What goes on with the team, stays with the team: 
'Fessin' up to my basketball team.
by Monique
 
The day of diagnosis I was super late to basketball training because of a train delay, and when I finally arrived, my coach said, 'everything okay?', and I replied, 'there was a lady on the train track...' and promptly burst into tears before finishing the sentence.  I thought I should explain myself.

The following week I disclosed to my teammates at a team meeting, blatantly stating that I would prefer any questions to be directed to me, as I was happy to talk to anyone about it. 

So things traveled along quite smoothly: I'd check my levels before a game, at half time, and all teammates were fine with it.  I hadn’t realised that in the process there was actually no improvement in their education - they left me to my own devices, with most believing that my finger pricking was actually injecting! 

It wasn't until two whole seasons later, as I sat down during a shooting session to recover from a hypo, that I realised just how ignorant my coach still was.  He thought I couldn't handle the heat, hence the need for fluid and a rest.  No, it’s actually a hypo, I told him, while searching his face for a hint of recognition. Nothing. 

The next week I brought along some articles for him to read.  He has not spoken to me about it since. 

I am still undecided on whether this was a good move: presenting such detail that suggests, even slightly, that I may not be up to speed, especially when it counts the most.  That risk you take as a coach of putting on-court a player who potentially may fall unwell at the shortest notice  – it’s better to sacrifice one player than the team.