#diabetic

[theserlingbucket]

Service animal shadow ft diabetic Knuckles! Glucose problems.. and suspicion

I’ve always had the diabetic Knuckles headcanon since I was little, since back in Elementary the only other kid who liked Sonic at my school was a diabetic boy in my class whose favorite was Knuckles. I remember him eating fruit snacks in class on occasion, which is where I got the idea for this specific comic

[reasonsforhope]

Type 1 Diabetic Produces His Own Insulin After Gene-Edited Cell Transplant

Three changes in total to the genetic code were needed to ensure the transplanted donor cells didn't trigger an immune response.

"A patient with type 1 diabetes has become the first in the world to produce his own insulin via transplanted cells edited with CRISPR.

The edits halted his own immune system from attacking the cells, leading to production of insulin in the pancreas as if he never had the disease in the first place.

Unlike the rampant type 2 diabetes, type 1 manifests as an autoimmune disorder whereby the patient’s immune system attacks and destroys a type of cell created in the pancreas to produce insulin, known as islet cells. 9.5 million people worldwide suffer from type 1 diabetes and there is no cure.

The standard of care beyond daily insulin injections involves using donated islet cells to allow a patient’s metabolism to function normally, followed by medications used to prevent the immune system from attacking those cells. These medications have harmful side effects.

A team of biomedical researchers primarily from Uppsala University, Sweden, in collaboration with UC San Francisco, successfully used the CRISPR gene-editing method to take a donor’s islet cells and modify them so as to evade prosecution by the patient’s immune system.

Three changes in total to the genetic code were needed to ensure the transplanted donor cells didn’t trigger an immune response, including changes to cell membrane signal proteins used as a sign of attack by white blood cells.

CRISPR TO THE RESCUE:

Infant With Incurable Disease is First to Successfully Receive Personalized Gene Therapy Treatment

Aggressive Leukemia Disappears in 13-Year-old Girl Who was First to Receive New CRISPR Treatment

First Patient to Receive Gene Therapy ‘Cure’ for Beta-Thalassemia Living Pain-Free

As a preliminary study, the man received only a small amount of the donated, modified cells, meaning he still requires daily insulin injections. However the results show that the cells produced their own insulin and remained unperturbed by the immune system.

After 12 weeks, the cells were still producing endogenous insulin, setting the stage for longer-term and more robust experiments in the future.

The study was published in the New England Journal of Medicine."

-via Good News Network, August 25, 2025

[sugas6thtooth]

It is no secret that Israel attacks the most vulnerable and will do so by any means. The truth is in everyone's face yet so many people refuse to see this as a genocide.

[kaonicks]

Hello, my name is Lili, I am a type 1 diabetic, and I am currently in need of help with food, rent, and medicine 

I am a VTuber, I stream on TikTok every day. I used to get enough support to take care of myself, but things have gotten really rough in the past two years. 

I have recently come into a very big rough patch this year with not getting consistent work, my roommate being laid off and just in general struggling. I’ve almost been evicted twice.

All that I ask is you reblog this post and help if you can, if you can’t that’s totally OK

But I do need insulin to live, both long acting and fast acting, and my rent is very late, but we haven’t gotten an eviction notice yet 

Support Lili (kao)

Support Lili (kao)

[bramblesqrl]

Do you have any tips on managing (and or avoiding if possible) diabetes as a gainer? Not sure where to look or where to start.

One of my first jobs after I got my masters in medical anthropology was working on a team designing a culturally inclusive type 2 diabetes prevention program. I learned a lot from the nurses and doctors I worked alongside. I’ve also learned a lot from having diabetes for the last 10 years while also gaining about 300 pounds on purpose.

Prevention

A lot of this is also good advice for managing your blood sugar if you already have a diabetes diagnosis.

1. It’s not always possible if you are genetically predisposed. But you can definitely delay the onset.

2. Physical activity lowers blood sugar and decreases insulin resistance. It doesn’t have to be arduous, even just going for a walk a few times a week helps. Try to find something you enjoy. I like to swim laps at the gym.

3. Eating balanced meals and choosing complex carbs over simple ones. This means whole grains and making sure you have protein, fat and carbs in roughly equal amounts in each meal. It’s never a bad idea to have more veggies.

4. Don’t freak out about a pre-diabetic diagnosis. This is a controversial diagnosis and is not accepted by the WHO. About 50% of those who receive this diagnosis go on to develop diabetes. It’s about as predictive as a coin flip. The positive is that it can serve as an impetus to try some of these strategies to prevent or delay actual diabetes.

Management

1. Don’t freak out if you are diagnosed. This is an easy disease to manage.

2. Don’t neglect managing it. Uncontrolled diabetes has significant consequences like blindness, amputation etc.

3. Losing massive amounts of weight to “cure” diabetes doesn’t work. You may see a temporary return to normal blood sugars but you will regain the weight back just like 90% of dieters do. And when you do regain the weight your blood sugar control will likely be worse than before.

