Twenty-eight years ago, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. It’s a moment in time that is so jumbled up with other things – my grandfather had been in a horrible car accident a few months prior to my diagnosis, my older cousin died in a car accident just after my diagnosis – there are memories of people in my family crying and there were so many reasons. Vague memories of being in Rhode Island Hospital for two weeks, the kid with the spider bite, and practicing injections on an orange serve as markers on the timeline of my diagnosis, but clear memories don’t exist.
Diabetes has always been there. It doesn’t get easier with time, but it does become more routine and less mentally intrusive. Either that, or I’ve just become used to the intrusion.
I remember September 11, 2001 very clearly. I was working in a bank in Newport, RI right near the naval base. It was my first job after college, and the first plane hit the WTC as I was driving over the Newport Bridge to work. My coworkers told me about the first plane when I arrived at the bank. The security guard at the bank told us when the second plane hit. I remember calling my father because I didn’t know what else to do, and he told me it was going to be okay. His voice was calm. Despite his inability to actually influence the events that were unfolding across the country, his words were reassuring and made me feel safe.
I feel very lucky that I didn’t experience personal loss on that day. My heart goes out to those who did.
The nation is in mourning and I mourn with my country. Simultaneously, I mark the anniversary of my diabetes diagnosis. I always think about people whose birthdays are on September 11th, or whose wedding anniversaries are September 11th. I think about the people who lost so much on September 11, 2001. It’s a day where I feel conflicted thinking about diabetes, but it’s impossible not to apply personal bias to life.
I think it’s a day to close the damn computer. To not read every news article and overwhelmingly sad bit of news being shared. It feels like a day to be present, to remember to live.
Even though you won’t read this today, Happy Diaversary, and I’m so glad we didn’t cover milestones or anniversaries or anything like that during DSMA yesterday. Be well.
Happy Diaversary, Kerri. Wishing you well, and hope it’s a great day of good memories being made.
Hi Kerri,
I didn’t realize you were diagnosed on September 11. I guess you could say I was, too, only it’s just been a year for me since I received my Type 1 news (I was initially diagnosed as Type 2). I’m 41, and it’s hard enough for me to wrap my head around this disease sometimes. I really admire kids with this diagnosis and their parents. There’s so much to learn. I’m adjusting, but sometimes it just plain stinks. I so appreciate your blog and your outlook. It’s been so helpful to me. I wish you and your family all the best.
Thanks for sharing Kerri. 9/11 is my wife’s birthday. She turned 30 that day. Instead of going out for a fun night, we were somberly glued to the TV. Not a great day for her anymore, but far better than many other people. Keeping them in our prayers.
Happy birthday to your wife, John.
Thanks Kerri, that’s nice of you. She did have a good day after all. 🙂
I am completely with you on taking the day to disconnect in order to truly be connected. Happy diaversary to you.
Happy belated Diaversary. I have no doubt a not so little Birdy made you smile and laugh~
Xoxo
Sept 11, 1982. My diagnosis date. What an emotional day to have an anniversary! So full of emotion and memories. A day to reflect on life in so many ways. I always have a hard time on this day emotionally. It is such a mix of celebrating the life that you have and the life that you lost all on the same day… in addition to the lives that were lost on this day in 2001. I celebrate with you on this day and raise a glass to another year of living! Be well. ~ Joy
[…] Nope. Sometimes that answer can be a big, fat nope. Writing about that stuff is a complete fuckery of my mind. While I have been grateful, at times, for the ten years of archived writing here on my website because it can be good for me to see how far I’ve come, other times I am a little bummed out that ten years of writing about diabetes could easily turn into twenty (but maybe not fifty because What If and that’s the shit that makes my head spinnish). It’s been a really short and simultaneously loooong ten years of blogging, and the same goes for 28 years with diabetes. […]
[…] like my job. Living with diabetes can be an intrusion and as I mentioned last year, the intrusion seems to have dulled over time for the most part, but the career and the voice that […]