Body conscious

It’s no secret that I have Type 1 Diabetes. I’ve written about dating while diabetic, and made lists of things not to say to someone chronically ill. My latest novel, Lesser Journeys, explores the life of an architect with an autoimmune disorder, as she aims to determine the best way to leave her legacy behind. Diabetes is something that’s shaped my writing. It’s a significant part of my identity. 

This often surprises people to hear, but I’ve grown to be somewhat thankful for having diabetes. The physical highs and lows of manually regulating my insulin have made me aware of my own impermanence and pushed me to take chances. At my best, I feel mostly okay. At my worst, I sense my blood sugars crashing, and become so faint I have to sit still while I wait for glucose to hit me as a primal panic sets in. While these episodes are far from fun, they’ve given me an invaluable concept of time, as well as love and respect for my body. I can picture many things having been different in my life, but I can’t picture my perspective without this disease.

After Covid-19 began rapidly spreading, I was surprised to see so many friends who were young and free of ailments beginning to face their own mortality. While we all have our own backgrounds and issues, I was accustomed to being surrounded by well-meaning, healthy companions who operated with a sense of lightness, imagining that death and decay were lightyears away. They lived their days somehow untouchable. They didn’t have concerns of arbitrarily passing out while on a six hour flight. They weren't scanning the seats, wondering who may be a doctor in case of an emergency. They weren’t walking around with a handbag at all times, made heavy with orange juice and medication. 

I want to reiterate this being part of my reality doesn’t make me at all spiteful. I’m simply acknowledging our different realities. 

Post-Covid, I witnessed people delving into the same anxiety I had - an anxiety which ultimately turns into a personal philosophy which, over time, becomes inherently baked into one’s own consciousness. When Lesser Journeys was released in August, I wondered if it would be perceived differently from the many readers who (for the first time) may have begun confronting this subject of the body - not from a distance, but as individuals now aware of their mortality. Especially because the whole world seemed to be going through this sensation at once. 

I tried to remember how many novels I've read (not just recently, but in the past 30 years), where the narrator had a health issue that moulded their perspective, without said illness dictating the overall theme or plot of the story. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t think of many, I couldn’t think of a single one. I examined my bookshelf. There was The Idiot by Elif Batuman, Kudos by Rachel Cusk, and Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams. In terms of classics, I had The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradubury. I’m not saying these books should be anything but what they are. They’re all some of my favorites! I’m simply illustrating how shocked I was, that in my entire bookshelf, I hadn’t read a novel with a background that was similar to my own.

And part of that is the point. I read to diversify my thoughts. I read to learn and love. I read to explore.

But I wondered, for those who (like me), lived their lives turning to novels, yet (unlike me) are suddenly jarred and shocked by what a possible illness may mean to them - where can they turn to now? Why aren’t such titles more readily available to a large commercial audience? 

The only books that explored the topic of illness (not the topic of death and age, but the topic of illness) were non-fiction, such as White Girls by Hilton Als. I even googled lists, trying to determine where there may be gaps in my knowledge. The only titles listed were those that explore illness that ultimately leads to death and tragedy specifically, such as The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. I wondered why the novel was a form of art that seemed exempt from nuanced characters whose perspectives are enlightened from a day-to-day awareness of their physical demise. Afterall, there’s plenty of other forms of the arts where illness has largely aided the movements. Frida Kahlo is one of the world’s favorite painters. Lady Gaga has included her pain from fibromyalgia and breaking her hip within her song lyrics and music videos.  

Maybe the addition of this perspective within publishing will shift with the newfound understanding Covid has instilled upon the world. I’m optimistic we see the industry strive to push more titles that explore this theme.

Dallas Athent can be found on instagram @chixonthehud or on her website dalliedoesit.com. Lesser Journeys can be purchased on PRAVUM’s website.