The Neverending Ride: Six Years With Type 1 Diabetes

I throw the covers off and stumble out of bed. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and look at my phone for the time. I check my CGM for my blood sugar level. I put on some pants and clip my insulin pump to the waist line.

You told me six years ago that we were going for a ride. I didn’t know then that the ride would never end. And for those six years, I’ve been searching for a way to get back home, but after all that I’ve experienced and all that I’ve seen, can I really go back?

Chocolate and White Cupcake

Today marks my six-year anniversary with Type 1 diabetes. Six years ago at this time I was waiting in the exam room of Xavier University’s health center for results on a severe skin rash. But the results of that skin rash, among other symptoms and an out-of-control blood sugar reading, pointed to Type 1 diabetes. I was admitted to the hospital a few hours later and so began my journey with this autoimmune disease.

My anniversary coincidentally follows #IWishPeopleKnewThatDiabetes Day (April 22, 2015). I felt a sense of solidarity with the diabetes online community as I read through the various hashtag tweets. And I feel like my small contribution to the day evinces how I truly feel about the disease and others’ perception of it.

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A Community of T1D Veterans

This Veterans Day I would like to highlight something a little different on Sugarcoated – the concept of diabetes veterans.

I was diagnosed late in life at 22 (well for Type 1s, that is). I had missed out on growing up with the disease, among the support of family, friends, and fellow juvenile diabetics. Yes, I say “missed” because ever since I was diagnosed, I’ve felt largely excluded from the Type 1 community. Maybe it’s why I’ve never involved myself with organizations like the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF) until now.

Because you see, I had a different experience than most Type 1s I meet. They were diagnosed at six or 13 and remember attending diabetes camp and having their moms pack them juice boxes for even the shortest trips. I’m not saying their diagnosis wasn’t daunting or depressing because after all, it’s still an incurable chronic disease. But in growing up with it, they developed a stronger support system. Through camps and fundraising events, they met other diabetics like them. They became friends; they shared stories; they didn’t feel alone. Continue reading