Diabetes Dilemma: Are Festive Celebrations Pushing Millions to the Sidelines?

Paul Riverbank, 12/14/2025 Overtime drama on ice, hard-fought triumphs on court, and quiet battles at the festive table—this piece explores resilience in public and private arenas, reminding us that true strength often arises in moments, large and small, when adaptation is required most.

For anyone who stepped out for popcorn: bad timing. Overtime held its own brand of theatre. First, Anze Kopitar looked to have ended it for LA, sticks and arms in the air, but the grin was short-lived. The officials huddled, the home crowd rumbling in frustration while a cold replay decided the goal was a no-go — a subtle boot movement, they said, was enough for the judges in Toronto to overrule the moment.

A breath later, Calgary came storming up ice. Jonathan Huberdeau chugged forward — not in a straight line but arcing, as if seeing three possibilities at once. He slipped the puck in a tight window and Frost, seemingly materializing out of nothing, smacked it past the pad at 1:06 of overtime. His eighth score of the season, though nobody in LA was counting. That was a second helping of sting for the home faithful.

A season spent balancing on a wire—LA has taken 14 of their 21 one-goal tussles to extra periods. The cost? Nerves, mostly. Adrian Kempe, for his part, has become something like certainty in a year when everything seems up for grabs. With a fourth tally in seven games and a points streak inching along, he stands as both proof and exception to LA’s razor-thin margins.

And yet, Calgary was always the team most prepared to pounce on a miscue. They did it in the second frame, unloading 17 shots to the Kings' paltry three. Not all were high art, but they forced mistakes. Blake Coleman, always sniffing for opportunity, seized on one such misstep. Off he went, breakaway style, beating the goaltender for his third shorty of the year — that’s the kind of thing that fans remember on the drive home, long after the rest has faded.

But hockey drama isn’t the night’s only contest, nor the only sort defined by resilience. Away from the ice and all the obvious adrenaline, another kind of struggle flares up around the holidays.

For Jess Jacques, who found herself staring down a Type 2 diabetes diagnosis at 25, this season comes with its peculiar blend of anticipation and anxiety. “I used to feel like the odd one out,” she muses, describing years of avoiding sugar-laden tables or dodging awkward conversations. Nowadays, she plans ahead (a careful check of menus, scanning for smart options), not to stand apart but to stay ahead of her condition. Holiday indulgence, she’s learned, is less about restriction, more about preparation.

That sense of exclusion — not just from food, but from the spirit of togetherness — lingers for many. In a recent survey, nearly half of respondents living with Type 2 diabetes said they dread December, feeling adrift amid desserts and platters. Fewer still are open about their disease. Some simply hide their needs, hoping not to attract attention. “It’s easier if there’s sugar-free soda or a few low-carb sides, but it’s even better when nobody makes a speech about it,” Jacques adds with a laugh.

The statistics carry a soft heartbreak. Nearly 45% have skipped invitations, more out of discomfort than dietary need. Almost 80% say their circles don’t really get the constant vigilance required—counting, measuring, bargaining with the plate while everyone else piles it high.

In the end, it isn’t about food, or even medicine. Small gestures — setting out options, not making a spectacle — can be the bridge. Inclusion, it turns out, is often served quietly.

Basketball, meanwhile, played its own tune in Seattle. Gonzaga, usually a step ahead, found themselves toe-to-toe with an unusually stubborn UCLA. The first half was a scrap, bodies banging, scoreboard refusing to tip too far either way. Graham Ike grimaced through lingering soreness but still piled up 25 points, unselfishly handing out assists when double-teamed. His running mate Braden Huff bullied his way to 21 more, the pair responsible for nearly two-thirds of the team’s first-half output.

Mark Few’s roster is deep, and against UCLA, it had to be. On a night the stars needed help, up stepped Mario Saint-Supery, a freshman who looked nothing of the sort matching up against the preseason All-American. Twelve hard-earned points, including a runner that slipped in when the game began to teeter, helped settle things down. The bench — Emmanuel Innocenti’s defense, Jalen Warley’s hustle — turned what might’ve been a late collapse into an 82-72 win, Gonzaga’s tenth in eleven tries.

Whatever the arena, whether it’s compressed between boards or squeezed around a crowded holiday table, these moments ask the same thing: Adjust. Respond. Find a little toughness, quietly or out loud. Sometimes, all it takes is a timely save, a supportive menu, the bench stepping up while the stars are winded. In sport and in life, seasons change, challenges morph, but the right sort of resilience never really goes out of style.

