Seven years ago yesterday I was diagnosed with Type 1. I celebrate June 27th every year, without fail-- yesterday's celebrations included running 12km in bright green shorts, ice cream in a waffle cone, 3 low blood sugars and 1 super high sugar. So, not all that different from my regular days, but special nonetheless.
Some people (on Facebook, at school, at work) have expressed to me that my diabetes "celebration" puts them off. Why would someone want to celebrate a shitty disease that makes life worse? It's a valid question. I'm not celebrating having diabetes, though-- I'm congratulating myself on surviving another year with it. From June 27, 2010 to June 27, 2011 I spent a full 365 days with this disease. I didn't get any breaks. I had highs, lows, breakdowns, panic attacks. I got blood all over myself, yelled at by my endocrinologist, woken up endlessly in the middle of the night in a sweat.
I also didn't need paramedics to revive me, didn't end up in the ER on a drip, didn't see my A1C numbers soar out of control. I did okay. And that's good enough for me. So give me ice cream.