4. Ask your doctor for a continuous glucose monitor CGM. They are probably free through your insurance. They are a wearable device that transmits glucose numbers to your phone. They keep you from having to constantly prick your fingers.

5. You have many non injection options for medication. Lots of different pills.

6. Insulin works great. Many doctors will want to delay starting you on it or push weight loss meds. This is because most people gain weight on insulin. Another medication that works really well and also causes significant weight gain is Actos. This medication actually helps move visceral fat out of your liver and turns it into beneficial subcutaneous fat. When combined these can contribute to rapid weight gain and improvement in blood sugar levels.

7. You are the person who decides what medications and treatments you go on. Not your doctor. There may be limits set by your insurance but if you don’t want to take a particular medication and want to instead try something else you have every right to tell your doctor this. You can also tell them you are not interested in losing weight. You can also decline to be weighed at the doctor. They are providing you a service, they are not your boss even though they have power in the interaction. This is called patient’s right of refusal and you should exercise it.

8. Be patient and kind to yourself. Anxiety around a new diagnosis is normal. It will take you time to learn how to manage your diabetes. Managing other issues such as your mental health helps make controlling your diabetes much easier.

[demiboydemon]

“You’re too young to be on so many medications!”

I don’t want to be on them, either, but here we are. Looks like we’re both disappointed by this interaction.

[ghostintheclub]

Diabetic | Stray Kids

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Summary: How each member would take care of and support you with having diabetes.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k

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Bang Chan

Chan doesn’t do panic. He does systems.

You’re in the studio lounge, half-listening to whatever the boys are arguing about, when your CGM vibrates again. You glance down and your stomach sinks.

High. Stubborn-high. One of those numbers that makes your head feel thick and your temper short.

You try to ignore it because you’re tired of being the person who has to “manage” all the time.

Chan notices anyway, because Chan always does.

He doesn’t ask, “Are you okay?” like it’s a guess. He says it like a statement.

“Sugar’s up,” he murmurs, stepping behind you and resting his hands lightly on your shoulders. “Alright. Let’s take two minutes.”

You sigh, irritated at yourself. “I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine,” he says calmly. “You’re also high. Those can be true at the same time.”

He pulls out his phone, opens a note that makes you blink.

It’s literally titled: Her Stuff

Under it are bullet points. What you usually do when you’re high. What you do when you’re low. Where you keep your supplies. What you prefer when you’re anxious. It’s not obsessive in a creepy way. It’s Chan being Chan, building a safety net because he loves you and he hates feeling useless.

He turns the phone toward you. “What’s your plan right now? Insulin, water, short walk? You pick.”

The fact that he gives you choices instead of commands makes your shoulders loosen a little.

You take a breath. “Correction. Water. Then recheck.”

Chan nods like a coach. “Cool. I’ll get the water. You do the dosage.”

He doesn’t stare. He doesn’t hover over your hands. He turns away on purpose to give you privacy, then returns with a huge bottle and a straw because he knows you’ll drink more if it’s easy.

“Okay,” he says softly. “We don’t beat ourselves up. We just manage. You’re doing great.”

You swallow, blinking hard because that’s the part that always hits you. Not the number. The kindness.

Chan squeezes your shoulder once. “And later, we’ll eat something that won’t spike you more. I already texted Minho to stop Binnie from ordering something insane.”

—

Lee Know

Minho’s care is so practical it’s almost insulting.

You’re sitting at the table with a glass of water, trying not to snap at anyone while your sugar sits high and stubborn. Minho walks in, looks at your face for half a second, then says, “Don’t talk. You’re in demon mode.”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

He grabs your water and pushes it closer. “Drink.”

“I am drinking.”

He points at your CGM. “More.”

He’s not gentle about it. He’s efficient, like he’s handling a problem that needs solving. He opens the fridge, pulls out something boring but safe, and sets it down.

“Eat later,” he says. “Not now. You’ll get nauseous. Also, you need to walk.”

You stare. “What?”

Minho grabs your hoodie and tosses it at you. “Come on. Ten minutes. Around the building. Fresh air. You’ll hate it but it’ll help.”

He doesn’t frame it like a favor. He frames it like a fact. Like it’s the normal routine, like you’re not “a burden,” you’re just a person doing life.

Outside, he walks beside you with his hands in his pockets, pretending it’s nothing. Every now and then he glances at you like he’s checking if your face looks less miserable.

“You okay?” he asks, finally.

You make a sound that’s half laugh, half frustrated sob. “I’m just tired of my body.”

Minho’s expression shifts. He stops walking, turns to you, and his voice goes quiet.

“Then be tired,” he says. “But don’t punish yourself. High blood sugar isn’t a moral failure. It’s chemistry.”

