Poking around in that box that’s been hiding in every iteration of “home” for the better part of a decade, I found another writing sample from what looks like third grade. (No date on the piece of paper, but third grade is where we learned cursive, so this is either the end of third grade/fourth grade time of my life. Somewhere in the area of 1989.)

It seems like the writing prompt was to invent something. I took the “cure” route:

“Cure for Me

This device is to be hooked into the place of the pancreas. The ads hook it into place.

The pump pumps the insulin to the Insulin Maker. There it is sent to both blood carriers. The blood carriers clean the insulin and mix it with blood.

The blood and insulin is sent to the blan. The blan is like the brain. It adds a special liquid to the blood and insulin. Then the stuff travels down the tube and sent to many parts of the body.”

I don’t recall writing any of these things. I don’t remember having any awareness of my diabetes as a kid, but finding old journals and school projects highlights a narrative that I had mentally buried.

I hoped for a cure. I tried to faux invent one.

My favorite part of this piece of paper? The teacher’s comment: “Wouldn’t it be great?”

As I sit here at my computer, my insulin pump is connected to my hip. It’s hooked here, in place of my pancreas. It’s using a tube and sending “the stuff” to many parts of my body. (All I’m missing is whatever a “blan” might be.)

Wouldn’t it be great?

And I think about how far technology has come, with multiple pumps and algorithms and do-it-yourself varieties of diabetes management tech.

My elementary school self would have been impressed with what we’ve accomplished, as a community.