This month marked my tenth anniversary of being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. It’s been a decade of ups and downs and finding myself despite my chronic illness.
I remember the moment that I was diagnosed and how the word “diabetes” shook me to my core. I was ten years old, and I had maybe heard the word in passing a couple of times(specifically in the Jonas Brothers’ “Burnin up” tour book when Nick Jonas talked about having diabetes) but never really knew what it meant until then. I remember thinking “oh, I’m going to die,” and bursting into tears in the doctor’s office out of fear. As I was driving to the hospital, I had no idea what was to come, but I had a feeling that my entire life was about to change, and it did. I was in the hospital for a week, meeting with multitudes of doctors, learning to count carbs and how to administer injections on myself. Before getting diagnosed, I used to be terrified of needles (I mean like breakdowns, panic attacks, someone has to hold me down afraid of needles), but for some reason, once I got to the hospital, I realized that this is what my new life was going to consist of, my fear vanished. It is something I will never fully understand, but I think it might have just been an acceptance that I had to grow up and move past my fear, or else my life would be so much harder. I remember being so scared during that week. I felt like my world was spinning and changing, and I couldn’t do anything about it. My fingers were pricked every couple of hours, including nighttime, so I was never able to fully relax without a class about carb counting or a nurse coming in to check my blood sugar. I was exhausted. Although it was hard, looking back at my experience, I am so incredibly grateful for the doctors and nurses that took care of me and made sure that I was as prepared as I could be with this.
The first couple of months with diabetes were very hard. Adjusting to a new life of no sugar and carefully measured meals as a ten-year-old was immeasurably difficult and led to many tears and existential anger. Why me? Why did I have to go through this? Needless to say, I went through a period of extreme frustration and confusion when it came to accepting my chronic illness. My mother would wake up every hour of the night to check my blood sugar to make sure that I was in range, which makes me tear up whenever I think about it. As hard as it was for me, my parents were also grieving. They too, had to adjust to a new life, and they had to watch their daughter suffer through such a life-changing thing at such a young age. My mother became an expert on all things diabetes, making sure that I was always doing more than okay and had every single aspect of my health in order. She would take an entire food scale in her purse whenever we went out and portion out all of my meals at restaurants. I would always get embarrassed, but looking back, this was the way that my mom tried to gain some control back in this crazy situation. She is the reason why my diabetes was perfectly in check for years, and I know I don’t say it enough to her, but I am so grateful that she was so strict because it saved my life.
Even after ten years of living with a chronic illness, I still feel like I’m learning new things about diabetes every day. Managing an ever changing illness is a full-time job, and I am not going to lie, sometimes it is extremely exhausting and debilitating. But through the hard times, there have also been moments of joy. When I manage my sugar correctly and I’m in range for days, or when my doctor tells me that my A1c is looking really great, I feel a sense of pride in myself in the fact that even though it’s hard, it’s manageable.
I’ve also learned to love myself despite the difficulties that diabetes sometimes presents. Having to wear medical devices on my arms and stomach was something that I was very nervous about when I first started wearing them, and having to endure the stare of people as I walked by was difficult for me as a young girl who was already self-conscious. I still catch some of the looks sometimes, but I’ve learned to embrace all the devices and the scars that have made me into the woman I am today. I’ve learned to have more patience with myself and my body and understand that while circumstances may not be perfect all the time, I can still persevere through it all. I’d like to think that ten year-old me would look at the person I am today and be proud. Proud of all the wonderful moments I’ve had through this and proud of how I have learned and grown through the tough ones.