I’m not good at being told what to do, or being forced into doing things but my pancreas has effectively backed me into a corner. I either pick up its role or I die, now there’s blackmail for you.
Before my pancreas starts feeling too smug though, I need to make it clear that it doesn’t hold all the cards in this game. The one thing it can’t control is my attitude. I’m free to decide how I deal with diabetes and how it affects my life. I can let it control everything I do, let it ruin my life and make me a miserable old crone. Or I can grab it by the scruff of the neck, drag it into the corner and give it a damn good talking too. I can learn everything there is to know about my diabetes, using that knowledge to beat it into submission. I can even use it as an opportunity to meet lots of lovely (and sometimes slightly strange) new friends online.
So dear pancreas, you may have made the first move, but I will win the war. You’re a mere weakling when compared to the brain, and that brain has chosen to deal with your rude little sidekick diabetes in a positive manner. That said, if you did want to apologise and come back to work I would of course be very British about it, graciously accept your apology and we’d say no more about it.