A Monthly Check-In
Dylan Taylor is a college student. He recently had an internship with the Questa Health Center focused on diabetes. He has offered to write a monthly column, providing helpful health information.
When I visited Questa during the summer of 2024 for my sophomore year of college, to shadow at the Questa Health Center, I was struck by the town’s beauty and rich culture. Eagle Rock Lake, St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, and the farmers market are just a few of the many pieces that make up the mosaic of Questa—a town of roughly only 1,800 people, yet filled with endless stories and breathtaking natural beauty.
Beneath this beauty lies a quieter yet pressing reality—one that I came to understand during my time at the clinic. After observing the rhythm of care, I noticed that Type II Diabetes was a common reason for visiting. It seemed counterintuitive to me: there are few fast food options available, an abundance of outdoor spaces, and fewer sedentary jobs. But I wasn’t just witnessing an anomaly of diabetes diagnoses, I was witnessing a narrative.
Type II Diabetes disproportionately affects rural communities, where access to healthcare, fresh food, and preventive resources can be limited. The prevalence of diabetes in Questa is not an indictment of Questa’s resilience, but of an epidemic sweeping the nation.
The more I learned about diabetes, the more daunting and ravaging it seemed. Nearly 14 percent of the adult US population—38.1 million—has diabetes, with a quarter of that population undiagnosed and unaware. Nearly one in four healthcare dollars are diabetes-related and it can have severe mental and physical complications, such as depression, neuropathy, and increased cardiovascular risk. Diabetes can seem overwhelming from both a healthcare and patient perspective.
But the narrative of Questa is greater than the statistics which afflict it. Yes, the numbers are drastic, but the town’s collaboration can yield profound results. I started this article by noting the beauty of Eagle Rock Lake, St. Anthony’s, and the farmers market—these all would be impossible without the previous and current generations working together to inspire change.
This past summer I helped coordinate a class on diabetes self-management education, hoping to emphasize what the people of Questa offer, rather than what diabetes takes away. Though small—never exceeding seven individuals—the class was empowering. I had the privilege of witnessing members share their diabetes narratives with vulnerability, reflecting on both the struggles and triumphs. This class was just one of the thousands that exist across the country which emphasize diabetes treatment as a collaborative rather than individual experience.
By writing a monthly column I hope to honor the spirit of Questa and those who make it what it is. I want to offer awareness for those without diabetes and validation for those with it. I will highlight the incredible resources which already exist, amplify the voices of Questa, and offer insights from my time in Questa and from the larger literature on diabetes. Diabetes is an epidemic, but it is not inevitable. Together with hope, the narrative of diabetes can be rewritten.
