My Diagnosis

19 04 2012

I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when I was 14 months old. Today marks 16 years, 5 months, and 5 days of living with diabetes. It’s nothing special, not a landmark or anything, but it’s still a reason to celebrate. Every day is a day to celebrate life. It is a blessing to wake up every morning.

Anyway, on November 13, 1995 my mother had been back at work for only a few months after her maternity leave. My grandmother was my primary caretaker during the work day. On that day, my grandmother observed that I was particularly thirsty after downing bottle after bottle of juice and only requesting more. She called my mom to tell her and my mom brushed it off, assuming I was just thirsty. One thing led to another and they ultimately decided to take me to the pediatrician, just to make sure something wasn’t up. The doctor took a dirty diaper of mine out of the trash can and tested it for ketones, and sure enough, I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.

It didn’t really have any effect on me. I mean, I was 14 months old. I didn’t understand a thing. People ask me if I remember anything from before my diagnosis. You have to be considered a genius in order to remember anything from before your second year of life. Everything has always been diabetes. I’ve got nothing to compare it to, no memories to strive to recreate. It’s always been a life of needles, carbohydrates, and limitations.

In some ways, it’s a blessing to not have any memories without diabetes. I have nothing to miss or long for. I never had to incorporate it into my lifestyle because it always has been my lifestyle. I grew into diabetes in the same ways that I grew into new clothes.

I’m still here. I’m still alive. I’m still breathing.

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One response

11 05 2012
darnyoupancreas

I stumbled upon your blog while I was searching for inspiration to continue with my own blog about type 1. I really liked this post. I was diagnosed at 6 years old and have also felt blessed that I don’t remember much before that. My grandmother was also the first to notice something wrong with me. Thank goodness for grandmothers!

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