May I call you D.? You and I have lived together for nearly seventeen years now. Every birthday I cringe. Not because of my advancing age you see. I’m proud of my age (almost 35!) and I celebrate life with each birthday. I cringe, because it is another year we are together. It’s always there in the back of my mind. Every birthday is a year closer to the possible complications we face. I love my life and I want to be healthy for as long as possible.
There are people that don’t think diabetes is that big of a deal, I beg to differ. You never give me a break. I cut you slack when you act up, but you never let me have an “oops” where I forget to take my medicine, never allow a miscalculation of carbs, never let me fall asleep without eating. The worst part of all is that even when I do everything right, you get sneaky. You and the flu virus get along about as well as Pit Bulls at a dogfight. We literally almost died that year. You know what I’m talking about D. No one should ever know what it is like to have a blood sugar over 800. The ER said it was the second highest blood sugar they’d ever seen. What did I ever do to you?
With my grievances I will also give you credit. It was good of you to leave me alone until I was eighteen years old. Seeing young kids diagnosed makes me so angry. It’s not okay for a young child to have to go through this. At eighteen I sure wasn’t ready, but really, is anyone ever ready for you?
I won’t lie. I’d do anything for a cure. Though, we are similar to a married couple. We can have a long and happy life together – despite our bickering, as long as we vow to honor, love and cherish each other, both in sickness and in health. I, Meagan, promise to respect you in your successes and in your failures, to care for you in sickness and in health, to nurture you, and to grow with you throughout the seasons of life.