You blink.

He nudges your shoulder with his. “And if you start skipping meals because you’re mad, I will literally sit in front of the fridge and block you like a cat.”

Despite yourself, you smile.

“There,” Minho says, satisfied. “Less demon.”

—

Changbin

Changbin takes it personally when you don’t take care of yourself.

You go low during practice, the kind of low that hits fast. You’re trying to be subtle about it, but your hands start shaking and your vision goes a little floaty.

Changbin notices and his whole body goes into protective mode like he’s about to fight the air.

“Stop,” he says, loud enough that everyone pauses. “Sit.”

“I’m fine,” you try.

“Nope,” Changbin says. Not mean. Just absolutely final. “Sit right now.”

He’s already rummaging through his bag like he packed it for you, which is hilarious because he did. He pulls out glucose tabs and a juice box like a medic.

“Tabs or juice?” he asks.

“Juice.”

He shoves it into your hands, then crouches in front of you like a shield.

“Drink. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

You drink, fingers trembling.

Changbin watches you like he’s counting your breaths. His voice stays steady, but you can tell he’s mad. Not at you. At the situation.

When you finally start to feel better, he exhales sharply and mutters, “I hate this.”

You blink. “You hate it?”

“I hate that you have to deal with it,” he says, eyes intense. “I hate that your body tries to knock you down and you still show up and do everything anyway.”

It makes your throat tight.

He scoots closer, still careful not to crowd you. “Promise me you’ll tell me earlier. The second you feel that weird drop. I’m not asking because I want control. I’m asking because I want you safe.”

You nod, swallowed by the sincerity.

Changbin’s tone softens. “Good. Now, after you’re stable, I’m walking you to the kitchen and you’re eating something with protein. You can complain, but you’re eating.”

He gives you a little grin, like he’s trying to make it lighter.

“You’re basically my bodyguard,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” Changbin says. “And I’m extremely good at my job.”

—

Hyunjin

Hyunjin makes it emotional in the best way.

When you go low around him, it’s not just “fix the number.” It’s “take care of you.”

You’re sitting in his room while he draws, and you start feeling that familiar shakiness. You try to shrug it off, but Hyunjin looks up like he felt the shift in the air.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Your eyes changed. Are you low?”

You hate that you’re about to cry, but you nod.

Hyunjin doesn’t rush you like you’re a problem. He moves like you’re something precious. He gets your juice, sits close, and holds the straw for you because your hands are trembling.

“Slowly,” he whispers. “You’re safe. You’re here.”

You sip, and tears slip out anyway. You’re embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Hyunjin’s face softens. “No. Don’t apologize. You don’t have to be composed for me.”

He reaches out and takes your hand, thumb tracing your knuckles, grounding you.

“I know it’s frustrating,” he says. “I know you feel like it steals moments from you. But it doesn’t steal you from me. You’re still you.”

The timer passes. You recheck. Better.

Hyunjin exhales like he’s been holding his breath, then pulls you into his arms and just holds you, slow and quiet.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmurs. “Not because your number changed. Because you asked for help.”

Your chest aches.

Hyunjin kisses your forehead. “Let me be part of it. Always.”

—

Han

Jisung’s approach is chaotic on purpose, because he knows you spiral when it’s too serious.

Your CGM alarm goes off and you reach to silence it, embarrassed, and Jisung slaps your hand away like it’s a game show buzzer.

“No,” he says dramatically. “We don’t silence the demon beep. We obey the demon beep.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Jisung.”

He’s already sprinting to the kitchen like his life depends on it. He comes back with three options, breathless, and holds them out like a waiter.

“Choose your fighter. Gummies or juice? Personally I think this juice tastes weird but I’m also weird so maybe it’s just me.”

You pick gummies.

He sits on the floor in front of you, legs crossed, and watches you chew like he’s your personal hype man.

“Great job. Incredible chewing. Ten out of ten. I’m moved.”

You laugh, and it helps. It genuinely helps.

Then his tone shifts, still gentle but real.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Now tell me. Did you eat earlier? Did you feel off before the alarm?”

You blink. “You know diabetic things?”

“I researched,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “I’m not gonna be useless.”

It hits you right in the chest.

When you start to feel better, Jisung leans his head against your knee and sighs.

“I hate that you feel like you have to be tough,” he murmurs. “You can be soft with us. Especially with me. I’m literally built for emotional support.”

You snort. “You’re built for chaos.”

“Exactly,” he says proudly. “Chaos support.”

—

Felix

Felix is the one who does the sweetest thing at the worst time.

Which is how you end up crying over a dessert.

You’re high. Not dangerously, but high enough that you feel gross and tired and cranky. You already took your insulin, you’re drinking water, you’re doing everything right, and you still feel like your body is arguing with you.

