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Today is the sixteenth anniversary of my diabetes diagnosis. And I'm not sure that I know what I feel, or if I'm feeling anything at all. Should I celebrate? Should I reflect? Should I move on and never recognize the day at all?

I definitely believe that it's a day worth recognizing. Sixteen years with this disease is a lifetime, a major feat, a true achievement. But I guess I just don't know how to feel on the actual anniversary.

For me, diabetes is a daily walk. It's a constant celebration. I'm always cursing it. Not a second of my life goes by without considering the consequences of diabetes, both in the present and in the future.

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Diabetes is never just one disease to handle. Sure, technically, medically, or definitively, diabetes is simply one disease. But in the daily management of the disease, it's a complex ball of diseases and risks.

Most of us understand the complications that come along with diabetes. We know that better control lowers our risk for all of those complications. We understand that those complications sometimes have a mind of their own, that despite years of good control they might still creep into our lives.

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1.

I was walking into the store as they were walking out (couldn't wait to feel the rush of cold air after walking from my car to the front of the grocery store; 9 p.m. and still 100 degrees outside. Autumn, please?).

I noticed him first: shorter than I am (a lot of people are... I'm 5'10"), muscular, tan skin, seemed confident in himself, attractive, but mostly I noticed the muscular.

She seemed just as confident. I noticed how thin she was and attractive and how short her shorts were.

As we passed I looked forward, but somehow noticed something that made me turn back. Something white. And round. And ... was that... tubing? Yes! An infusion set on the outside of her thigh! I saw it! It was like finding Waldo. Such exhilaration!

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