Joe ran up to me, as we were leaving his track meet yesterday. An excited "Mom, I just met a man who said he 'used to have diabetes'".
I looked directly at Joe .."What?"
"Yea, he saw my pump and then told me."
My head did a subtle side-to-side shake. My mind then went to the word "whack-a-doodle". I was worried Joe had ran into someone who gave him false hope; someone who was telling him a tale about a Dr. MoonLoveJoy who cured his diabetes with a rainbow, sparkling with unicorn horn dust.
"Joe, don't believe it. Whatever he told you isn't true. There's not a cure for type 1."
"He said he got a kidney-pancreas transplant."
Oh. Now. This changed everything. "Yes, then yes.. he is technically cured. But ... Joe ... that isn't the way you want to get a cure ... by having your kidneys .. fail."
Joe and I talked more about transplants. I used to take care of kidney transplants post-op. Typically, a pancreas transplant takes place in a person with severe t1d who is also in need of a kidney transplant. The transplanted organs require life-long use of anti-rejection medications.
"So, you don't typically see a person just receive a pancreas transplant."
"I know mom ... I wouldn't just get one for sh*#'s and gigs."
Ha! "No Joe, you wouldn't just go get one for the heck of it. Anti-rejection drugs can have some serious side effects."
As we drove home, we talked more about kidney failure. It's been years now. Years, since I've thought of this manifestation of poorly controlled t1d.
A day-in-the-life of talking organ transplants with my 13 year old.