It’s officially my 28th year as a diabetic. My “Start Date” is September 3, 1991.
It’s sometimes hard to imagine what life would be like without diabetes. Like a weird, terrible sidekick that never leaves me alone, diabetes feels like it’s been here forever.
In all seriousness though, I don’t remember life before diabetes became a part of it.
I was diagnosed two days before my second birthday. My family was devastated and my body was traumatized. My hair fell out and I had to be re-potty trained. I was not expected to live to my second birthday (two days later), and the thought of surviving to Kindergarten seemed like a slim hope.
But doctors are not God. They don’t get to decide who of us lives and dies. They just get to offer statistics and assistance and answer questions along the way.
My nuclear family was just my mom, my dad, and I when I was diagnosed. My family put a lot of things on hold (including my siblings) for a few years while I continued to survive and eventually thrived. It wasn’t easy, but they were willing to make it work. They were willing to wait for me. They were willing to work for me. They were willing to step back or step in, depending on what I needed in that moment. As my siblings arrived, they did the same. I’m so grateful they didn’t give up. So this is a congratulations to our whole family on this one-we made it!
I’ve kept a fairly positive attitude all these years, despite the dismal prognoses that I’ve been handling and the loss of many important people along the way. Diabetes is ruthless-it does not care who you are, or how old you are-you have to deal with it. But I’ve tried to keep upbeat and remember that it’s not just about me. I would do anything for the people I love, and that includes whatever I have to do to stay healthy and alive.
My family, now inclusive of several more people than when this started, has helped me maintain that attitude with a combination of tough love and motivation. Now, my fiance continues to help with support, love, and a willingness to listen and troubleshoot. They’re not all good days, but between my family, friends, and fiance, I’m not in this alone. They’re all here and I’m so grateful.
As I go into this 28th year of diabetes, I’m proud of myself and the work that I’ve done, but I’m admittedly anxious to see what lies ahead. See, 30 was my final prognoses date. “If she makes it to 30…” was a statement I’ve actually heard medical professionals (more than one!) make.
I turn 30 in 2 days. On September 5, 2019 I will have outlived the expectations. I will have officially exceeded these ridiculous expiration dates for my life. I will not have an end date after all.
I’ve done SO MUCH in the past 28 years. I’m not entirely convinced that some of those accomplishments weren’t made simply because in the back of my mind there wasn’t ever going to be enough time. And who knows how much time any of us have, really. But, they are not God. I am not God. We don’t get to decide that. We get to live in this world, in these bodies, and we get to keep going.
So I’m not going to wallow, or quit, or take up motivational speaking (not today, anyway). Instead, I’m going to take this 28th year in this body, with this illness, and I’m going to rock it.
I’m going to marry my best friend in 101 days. I’m going to be a really, ridiculously cool aunt to the babies in my biological and chosen family that will be arriving this year. I’m going to travel and see things I haven’t seen yet. I’m going to operate my businesses and take big career chances. I’m going to succeed. And most importantly, I’m going to spend time with the people I love and I’m going to live my life without an end date.
I’m going to live my life without an end date. That’s what I’m doing with this 28th year. That’s what I’m going to do with 30.
The Friendly Neighborhood Diabetics 