Okay, I’ll admit it.
I’ve been saving used syringes, lancets and empty test strip containers. I can’t throw them out…not yet, any way.
The wannabe artist in me thinks she’s going to do something with them some day. Maybe I’ll create a sculpture or a collage. Or I’ll create a series of striking black-and-white photographs. Or I’ll produce some sort of installation for the local JDRF or ADA office lobby.
My husband wants to toss it all. He thinks it’s totally out of character for anal-retentive, neat-freak, no-clutter-allowed, junk-purging-queen me, and he’s right. Saving this stuff is SO NOT me.
I don’t really have an emotional attachment to these things. Rather, I see the potential to create something beautiful out of something ugly. Diabetes is an ugly, ugly disease. I hate that my son has it. I hate that he needs syringes, lancets and test strips…and insulin and glucometers and so on and so forth. I hate that his life depends on these items. I hate how much they cost us each month. (We pay out of pocket for all diabetes supplies.)
But isn’t there some sort of irony in collecting the syringes and test strip containers? Am I the only one who sees it? I know I can transform these symbols of our heartbreak, these objects of my hatred, this medical waste, into something meaningful. I can make an artistic statement about our life or my feelings about this disease.
Does anyone else out there do this? No one’s going to nominate me for an episode of Hoarders, right?