On Christmas eve 31 years ago, my life changed forever. And my family’s. Instead of celebrating Christmas with family and gifts like planned, I was brought to the hospital by my parents for a type 1 diabetes diagnosis. To this day, I am grateful that my parents recognized the symptoms of insatiable thirst and never ending trips to the bathroom as soon as they did. They saved me from becoming seriously ill.
I dislike having to live with diabetes. There are days or moments when I absolutely hate it. I’m not going to hide it. But as I am reading “Breakthrough: Elizabeth Hughes, the Discovery of Insulin, and the Making of a Medical Miracle“, I cannot help but feel extremely thankful that I live in a time where there are treatment options. Back in the early 1900’s, the prognosis of being diagnosed with diabetes was a death sentence. And a short one. In my first years of being a person with diabetes, we relied on urine testing and only 1-2 daily injections of insulin to manage blood sugar. But it was still better than nothing at all. And today, 31 years later, even though I have some mild complications, I am still overall a healthy person.
So happy birthday, Diabetes. I’m sorry to be stuck with you but in a way I hope we get to celebrate many more together.