Well, it’s happened again. I’ve managed to check off another year of living with Type 1 Diabetes.
The official milestone occurred on January 30/31 (it’s a long story). I went to work, where things were crazy busy, but I managed to get through it. After work, I went home, had a modest dinner, and wrote a little. Kinda boring, right?
That’s the thing this year. It’s not that announcing that I’m still here after 26 years isn’t wonderful. But I think I may have moved over from the “how many years can I rack up living with diabetes?” phase to the “how much more of my life can I live with diabetes?” phase. So far, I’m a little over a year short of diabetes being with me for half of my life.
Go ahead… do the math… I’ll wait.
I guess it would be natural to wonder, since I’m almost in my mid-fifties, if I should be worried about whether I’ll be around much longer considering my chronic health status. But I don’t really think in those terms.
It’s a normal thing to consider, but I also try to remember that the time spent worrying about what might happen (and when it might happen) takes time away from the time I have left to make the rest of my life meaningful. And fun. And spectacular. Besides… who, other than a teenager, thinks of someone my age as near the end?
26 isn’t a big diaversary, and I didn’t do anything fantastic to celebrate. Not that doing so isn’t okay. To be honest, I’m happy as hell to have made this milestone. But I’m more interested in what year 27, and 37, and 47, and all the years in between have in store. I’m not afraid, and I’m ready for the experience. Let’s go.