Something That I Wrote for myexam and am Very proud of
At the age of two a chronic disease hit our family, at three and a half the chronic disease decided to strike me. I can no longer remember a single day where diabetes was not a part of my life and the challenges that occur because of it felt insurmountable. There was a time when I was first diagnosed when I decided that if I stopped getting treatment, then I would get better and no longer be diabetic and this led to some long and drawn out fights between a four year old and her parents.
At Six:
I had to mature quickly, the minute I was in school and away from my parents’ ever watchful eye. No one knew my schedule or what I was supposed to be going except me, I was responsible.
At Ten:
The disease struck again, one more diabetic to add to the census statistics, one more case that proves that there is a genetic link involved in Type 1 Diabetes. This time it was my brother and I was relieved no one else could get diabetes in my family, I thought we were safe.
At Twelve:
I went to school within the borders of America, a first for me and found that the teachers were still clueless about what to do with someone who was not “normal” in their classroom. I found that no one knew what diabetes was or had the constant “You can’t have that you’re a diabetic” lecture from concerned parents, who had brought in snacks, to teachers who gave away candy when you did something correctly.
At Fourteen:
I finally figured out that there wasn’t going to be a cure lurking around some corner and I was going to have to deal with this the best way that I could and that I had a responsibility to start to educate my peers.
At Sixteen:
I lashed out angry at the world, I was sick of being different and having cops called on me when I went out to dinner because people in the restrooms saw me giving myself a shot and diabetes claimed another victim, my father was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes.
At Seventeen and a half:
I gave up. I decided that this was not how I wanted to live and contemplated how to end my life. I never followed through with my plans.
At Eighteen:
I met someone who would change my life with a few simple words. “Diabetes Sucks, most diseases have support groups and celebrities, we don’t. If you make it to sixteen you’ve done something amazing; if you make it to eighteen, you are incredible; if you make it to twenty one you have the right to think that you accomplished something that very few people will ever have to encounter. You survived a body part shutting down, hospilitizations, years of doctors saying that the cure was being developed, and most importantly you survived the public, who no matter how much they can sympathize can never empathize with what we have been through.” It was after this speech that I realized that I was lucky I had gotten this disease; I never had to be normal! I firmly realized that I could have had cancer or some other life threatening disease but I got a life altering disease.
At Twenty, 323 Days, Thirteen hours and thirty nine minutes:
I have realized that I am lucky in a little over a month I can say that I have beat the worst years of this disease, that I have done so without the aid of TV ads, celebrities, and marathon phone campaigns. I made it with the help of family especially, my brother who recently said, “You had made it as far as the road was paved; now you have to bring out a machete and make your own way.” I am not a disease, I am a twenty year old women who swims, reads, hangs out with friends and a has a chronic illness. To define myself as a diabetic is wrong, I’ve never known a time when I wasn’t, it would be akin to walking up to someone and saying “Hello, I’m white”. Not helpful, not descriptive and totally irrelevant to who I am as an individual.