Charlie woke me up at 5:15 am with his pump in one hand, his pants in the other and something clearly on his mind as he spoke a mile a minute.

"I was looking for blue pants and I couldn't find any so I found these black pants but I'm not sure these match so I wanted to see if you could get the blue pants out of the dryer because you said we were leaving right after breakfast and I don't want to be late ,"

Surely this was a dream. Didn't I just close my eyes to go to sleep thirty seconds ago? It couldn't be.

"Charlie, it's 5:15 am. We're not leaving for a while. Go back to bed."

That wasn't about to happen. He even slept in his Charlie's Angels t-shirt. He couldn't contain his excitement. He was so excited that we were greeted with a blood sugar of 300 at 6:45 am after he was fine in the middle of the night.

Still better than the large ketones and vomiting we experienced just prior to last year's walk.

"I don't like that number," Charlie says. (READ MORE)

It's a milestone - but not one worthy of celebration.

Charlie is approaching five years with this despicable disease.

We can't remember Charlie without diabetes. Charlie can't either. His earliest memories will contain images of blood being taken from his fingertips constantly, being poked with sharp objects and juice being forced down his throat in the middle of the night.

Soon we won't be able to remember a time when Charlie wasn't attached to an insulin pump; a time when tape and tubing and needle wasn't fastened to his body 24 hours a day like some sort of medieval torture device.

I want this to all be a dream that seemed so real.

I want diabetes to be forgotten. Gone so long, the word escapes me.

Gone so long, the word is mispronounced.

We need a cure. We need a cure now.  (READ MORE)

When we got out of the car, the first thing Charlie did was adjust his "Charlie's Angels" t-shirt so that his insulin pump was visible to his fellow diabetic comrades.

Then he scoped the area for others who sported similar machinery. If there was a "D" signal on the pump, he would have surely activated it.

Calling all diabetics! Calling all diabetics! Rendezvous at the Tastykake table in 5. Tell your mothers you feel low.

We had a gorgeous day filled with sunshine and the support of great friends and family who walked beside us for a cure at Rutgers University's agricultural campus.

  (READ MORE)

Most of the teams who participate in our local JDRF Walk for a Cure are composed of friends and family walking for a child with diabetes. The child gets to be the focus of attention for a fun-filled day of raising awareness for that which normally separates him (or her) from his friends. There's also the smattering of company, corporate, and fraternal teams walking in the name of public service.

And then there's the third type of team: those who walk to honor the memory of a loved one killed by diabetes.

Memorial teams may be the fewest in number, but they serve as a poignant reminder of why we must walk - why we must continue to walk - and why insulin is not a cure.

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Hey there! Some notable messages from the email bag this past week.

Carey

I would like to support you and your family in this campaign to find a cure for children's diabetes, most specifically for your Charlie. Your daily routine with Charlie is overwhelming to read and enough to bring a tear to ones eye as I'm sure you have shed many. I realize now how much I take for granted every day and realize, although troubling, the temper tantrums from Ricky because we won't give him anymore apple juice is nothing to get upset about. I won't be able to attend your walk but I can support your efforts. Good Luck with your walk and we'll be thinking of you.

Dave
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In trying to raise money for diabetes research, I've definitely noticed the effect of our declining economy. People just don't have money to give this year. 

With a month left before our team assembles for the Walk to Cure Diabetes, I've reached the stage of our JDRF fundraising campaign where I get a little desperate. When just about every person, place or thing in my periphery is fair game.

For example, driving home from a soccer game and crossing the Delaware River toll bridge. Hmm, I thought. Tolls. (READ MORE)