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I am dependent on insulin. But I am otherwise an incredibly independent person. I like taking risks - on my own. I enjoy the feeling of having accomplished something by my own will and my own action. I am more outgoing and more confident than I think I would have been if I'd not been diagnosed. A combination of wanting to be able to handle my disease on my own, without pity or judgment AND the experiences I had as a young woman - through the Clara Barton Camp and the ADA's Youth Congress - transformed me from a shy, albeit precocious kid, to a person who stands on her own. A person who keeps her head up and battles mightily - in the face of whatever wrong she sees and whatever challenges she faces. But would I trade my independence for a life without diabetes? I would - though again, who's to tell if something else might have brought me to this same place. (READ MORE)

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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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I recently "celebrated" my fourteenth anniversary with type 1 diabetes. I wasn't really sure how to celebrate it though. I actually didn't even tell anybody about it. It's not like I was trying to hide it from anyone or the opposite, make a big deal about it, I just didn't give it much thought. Now that I look back at it though, this anniversary actually marks my, "half of life" with diabetes day. I have had diabetes for 14 years now and it is hard to imagine. I look back and reflect on those years, and it blows me away that is has been that long. Time really does seem to fly by. What I find funny is that I really only consider my diabetic years as the ones that really count. In a way, my life got started the day I got the diagnosis.
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Today, I have had diabetes for twenty five years. And I'm not sure exactly how I feel.

I guess, lucky - my body is free, so far, of complications.

I also feel somewhat happy and strong - I mean, I started this journey as a scared, angry little girl and I'm here now - a somewhat accomplished, otherwise healthy, happy woman.

And I feel a little sad - for the weight of diabetes is surely heavy on some days. I don't let myself think of what life might have been like if I'd never been diagnosed - because - really, what would be the point? I think more of the constant juggle and the often unavoidable failures and the sheer relentlessness of diabetes management. And yeah, that makes me sad. (READ MORE)

I'm a type 1 insulin dependent diabetic. I have been since I was 4 years old. I also have polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS for short)...along with endometriosis if you really want to get detailed. The PCOS didn't pop up until 2006 when things progressively got worse.

Sudden weight gain, mood swings, fatigue, pelvic pain, very irregular periods, acne, male patterned hair growth, hair thinning, ovarian cysts, and increasingly difficult blood sugar swings.

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Recently, I was searching thru some paperwork that Olivia needed for school (OK, truth be told, I was desperately hunting down her immunization record for the first day of school - yeah, I'm just a little unorganized. Just a little.) and I came across her discharge papers from when she was diagnosed.

For the last, oh, 8 or 9 years, I've said that Olivia's diagnosis date was 9/14/97. Well, I was wrong. It was 9/10/97. So we missed it. Totally blew it. I'm kind of OK with that, though.

We've never really marked the occasion with anything more than a "Hey, it's been X years since you were diagnosed," and a bit of a discussion about how far she's come, how her care regimen has changed and then we move on with our day. I thought the ten year mark would be a bigger deal, though. But even when I thought it was on the 14th, that day came and went, and while I knew what day it was (or, rather, what day my confused brain thought it was), I never said anything to Olivia. (READ MORE)