“If a person with type 1 diabetes leaves the room and doesn’t come back, please check on them. Minutes matter and you could be saving their life.”

I look like a normal guy with two arms, two legs, maybe a little belly. But living with type 1 diabetes means there’s a lot going on underneath that people don’t see

Before I even get to work I’ve had a full morning; checking my sugar, deciding if I can run for the bus or if it’s safer to wait for the next. I always carry juice or something sweet because my sugar can drop at any moment. When I’m set up at my desk I’m OK. But when I’m working hard on something I really want to deliver my brain burns through energy fast. Sugar is fuel. Sometimes I just need to stop, eat something, start again.

“Starting meetings five minutes past the hour gives me time to reset.”

In meetings there’s an unwritten rule: you don’t eat. But sometimes I have to. I’d rather stay and help solve a problem than walk out. When I’m remote, it’s easier. Camera off, problem solved. Small things help. Starting meetings five minutes past the hour gives me time to reset. If a person with type 1 diabetes leaves the room and doesn’t come back, please check on them. Minutes matter and you could be saving their life.

“Diabetes likes regular rhythm; hackathons and long nights… not so much”

I’m a technical guy. I work in security, sometimes defending, sometimes attacking, often somewhere in between. I built a system that sends my glucose data from my insulin pump to my phone, then to the cloud. You can see my sugar live on a website. Sometimes a short walk drops it, sometimes stress before a big meeting sends it high. Diabetes likes regular rhythm; hackathons and long nights… not so much.

What really stays with me are the moments when people understand. Once, during a conference, my pump stopped working*. I told the organisers I needed to go home and fix it. Without any hesitation they said, “We understand. Go.” It was nearly the end of the day before I could return, but I came back just to show I appreciated that respect. Another time, someone refused to give me a battery I needed for my pump. I’m no longer bothered, but I haven’t forgotten.

“Sometimes sweets are my medicine.”

Sometimes it’s not about people, it’s about habits. In summer, the bus is hot and insulin doesn’t like heat. But men don’t usually wear shorts at our office. My workaround is baggy jeans so the air can move and the insulin doesn’t get too warm. Not ideal. Maybe I should show up in a dress? Judge me on what I deliver, not on what I wear.

There are still misunderstandings. People think insulin raises sugar. They confuse type 1 and type 2. Some think I shouldn’t eat sweets, when sometimes sweets are my medicine. So I explain it again and again. It’s fine. Talking helps.

“Never be afraid to ask or share.”

I’ve lived with diabetes since I was thirteen. It’s part of me now. If you’re working with a colleague who has diabetes, never be afraid to show interest in their condition. And if you’re living with the condition yourself, never be afraid to ask for help. A little understanding and a bit of humour make things easier, for everyone.

* Michał relies on an insulin pump, a small device that delivers insulin throughout the day to keep his blood sugar stable. It helps, but isn’t perfect. Stress, heat, or even a short walk can change how his body reacts, which is why he needs to stay one step ahead of his levels.