So it’s Friday. End of January. Whenever the calendar comes around to the 30th and 31st, my mind starts going back to 1991.
On January 30th, I saw a new doctor (still my Mom’s doctor) for the first time. We went through a physical exam and I gave some blood and a urine sample. Later that afternoon, the office called to ask me if I could come back to see the doctor first thing the next day, January 31st. That’s when I received the news that I would be living with Type 1 Diabetes for the rest of my life. I was 28 years old.
There’s a lot more to that story, and my mind goes back to every detail when these two days come around again. When I mentioned this 23 year diaversary to Maureen she was like, “Oooh… should we get a cake and celebrate?”. I said no. I feel like it’s important for me to celebrate the fact that I’ve made it this far. It’s not quite so important that I devour something as a memento. Though a little peach pie would be nice. A little peach pie is always nice. But I digress.
After work I’ll head home via the liquor store, and I’ll enjoy some pizza and salad with my brother-in-law, who’s in town on his way to New York, where he’ll start soon at the Bronx Zoo. Our next door neighbor will join us, and probably a couple of others too. I’ll take a moment to check my BG and work out the special dual-wave bolus (known by me as the Karen pizza bolus). Come to think of it, a martini would be okay too.
And that’s the best thing about surviving 23 years with this bastard of a condition known as diabetes. I have to do what I have to do, but in the final analysis, if I’m still living a good life with great friends and greater family? That’s something to celebrate!
No doubt parents of kids with diabetes want a cure. No doubt all of us want a cure. But in the absence of that, I think D-parents, and all of us, just want to know that a good life is possible even with diabetes on board. You know what? It took me a lot of long years with bad numbers and rebelling against the daily grind of this disease, but I am living a good life. I’m not going to blow smoke and tell you that it’s a walk in the park. But whoever said “living well is the best revenge” really knew what they were talking about.