Felix comes in with a little box like it’s treasure.

His eyes are bright. “I got you something.”

You blink, suspicious but curious. “What is it?”

He opens it.

A beautiful dessert. Something delicate and ridiculous, like a pastry that belongs in a glass case. He’s practically glowing, proud and excited.

“I saw it and thought of you,” he says softly. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Your heart lifts for half a second.

Then your CGM vibrates again, like the universe is laughing.

High.

You stare at the dessert. Your chest tightens. Suddenly it’s not a pastry, it’s everything you can’t do right, everything you’re tired of managing.

“I can’t have that,” you say, voice sharp.

Felix’s smile falters. “Oh. We can save it for later, love. When you’re back in range.”

You don’t want later. You want now. You want normal.

“I don’t want to save it,” you snap, and your eyes burn. “I’m so sick of saving things. I’m sick of numbers deciding everything.”

Felix sets the box down carefully, like it might break. His face goes soft, hurt and worried all at once.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It’s not your fault,” you choke out, and now you’re crying, which makes you angrier. “It’s my stupid body. It’s always my stupid body.”

Felix steps closer, slow, hands open. “Can I hold you?”

You nod, and the second he wraps his arms around you, you collapse. Felix holds you like you’re fragile, rubbing your back, murmuring soft comforts that make your throat ache.

“I wanted to make you happy,” he whispers. “I hate that it upset you.”

“It didn’t upset me,” you mumble into his shirt. “It just reminded me.”

Felix kisses your hair. “Okay. Then we’ll do this differently. We’ll make a plan for surprise treats. We’ll get low sugar options. We’ll do small portions with your timing. I’ll learn.”

You sniffle. “You already do so much.”

Felix pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are serious.

“I love you,” he says simply. “This is part of loving you. Let me.”

Then, because he’s Felix, he wipes your tears and adds, “Also, I’m still saving the pastry. I’ll guard it with my life.”

A laugh escapes you, wet and messy.

“There you go,” he whispers, relieved. “I like that sound.”

—

Seungmin

Seungmin is the one who keeps you honest.

You’re sitting on the couch, pretending you’re fine, when Seungmin walks in, sees the dessert box on the table, sees your red eyes, then looks at your CGM.

He doesn’t ask. He states.

“High,” he says. Then, “Upset.”

You blink. “Are you diagnosing me?”

“Yes,” he replies, completely calm. “It’s obvious.”

He sits beside you, not too close, but present. Seungmin’s care isn’t cuddly. It’s stabilizing.

“What happened?” he asks.

You tell him, embarrassed.

Seungmin nods, processing, then looks you dead in the eye. “You’re allowed to be upset. But you’re not allowed to take it out on yourself.”

You swallow. “I didn’t.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You deflate. “Okay. I did a little.”

Seungmin sighs like he’s been waiting for that honesty. “Good. Now we fix it.”

He points at your water. “Drink. Then tell me what your plan is. Correction already done?”

You nod.

Seungmin nods once. “Okay. Then we wait. And we don’t spiral.”

You rub your face. “I hate waiting.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But this isn’t punishment. It’s management. And you’re doing it.”

Then, softer, like he hates being soft but does it anyway, “You don’t have to earn food. You don’t have to earn treats. Your body isn’t a test you can pass or fail. It’s just a body.”

That hits you hard.

Seungmin clears his throat, suddenly awkward. “Also, Felix feels terrible. So maybe don’t let him sleep on the couch. He’s being dramatic.”

You laugh through your sniffles.

“There,” Seungmin says, satisfied. “Better.”

—

I.N

Jeongin’s care is quiet companionship. He doesn’t try to fix your feelings. He just stays.

Later that night, after your number finally starts coming down and you feel drained and embarrassed, Jeongin appears beside you with a warm blanket and a glass of water.

He doesn’t mention the dessert. He doesn’t mention the tears. He just sits near you and gently drapes the blanket over your legs.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks.

You nod.

Jeongin watches you for a second, then says softly, “Do you want to talk, or do you want distraction?”

You blink, throat tight. “Distraction.”

Jeongin nods like that’s easy. “Okay. I’ll tell you something stupid.”

He starts telling you about a ridiculous thing Changbin did earlier, doing voices, making faces, making it impossible not to smile. It doesn’t feel like he’s forcing you to cheer up. It feels like he’s offering you a hand out of the dark.

When you finally exhale and lean into the couch, Jeongin’s voice turns quiet.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says.

You swallow. “It feels like I did.”

Jeongin shakes his head. “You had a hard moment. That’s not wrong. That’s just hard.”

He bumps his shoulder lightly into yours.

Jeongin smiles softly. “You’re still you. You’re still loved. Even when your sugar’s annoying.”

You whisper, “Thanks.”

Jeongin shrugs like it’s nothing, but he stays right there anyway.

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