Dave R1

I don't remember being diagnosed. I don't remember being scared or angry. I don't remember the first shots or finger pricks. I hear stories sometimes, but those are rarely mentioned. I imagine how my little four-year-old self might react to learning about diabetes, but come up short most of the time.

My family tells me that my pediatrician didn't know what was wrong with me, but told my parents to take me immediately to Texas Children's Hospital. I was handed a Gatorade, because they thought I was dehydrated. When I arrived at TCH, they switched the Gatorade for a Diet Coke. No one seems to recall what my blood sugar was, just that I was fading fast. My parents were taught everything they needed to get me through the night (a crash course for a lifetime of disease) and brought back the next day. According to my mom, I didn't understand why I wouldn't be better once I saw the doctor. What four year old could grasp the concept of a life-long disease? I saw a therapist who specialized in chronic illnesses to not be such an angry four year old.

The next few years are only a blur of stories that I've heard. Sometimes I think I remember, but then I realize that I only remember the images that come to mind when I first heard those stories. Like the one where I fell asleep (actually, I had passed out) on the park bench in Pre-K. Or how after every doctor's appointment (and inevitable blood draw), I would get a toy.

I remember diabetic camps to some extent, mostly the people that I met instead of the diabetic experiences I'm sure I had. I remember the two diabetic best friends I had through elementary. I remember the camp counselors that I didn't like or did like because of how they handled my diabetes when my mom wasn't there. I remember at Texas Lions' Camp that my blood sugar had gotten so high from the sloppy joes that I left the closing dance and got sick waiting for them to get me insulin.

After I started managing my diabetes more on my own, my memories seem to multiply by the thousands. From switching doctors (my doctor of many years had left the hospital and we were finding a new one, but none seemed to manage me correctly) to fainting and getting sick in a grocery store, diabetes has its hold over my mind. I can recall the lows I had in school that got me out of class, the sick days that seemed so stressful when my blood sugar was on a fine line, the constant need to carry a purse that my meter fits in. I vividly remember my first Intensive Management Class and how the nurse told me that my A1c goal was probably too low to reasonably reach (I put it at a 7.0 when I was in the 9's).

There are these parts of diabetes that define how my past is related to the present. It is something that adds into every aspect of my life, whether I feel it there or not. It has taken me to so many amazing places (and brought me so many amazing people) that otherwise, I would have missed. All of those places and people are forever etched into my memory. The defining moments of diabetes (the embarrassing, mind-numbing, scary, frustrating moments) are surely a part of who I am. Which makes me wonder, who am I without diabetes? What would I be without all of this in my life? And would I like who I would be?