On a brisk Los Angeles night, the Kings and Flames traded blows, neither team giving an inch as the minutes ticked deep into overtime. In the stands, fans shifted on their feet, only half-watching their phones, eyes glued mostly to the ice. Every shot felt like it might be the one—a flick, a clatter, a gasp rippling through the arena. At the heart of it all, Calgary’s Dustin Wolf was unshakeable, quietly brushing aside 20 attempts. That calmness — not the highlight-reel stuff, but the kind that wins, or at least avoids, heartbreak — has underpinned Calgary's recent form. Eight wins in twelve contests, and Wolf stands at the middle of four straight victories, mostly by keeping things simple when chaos swirled.For anyone who stepped out for popcorn: bad timing. Overtime held its own brand of theatre. First, Anze Kopitar looked to have ended it for LA, sticks and arms in the air, but the grin was short-lived. The officials huddled, the home crowd rumbling in frustration while a cold replay decided the goal was a no-go — a subtle boot movement, they said, was enough for the judges in Toronto to overrule the moment.A breath later, Calgary came storming up ice. Jonathan Huberdeau chugged forward — not in a straight line but arcing, as if seeing three possibilities at once. He slipped the puck in a tight window and Frost, seemingly materializing out of nothing, smacked it past the pad at 1:06 of overtime. His eighth score of the season, though nobody in LA was counting. That was a second helping of sting for the home faithful.A season spent balancing on a wire—LA has taken 14 of their 21 one-goal tussles to extra periods. The cost? Nerves, mostly. Adrian Kempe, for his part, has become something like certainty in a year when everything seems up for grabs. With a fourth tally in seven games and a points streak inching along, he stands as both proof and exception to LA’s razor-thin margins.And yet, Calgary was always the team most prepared to pounce on a miscue. They did it in the second frame, unloading 17 shots to the Kings' paltry three. Not all were high art, but they forced mistakes. Blake Coleman, always sniffing for opportunity, seized on one such misstep. Off he went, breakaway style, beating the goaltender for his third shorty of the year — that’s the kind of thing that fans remember on the drive home, long after the rest has faded.But hockey drama isn’t the night’s only contest, nor the only sort defined by resilience. Away from the ice and all the obvious adrenaline, another kind of struggle flares up around the holidays.For Jess Jacques, who found herself staring down a Type 2 diabetes diagnosis at 25, this season comes with its peculiar blend of anticipation and anxiety. “I used to feel like the odd one out,” she muses, describing years of avoiding sugar-laden tables or dodging awkward conversations. Nowadays, she plans ahead (a careful check of menus, scanning for smart options), not to stand apart but to stay ahead of her condition. Holiday indulgence, she’s learned, is less about restriction, more about preparation.That sense of exclusion — not just from food, but from the spirit of togetherness — lingers for many. In a recent survey, nearly half of respondents living with Type 2 diabetes said they dread December, feeling adrift amid desserts and platters. Fewer still are open about their disease. Some simply hide their needs, hoping not to attract attention. “It’s easier if there’s sugar-free soda or a few low-carb sides, but it’s even better when nobody makes a speech about it,” Jacques adds with a laugh.The statistics carry a soft heartbreak. Nearly 45% have skipped invitations, more out of discomfort than dietary need. Almost 80% say their circles don’t really get the constant vigilance required—counting, measuring, bargaining with the plate while everyone else piles it high.In the end, it isn’t about food, or even medicine. Small gestures — setting out options, not making a spectacle — can be the bridge. Inclusion, it turns out, is often served quietly.Basketball, meanwhile, played its own tune in Seattle. Gonzaga, usually a step ahead, found themselves toe-to-toe with an unusually stubborn UCLA. The first half was a scrap, bodies banging, scoreboard refusing to tip too far either way. Graham Ike grimaced through lingering soreness but still piled up 25 points, unselfishly handing out assists when double-teamed. His running mate Braden Huff bullied his way to 21 more, the pair responsible for nearly two-thirds of the team’s first-half output.Mark Few’s roster is deep, and against UCLA, it had to be. On a night the stars needed help, up stepped Mario Saint-Supery, a freshman who looked nothing of the sort matching up against the preseason All-American. Twelve hard-earned points, including a runner that slipped in when the game began to teeter, helped settle things down. The bench — Emmanuel Innocenti’s defense, Jalen Warley’s hustle — turned what might’ve been a late collapse into an 82-72 win, Gonzaga’s tenth in eleven tries.Whatever the arena, whether it’s compressed between boards or squeezed around a crowded holiday table, these moments ask the same thing: Adjust. Respond. Find a little toughness, quietly or out loud. Sometimes, all it takes is a timely save, a supportive menu, the bench stepping up while the stars are winded. In sport and in life, seasons change, challenges morph, but the right sort of resilience never really goes out of style.