Before I Was the Nurse, I Was the Patient...

The personal journey behind my commitment to diabetes education, dignity, health equity, and community.
My journey with metabolic health began long before I understood the words insulin resistance or type 2 diabetes.
I remember being in third grade, experiencing blood sugar problems and headaches. My pediatrician recommended that I have extra snacks available at school. At that age, I didn't understand what my body was telling me.
Years later, after having my third daughter, I was diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS). Later came insulin resistance and eventually type 2 diabetes.
Then, in 2018, while living with and managing diabetes, I experienced a serious health condition that required surgery to remove the superficial portion of my parotid gland.
By then, I had another perspective.
I was a nurse.
The Patient Changed the Nurse
Nursing gave me the clinical language to better understand health and disease.
Living with a chronic condition gave me something equally important—the experience of being the person on the other side of the care plan.
I understand science.
And I still have to live the reality.
Being a nurse doesn't mean every meal is perfect, every number is perfect, or that chronic disease somehow becomes easier because I understand the clinical language.
I still have to manage medications, nutrition, blood glucose, appointments, physical activity, stress, family responsibilities, work, and everyday life.
That doesn't make me less of a nurse.
It makes me human.
And it has made me a different kind of nurse.
When I sit across from someone living with diabetes, I don't simply see an A1C.
I see a person.
Because behind that number is life.
That experience changed the questions I ask.
Instead of simply asking, “Why didn't someone follow the plan?” I learned to ask:
What barriers are they facing?
Do they understand their numbers?
Can they access the resources they need?
Does education make sense for their family, culture, budget, and everyday life?
And most importantly:
Have we listened?
Dignity, Culture and Health
People should not have to surrender their culture, traditions, or dignity in order to take care of their health.
Food, for example, is more than carbohydrates on a plate.
Food can represent family, Sunday dinner, church gatherings, celebrations, holidays, and recipes passed from one generation to another.
Culturally responsive health education shouldn't simply begin with:
“You can't eat that anymore.”
It can begin with:
“Tell me what's on your family's table.”
Then we can talk about portions, preparation, carbohydrates, fiber, protein, sodium, blood glucose, affordability, and realistic changes that support health while respecting tradition.
We can educate without judging.
We can address risk without creating shame.
We can encourage change without erasing culture.
And we can honor tradition while helping families build healthier traditions for the next generation.
Health Equity Is Not One-Size-Fits-All
I often think about health equity in terms of shoes.
We don't all wear the same shoe size.
And even two people who wear the same size may not need the same type of shoe. One person may need a flat shoe. Another may need additional arch support. Someone else may need a wider shoe or a different type of support.
Giving everyone the exact same shoe may be equal.
But that doesn't mean everyone received what they needed.
Health is the same way.
People come to healthcare with different histories, cultures, family structures, financial circumstances, environments, resources, barriers, and lived experiences.
Health equity requires us to ask:
“What does this person need to have a meaningful opportunity to manage their health?”
It isn't enough to hand someone a brochure and say we provided education.
Did they understand it?
Was it relevant?
Was it accessible?
Could they realistically apply it?
Did it respect their culture?
Did they feel heard?
Did they leave with their dignity?
For me, health equity isn't assuming everyone needs the same shoe.
It's taking the time to understand the person who has to walk in it.
We're all on a health journey, but we're not all walking in the same shoes, on the same road, or with the same resources.
From Nursing to Community Leadership
That journey is part of why bringing the African American Diabetes Association Colorado Chapter to Colorado became so personal.
We are not here to save our community.
We are here to work alongside it.
Our communities already possess tremendous strengths—families, faith, culture, knowledge, relationships, traditions, leadership, and resilience.
AADA Colorado is working to bring culturally responsive diabetes education, awareness, practical resources, community engagement, and connections to care closer to the people who need them.
Because diabetes education should not begin only after a crisis.
People deserve opportunities to understand their numbers, recognize warning signs, learn practical ways to manage their health, and know where to turn for support.
Ultimately, I want someone to encounter AADA Colorado and be able to say:
“I can start here.”
Invest in the Journey
Education matters.
Awareness matters.
Resources matter.
Dignity matters.
Culture matters.
Community matters.
Supporting AADA Colorado helps us continue building community-based diabetes education, outreach, partnerships, and practical resources for individuals and families.
But investment isn't only financial.
It can mean volunteering your time.
Sharing professional expertise.
Becoming a community partner.
Helping us reach another family.
Or financially supporting the infrastructure needed to sustain the work.
My journey began as a little girl who didn't yet understand what her body was telling her.
Today, I am a nurse, healthcare leader, and woman living with type 2 diabetes who has the opportunity to help others understand their health earlier in their own journey.
I lived the journey.
Nursing helped me understand the journey.
My clinical knowledge helps me understand the disease.
My lived experience helps me understand the journey.
My humanity reminds me to see the person.
And dignity reminds me to respect their story.
Now I choose to invest what I have learned back into my community.
Invest in the Journey.
Education. Awareness. Resources. Dignity. Culture. Community.
— Dr. Tracye Osler
Founder
African American Diabetes Association – Colorado Chapter