I was diagnosed at the age of 17. I will never know what it is like to go to the first day of 3rd grade with a pump in my pocket, or what it is like to play a little league soccer game and have to worry about my sugar. I will never have to worry about having to talk to the school nurse about my care, or having to talk to the principle and administration about special disability forms that need to be filled out in order to ensure the best care possible. I will never know what it is like to rely on my mother or father to take care of my set changes, or to check my sugar in the middle of the night. I am extremely lucky that I will never have to go through childhood with the D. I have the utmost respect for those of us that did, or those of us that are going through it all right now. Dealing with it all now is difficult enough without all of the growth and puberty and the like.

Earlier tonight, I was thinking about how lucky I was with my diagnosis. I got past most of the hard things while I was still relatively healthy. Over on TuDiabetes.com, it is Children’s Week. I have been thinking about what word I could put in my hand for the “Word in Your Hand” Project (link on the right side of this page), and kept getting stumped. What word should I put in my hand. Survival? No…. it doesn’t really fit too well. Believe me, I wrote it…. I took a picture… I didn’t like it. While everything we do is, in fact, about survival, I did not like having that word in my hand.

I was looking at a facebook group devoted to the “To Write Love on Her Arms” movement, and kept seeing the word love, everywhere. I thought about it, and I imagine that while you are a child with diabetes, there is a lot of love involved. You hate the disease, but love the fact that you are surviving with it. You love the people who care for you. Those people, obviously, love you right back. There is a lot of love related to diabetes, to counterbalance all the hate that is thrown at the disease itself.

To go along with the word love, the thought of trust came to mind. I remember one day I was so angry with diabetes that I was refusing to put a new insulin site in. When my mom asked if I would rather she do it, I remember telling her that I don’t trust her. I think a little part of my mother died that day, hearing that your son doesn’t trust you with a needle. I obviously trusted her at some point (thermometers up the butt anyone?). I don’t know why, but I have never really trusted anyone with my diabetes care, not even my endocrinologist. So I chose to write trust in my other hand.

These two words, love and trust, are fairly common words. People say “I love you” all the time. Trust is an everyday occurance. You trust bank tellers with your money, you trust your wife to lock the door on the way out. Words that we see every day are sometimes words that mean the most to us. Lately, love is a word that means a lot to me. Love is confusing, love is comforting… and in the words of my sister (Expletive coming up) “Love is a mother fucker”. Trust is also another big factor in my life recently. I have started trusting people with my secrets. I have began to trust that people aren’t always out to stab me in the back.

So with all that said… here are my two hand photos. I must be getting to bed.