Back in 1993, diabetes was a very bulky disease. Meters were two or three times their size now. Lancet devices didn't "ping" the way they do these days; it was more of a "thwack" with no control on how far it went into tiny finger tips. Strip bottles were double their size.

Those basic necessities added up to a hefty weight alone. On top of that, we carried rolls of Lifesavers, a glucagon kit, alcohol swabs, extra syringes and lancets, logbooks, tubes of icing, and random tidbits that got added along the way. It was enough to weight a four year old to the floor.

So we put everything into a pink "kaboodle." And every doctor's trip or lab test, I got the usual sticker. They went straight onto the pink "kit." It was heavy, but necessary. The usual grab just to go to the grocery store. The peace of mind that my mother was always prepared to handle a high or low with her four year old little girl.

The big pink kit wasn't necessary when I went to kindergarten. We transferred to a smaller pink kit that was the perfect size for my meter and accompaniments, glucagon, and some snacks. I could easily carry it. And it could easily be stashed in my classroom amidst the finger paint and flashcards.

I carried the big pink kit for quite awhile. Maybe even too long. But it was a permanent fixture in my diabetes. I could rely on the big pink kit to have what I needed. We were attached, cuffed at the wrist.

I'm not sure what I transitioned to after that. Maybe just a general meter kit that came with the boxed set. My logbook turned into a binder with homemade log sheets and a decorative cover. The cover served as a reminder that I could do anything with my diabetes. A pilot, a sailor, an Olympic swimmer...all their pictures (and sometimes their pumps) graced my "Diabetes Logbook."

By the time I went to high school, I was using a makeup bag to contain all my diabetes supplies. I've changed it a few times, updated with the season or the emotion. It generally just has my meter, lancet, strips, Lantus, Humalog, and syringes in it. But it's still an attachment that I rarely forget. It's a permanent peace of mind that I have something to manage this disease with. It isn't as trusty as the big pink kit...all those extras don't fit so easily in such a small bag. But it's accommodating to my life.

I still have all these pieces of my diabetes history. The big pink kit is above the washer and dryer at my dad's house. I've gotten it out a few times just to see what I remember. The old meter kit has a giant rodeo sticker on it. Logbooks contain all sorts of random blood sugars and insulins like NPH or R. I'm sure I'll always have it as a reminder of what this disease was like at four years old and beyond.

The small pink kit now serves as my emergency box under my bed. Crackers, lifesavers, glucagon, glucose tabs...all the low treatments that I find comforting. The same comfort and hate that I carried for it on my first day of kindergarten. It brings up dozens of memories and will probably create dozens more by the time I'm done with it.

Through it all, these pieces of history are sometimes the only brightspots of this disease. A silent memory with my mother and myself. The innocence of a four year old collecting stickers to put on a diabetes box. A simple knowledge of the past sixteen years of this disease.

These tiny artifacts and stolen moments can be the only things that get us through the next sixteen years. Or more.