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October 27, 2016
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D-style Dear John...

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This post by our very own Carey Potash - got me thinking about how I'd feel if we found a cure. I decided to practice how I might bid diabetes farewell - Dear John-style.
Dear Diabetes,
Well, I guess by now, you've heard that you can't stay here anymore. I'm sorry to have sent those strange pancreatic cells in to tell you and give you this note, but I just couldn't handle it myself. I know this is probably difficult for you, D, but let's be honest, we'd really taken our relationship as far as it could go and it was time for one of us to move on. When you leave, there's a box by the door that's got your stuff in it. The mood swings, about seventeen meters, the tear-filled lows, the thirst-inducing highs, oh, and all of the future complications you promised are all in the box. I'm going to hold onto the insulin pump, though, that little guy means a lot to me. And don't even think about taking all of the real-life and OC friends we've made together - they're mine - every last one of them.
My feelings about our break-up are mixed, D. Twenty-five years is a long time to have someone in your life. A long time to live in such intimate quarters with someone. You know so much about me - as much as I know about myself, it seems - and boy, can you get a reaction out of me. I've never met someone who could make me so sad, so angry, and so happy. Through the years, you've brought me doubt and certainty, good health and sickness, and we've sure had our share of better and worse.
But as close as you are, there are so many things I WON'T miss about you. Mostly your raging, the confusion you cause me and your general abuse of my poor body. I never deserved those things.
Many of my friends say good riddance. But I'll be honest, I'm afraid. You've been here with me all these years and I'm a little shaken up, a little unsure about what comes next. This routine we've gotten into is going to be hard to break. Not that I'll miss bleeding fingers and pump-site bruises, but maybe I'll miss the things that you always told me about myself - that I'm strong, that I'm agile, that I can be in control. It's going to be strange, in a way, having to be sure of those things without something like you to remind me. Also - I know I'll be constantly watching for you. Afraid of your sneaking back up on me. What if I let you go and you come back? What if this isn't really the end? I'm not sure I can take another round of this.
This isn't easy for either of us, D. But it's time for you to hit the road. Send me a postcard from wherever it is you land up, OK?
I'll never forget you.
PS - When you leave, could you please tell YOUR friends hypothyroidism and elevated cholesterol that they can't live in the garage anymore? Thanks.

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