worked for a school district in a low income neighborhood in Houston, TX. She too was petite.<\/p>\n

\"\"

Photo by Chris Tengi<\/p><\/div>\n

Over the years, we watched as her health deteriorated. \u00a0Aunt Glo was once a vibrant woman. Although she never bore her own children, she was a \u201cmother\u201d to many and a friend to everyone who knew her. It was at my brother\u2019s college graduation that I first noticed that the light that used to shine so brightly within her, had started to dim. \u00a0It was obvious that she was sick, but it was equally obvious that she was embarrassed about her condition.<\/p>\n

I did in that moment something I am extremely ashamed of- Nothing<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t want to ask any questions, partly because I didn\u2019t want to make her more uncomfortable, and partly because I wasn\u2019t prepared to hear the truth<\/em>.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t until years later that she told us that she had diabetes, or as some would say, \u201ca touch of the sugars.\u201d\u00a0 From that moment, life happened to her very quickly. She wasn\u2019t an active participant; it just started to pass her by.\u00a0 The warning signs were there, but the lack of education about the disease made them meaningless.\u00a0 They were wasted opportunities to save a life when we had the chance.<\/p>\n

It felt like I was watching a foreign movie with really bad subtitles. \u00a0Others were giving me information, and I was trying to interpret what it meant.<\/p>\n

Them<\/strong>-\u201cAunt Glo has diabetes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Me<\/span>– \u00a0\u201cOkay. That\u2019s why she\u2019s been so sick?\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n

Next scene\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Them<\/strong>– \u201cAunt Glo stubbed her toe. It will need to be amputated.\u201d<\/p>\n

Me<\/span>– \u201cWhat? Why?<\/em> \u201c<\/p>\n

Then finally<\/span>\u2026<\/p>\n

Them- \u201cAunt Glo was dropped off at the hospital for her procedure. She didn\u2019t want anyone to wait around for her, because she didn\u2019t think it would be a big deal. She died in the waiting room before they could amputate the infected toe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Me\u2013 Speechless.<\/span><\/p>\n

That day I was distraught and confused. I had realized that my perception of diabetes was wrong. I had grossly underestimated this \u201cSilent Killer<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n

It was at this moment that my questions began.<\/p>\n

How could this happen<\/em><\/strong><\/span>?\u00a0Aunt Glo memorized the pages of the dictionary and used it like a tablet for note keeping.\u00a0 She encouraged children to make the necessary changes to live a better life. Didn\u2019t she deserve the opportunity to learn how to manage her diabetes to save her own? \u00a0Then it hit me.<\/p>\n

WHY are the stereotypes surrounding this disease so hurtful, that a person would rather suffer in silence than seek help from those who love them?<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Aunt Glo opened my eyes to see a problem that I could no longer ignore. I had questions and needed answers.<\/p>\n

Less than\u00a0one year later, I was hired by a company to do intensive market research on diabetes and prediabetes (which was a new term at the time).\u00a0 Six months of research only lead to more questions, but now it was less about understanding the disease, and more about how to stop it<\/strong>.<\/em><\/p>\n

We created a Wellmobile that went into the community for 1 year to provide health screenings. I had the opportunity everyday to encourage people to manage or prevent diabetes. I learned more with each person I talked to. I saw the importance of treating the person, not just the disease.\u00a0\u00a0 Everyday my passion for prevention grew stronger and stronger.\u00a0 I needed to know\u00a0WHY<\/strong> <\/span>we weren\u2019t doing more to educate<\/span><\/em><\/strong> those at-risk, empower<\/span><\/em><\/strong> them with the information and support they needed to prevent diabetes<\/span><\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n

In 2005, my husband and I moved to California. I did some consulting for awhile, but I couldn\u2019t escape the need to follow my passion for prevention. Two years later, my passion met my motivation<\/strong><\/em>. It was like it had been written in stone. There was no going back. My life would now be dedicated to preventing diabetes.<\/p>\n

Click to read the next section: MY MOTIVATION<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 This is a continuation of “My Story“, my life\u2019s journey towards becoming who I am today.\u00a0 Since it is rather long, I have broken it into\u00a0sections, so you can read it at your leisure. Each step along the way has had its own particular relevance to me today. This is the second. Please click… <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[231,682],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1188","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-living-life-with-intention","category-my-story"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"acf":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p90Iz0-ja","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1188"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1188"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1188\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1188"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1188"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.skinnygeneproject.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1188"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}