A family living well with type 1 diabetes.

Six.

Six years.

In two days it will be six years since diabetes became an official, uninvited member of our family. It has gone from being that thing that casts a dark, sad cloud over so much to being an omnipresent aspect of life that swings like a pendulum between almost–but not quite–forgotten, or all too there. 

Somehow, somewhere, at some point along the way, diabetes has woven itself completely into our family’s fabric.  We have found a way to see past it more often than not.  We only look directly at it and acknowledge its presence when we have to.  And then only for as long as is necessary to force it to submit by dousing it with insulin or pelting it with fast acting carbs.  All other times, we just go through the motions of blood sugar checks, boluses and carb counts.

Without speaking, we project what might happen in the next hour.  Or two. Or six.  And we do it almost subconsciously. Like breathing, but not quite.

It’s no longer a raw wound.  It seldom brings me to tears anymore. It isn’t that horrible hated monster it once was.

We have grown. Lived. THRIVED. Mostly in spite of diabetes.  But, at times because of it.

We would be different people today if diabetes were not a part of our lives.

Six years.

Three-quarters of her life.

Still hard to look at pictures from before D, though.

Oh. And I’m going grey.

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Comments on: "Six." (1)

  1. Doused! Pelted!

    I don’t see a speck of gray.

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