Truth is truth. That’s what my Mom says, anyway

I was worried. So I called my mother. Who told me my recent posts were one of the best suspense-thrillers she’s read in years.

Yeah, too bad it isn’t fiction, Mom. But I’m having some real ethical issues writing about this, I told her.

She asked me what the fuck I was talking about. (Mom might spend too much time reading my stuff, it’s affected her language.)

So I started babbling. How I don’t want to scare people. How I really believe that the mySentry system and Med-T’s CGM sensors are really awesome. How I know that, overall, their pumps are sound. How I can’t imagine what the hell is going on. How I was afraid that in reporting my experiences, I might bias people against a good system. And yet, if I white wash the troubles I’m having, how wouldn’t be true to my mission, either.

Now remember that my mother was a Walter Cronkite-era print journalist. “Truth is truth,” she told me. “Your readers are counting on you to tell the truth, even if you don’t like doing it. That’s what journalists do.”

Yeah, well, I’m really a blogger, so I’m not sure that’s the same.

My Mom snorted. “Given the state of journalism nowadays, I think you bloggers are the only real journalists left. Look, everyone is counting on your to tell the story the way it happens. You don’t have any choice. And I think you are doing a wonderful job of it, dear.”

Thanks, Mom. I guess sometimes, truth does hurt.

But, yeah. Truth is truth.