As is my way, I sat down to Thanksgiving yesterday with my insulin pen next to my plate. Just prior to sitting down, I was talking to a family friend, who happens to be a nurse.

"Will you inject before or after you eat?" she asked while also quizzing me about how I know how much insulin to take.

"I'll inject before I eat. And with a meal like this, I'll just have to guess how many carbs I'm going to have."

She nodded in understanding. She's a school nurse at a junior high and helps many students manage their diabetes. I suspect she was comparing management techniques. (READ MORE)

I'm thankful that Charlie has diabetes and not something devastatingly worse.

I'm thankful for the grungy little boys in Charlie's class that play with him and treat him no differently despite the fact that he's part machine. I'm thankful that for the moment, they think blood is cool.

I'm thankful for the absolutely massive amount of support we receive year after year as we desperately search for a cure.

I'm thankful for friends and family members who would drop the Earth for us in a New York minute.

I'm thankful for numbers like 98 and 102 that sometimes come as an unexpected gift from an unforgiving disease.

I'm thankful for this amazing diabetes community whose empathy and encouragement never tires.

I'm thankful for my wife, who has given up so much of herself to juggle the unrelenting demands of diabetes.

I'm thankful for my daughter who accepts the abundance of attention Charlie receives from us with compassion and grace. (READ MORE)

·On walking: For the first time in five days, I took my daily morning walk. Saturday and Sunday. And man did it feel good. However, I'm going to have to fire Sarge. Despite the new "anti-pull leash" my walking partner still just doesn't seem to respond to it nor my constant pulling on him. He was doing OK on Saturday, but on Sunday I got so angry that I made the final decision. The Mr. keeps telling me to try certain things, different tricks. And all I can say is "Tried it." "Tried it." "Tried it." I want to be able to take Sarge with me. In fact, I feel like I'll be naked without him on my walk. Not to mention scared without my 90-lb. bodyguard. (Maybe I'll take his leash for moral support!) But like I told The Mr., the more I have to stop to teach Sarge, the less my walk becomes about me. (READ MORE)

Rachel From Cupcakes Take the Cake on Flickr

It's Turkey Day. A day full of family, gratitude, and carbs. From the sweet potato casserole to the pumpkin pie, Thanksgiving Day is filled with carb-laden goodies that can wreak havoc on blood sugars.

This year will be my second Thanksgiving with the pump. I don't even remember handling last year's Thanksgiving challenges. However, I do remember Christmas very vividly.

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On Monday I found out that my friend's house burned down. Rather than making apple pies or cranberry sauce in the hours before Thanksgiving, he and his wife will be sorting through ash and debris.

On Tuesday I found out that a friend's husband admitted to having an affair for more than a year. She will spend the hours before Thanksgiving checking credit card statements and learning more horrifying details.

My daughter Maeve and I couldn't avoid hearing my wife's anger while she sat stunned with the phone pressed to her ear.

"Daddy, whose head is it that mommy's gonna rip off?" Maeve asked.

Bad things happen to good people. And it seems everyone has something; something terrible and unexpected.

Charlie's diabetes is ours.

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Thanksgiving eve began this morning as it does every year - with me sticking my head deep into the refrigerator and promising Susanne that the turkey does not smell funny.

We will wake up early tomorrow morning, drag ourselves downstairs and scrub that turkey cavity clean. When all the disgusting little bits are pulled and discarded, Susanne will then take a toothbrush and some Crest and scrub the inner bones until it’s sparkling white and minty fresh. Susanne will ask one more time if I think it smells funny. I will say no.

Following tradition, Susanne will go from worrying about the turkey not being fully cooked to worrying about it being fully cooked too soon, in a matter of minutes.

"Is it too early to serve dinner at 9:30 am?"

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